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pandoraslxna · 11 months

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ok but w step bro! neteyam w/ “just the tip” 👀

Infected

Stepbro Neteyam x female omatikaya reader

Words: 2.9k

Summary: While on a hunt with your stepbrother Neteyam, he comes in contact with something that makes him act… strange.

Warnings: explicit smut, stepcest (means they’re not siblings related by blood, reader is adopted!), aged up characters, sex pollen, mild dub-con, dry humping, p in v, quickie, semi-public, creampie

Notes: gif made by the amazing @eclipseatsea <3 Anyways, I wrote this in one sitting wtf??🧍🏻‍♀️

Na‘vi translations:

Thanì - little star

Neteyam is hot. No, not that kind of hot— I mean yes, that kind too, but right now he feels hot. Feverish even.

His skin is glistening in a thin layer of sweat, breathing slightly uneven and rapid and eyes almost fully blown. The yellow of his iris has decreased into a thin ring around his pitch black pupils.

You hastily blurt the information of your stepbrothers condition into your throat comm, pacing back and forth in worry. Occasionally, you glance back at Neteyam, who was barely able to hold himself up on his feet, his back now resting against a tree trunk. Every time you looked at him over your shoulder, he seemed to slide further down the trunk, until he was finally sitting down on the ground. His eyes were still glued on you the whole time, following your every movement. You saw the way his nose scrunched and his ears laid flat against his head, his tail trashing against the ground behind his back and if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought that he was still hunting.

"Sweetheart, listen", Jakes voice finally snapped you out of your thoughts, "That sounds like he’s been infected with something. Did you two touch or eat anything strange? Got stung by something?"

"No? I- I don’t know, dad, I really don’t", you sigh, "How much longer until you’re here?"

"Twenty… maybe thirty minutes." Not before the eclipse starts, you think, chewing on your bottom lip as the anxiety grows worse. "Make sure he doesn’t fall asleep until I’m there and try to get him some water."

"Yes, yes okay, alright." You nod, even though he couldn’t see it. "Please hurry."

"Breathe, don’t panic, babygirl. It’s going to be alright, I’m sure it’s nothing bad", your stepfather reassures you and the soothing tone in voice actually helps you calm down a bit. "Check him for any stings, wounds or other injuries, okay? And if you find anything, report it back to me."

"Yes, sir."

You tried to focus on that order, because if you were to think even for one second about anything else, you would’ve lost your composure once and for all. Immediately after the line went dead, you turn back to Neteyam. He’s still sitting there, silent, unmoving, just looking at you.

"Dad will be here soon", you mumble, more to comfort yourself than him, as you step closer. "He said I need to check you for injuries."

There’s the slightest movement, barely even a nod from Neteyam as you kneel down in front of him, giving you permission to touch him. With shaky fingers and your heart pounding inside your chest hard enough to break your ribs, you reach out for his hands. You feel his palms first, then his wrist, but nothing. Your hands move further up, checking his arms, shoulders, his chest. Your mouths feels dry, but again, you can’t find anything. Not even a splinter or the tiniest scratch. He seems completely fine. You would’ve thought that there was nothing wrong with him, if it wasn’t so obvious that there was clearly something very wrong with him.

It’s when you’re about to check his back, shuffling closer and leaning forward for a better view, that he suddenly pulls you by your wrists and makes you straddle his lap. The air around you both felt electrifying now, every one of your senses coming alive all at once. You gasped his name in surprise, your face turning bright red from the intimate position you found yourself in, with both of his arms encircled tightly around your middle.

It’s been a while since someone was last this close to you and you couldn’t help but notice every single inch of bare skin that was now touching yours. Your thighs on his, his arms around your middle, your hands on his chest—

But then Neteyam hisses through clenched teeth and buries his face in the crock of your neck and it immediately snaps you back to the fact that your stepbrother was sick. He was sick or injured or eywa knows what he was going through, but it seemingly caused him this much pain and distress, that he was seeking comfort in you.

Cause that’s what it was, right? That’s why he pulled you into his lap. Right?

"A-Are you in pain?"

What a stupid question, you thought, face scrunching up in embarrassment. Of course he was, you knew that already. But what else were you supposed to say to him? You just had to say something, because sitting in a position like this with someone you considered family and not saying anything would’ve made this even more awkward than it already was.

"Hmh", Neteyam only hums. His breath is warm against the skin of your throat, a constant reminder of how close he was to you like this.

"Where?"

Why did that even matter? Maybe you thought, hoped, that he could show you where, that he would point to somewhere and help you understand what was wrong with him.

Well, lucky for you, that’s exactly what he did. With his arms still wrapped around your middle, Neteyam pushed you down harder against his lap, his own hips rising just enough to grind his hard cock against your clothed cunt. "Right there", he groans lowly and in that moment, it felt like all the blood in your veins rushed straight to your head, making you feel dizzy with heat.

You don’t even know why, but instinctively, you try to push yourself off and away from him. Okay scratch that— you knew exactly why. It’s not that it didn’t feel good, it was the fact that it didn’t feel right. Neteyam was your stepbrother, someone you weren’t even supposed to touch like this! Whatever it was, that made him act the way he did, he surely wasn’t himself right now. He would’ve never… or would he?

You shake your head as if to shake the thoughts out of it, hands finding purchase on his shoulders and you attempt to lift yourself off of him again, but his arms hold you secured against him. "Stay. Please", Neteyam murmurs against your collarbone, "You make me feel better."

"I, uhm… I don’t think that’s a good ide—"

You’re interrupted by the sound of your own surprised squeak, when he suddenly lifts you up and quickly, probably a little too quick, lays you down against the ground with a thud. Your back was pressed against the soft grass now and his full body weight laid on top of you, his arms on either side of your head caging you in completely.

Your heart races, hammers against your ribs like a Fkio in a small cage. A new wave of heat spreads all over your body when Neteyam presses his nose against the skin of throat, inhaling as deep as his lungs could expand.

Your arousal and natural scent were so potent on his nose, it was making his mind hazy and his cock strained against his loincloth so tightly, he thought it would tear the fabric at any second. You were trying so hard to hide your own arousal, but he could smell you— could see your flushed face, hear your panting and feel how you tried to squeeze your thighs together, if it weren’t for his hips to be settled in between them.

Neteyam inhales again and his eyes flutter close. He does so, while he continues to grind his cock against your core. The outline of his length getting dragged over your folds and his tip bumping against your clothed clit makes you whimper softly, your noises only egging him on more.

"W-What are you doing?" Your voice is barely above a whisper. You sound so small and uncertain– uncertain if you could allow yourself to feel good, to enjoy this, despite the guilt of doing something so forbidden with him.

"I’m sorry. Feels better when i do that", Neteyam responds, burying his apologies into your skin, "Makes it hurt less." He doesn’t sound uncertain, or guilty for that matter. He sounds desperate, breathless. Like he’s holding himself back.

You could feel Neteyams tail wrap itself around your calf and his breath ghost over the shell of your ear, but then you shake your head and swallow thickly, like it pains you to say this, "You should… probably get off of me."

Not even a second passes, before you feel him grind himself between your thighs again, hard cock gliding over your most private parts, the fabric of your loincloths only adding further to the rough friction and you could feel the wetness pool right there, soaking the fabric.

"Sorry I just… I can’t think. Can’t stop." Neteyam whispers, sending a shiver throughout your entire body.

It was the truth. He had tried to downplay the effects so as not to worry you even more, but ever since he had accidentally inhaled that weird pink dust of this strange looking flower, the one he wanted to pick for you when you had your back turned to him, it had been hard to breath. His lungs, loins, skin, everything felt on fire.

The first touch of your hands on him, skin to skin, had felt like a mouthful of fresh water, cooling down his insides. The first relief he‘s had in hours.

But it still wasn’t enough. He needed more. He needed you.

"It’s okay, i know you’re in pain but—"

You nearly moan, just barely managing to catch it before the sound leaves your throat, when he bumps against your clit again. The sounds he coaxed out of you made his blood boil inside his veins.

You had to remind yourself that this wasn’t supposed to feel good, that you were in the middle of the forest, that he was your stepbrother, that his father, your stepfather was on his way to your position, but eywa— eywa, does it feel good when he moves like this…

Neteyam growls into the crook of your neck, bucking his hips just a little harder against you, and it sounds strained, reflecting the state of his body perfectly. "Please, thanì, c‘mon. Fuck. Just the tip, please."

"Teyam, we… we shouldn’t. Dad– Dad will be here a-any minute now." It’s a weak attempt to try and reason him. You’re not even convinced to stop this yourself, if you were being completely honest with yourself. Biting your lip, you had to conceal another whimper from escaping, as he continues to hump you like he was experiencing his rut. At this point, you weren’t sure how much more you could take of this, without giving in to your desires— to his desires.

Neteyam should feel sick about this. He should feel sick about it, but all he could feel was the heat in his guts, the painful throbbing of his cock and the soft of your skin pressed tight against his body.

A warm breath tickles your throat once again, feeling Neteyam inhale and exhale deeply, nosing your skin as if he tried to imprint your scent on his nostrils.

"I‘ll be quick, I promise", he groans, "Eywa, you smell good, r-really good."

As his mouth wanders to your jawline, kissing and sucking, his forehead comes to rest against your cheek and you gasp. He’s burning, his skin feels like it’s been set aflame. This is worse than any fever, worse than any rut.

"O-Okay", you finally agree, all resolve shattering to pieces.

Neteyam moves quicker than you were expecting. One of his hands wedges itself between your bodies, hastily pulling your loincloth to the side, just enough to gain access where he needed to. There’s no time, it seems, no time to take it slow as he fumbles with his own loincloth, flicking the fabric up and out of the way, pulling his leaking cock out from under his coverings and lining himself up with your entrance. He really couldn't think anymore, not of any consequences, not with all the blood pounding through his angry cock, desperation clinging to his body, making his mind hazy and eyes half lidded.

When he pushes your legs up with his free hand, folding you nearly in half, you’re spread wide open for him to push inside, inch after inch. The stretch as he buries himself to the hilt drives every single thought, every worry, every ounce of guilt right out of your head. Neteyam moans, he moans loud and wanton and it’s a sound of relief followed by a deep groan rumbling in his chest.

You never imagined that there was so much space inside of you, but your stepbrother happily claimed all of it, every last bit.

Eywa help him if he doesn’t savor this, because he didn’t know the next time he’ll be able to do this again, if he was even ever allowed to. You’re warm and wet and soft and tight, so tight. Great mother, it felt like his mind was going into overdrive as he began to thrust into you.

His face was still buried into the space between your throat and shoulder and he didn’t plan on moving anytime soon. He’d stay like this forever if he could. Neteyam wants every single breath he takes to be filled with your scent from now on. Whatever it was, that made him act like this, it made him so painfully aware of how sweet his baby sister smelled. How good she tasted, when he ran his tongue over her pulse point and how incredible she felt, wrapped around his cock like a little sleeve made just for him.

"T-Teyam, f-fuck!", it’s a high-pitched whine, followed by a little punched out noise that doesn’t sound like anything that’s ever come out of your mouth before. His movements are jerky and rough, all for the purpose of chasing his own pleasure. The obscene squelching sound from him pounding into your pussy, mixed with streams of moans filled the air around you within seconds.

"Sorry, sorry, I’m— fuck, I’m sorry. You just feel so good, can’t slow down", Neteyam groans into your ear, his words being the complete opposite of his actions. The movement of his thrust are deep and fast, knocking the air from your lungs and causing your eyes to roll all the way back into your head. With the way he was hammering his cock into you, you could feel the mushroomy head of it kissing your cervix over and over again, pummeling against your g-spot on the way.

It’s okay, you want to say. You would, if you were still capable of forming any words on your tongue that weren’t just mewls and curses and brabbled nonsense.

Neteyam was surely aiming to fuck the very soul out of you like this. Your hands clawed at his back, nails digging into his skin and holding on for dear life as you felt your cunt turning into a gooey mess, thanks to the mixture of his pre-cum and your own slickness leaking out of you already.

"So good, feels so good, thanì", you hear him moan next to your ear, fangs grazing your skin as he licks and nibbles on your shoulder. "O-Oh fuck, you feel amazing. So wet and t-tight."

Between the thrill of being caught and Neteyams brutal pace, it didn’t take long for you to hit your peak. His cock expertly finds all the places you couldn’t reach yourself, all the spots that make pleasure curl your toes and starbursts explode behind your eyelids. Neteyam licks the sweat from your collarbones like it’s something to be savored, moaning at the feeling of you squeezing his cock like you were trying to milk him for all it’s worth.

"Teyam, Teyam I’m close, you’re gonna make me come!"

Right on cue, Neteyam hiked your leg up higher around his waist. The new angle allowed him even deeper access and you throw your head back at the new sensation. The second you felt his cock throb inside of you, your orgasm crashed down upon you like a sheet of ice– your legs squeezing around his waist, arms tightening around his neck so much that he had trouble breathing. But that didn’t stop him from fucking you like it was the only thing you were made for.

"Gonna.. haa fuck, I’m gonna cum inside you."

Neteyam feels his orgasm building like he’s been waiting for it for years, like someone had edged him, like he hasn’t had a release in forever and then it hits him like it never has before.

"Take it, shit, just take it, take my cum!"

He squeezes his eyes shut, biting his tongue hard enough to draw blood, because if he didn’t, he would’ve latched onto your shoulder like a palulukan into its prey. His hips stutter, abs tensing and then he slams into you as deep as he could go, groaning your name as rope after rope of his cum fills you.

And then, the heat inside of him was gone.

As the last droplet of his seed was successfully pumped into you, Neteyam finally felt his head clear up and he came back to himself. The both of you stayed like that for just a moment, with him panting into your neck, both of you trying not to think about what you had just done.

When Neteyam finally pulls out of you, it’s gingerly, tenderly even, almost like he didn’t want to hurt you. As terribly sore and used as you felt, somehow there was a secret shard of happiness under it all. You wondered, if his coy smirk was any indication that he felt the same.

By the time Jake finally arrived, the only evidence of your sins was his cum dripping down your thighs, soaking the fabric of your loincloth.

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multidimensionalguidance · 2 months

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Overlay Observations #1

Note: keep in mind that aspects and signs are also very important when reading synastry charts, and it cannot be left aside to prioritize overlays.

Sun in 1st house: this is a tricky overlay for any type of relationships, because it will depend a lot on the strength of the sun in both charts. It can either become the type of relationship where the Sun becomes an excellent guide for the house person to discover their creativity, skills, and core self. They will feel more confident and with an extra shine next to the planet person. As if a disco ball was turned on in a dark room, and there’s a spotlight right on you. The house person will also help the Sun stick to their core principles and feeling comfortable in fully expressing themselves with little judgment. Now, that is the positive expression of this overlay if both individuals are able to avoid the elephant in the room. Yes, the ego. The sour side for the house person is to feel overshadowed when they are next to the planet person, and it can therefore trigger an unnecessary need of competition that could easily ruin the relationship. It is also difficult for both individuals to ignore the triggers that they cause in each other due to the amount of similarities that they share. Their own toxic or unhealthy habits will be noticeable to both, but so will the positive ones as well. It really all boils down to how comfortable both individuals feel within their core self. If either has very low self esteem, it will be harsh to feel at ease with each other. Overall, it can be very helpful and rewarding to encounter each other and see themselves in a mirror for good or bad, especially for the house person since the planet person aspects their 7th house of relationships.

Venus + Mars in 1st house: this one takes the cake for "I saw, I wanted, and I conquered" with the planet person being the one who quite literally charges towards the house person with A LOT of passion to the point that it can be overwhelming if there isn't any other aspect to support it. The planet person recognizes in the other all the qualities that they look for when it comes to relationships and the way they move through life. They both feel extremely physically attracted to each other. Instant magnetism. They are able to see the house person as someone who naturally matches their own sexual energy, and it feels like a no brainer to desire closeness. If Saturn or any other strong aspect/overlay isn't involved in any way, it might be a short hot fling. You will both enjoy the insane chemistry and common ground, and unless Pluto, Rahu, harsh aspects are involved, there shouldn't be much of a hiccup if there's a separation at the end. You will fondly look back to remember how you both felt like an IT couple next to each other, and rekindling the fire would be quite easy if there's a reencounter.

Saturn in 1st house: there is a deep sense of responsibility and seriousness that is quickly developed between these two individuals. They both feel like the relationship is one that they would prefer long term, even if there's a heaviness to it. The planet person brings a grounded energy that encourages the house person to think long term, and they will go to great lengths to please the planet person. Its almost as if the house person wants to earn the respect or admiration of the other, and depending on any other planetary aspects made, it will either be something that will lift the house planets to higher highs or will make them feel overwhelmed with the pressure. Think of it as the pressure necessary to build diamonds, meaning, a necessary discomfort to achieve greatness. There's also a very karmic tie between these two individuals, and they will recognize it. The house person will feel like the other was brough into their lives for a reason, be it good or bad. As if they attracted this person due to their previous actions in a current or past life.

Ketu in 1st house: this is the most common "I've met you before" aspect in synastry. There is a strong feeling of comfort and ease between these two individuals, and the house person will feel a breeze from the past with the planet person. This truly goes both ways, and they both recognize it as well. It can also feel like a soulmate connection and one of the two will comfortably claim it so in their mind and heart. Even if Ketu is commonly perceived as a malefic in Vedic astrology, it is also the key to unlock a higher spiritual awareness, and this is exactly what this overlay causes. So, if both individuals are not actively pursuing to expanding their spiritual side, it will gradually create separation. Ketu brings a cleansing or purifying effect that almost feels like a burning sensation when its met with resistance. Hence why this synastry overlay or even with aspects can feel so debilitating for the planet person particularly. There cannot be a spiritual resistance from either side, and growth must be consistently practiced. Meditating together, learning occult knowledge, or even doing yoga will naturally enhance the relationship and it will be much easier to manage. It will also be more comfortable for individuals who already have Ketu touching personal planets or in the 1st house, also for those that have Scorpio placements in their natal chart.

Juno in 1st house: this is the "You are wife/husband material!" synastry overlay. They both feel like the other person has the qualities that they look for in a serious committed relationship. The asteroid person will simply feel like house person matches a lot of the pointers they have for what they would like in a marriage partner. On the other hand, the house person feels like they can hear wedding bells ringing from afar whenever they interact with the other. It is generally a pleasing overlay and both individuals are able to have a good common ground on what they expect from a long term relationship.

Venus in 4th house: a definite favorite overlay for romantic or platonic relationships. They are able to break the ice easily with each other during the beginning stages because there is a strong feeling of comfort they experience together. They are the type to spend hours chilling next to each other reading, scrolling through TikTok, or watching movies for hours with no issues (unless there are harsh aspects or malefic planets). The planet person feels at home with the house person, and things like cooking, cleaning, or nurturing each other develops with a lot of ease. The planet person brings material benefits to the house person, so if they move in together, the house person quite literally gets their space improved or it gets beautified in some way. Lots of harmony when it comes to these matters in general. They are the type that redecorate their home together as a hobby. It is also a good overlay for naturally wanting to grow a family and having an ease with it since their values match when it comes to raising children.

Mars in 6th house: this is a very wholesome and motivating overlay. The planet person brings a lot of energy to get things done and actively helps the house person on their daily life. The house person on the other hand, gets activated on their sense of servicing Mars, and it is common for them to also do a lot of little AND big things to make their life easier. I've seen them cooking, cleaning, or even fixing things for the house person frequently, but it generally goes both ways regardless. Acts of service as a love language is seen here. In general, there's a lot of "I want to help you grow and develop" between the two of them. They could even work or do exercises together as well. The only downside is that one of them could be too judgmental or picky with how things get done, and it could make either feel as if their efforts go unnoticed or unappreciated. If the relationship drifts apart, they will miss each other a lot because of how present they were in their day to day. Sort of like, you will think of each other while doing mundane activities like washing the dishes or doing groceries.

Venus in 8th house: as most astrologer enthusiast explain, this is not an overlay or synastry for the weak, at all. There is a strong attachment that is developed whenever the 8th house involved. Both individuals feel like two candles that join together to create a big flame that can warm and destroy with equal strength. The negative side is very clear, a heavy and almost addictive feeling with a heavy dark intense undertone. The house person sees Venus as a princess/prince that somehow appeared in the place they try to hide the most from others, and this immediately creates a desire to get very close. They want to study Venus, understand how they got in there to begin with, and determine whether they want them in there or not. In this case, the house planet holds a lot of the control. Venus will not have easy access to the house person unless it is granted. They will keep on creating obstacles to keep the planet person from getting closer until they recognize that there's no way to keep them out unless they literally walk away. The positive side is when the house person surrenders to the feeling of developing an intense and deep connection with the planet person. Once they do, it will feel like they are able to reach depths that they were unable to do so before with anyone else. It is common for both of them to share resources with each other and there is also a strong sense of loyalty that develops after the common challenges (jealousy, possessiveness, mistrust, etc) are worked out. Venus brings wealth and abundance to the house person, either through gifts or by simply attracting that towards them like a magnet. The house person on the other side shares their own resources VERY often, and have no issues with even dipping into their savings just to please Venus.

Jupiter in 10th house: I would call this the "You're my money lucky charm" overlay along with the 2nd house overlay. The planet person brings expansion, growth, and luck to the house person when it comes to their profession and public image. There is a lot of knowledge and guidance that the planet person provides, and that allows the house person to use those pointers to achieve their goals much faster than they would have been able to do so alone. For the planet person, it feels like they are very popular and/or noticeable within the work or public life of the house person. Unlike Venus, who is seen as a trophy wife/husband or as a very obvious romantic partner next to the house person, Jupiter is seen as someone who is like a sage, advisor, or foreigner. Overall, this is a very positive overlay for both to grow towards their material goals. The house person will prefer to spend more time outside with the planet person instead of being at home all the time since it aspects their 4th house. You both want to be seen together being out and about.

Moon in 12th house: this is a very complex interaction between two people, and it will depend a lot on what type of relationship they have (romantic, platonic, familiar, etc). In a general sense, the moon person will experience some confusion when it comes to acknowledging their feelings towards the house person. As if there was a veil that keeps them from taking confident steps forward. It is common for both people to develop a resistance into trusting each other at the beginning, but the other side of the coin is that they can't help but grow closer towards each other. The house person feels seen in every sense of the word, and they can notice how the other seamlessly understands what goes through their head almost as if it was telepathy. Now, even if the planet person is able to navigate somewhat well the subconscious mind of the other, there will be a constant doubt or hesitance. It will be hard for them to even understand why it feels this way, and only through identifying their own subconscious wounds will they will able to recognize the root of their confusion. Once this feeling and pattern is explored, it will feel as if they veil is lifted and they will understand the house person like the back of their hand. This is an aspect that can be rewarding if the planet person is focused on their spiritual growth, as they will gain immense knowledge to their own mind (since the moon rules the subconscious mind as well).

Hope this was an insightful and enjoyable reading~

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vantaesfairie · 4 months

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𝔭𝔦𝔠𝔨 𝔞 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔡 : 𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 𝔞𝔟𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔫𝔢𝔵𝔱 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯

atlty’s tarot readings: art commissions, paid readings, spell ritual comms open!

choose a pile below:

part 1 of my christmas series!!!!

pile 1, reindeer friends with a cute snoot:

wow they could be quite rich! they could be from old money or enjoy spending daddy's / mommy's money.

they could be continuing a family's inheritance or legacy in their area of study or work.

they could enjoy nature or watch things grow.

they definitely put in long term strategies. they are probably good in investing money.

they have pretty good foresight. they could play a role of 'caregiver' a bit, like they will spoil you materially.

they could have a small waist regardless of gender, and tall.

they are a good negotiator and likes to make you smile.

they are someone who takes care of you deeply and wants to watch you prosper.

they want to steer you away from your bad troubles and only towards good days. they want to take away your pain.

you may meet them at a time of prosperous growth or when your life seems to be taking a turn to the next chapter.

pile 2, black cat in christmas lights:

they have a very strong energy, they could be a fire sign or enjoy gaming or group sports.

they are very assertive and tend to be more masculine.

they motivate others and you, and would literally fight off people to protect you.

they could feel challenged a lot, they may have trouble with their self worth, esteem, and ego.

they want to win arguments, they want you as their prize.

they could be blunt but quite persuasive. they could be good with words to make you happy or seduce you.

they would love to debate or banter playfully with you.

they could play sports that involve a stick, like hockey or polo.

they are very ambitious in their work with clear direction of where they want to go and achieve but lack proper emotional development.

they may need you to keep them in their lane sometimes with their bad days, but they would be so passionate with you.

pile 3, stag (james potter? should i start a hogwarts pac?):

they could be more soft and introverted than the rest of the piles here. they could have sadder eyes (in your opinion).

they could hurt people without knowing and suffer hollow victories.

they want to treat you like their forever lover with everything that they give you. they want you to glow and be a rainbow in their life.

they would be very attracted to you, you would be their type.

they could be blunt with words which they regret immediately after.

they see you as someone who can help heal them so they may come to you for comfort.

they could feel like an outcast in their peer crowds easily.

they run out of emotional energy quite quickly so you would help give them spiritual energy like a charger.

they would learn many emotional lessons from you. they never want to hurt you.

they could be avoidant when you two fight because of their nature to hurt people easily, but they want to always cherish you.

i hope you enjoyed this pac! please consider purchasing a paid reading by sliding into my dms. reblog and share if possible! i’d love to know if this resonates to you. thank you so much!

#witchblr #tarot #witchcraft #pac #tarotblr #pick a card #astrology #small business #divination #support #tarot readings #major arcana #cards #piles #free #paid

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python333 · 8 months

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your writing is literally the best in the cod fandom. we need more injured reader angst. it's too good

don't breathe — python333

— — — —

synopsis [reader] gets buried alive after refusing to give intel to enemy soldiers and *slips up and writes reader almost dying again* oops how did that happen haha

relationships platonic!price & gn!reader.

characters cap. john price.

word count 2.7k

warnings suffocation [reader], just generally really depressing thoughts, near death??, 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note aww tysm :(( dont say its the best im gonna get a complex LMAO but i appreciate it!! and yes i agree injured reader angst ftw :3 i present to you: reader gets very injured and theres a lot of angst and its basically just you suffering for a good 3/4 of the fic while the last quarter has the actual comfort!

“Hello?” You try again, your voice cracking and your tone as desperate as it can get, “Please, God, say someone can hear me.”

You’ve been trapped in a casket for about five minutes now—at least, you woke up five minutes ago. God knows how long you’ve been stuck in the stupid thing, but realistically, it’s probably been much longer than five minutes.

The last thing you remember from before you were buried is being in the interrogation room of some small terrorist group’s facility, one you and the others were led to believe was abandoned weeks ago.

Unfortunately, whoever gave you the information must’ve either had incredibly outdated information or was setting you all up for failure, because the facility was very much not abandoned and was instead full of enemy soldiers.

You all had already gotten into the building before you knew that, because of course you all had to be in the same spot at the same time—practically sitting ducks for the enemy—and of course you all had to be clueless about the possibly hundreds of people in the facility until it was too late.

As far as you know, everyone managed to escape. Everyone but you. They didn’t mean to leave you behind, of course they didn’t, they were more focused on just booking it out of the facility. However, because of that, you were now stuck—you assume—several feet underground in a casket that has a limited amount of oxygen that drops every time you take a breath.

You let out the breath you’re currently holding and suck in another deep breath, holding it as you think. Your strategy of holding your breath until you no longer could mostly worked, but it wouldn’t for long, you knew that soon you’d suffocate in all of the carbon dioxide gathering in the enclosed casket.

You don’t know how long you’d been unconscious in the casket, breathing in oxygen carelessly in your slumber, which made the whole situation worse. You didn’t even know how much time you had left.

You hate to waste your breath checking your comms, but the enemy soldiers had accidentally left your earpiece in your ear—the small device apparently going undetected under their radar—and you wanted to make the most of it. You move your arm from your side and press onto the PTT button on your earpiece, wincing a little at how cramped the casket was.

“Does anybody copy?” You ask again, staring up at the almost pitch black space above you, “I repeat, does anybody copy?”

It’s a vain attempt at contacting your team, really. You don’t know if they’re thinking about you, if the signal is going through, if they even have their earpieces on—you know nothing, and that terrifies you because you really don’t want to die right now but there’s literally nothing else you can do besides helplessly talk into your earpiece, not knowing if anyone’s listening.

Your lungs start to burn and you let out the breath you were holding, taking another deep breath and beginning to hold that one. The air feels… thick. It’s starting to get harder to breathe, and you know you shouldn’t panic but you can’t help the few worried thoughts that come to the forefront of your mind.

What am I going to do when I run out of oxygen and the only thing left for me to breathe in are my own discarded breaths? What will I do when all there is to do is suffocate? Am I going to try, in one last desperate attempt, to break out of the casket, or am I going to just lay here and die? Will my team try to find me, or will they forget about me? Have they already forgotten about me?

Before you can listen to any more of those depressing thoughts, a voice comes from your earpiece.

“H—lo? [c/n]?” It’s hard to tell with the static and the cuts in between the words, but you think it’s Price talking.

“Price?” You ask immediately, all thoughts of preserving your breath forgotten. “Holy shit, you can hear me?”

“Je—s— whe—e—” He cuts out for a moment and your stomach drops when all you can hear is static for a moment.

“You’re— You’re cutting out, Captain, what did you say?”

“Wher— —re you?” It takes you a moment to realize what he’s saying, your mind working much slower than it usually does, but once you do you shake your head negatively despite him not being there to see you.

“I don’t— I don’t know,” You respond, taking a deep breath before adding on, “I think I’m underground, I just know I’m in a casket and it’s getting harder to breathe and—”

“Okay, o—y,” You hear Price’s voice crackle, his voice becoming more distant and sounding almost muffled to you, “Sa— —ur bre—th, I’ll try to g—t some—e to track your— —tion.”

With the constant cutting out of his words and the distortion of his tone, you can barely register or process what he’s saying, and that only panics you more but you refuse to let your emotions get the better of you even in the state of disorientation you’re in, so you keep holding your breath.

A minute later, Price’s voice crackles through your earpiece again.

“Okay, we’ve got your loc—tion,” Price’s voice sounds… oddly far away, “We can—”

His voice slowly becomes muffled, and you release the breath you were holding without realizing it, slowly blinking up at the ceiling of the casket. A sort of haze falls over your mind and you can barely even hear Price anymore before you suddenly snap back to reality and hear his now much clearer voice loud in your ear.

“[c/n]? [c/n], are you still there?” You recognize his tone now, and you’re just a little shocked at the sheer amount of worry in it.

“Haven’t moved an inch,” You breathe out, before lying, “You cut out for a second for me, sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s okay,” Price reassures you, “I said we got your loc—tion and we’re hea—g out th— —w. It’s not t— far away from where —e alre—dy are, we’re ba—ely three clicks away.”

“… Clicks?” You ask, your eyebrows drawing together in confusion.

“Yes, clicks,” Price replies, sounding concerned, before hesitantly asking, “… You know what those are, right?”

“I don’t—” You struggle to find words for a moment before you speak again, your own voice starting to sound distant, “I don’t think so?”

“What do y—u mean you don’t thi— —o?” Price asks, his voice sounding freakishly close, “Are you okay?”

“No, yeah, I’m fine,” You lie through your teeth, not wanting to worry Price further, “I just… how far away are you?”

“Just ab—t two cli—ks now,” Price says, before pausing and clarifying, “Two kilometers.”

Two kilometers… how far is that? “And that’s… is that far, or?”

“No, it’s not too far. It’s just a mi—te away, we didn’t ge— —o far before Laswell got your loc—tion,” Price tells you, “We’ll be there soon, ok—y? We’ll get y— —ut of there.”

“A minute—” You cough and feel tears pricking at your eyes from how hard it is to take another breath, “A minute?”

“Yes, a minute— [c/n], are you okay?” Price asks again, before laughing nervously, “You know what a minute is, do— —ou?”

“...” You struggle to answer the question, thinking long and hard for a few seconds before hesitantly answering, “… Yeah, I do, sorry. It’s sixty seconds.”

“Why’d it take you so long to answer?”

“I don’t know, I’m sorry, I—” You take a few shallow breaths, and feel a headache start to build up, “How far away are you guys?”

“We’re alm—t there,” Price promises you, “The heli’s ab—t to l—nd, and we’ll dig you up, and—”

Why is it so cold? Price’s voice cuts off and when he stops talking you realize that you’re shivering. You ball your fists up and can’t even feel your nails digging into your palms, your hands having gone numb from the cold, and realizing that makes you discover that your lips feel numb too.

Your ears start to ring and you feel that uncomfortable pins and needles feeling in your hands, the sensation slowly traveling up your arms, making you both wanting to peel off your own skin and also grateful that you can at least feel something besides the cold.

In the midst of your thinking, you hear muffled thumping coming from above you—whoever buried you couldn’t have buried you anything below six feet.

“—llo? [c/n]? Are you still there?”

You bring your hand up, the movement slow and sluggish, and you try to search around the side of your face for your earpiece. You eventually find it and when you do you press against it until you feel the PTT button being pushed.

“Still here,” You confirm breathlessly, coughing again as you take a few more shallow breaths, “I think I’m running out of— of… what’s the fuckin’ air that you can breath in, it starts with an o…”

“… Oxygen?”

“Oxygen, yeah,” You slowly blink up at the ceiling of the casket, “There’s— I think— I don’t… I think… I think I’m gonna pass out, Captain.”

“[c/n], don’t you fucking dare,” Price growls, “You stay awake, I swear to fucking god.”

“I can’t—” You take a few more shallow breaths, before coughing, the tears escaping your eyes reaching the corners of your mouth.

You can hear Price briefly talk with someone else, his voice the most serious you’ve ever heard it, before he talks directly to you again, “How much longer do you think you have before you run out of oxygen?”

It takes you a moment to register the question, but when you do, you answer, “Uh… I don’t— I think… maybe a few more minutes? I can’t tell, it’s just hard to breathe, I can’t…”

“Okay, okay,” Price softly says, gusts of wind blowing into his mic as he talks, “Give me a second, okay? We’re almost there, kid, we’ll— we’ll be there in just a minute, we just passed over you, I just need you to stay awake.”

“In a minute,” You repeat to yourself, before taking a deep breath, hoping that you have enough oxygen to make it out of this casket because you really don’t want to die here, not when there’s help just a minute away.

After what you assume is a minute or two, instead of thumping, you hear something cut into the dirt above you. The sound, however, is heavily muffled, so muffled to the point where you don’t know if you’re hallucinating or not.

Is that a symptom of CO2 poisoning? Hallucinations? You lay still in the casket and can’t help but release the breath you’d only just taken, the ringing in your ears starting up again and growing louder faster than they had before.

Your entire body is numb, your chest is heavy, and you can feel a sort of fog fall over your mind. You can distantly hear Price yelling through your earpiece, but you can’t find it in yourself to respond, instead simply laying there, your blinking starting to slow down before it eventually stops, leaving your eyes closed.

—

For a moment, you think you died and went to heaven, which would be weird, considering all the things you’ve done in your life. Not saying you’d go to hell, just saying God would probably hesitate for a second before letting you in through the pearly gates.

You blink awake, slowly but surely, and the first thing you realize is that you can feel things again. You tilt your head down to the bump under the white bed sheets laid on top of you, and squeeze your hand into a ball, watching the bump move and feeling your fingers dig into your oddly sore palms.

You let out a sigh of relief and pull your hand out from the sheets, bringing it up to your face and feeling the oxygen mask that’s been placed over your mouth and nose.

“Don’t mess with that,” You hear a voice say to your right. You turn your head and see a very tired Captain Price, dark eyebags hanging under his eyes and arms crossed, his hands having a white knuckle grip on either one of his elbows.

“…” You don’t say anything, instead you simply stare at him until he sighs and gets up from his seat. You watch silently as he leans over your bed and bends down, before pausing, and then quickly snaking his hands under your back to pull you up just enough for him to properly hug you.

You reach up with shaky hands and tentatively hug him back, not nearly as tightly—not that you don’t want to, but you physically can’t with how weak your arms are right now—but with just as much sincere affection. You can feel Price’s beard rubbing against your neck and hear his small sniffles as he embraces you tightly.

Maybe it’s his sniffling, or the way you can finally feel warmth for the first time in what feels like forever, or maybe it’s just the fact that he’s holding you with so much care and affection that it almost makes you burst at the seams, whatever it is, it causes you to tear up as well.

Those tears quickly become sobs that bubble up in your throat and crawl their way out of it, forcing you to tuck your head into the crook of Price’s neck and muffle your sobs in it, muttering a small ‘sorry’ after each one.

After each ‘sorry’, Price responds with, “It’s okay, let it out, sweetheart, you’re okay,” and those reassuring words only make you cry more because God, you didn’t even think he’d find you, yet here he is, letting you cry into his neck and is reassuring you after every apology that it’s okay.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—” You mumble a litany of apologies into Price’s neck, your breath stuttering and hitching as you try to hold back your sobs. Price only shushes you and rubs his hand up and down your back in a comforting gesture, bringing his head up to kiss the top of your head.

He tucks your head under his chin, “Don’t apologize, it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

And fuck, you know it’s just words, but it only makes you cry more.

Your sobs eventually stop, leaving you hiccuping against Price’s neck, silently crying as he continues to rub your back.

“I thought you died,” He whispers, his hand stuttering on your back, “I thought you died and I was going to dig up your dead body, when you didn’t answer me.”

You stay silent, letting him continue, “I thought you were dead when we dug you up and needed to feel your heartbeat for myself to confirm that you were still alive.”

He pauses for a moment before continuing, “I’ve been here ever since they put you in here. I haven’t slept, I’ve just stayed here, waiting for you to wake up so I could tell you that I—”

He chokes up for a moment before taking a deep breath and continuing, “I’m sorry for not even thinking to drag you out of the facility with me when we all ran out. You were— you were right there, and I couldn’t just grab your arm and take you with me, I just had to leave you behind and I—”

“You watched me while I was asleep?” You ask quietly, your eyebrows drawing together.

Price pauses and pulls his chin off of your head, and pulls you away from his neck so he can properly give you the most incredulous look he can pull, before saying, “I’m pouring my heart out to you and apologizing for practically leaving you for dead, and that’s what you’re worried about?”

“Well, I’m not worried, I’m just—” You shrug, not knowing how to explain it. Price sighs and chuckles quietly before tucking your head back under his chin.

“You’re insufferable,” He mumbles, sniffling a bit.

“… I forgive you, by the way,” You say after a moment of silence, “I didn’t really blame you in the first place.”

“You had the right to.”

“Sure I did.”

“But you didn’t blame me.”

“Right.” “…” Price stays silent for a moment before pressing another soft kiss to the top of your head and saying quietly, “You should blame me.”

“Maybe,” You mumble back, “But I won’t.”

Later, maybe an hour later, if the others see you asleep in Price’s arms while he keeps your head tucked under his chin and rubs your back affectionately—no they don’t.

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juvenillia · 5 months

Text

~ under my skin ~ John 'Soap' MacTavish x fem!reader [fluff/smut oneshot]

Summary: Johnny never wanted any more tattoos. Memories and people were more important to him than a little sketch on his skin. He didn't need those to be reminded of what he hold dear, because he kept all that in his heart. This opinion somehow changed when he met you and suddenly he found himself with five fresh tattoos that meant the world to him. Because these five tattoos reminded him of something he wanted to stay for eternity. The ink holding a meaning deeper than the bare eye could ever see.

a/n: this one was supposed to be a sweet short oneshot about Johnny falling for his tattoo artist but somehow it escalated very quickly and it could've been even longer but I stopped right there (for now)

tw/cw: tattooartist!reader, needles (ofc), tooth rotting fluff, smut, suggestive content, petnames, mentions of a past toxic relationship, flirting, mentions of angst, violence (but only the slightest, this is pure fluff), bestfriend!simon, comfort, love at first sight, pinning

wordcount: 10.4k [upps]

》 Read on AO3 《》 Masterpost 《

„C’mon Lt. Tell me,” Johnny bragged him for the millionth time today. They just arrived back at base after a draining operation, but as soon as Soap could turn his work brain off, he only had one thought on his mind. For three weeks there was one thing circling his thoughts and he had to pay a lot of effort to shove this one aside during the mission. Therefor he had no intentions in holding back anymore now. Three weeks ago, that was the actual day his world took a sudden turn.

Simon and he had to go undercover through London. Following a trace of a Russian insider who would lead them to their actual target. Nothing unusual. Something the 141 was used to it. Also, it wasn’t that uncommon that their trace led them to a well crowded area, where they needed to observe and find the target person. Usually, it would’ve been Gaz and Price going undercover, or some more rarely even Soap and Gaz, because they were simply the most unobtrusive, but this place literally screamed for Simon and Johnny to go. It was a tattoo convention. A place where numerous of eager artist presented their skills and works. A place where you found the most eccentrical looks. No one would bat an eye about the behemoth of a man Simon was, plus he already had numerous of tattoos covering his body. While Johnny on the other hand seemed to be just the guy looking for some new ones, next to his quite discreet one. They just blended in perfectly in between the many kinds of humans strolling through these halls.

That way they walked through the halls, keeping their eyes open to find their target. Price and Gaz stayed in touch with them over the comms, observing everything from afar, watching their six for just in case. They looked through all the booths, looked at every artist they could find. They didn’t know much about their actual target, only that he frequented a specific tattoo artist with a unique style. “Find the artist, find the man,” Laswell’s words echoed through Johnny’s head as he scanned through a portfolio of the booth he just stopped by. The works looked all perfectly made, with an amazing eye to details and such fine lines. Some medals and trophies placed next to their winning projects decorating the desk. If he ever would get another tattoo, he’d be sure to find an artist with that level of skill. Still, he really wasn’t into getting another one. Never found something with enough meaning to stay with him forever. In his job most of things were just temporally and those who weren’t, those were kept in his heart. No need to ink them into his skin. He absently browsed through the pictures of various body parts decorated with stunning grey and black artworks. His mind keeping track on the conversation Price and Ghost just shared when Johnny’s eyes just locked onto a picture of a back piece with which he was somehow familiar with.

“Something caught your interest?” a soft female voice dragged him out of his haze, but Soap only shook his head no. Closing the booklet in front of him as his eyes wandered slowly upwards to be met with a pair of bright eyes. Some of the prettiest he had ever seen sparkled into his own. Usually, he’d bring out a cheeky comment, a bold smile on his lips. But as his clear azure eyes stared into yours, no words left his throat. He was frozen in place, completely smitten. You gifted him one of your sweetest smiles, which just grew wider when you noticed another man behind the speechless Scot. “Simon!” you cried out, eagerly rounding the desk to give the man a quick hug, which he returned, somehow a bit tense. Johnny only blinked in disbelief at the two of you.

“Hey…” Simon gave your shoulder a quick pat before his eyes met Johnny’s. A warning hidden in his glare, something the Scot haven’t seen so often aimed at himself. Mostly at enemies while interrogation, but nearly never at himself. It made him swallow, before he calmed himself.

“I hope you aren’t looking for a replacement,” you teased while taking his beefy arm into your hand. Inspecting his tattoo sleeve, or better said your work from a few weeks ago. Letting your delicate fingers follow the black lines down to his wrist. Perfectly healed before he had to leave for deployment again. You always made sure he came as early as possible so that your art wouldn’t get destroyed.

“Why should I leave ‘e best?” he nudged you with his elbow, only the slightest, before you let go of his wrist. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants. His eyes pinned at your figure. Softer than Johnny was used to it.

“Well, won’t argue with that.” You laughed, while pushing your hands into your hips. You wore a simple pair of black cargo pants. Pockets stuffed full of necessities for the day. Your phone, your vape, some little snacks, some business cards, a pocket mirror and your favorite lipstick, a small ring light for your phone, and stuff you could need at a convention. Headphones loosely hanging around your neck connected to your phone, and the crew tag hanging loose from your belt around your hips, where your shirt was neatly tugged into your pants. The simple shirt revealing your own tattoos on your arms. “Besides…” your voice got that teasing, nearly mocking tone again. “I’d kick your ass for cheating on me.” You punched his upper arm playfully. Knowing that you could never even cause him pain. That’s why he was one of your favorite customers, you could just pull through an eight-hour session without him growing tired or whiney. He would just sit it out, listening to your tea, sharing a quick smoke in between.

“’m sure ya do, sweetheart.” He smiled softly beneath the casual black mask. He just got dragged out of this private comfort as Johnny cleared his throat a bit too dramatic for Simon’s liking. “That’s John by the way.” A sigh left his throat as he pointed at his teammate who eagerly stepped forward to you.

“Friends call me Johnny though.” His smile reached his eyes as he reached his hand out to you and you took it, shaking it with a smile. Eventually his thumb brushed over your knuckles during the process.

“Pleasure to meet you. Heard already a lot,” you cooed, squeezing your eyes shut while crossing your arms in front of your chest. Johnny’s smile faltered for a second, thinking about the things his Lieutenant could’ve told you already. Hopefully nothing too embarrassing he thought. Just then you told him your name before he repeated it quietly. Letting its sound roll over his tongue, the same smile from earlier on his lips.

“Would love to chat with ya more, y’know, but...” Simon interrupted the scenery in front of him. His glance searching for the blue ones of his teammate, sending him a knowing glance. “work…,” he said in his usual stern manner but still calm. You only nodded your head.

“And I thought you would drop by to say hi. I’m violated, Riley.” You faked a shocked face before a chuckle left your throat. Simon’s glance softened at your statement. “My work’s also waiting.” You pointed to a guy with a naked upper body half and half-finished chest piece. “Some awards to bring home you know.” You smiled smug patting your flat palm against his chest. Simon only nodded; his brows relaxed.

Johnny couldn’t suppress his bright smile the whole time, his eyes watching every move you made. It amazed him how much at ease you were with Ghost, because Soap knew it took a lot for him to be comfortable around people. Especially civilians. But Johnny couldn’t blame him, you already got him hooked as well. That’s when something clicked in his head. “Wait a sec.” He pulled a picture out of his jacket. Simon tensed, as the Scot moved to show you said image. “Yer recognizing that style?” his voice was serious but somehow, he couldn’t suppress the adoration beneath it.

“Johnny…” Simon instantly had a scolding tone lingering in his voice. He knew from the beginning that he could’ve asked you about that specific artist. He knew you were quite known in the scene, having contacts everywhere, but he didn’t want you to get involved in all that his life was. Yes, he told you a few things about it. Especially when getting his own dog tags inked under his skin. You knew about some things he didn’t like to talk about. Especially when you decided to grab some dinner after a session, and he grew more comfortable around you. And with that he grew to become one of your closest friends. You knew many things about the ghost he was. You knew that his job was bone crushing and bloody. Still, he didn’t want you to get corrupted by it.

You ignored Simon and took the picture out of the Scot hands. Your eyes lingering on his forearm for a while - you called it occupational disease – before you investigated the work in the picture. It was nothing special for the unknown eye, but you saw anything that wasn’t traditional made. You saw every line that had a personal note in it. “Check out Mad Hatters studio, Misha I suppose. Could also be Sasha, he did learn from Misha though,” you stated while still looking at the picture.

“Thanks, bonnie.” Johnny’s tongue was faster than his mind as he once more caught himself starring at you. You looked at him, your face relaxed again. Your features were like a flame, warming him up from the inside as himself became a moth pulled to it all the way.

“Don’t even wanna know what you need from them. Good luck,” you said looking at Simon, who’s brows were ached in concern. You then turned back to Johnny. Your eyes once more clinging to the small piece on his arm. “I could do better.” You winked at him, the smug grin playing on your lips as you gave the picture back to the Scot. It caused Johnny to really start considering getting another one. He was that impulsive, and if there wasn’t that dumb job to get done, he would immediately jump onto your chair. Just to see how you would do it, just to see you more, feeling your delicate fingers running over his skin. Simon watched the scenery with an unsettled rumble in his stomach, as you walked back behind your booth and pulled some black rubber gloves out of the box. Smiling once more at the men in front of you and with a little wave you turned around to get to your model.

“Boys… focus,” Price cleared his throat and scolded them after watching the whole situation a bit longer than he should have in the first place. But still you gave them the needed evidence. You led them to the person they needed. So, the operation could process any further until they found their actual target three weeks later.

All those incidents leading us back to the day when Johnny didn’t stop to ask his Lieutenant about his tattoo artist. “Why’d ya want to know anyways?” Simon’s Manchester accent was thick as he rolled his eyes. He already knew why the Scot wanted to know. Simon knew that his teammate didn’t want any more tattoos. They had plenty of talks about it. Always when he came with a new one back from leave, Soap told him ‘not up to that Lt’. And suddenly he wanted to know your name and the studio you worked in, or better said own.

“I really want to get that one tattoo…alright. Made up ma mind.” Johnny’s nearly whiney voice pulled at the little strings that made his bag of nerves up. Simon was a patient man, especially when it came to his team. Still, he didn’t want to get you involved with more of his life. Knowing that Johnny would tell you so many stories that wouldn’t be meant for your ears. Knowing you too well, fearing that this could become more. “C’mon Lt. Please. Dinnea let me down!” Simon only rolled his eyes at him and wrote an address down. You could see his hesitation in his handwriting, but Johnny would find out this way or another.

And a few days later Johnny found himself in London, in front of a cozy looking studio. Warm lights inviting him in. A bell jingled sweet as he pushed through the door. The place lovely decorated with plants, fairy lights and some candles. Framed pictures of stunning works along the wall as he walked up to the counter. “One moment.” A familiar voice clung from the back to his ear and made him instantly smile. It was ridiculous how your voice was already imprinted in his brain from such a small encounter. “What a pleasant surprise. How can I help you, Johnny?” you cooed smiling at him. Relaxing your arms on the counter and your body weight on it.

“Well, isn’t it obvious?” his voice was calm as he leaned against the counter, closer to where you placed yourself. “Gonna show me how ye can do better, bonnie.” The smug grin facing your figure. The first time you caught him off guard. This time he prepared himself.

You exhaled sharp, followed by a chuckle. “That’s not how it works, darling.” You reached to your side and pulled a book in front of him. “I have a tightly filled schedule. Didn’t Si told you how I work?” You raised a brow at him. Johnny only shook his head no, while the smile started to falter. Seeing the gloss in his eyes slowly fading made your stomach turn. Why did he affect you so much? “Damn idiot…” you pinched the bridge of your nose. You opened the book and went through the appointments of the next days. “How big you’re planning?” Your eyes scanning through the upcoming projects.

His eyes instantly lighting up again. He was like a puppy that just got told they were going to the park. It was adorable. “Well, as big as it need to be. But upper arm.” He pulled the sleeve of his shirt up to reveal his perfect toned arm and presented the area he thought of as placement. A veiny hand circling around the spot. Your eyes were pinned onto the flexing muscles as you felt a certain warmth creeping up your stomach. It’s not like you didn’t saw well shaped men rarely, but something about John MacTavish was different to say the least.

“Alright.” You slid your phone over. “Put your number in. I’ll see if I can fit you in the next days.” He eagerly took the phone and put his number in. Before you could say something or even snatch it back, he even dialed it to give himself yours. It made you chuckle as you took your phone back. You looked at the contact, there was only ‘johnny’ written with his number of course. “Lastname?”

“Already wanna take it, lass? I like straightforward.” There was that coquettish smile back on his face. His azure eyes staring into yours. “MacTavish, would suit ye though.” He slowly licked over his lips, as his eyes didn’t dare to avert from yours.

“You’d wish.” You typed his last name in. “Johnny is just a really common name, and you don’t want me to call the wrong one. Don’t you?” you teased, still a slight blush on your face. He shook his head no, while straighten himself up.

“Aye, would be a shame.” He placed his hand quickly onto yours which laid on the counter. Giving it a quick squeeze, before leaving again. “Waitin’ for yer call, bonnie.”

That call came like two days later. You managed to rearrange some appointments to clear a day for the Scot. Telling yourself that it was only because he was a friend of Simon. Not because you found quite a liking in the man and his flirtatious manner. So, two days later he was seated in your shop again. Upper half of his body completely stripped. He told you he was more comfortable with wearing no shirt at all, then pushing the sleeve up again and again. Yes, he could’ve just worn a tank-top but who were you to judge? He was quite a treat for the eyes. You just prepped his upper arm with the stencil as he told you a story how he tried to sneak into the military while he wasn’t even old enough.

“Simon was right, you’re unbelievable.” You smiled while smoothing the stencil paper over his arm. He stayed completely still, while his inside was trembling as he felt your delicate touch on his skin. Even with you wearing those gloves it gave him so much to enjoy. Desperate for more already.

“Hope he only told yer good things. Dinnea want ye to think bad of me.” He smiled sincere. His face turned to you, as you slowly removed the paper. It was close to yours, as your glance found his once more. The smile he wore reached his eyes and again you found yourself with the same warmth on your cheeks, your own lips tugged up in a genuine smile.

“Don’t worry. Only the best.” You chuckled while rolling with your stool a bit away to look at the outline of the work. “Take a look, if we can start or if you want to change a thing.” You took a mirror to let him get a proper look at the piece. “Speak now, or forever hold your peace. Because this is going to stay with you for eternity.” You were used to customers completely smitten by the stencil itself, but with Johnny it was different. His eyes were shining bright, as bright as his smile. But his eyes were more pinned on you, and not onto the future piece of art decorating his skin.

“Dinnea think of anything to change. Dae yer thing, bonnie,” he cooed, and it gave you that feeling in your guts again. Somehow you believed he didn’t even care about the tattoo itself. Still, he used something that fitted him perfectly. Well, as perfect as you could assume from Simon’s stories. And the following hours reassured you. With that you started to let the needles sink into his skin for the next seven hours. Black and white ink forming a masterpiece just after your liking while you listened to all the stories Johnny shared eagerly with you. Asking you many questions about your life beside the studio and customers. Asking about your family. You learned that he had two sisters and was really close to them as well to his mum. He shared openly so much information about himself, that you yourself kept talking about everything under the sun.

Sometimes he had to reposition his arm that you could reach a spot better. What led to a half hour of his calloused palm resting on your thigh. He couldn’t help but let his thumb stroke over the fabric of your pants. You’d lie if you said you didn’t enjoy it. With your job it came naturally to be close and kind of touchy-feely with your customers. But it wasn’t so common for you, that it affected you personally. Especially when it came so casually by him. He kept talking about that one time when his teammate, Gaz, fell out of a helicopter. Even if Johnny wasn’t there himself, he told the story so passionately that you believed you were there yourself while his thumb still caressed your thigh. His gently touch making your stomach tingle as you tried to stay focused.

Soon seven hours came to an end and a boar’s head was now engraved onto his upper right arm. Not like the usual animal portrait you so often had to do. No, it was indeed something more meaningful to him. Connecting the pride for his home country to his family, mixed with your personal note to give the tattoo a specific spice. Johnny loved it as he stood proudly in front of the mirror, investigating every line you made.

“It’s fuckin’ perfect. Bonnie, yer the best,” he exhaled while placing a quick peck onto the crown of your head while turning back to the mirror. His gesture left you breathless for only a second. Emotional outbursts after a finished session weren’t something you were unfamiliar with, but Johnny always added another note to his actions and words. A subtle undertone that gave you butterflies.

“Glad you like it.” You smiled putting on another pair of gloves on to clean the piece and wrap it up properly. “You know how to take care of it?” you said calm while placing the second skin onto the fresh wound. Johnny shook his head slightly and it earned him a chuckle. “Alright, the second skin stays on for like five days. If it loosens before, don’t break your pretty head about it. Then you wash it with usual water and cream it with special lotion. I’ll give you some. No gym, nothing to make you sweat more. No sunbathing and no swimming for the next two weeks,” you said reaching to your supplies to get a tube of tattoo med out. “You should drop by then to let me have a look. If we need to improve…redo some things, or if everything heals perfectly fine.”

“Lass could simply ask me out if ye wanna see me again.” He winked while pulling his shirt back on. His eyes never leaving your figure and finding a liking in seeing you all flustered. He was good looking; indeed, he knew the effect he held against woman. But with you it was different. He just wanted you to like him, to look at him like he thought he looked at you. Smitten.

“Not my kinda style.” You shrugged it off. What somehow demotivated the Scot. The whole time you were flirting back and forth with him, and when he discreetly asked you out, you turned so distant. He wouldn’t give up so easily though. Therefore, he was way too eager, but he called it a day. Paying you your loan and with that you somehow parted ways. The job was done, and you both went after your business.

Unfortunately, Johnny couldn’t stop by after the two weeks mark was passed. He got suddenly drafted in again, he just shot you a quick text.

Johnny MacTavish [09:03] Sry, bonnie. Works callin. Gonna make it up to ye ;)

You [10:36] Don’t ruin my masterpiece.

You [10:39] Come back alive.

Johnny chuckled silently after your second message arrived. Those three words gave him an unbearable urge to see you again. Already sitting on the truck next to Simon. “Ye couldn’t keep her away forever, Lt.,” he snickered, shoving his phone into the pocket that would stay off the fields.

“At least I tried…” Simon sighed half annoyed, but half amused. He knew both of you well enough to know, that you’d fit each other’s liking way too good. It was hard to keep up with one of you, but having both combined would bring him the death of his peace. But he was sure, that it wouldn’t become something more. At least he hoped. You had rules, and on top of the list stood: No flings with customers. Especially not after what happened with your ex. So, Simon was sure that Johnny would become at furthest a good friend to you, just like Simon did. He was as sure as he was that this operation would be easy and that nothing would keep them occupied for too long. But Simon was so very wrong about both.

The mission went south faster than Price could smoke his cigar. Kyle was the worst injured, while Johnny didn’t sustain any injuries. It made it clear again. Clear how dangerous the path was they were following. He loved his job; he wouldn’t change a thing. But to know that he almost lost his teammates, it made something to him. So, while sitting at the train station, that should bring him back to Scotland to spend some time to recover, he pulled his phone out.

Johnny MacTavish [12:29] Yer havin a free spot for yer fave Scot?<3

You [12:39] Drop by the studio tomorrow noon.

You [12:41] Sacrificing my days off for you. Make it worthy.

Johnny MacTavish [12:42] Aye!

And Johnny made sure to make it worthy. Instantly jumping on a train to London, instead of home. Booking a hotel nearby on the way and making sure to collect some stuff on the way. He picked up some good lunch on the way to the studio. Making sure to treat you right. He even thought about buying some flowers, but he didn’t want to make you somehow uncomfortable.

When he wanted to push the door once more open, it didn’t move an inch. Just then you walked up from the inside, unlocking the door and letting him in. “Hello there. C’mon in.” You held the door open for him to slide in. Locking the door once more after him, avoiding passing customers. “So, what’s the idea Mr. I don’t want any more tattoos?” you asked him mockingly, while he placed his stuff at the couch in the waiting area and unzipped his hoodie. You were used that customer often came back after the first one. Literally nobody stayed with only one of your pieces. For Johnny you were overly glad that he came back though.

“It’s even more special than before,” he said calm while pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to you. You took it in, and a little smile played on your lips. “I trust ye with it,” he added before his eyes met yours. You knew that look. It wasn’t the cheeky and playful smile. It was genuine, meaningful and he entrusted you with this, it made your heart flutter. So, you took your graphic tablet and get it to work out. Just as perfect as it needed to be.

You were seated on the couch in your waiting area next to him, while he kept telling your stories of operation and after-operation celebrations. He didn’t talk about the most recent one. You kept listening to his voice as you drew the outline for his next piece. He leaned a bit closer into your side, his head resting on your shoulder as he looked at the tablet. His talk paused. A smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You didn’t move, let him rest against you as you inhaled his scent. He smelled nothing like you’d imagine a soldier. Nothing like Simon when he came to the studio. He smelled just fresh. His mohawk holding a scent of balsam in, but also like a tone of green apple. “Something to fault it?” you asked calm.

“Yer dae even better.” Johnny let his head linger on your shoulder while his eyes scanned over the screen. There was shown a hat, a cap and a skull in your original style. Something so insignificant to others, but something so important to him. You sketched it out and prepared the stencil as he stripped his shirt once more. You stood in front of him as you looked at the piece from the last time. Checking if anything was damaged, a satisfied smile on your lips. Just then you prepared his left chest for the three symbols. His hands twitched as you stroke over his chest, and he just wished for you to ditch those damn gloves. His eyes pinned down to your figure, as you wore a little smile, while your fingers worked over his chest.

It took another good amount of time to get this piece done. You took more breaks this time. Sharing some of the food he brought, and many laughs, while he laid on the flat bed and your next to him. Carefully going after the lines of the stencil, while his arm slipped around you and his hand lingered on your waist so often during the process. You didn’t mind. Neither of you said something about it, just enjoyed the company, the closeness as you shared some more chats. But sooner than later this session come to an end. That way you found yourself standing next to him, observing his face as he looked at the latest addition in the mirror. A smile playing on his lips. It wasn’t like the bright and toothy ones; it was heart melting and genuine. Something so meaningful. “Tapadh leat,” he said a bit absently. It made you raise your brows. His eyes finding yours, while his hands finding your waist. “Thank ye,” he repeated for you to understand, and you smiled, while he didn’t dare to pull you closer. His huge palms only squeezing your side a bit as you stood in front of each other.

“It’s my job, Johnny,” you said calm. And he shook his head no, while he once more squeezed your waist what made you tilt your head in confusion slightly. But you didn’t give it another thought. You wrapped his tattoo up; he pulled his clothes on again and you went to the front desk for the check out. You broke down the skin routine once more with him, but he interrupted you.

“Go out with me,” he said abruptly before you could even say something more. His voice was desperate, but at the same time so gentle.

“MacTavish…” you sighed while your own heart ached. You had your rules. A rule you broke once, and it was the worst decision you ever made. Simon had to help you back then to free you from the stalker your ex-customer and ex-boyfriend was. And with his leaving you lost many regular customers and friends. You couldn’t bring yourself to do it again, even if you knew that Johnny would be different. Even when your heart screamed to just say yes to him.

“Otherwise, I need to come back every time on leave to get another one.” His voice gave you some hints of a joke, still you weren’t so sure about it if he really was joking. His eyes were filled with a certainty, a determination. You averted your eyes.

“I am sorry…” you said calm. But he only declined it. His face a bit defeated, but still something told you he wasn’t done with the thought. Simon told you once how stubborn this man could be, so you steeled yourself, hoping that you wouldn’t give in. Even if it would be hard when those azure eyes literal begged for you to do so.

“Gonna stay ‘n London for three weeks. If ye make up yer mind. Ye ken how to find me,” he said while leaving your studio.

You exhaled deeply after closing the door after him. Waving after him as he crossed the street. His eyes still bright as always. You cleaned up the studio and went to the front desk for a last time today. As you flipped you through the bills to put them away something different caught your interest. A little paper neatly folded between the notes. You took it and unfolding it. It revealed a sketch of your own face. It was a unique art style, and it made your heart ache even more. Under the sketch was something written in a sloppy handwriting. ‘nae stunning as the original’ You pressed the paper to your chest, while a desperate chuckle left your throat. “John MacTavish…you’re gonna be the death of mine,” you said calm to yourself as you put the drawing into your personal journal.

“He came for ‘nother one?” It was a few days after your gripping encounter with the Scot when Simon was seated in your studio again. Working to add a new part to his back piece. You only nodded, even if he couldn’t see it. “Ya like him, don’t ya?” The Brit said calm. You paused your work for a second. Not answering him was answer enough for Simon, what made him chuckle deeply.

“Si…” you exhaled while continuing your work. You wanted to say so much about that topic because he was right. You liked him. He already reserved a place in your heart for himself and the last days were only filled with that god damn genuine smile of the Scot. You found yourself often at night looking at the portrait he gifted you. Asking yourself how long you’d be able to turn him down.

“Tomorrow, drinks at yer place.” It wasn’t an offer, more like an order and you sighed. Not like you and Simon didn’t spend some time of sessions together. You were close after all. Drinking and talking or just watching some stupid shows together at your apartment. Even if the thought of you meeting his teammate still annoyed Simon, he couldn’t bring himself to watch two idiots pinning for each other when it was way too obvious. And even if he wouldn’t admit it for anyone to hear, seeing two of the people he liked the most falling for each other, it made the coldness of his own heart melt. You only needed a little excuse to ditch your rules. Even if Simon hated to break those. If it meant that you could finally be happy again after your ex, he was willing to help.

Lt💀 [17:09] 1900 at the studio

John MacTavish [17:11] What yer up to Lt?

Lt💀 [17:15] Don’t ask stupid questions.

Johnny knew better than asking more questions, so he got ready and made sure to be punctual. It was Sunday, so the studio was indeed closed as he stood in front of it at 18:56. As Simon walked around the corner, wearing all casual sweatpants and a hoodie, Johnny was even more confused. The Brit had a plastic bag from a nearby grocery store in one hand. “C’mon Johnny.” He punched his shoulder playfully while walking around the studio, aiming for a door in the side alley.

“Mind fillin’ me in, Lt?” he arched his brow at him while trailing close after him. Hands pushed into the pockets of his denim pants. Somehow, he felt overdressed next to the way too casual look of his Lieutenant.

Simon looked at his watch, waiting for another minute to pass. So, it was actual 7 p.m. and he pressed the button of an intercom. “It’s Simon for tonight,” he said, shooting Johnny a glare who only looked more confused but raising his hands in defense. The door started to buzz, and Simon pushed it open, signaling Johnny to follow him. Climbing some stairs before they found themselves in front of another door, which already stood a gap open. So, Simon naturally walked in, kicked his shoes of and Johnny followed his lead.

“Hello there,” you chimed while walking up to give Simon a quick hug, which he returned before ditching his mask. Your eyes switching to Johnny who just wore a stunned smile. He had thought of many things to happen tonight, but not to find himself in your apartment together with his Lieutenant and a various beers and whiskeys.

You all shared some good laughs, some amazing and catching stories. You told them about some cringe customers and very hilarious stories they shared with you. Johnny and Simon entertained you with sharing stories of their daily events. Johnny didn’t know what excited him more, the way he saw his stoic superior so at ease around you. Joking, laughing and even open so much. Or the fact that you were seated next to him, somehow always having one of his limbs touching any part of you as his eyes were glued to your lips.

It was an easy-going evening when you all had way too many drinks. You were just on the way to bring some empty bottles over to the kitchen when you could hear the teasing voice of Simon once more. “For a lad, that didn’t want any more tattoos, ya fast with getting’ new ones,” he joked, and Johnny only scratched his neck. His cheeks tainted red, mostly from the alcohol running through his system you supposed. “Ya know, Kyle even bet ya’d get a trump stamp if necessary.”

Johnny let out a wholehearted laugh. To be honest, if his whole body was already covered in tattoos and this would be the only way to see you again. He’d do it without hesitation. Hesitation was something you didn’t know today either. Just like that you walked over to the Scot. “Real talk now.” Without a warning you sat down, straddling his lap as your arms found his shoulders. Johnny only swallowed, sobered up so suddenly as you pushed your body weight onto him. “If you ever get a tramp stamp and I am not the person to do it… we won’t have a shared future darling,” you said mockingly, while your hands found some loose strains of his hair. Simon only laughed as he leaned back in the armchair, sipping on the beer in his hand. Watching the scenery in front of him in amusement.

“Bonnie, yer the only one for me. Ya ken,” he said while his beefy hands found your waist, helping to stabilize you on top of him. His words held much more meaning in it than you’d realize in your drunken state. His heartbeat quickened up as your fingers played with his hair. The redness of his cheeks rose, just like a certain tightness in his pants. He just hoped to not scare you away. But he was sure he wouldn’t be able to hide it, you simply had to feel it the way you were seated just above the bulge.

You only laughed. Eventually you felt his arousal, eventually you just chose to not pay any attention to it. “Then let’s do it,” you joked, leaning a bit back to look at him properly. He looked flabbergasted back at you.

“Sweetheart, yer drunk,” Simon cooed, and Johnny literally forgot that the Brit was there until this very moment. At this point, he felt somehow embarrassed but also thrilled at the same time.

“Darling. You’d be able to kill a man when drunk. Aren’t ya?” you tilted your head to the Brit with a devilish smile. Simon only sighed, and your smile grew. “See! And I can tattoo then.” You laughed, turning your attention back to the Scot, who by now started to let his thumbs stroke over your waist, drawing lazy circles into the fabric of your top. “What you’re saying, love?” your mischievous smile aimed at him as your eyes pierced into his.

“Fuck it. Let’s dae it,” he said. The alcohol running through his veins was the main reason he agreed, but how could he deny you, when you were so beautifully seated above him. Hands stroking a long his neck and hairline what sent shivers down his spine. His mind was hazy, and he didn’t care for any consequences.

“That’s my boy!” You laughed while slowly standing up. “Benefits of living just above the studio.” You reached for the keys to the studio and signaled the men to follow you. Just a few minutes later you found yourself in the studio downstairs, everything prepared for this very spontaneous and somehow dumb idea. If you’d be sober, you’d never agreed on it. Giving a tattoo to a drunken person is indeed very unreasonable. The body tend to bleed way more with alcohol rushing through it. Quite apart from being drunk yourself. But who said that you made wise decisions in the whole process?

Johnny was positioned on his stomach on the flat bad. His shirt gone once more, and his pants awkwardly pulled down to reveal the required spot. Simon was seated next to you, as you started to draw a tramp stamp freehand on his lower back. For this part you ditched the glove and Johnny couldn’t be happier about it. At the same time, he found himself in quite the misery. This tattoo session giving him a literal hard time, while Simon talked with you the whole time and Johnny only felt your delicate skin onto him. Simon laughed from time to time about the design or the muffled groans the Scot let out. Johnny was certain that Simon did fairly well know about his misery.

In your current state the tattoo took way longer than it would usually have been. But you didn’t mind. The delicious view in front of you made it easier to pull through. And now while your mind was flooded with those inappropriate thoughts, you couldn’t suppress the longing the Scot caused deep in your heart.

“What’d you think, Si?” you placed the tattoo gun down and looked at the artwork, wiping the excess ink away. It wasn’t your masterpiece, but you were more than satisfied.

“Bloody ‘ell. ‘s perfect.” Simon laughed, while looking at the lower back of the Scot.

“Lemme see.” Johnny carefully stood up and walked over the mirror. You haven’t talked about a design, he trusted you to just do your thing and the face he just wore made it so worthy. Even if he would’ve been pissed seeing it. “Haud yer wheesht!” Johnny stood in front of the mirror and looked over his shoulder to see a squiggly tribal leading to the center of nothing else than a unicorn.

“You don’t like it?” you walked up to him, standing just in front of him as he faced you again. There was no regret in his face, only a smile on his lips before he started to laugh wholeheartedly. He pulled you close to his chest as he kept laughing and you just joined him. Placing your hand gentle on his bare back as you started to giggle yourself. It felt way too comfortable.

“Wait a damn minute.” It was Simon who interrupted the scenery. Pulling you a bit away from him. Not forcefully, not to cause any harm. He looked stunned at the chest of the Scot, while his hand was still placed on your shoulder from his earlier action. “Ya fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” he said with disbelief in his voice staring at the three familiar icons on the bare chest in front of him.

Johnny only smiled at him. “Surprise.” His hands stayed at your hips, as all of you three started to laugh at the situation. One of your hands pulling at Simon’s shirt what led to a tight hug shared between the three of you.

Time passed and you haven’t heard of one of them in the next months. You were used to it through your friendship with Simon. But now it was different. It bugged you more than before. Of course, you always did kind of worry for the man, but now there were two men you struggled about. You needed to fight the internal urge to shoot him a message. Asking if he’d be fine and safe, but you didn’t. Not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of him.

It already turned fall when and you started to decorate the studio. The whole place screamed Halloween now, but it wasn’t enough. One of your favorite seasons and it needed to be celebrated right. It was already quite late as you received a text that your appointment for tomorrow cancelled due to sickness. You hated last minute cancellations because you wouldn’t find any replacement. But this time it was somehow fine. The last days were so stuffed full that you could actually look forward to a day off. So, you made plans to go shopping for even more decorations. Enjoying a day off just for yourself. Well, that was your actual plan. A plan that got thrown over as soon as you noticed a familiar face walking through the front door. You turned around and greeted him with a bright smile. Relieve settling in your bones to see him again. He walked strictly up to you and only stopped a few centimeters away. “Johnny.” Before you could even say anything more, he pulled you close to his chest, and you completely engulfed in his embrace. He buried his head into the crook of your neck, as your hands found his back. Drawing lazy circles on his back.

You didn’t know how long you stood there. You didn't know how long until you spoke again. “I can make you some tea and we can talk. If you want to,” you offered with a soft voice, your hand still caressing his back through the thick layers of his jacket.

“Need something stronger.” Was his only response. So, you closed the store and brought him upstairs. He instantly sank down on your couch as you grabbed the bottle of whiskey and purred him a glass. “Thanks, bonnie,” he said calm while taking the glass. You sat next to him; your eyes filled with concern. The usual smile washed away from his face.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Johnny,” you literally begged him. Your hands finding his thigh, what made him look at you. His eyes were still the same azure ones you fell for, but somehow, they looked pale. He looked drained and tired.

He leaned closer to you, until his forehead was resting against yours. Eyes closed, while his hand found the back of your head. “I was scared…” His voice just above a whisper. A quiet confession. “so fuckin’ scared…that I wouldn’t be able to see you again.” His fingers stroked through your hair as you closed your eyes. Trying to suppress the sudden burn you felt in your eyes. His honesty broke your mind and the sheer thought of not being able to reunite with him anymore, it broke your heart. But he was here with you. He was safe with you. Still, you were only friends. You shouldn’t feel those things for your friend.

“I am here, Johnny.” Your voice was soft as your palms found his chest. “I am not going anywhere.” You added a little reassuring tone before he pulled his head only a centimeter away from yours. His blue eyes somewhat brighter than before, staring in yours. You melted right there as his other hand discarded the glass to reach out to your cheek. Your eyes were glued onto the gaze he gifted you. His eyes filled with adoration as the corner of his lips slightly tugged up again.

“Please…” His thumb stroked over your cheek before it took a gentle grip of your jawline. “Let me kiss you.” His glance darted between your lips and your eyes, waiting for your response with anticipation. The slight movement of your head giving him permission was the only thing he needed. Instantly closing the gap between you, as his lips brushed over yours. Gentle and soft, and still you could feel how he held back. The hand on the back of your head pulling you closer. Your hands found his neck as your melted into his touch. You broke away for a second looking into his eyes once more. They were blown with lust and endearment. No way you could retreat anymore.

“Johnny…” Your voice was soft as you pulled him back. You slowly leaned down on the couch and he immediately followed you, hovering just above you. “I am not a person for a one-night stand.” Your voice cracked a bit, but the smile on the Scots face reassured you instantly.

“Who said I’d leave ye.” He connected your lips once more. More eagerly, more lust filled, and you followed his lead. Taking a tight grip onto his neck. If you thought he was hard in the drunken state a few months ago, you were wrong. Nothing compared to the need he felt right now, growing every second as his kisses grew sloppier. Openmouthed wandering down to your neck. A moan left your throat as his teeth gently sank into the soft flesh of your neck. You could feel how everything in you screamed to take him. To feel him.

He leaned back to pull his shirt over his head, revealing his perfect shaped body. A body you had seen so many times before during his appointments, but now everything felt different. He played with the hem of your shirt before he helped you strip out of it. “Like a goddess,” he praised while his calloused hands roamed down your body. Followed by passionate kisses and gently nibbles down to the waistband of your pants. “Let me taste ye hen,” he plead while toying with the hem of your pants.

“Go on, love.” Your voice was filled with so much adoration, it sent electric jolts through his body. He started to fidget with your trousers to free you. Just as your pants landed on the floor, you could feel the cold breeze brushing against the hot spot between your legs. His finger carefully brushing over it. Your panties already soaked, what made him groan with anticipation.

“’st tell me when something feels wrong,” he said soft before pushing the black lace aside to let his mouth take care of your cunt. As soon as he let his tongue slid through your folds you already arched your back. Another groan was heard as his hand took grip of your hips. He ate like a man starved, while you cried out his name. Johnny had to pull himself together not to cum right there as he tasted you. Everything in him screamed to let go. He couldn’t wait any longer. Not when you were so pretty spread only for him. He stood up, liking over his lips as you looked at him. Your chest heaving. “Cannae wait any longer. ‘m sorry, pet.” He unbuckled his belt and discarded his trousers, followed by his briefs. It made his hardened member jump against his stomach. You parted your lips at the sight. He was an average man, but still shaped like an image out of your wildest dreams. He climbed back on the couch to hover over you. Leaning on one arm, the free one was between your bodies. His hand guiding his cock along your folds. Your hand found his back as your eyes locked again.

“The impatient man you are, John MacTavish.” Your smile enlightened the passion within him even more, as he let the tip slid through your entry. Teasing you with a mischievous smile. Your nails digging into his back as your breath got caught in your throat. “Johnny…” You whined into his mouth while he kept it occupied with his heated kisses.

“Who’s the one impatient now, mo ghraidh?” His smug grin only grew as his lips caught yours in another kiss as he pushed himself inside. You cried out while he gave you some time to adjust. He ditched everything, the prep, the foreplay, he needed you right now and for the loving woman you’re, you couldn’t even try to protest, as it already made you feel that good. You wanted to be good for him, and only him.

“Takin’ me so good,” he praised while pushing deeper in. Feeling your plushy walls around his length already sent him into an abyss. It took him a bit longer to fully button out, letting you adjust to his seize. Showering you with more praise and kisses. As your body started to relax more he started to move. Rolling his hips against yours, letting him slip out and in again. “Hells bells…,” he cried out as he thrusted into your tight hole. His hands holding you tight against him. His forehead pressed to your temple.

Both of you knew you wouldn’t last long. The longing, the desire that grew over the time so huge that it became unbearable anymore. But he promised you that it wouldn’t be just a casual fling. He promised to stay. All the pent-up emotions leading you to the edge so soon. “I’m so close.” He didn’t slow down at your words. Rather pushing his pace up as he felt your walls pulsating.

“I ken.” He kissed your forehead, as your nails dig deeper into the skin of his back. “’st let go, for me.” He assured you while he pulled himself together. Your hands forcing him impossible closer to you as you felt your walls clenching around him as he rocked against that spongy spot inside you. You nodded fast as you buried your head into the crook of his neck, while he pushed his body weight onto you. Kissing your temple as he went deeper and slower. Rolling his hips to keep pushing at that same spot.

The heat building up as it felt unbearable anymore. He pushed you over the edge and you could feel how his length started to twitch inside. You only nodded before he could even ask, while your head stayed pressed against his shoulder. Your orgasm washing over you so hard, that tears started to form in the corner of your eyes. Completely clouding your mind. Somehow, you had to compensate the overwhelming sensation, so your teeth found his neck and you bit in his flesh as he painted your walls white. A deep groan leaving his throat as he rode out his high. You only loosened your jaw as your tongue could sense the taste of iron. You fell back as he collapsed on top of you. He placed another kiss onto your temple. “Dae so good for me, mo ghraidh,” he cooed while your hands clung to his back.

“Will you stay?” your voice was low, brushing over his skin. Somehow scared that this wasn’t real. That his promise wasn’t real. That he wasn’t serious. Even if you knew deep down that those eyes couldn’t lie. And even if they did, you were too addicted of him, you would just accept it that way.

“Inside ye?” The smug grin that reached his eyes was finally back on his lips as he propped himself up a bit. You punched him playfully.

“No, you idiot. In general.” You looked into his now softened eyes. He placed another kiss onto your lips. He slowly pulled out and gently stroked some damp hair from your forehead away. He didn’t need to answer that. Actions were louder than words. He made sure you took a relaxing bath together and afterwards just cuddled up in your bed.

“I’m nae goin’ anywhere.” He kissed your temple while pulling you in his chest. Spooning you and you just curled yourself up, clinging to the strong arm around you. Already on the way to drift away with him being all around you. You couldn’t even wish him sweet dreams anymore.

The next morning felt unreal. As you woke up you found the side next to you already empty. A sigh left your throat as you walked into the living room. After your actions of last night, you slept in nothing more than a fresh pair of panties and his shirt. You stopped in front of the mirror in the hallway to your living room. It looked hilarious how big his shirt was on you. A smile crept on your face as you noticed a low humming.

“Mornin’ bonnie.” Johnny came out of the bathroom, instantly pulling you close to him again. He only wore his briefs. A sight you never wanted to miss anymore. His tattoos by now perfectly healed.

Suddenly something different caught your interest. “I am sorry.” Your eyes wandered to the mark you left on his neck. It was slightly bruised, and you could clearly see an imprint of your teeth. Johnny looked at you and then at himself in the mirror. Examining the spot on his neck and a smile crept on his lips.

“Dinnea need to.” He turned to you, pulling you close to him once more. “Tattoo it.” His words rolled so easily over his lips. You blinked at him in confusion. “’m nae jokin’.”

“Johnny… that’s…a confession…quite possessive”. You tried to find the right words which was hard. You didn’t even know what you actually were, and he wanted you to tattoo your bite mark onto him. Maybe it was like a kink to him? Maybe he was just that cocky. But he didn’t give you space to let your mind wander any more.

“That’s the whole fuckin’ point.” He placed a kiss onto your forehead. “I want the whole world to see who I belong to.” Your heart skipped a beat at his words. It was his way to show you, that this indeed wasn’t just a one-night stand. A love drunken smile crept on your face.

“You’ll regret it sooner or later.” You stated while your fingers brushed over the mark.

“But what if…” He placed a kiss onto your head. “…what if I dinnea.” He smiled at you, watching how your eyes scanned the spot.

“You’re an idiot.”

“I am yer eejit.” He corrected you without hesitation. “If ye let me though.”

You pushed your face into his chest, and he wrapped his beefy arms around you. “Let’s get some breakfast first.” Your voice nothing more than a mumble against his chest, which vibrated due to his laugh, nodding before following you into the kitchen.

Did Johnny spend his whole time on leave at your place in London? Eventually. Just as he got a text from his Captain he left with a sad look in his face, but he promised to return safe. He now had a reason to return. Was the time on operations harder? Not really. You worried as much as before, but now you were officially allowed to text him or Simon to look after each other. Did he get teased by Gaz for the new tattoo found at his neck more than the tramp stamp? Equally Simon would say. But Johnny didn’t mind because both held a unique and deep meaning in his heart. Just like his love for his home country shown through the boar on his upper arm, with what he also had the connection to his family on him. Just like the tattoo symbolizing his teammates, his second family, just above the spot where his heart pumped in his chest. And for every man that would mock him for the tamp stramp he’d flash them in the gym, he only smiled wide, giving them a wink. Knowing that this tattoo marked the start of one of the best things happening in his life. An evening with two of the most important people to him. An evening that he’d forever cherish.

At this point John MacTavish was sure that he was done with getting tattoos. He had the things that were most important to him now immortalized onto his skin. But sometimes this man was in the very wrong. Because about two years later, he found himself once more surrounded by the buzzing of a tattoo gun. Two years that were spent in the fields with his team to make the world a better place. Just to return into your arms at the end of the day. In those two years he never regretted any line you placed onto his body. And he never would regret the fifths tattoo he was just about to get. It was different than the times before.

He was surrounded by his teammates, and your closest friends. Really just the closest of the inner circle. Keeping it as discreet as possible. The big day with everyone would be postponed to another date. But as always, Johnny wasn’t a patient man, so he wanted to have something beforehand. Something just for both of you before he had to go save the world again. That way he wore a casual decent but still traditional fit. The red and blue of his family’s tartan painted his kilt. The same tartan the scarf had you wore around your shoulders. A decent dress below, as you let the needles sink into his skin once more. His hand in yours as you tattooed a simple line around his ring finger. A similar one you already had on your hand. The first and only tattoo the Scot would ever give someone was now around your finger.

Just as you finished you kissed once more, while smiling at each other like the love drunken birds you were, as everyone around you clapped and cheered at you. Your studio filled with so much love and joy like never before. A moment you will always look back to in awe.

“I told ye, MacTavish would suit ye.” He teased while holding you close. His words nearly drowning between the noises of your friends and family.

You punched him playfully against his chest. “I love you too, eejit.”

“Don’t they have to say like I do or anything like that,” Kyle mumbled over to Simon, who just shrugged but smiled at the couple, now husband and wife, in front of him.

Even if you were glad that all the important ones were here around you, in the end only on person mattered to you. And that was the man holding you close in his embrace as he leaned his forehead against yours like he did millions of times before. Every night wondering if he’s alright. Every day waiting for his return. Every nightmare you endured. Everything was so worthy, just to have him close next to you and see him smile down at you. And everything started with a tattoo he never even wanted in the first place. A tattoo that led to four more. A tattoo that gave him a life with you by his side, because from the moment he met you, you went under his skin and there was no way he could ever escape it. Not that he even wanted to.

taglist: @cooliofango @ghostslillady @bunnyreaper @anothersimpsblog @kitkatscabinet @starry-eyedblog @yawnderu

#johnny soap mctavish x reader #cod x reader #soap x reader #soap smut #johnny soap mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader #call of duty #call of duty smut #call of duty fluff #soap fluff #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod mw2 #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap mactavish #johnny mactavish

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ageofevermore · 5 months

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UNDER THE MISTLETOE

SUMMARY — when you believe your girlfriends to be dead, the last thing you want to do is celebrate christmas without them. and when i’m feeling alone, you remind me of home, oh baby, baby merry christmas

Christmas had never felt so lonely. Your favorite time of year had never felt so despondent. You used to love the scent of fresh pine as it melted into the air and made the entire house smell like winter, but now it made you queasy. You used to bask in the sight of mistletoe hanging from door frames, waiting beneath it for the lips of your lovers to find their way home and encapsulate you in a picturesque snow globe moment, but now the very sight of it made you dizzy and clammy and sick. You avoided the holly and ribbon that decorated banisters and you threw away the gingerbread cookies somebody had left sitting on the kitchen counters. You had never felt so disconnected from the jouissance of December 25th, but you had also never lost all connection to your girlfriends who were off risking their lives for the greater good.

Seventeen days. It had been seventeen days since their comms went offline and nobody had heard a single word from them since. Everyone was somber, everyone felt hopeless, but nobody was as affected by the loss as you. You couldn’t find it within yourself to roll out of bed, or to mingle with your friends who were thankfully alive and well but Tony and Pepper still sang Christmas carols as they made dinner, and Bucky and Steve still watched old movies on the couch while reminiscing about the holidays in the forties, and Sam and Rhodey still decorated the tree with candy canes and popcorn garland because they believed that everything would turn out alright in the end. They believed Wanda and Natasha would find their way home, but you had never gotten so lucky. You had never gotten back the things that you lost.

You always told them that if anything were to happen, it would destroy you. You always told them that they were your entire world; your entire purpose. They never believed you. They always thought you were stronger than you were. They always saw the best parts of you, even when all you saw were shattered edges and a broken heart. Now they were thousands of miles away in a snow covered little town, and you were all alone in one of the most beautiful cities in the world barely clinging onto hope. Were they still alive? Were their bodies still warm and soft and careful? Were they still together, unaware of the fact that everyone back home was holding their breath expecting the worst? For seventeen days, all you managed to do was think about the worst. Afterall, nothing good ever happened to you. You were the harbinger of death, even if they tried so hard to change your mind.

When Steve knocked on your door, you let him think you were asleep. You let him stand outside on his own with a plate of decorated sugar cookies, trying his damndest to keep you afloat in the center of this storm that shattered your once stable ground. “It's Wanda and Natasha. They’ll be alright.” He was so certain, so hopeful. You hated him just as much as you hated the sparkling lights that Tony hung up outside. Even with your bedroom lights off and the curtains drawn, those red and green lights still brightened up your bedroom. Even with the comforter over your head, you could still see their faces as they boarded the quinjet thinking they’d be home in only a couple of days.

The winter months had brought inches of snow to upstate New York, covering the frozen ground in fresh white powder that crunched beneath even the gentlest of footsteps. Your heavy coat and fiery red knit mittens could only keep out so much of the brutal cold that made even Tony’s teeth chatter as he watched from the patio near the landing strip, but you couldn’t feel anything besides heat as you hugged Natasha around the neck and let Wanda’s wandering hands hold your waist.

“It’s Christmas. Do they really need you for an intel mission? I thought that was Maria’s job.” You mumbled petulantly into Natasha’s neck, not intending on letting go anytime soon. She knew that, Wanda knew it just as well. The redhead's hug was familiar, homely – but nothing you said could get her to stay. She had a ledger to wipe out, and no matter what light you saw her in, she’d always believe her hands were stained with red and it was her responsibility to do everything she could to right her wrongs. The wrongs she’d never had a conscious choice in, but still haunted her in the middle of the night when she was most vulnerable.

“Maria deserves one Christmas to herself, detka.” Natasha wistfully kissed your head, smoothing back the baby hairs that whipped around in the harsh winter wind and fell in front of your eyes. Her eyelashes fluttered against your hot skin, but the embrace was fleeting as she pulled away and straightened out the wrinkles in her stealth suit. The snow made crinkling sounds as she took a step back, and let you have a moment with Wanda, hating the way her nose burned and her eyes watered as their departure time grew closer and closer. After everything that happened, the chitauri and Loki and Thanos and Dreykov, she never thought saying goodbye to you would be the hardest thing she had to do.

“Why do both of you need to go?” You whispered to Wanda, letting her pull you in close to her heart when she saw that your shoulders began to tremble and your hands blindly reached out for Natasha, desperately wishing you got just one chance to be a normal couple. They wished the same, but there was nothing any of you could do about the fate of the world resting in the hands of the Avengers. That would never change, even if all you wanted was to be normal citizens for one Christmas season.

“We’ll be back soon. I promise.” Wanda kissed your lips so softly, you could barely feel her against you. Your covered hands did their best to cling to her, but she was stronger, and with sadness in her deep green eyes she forced herself away from you with one last gentle kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You sniffled, letting yourself fall into Natasha one last time before she boarded the jet behind Wanda. “Be safe, please.”

“Always am. I love you, don’t give Tony too much grief.” She knew how you could get when they were both away on a mission together, especially so close to your favorite holiday, but it was only a six day mission, she was sure you could handle that. Six days and they would be back in one piece, ready to decorate the tree and hide presents in every nook and cranny of the compound that they could think of.

“I can’t make any promises if he insists on putting up the Iron Man inflatable again.” Despite the sadness in your heart, you manage to crack a joke that has Natasha smiling. You love the way she smiles and how her eyes light up like Christmas lights, but it’s over too soon, and before you can find a reason for them to stay, the quinjet is taking off and your entire heart is flying away into a battlezone.

The bedroom you’re supposed to share with Wanda and Natasha is the only space in the compound left untouched by Christmas, and you’re eternally grateful for the lack of reminders that tonight's Christmas Eve, and your heart isn’t with you. The empty pit in the bottom of your stomach feels like it’s only growing bigger the longer you go on without any confirmation that they’re okay. You can’t stomach the optimistic banter that fills the common room when you're around, and how your friends hold onto hope that they’ll find a way home like Christmas miracles are something you deserve. You know the truth, you’ve seen the truth too many times to believe in such fairytales, and despite their luck at evading death, your girlfriends aren’t invincible. They’re human, just like you. They’re breakable and they’re killable and at the end of the day there’s only so much that they can take until they crumble. You wish that their teammates would remember that. You wish the world would remember that Earth’s mightiest heroes have families too.

There’s another knock on your door all too soon, but unlike Steve’s, it’s not as passive, and whoever’s so desperate for your attention doesn’t relent even after you make no sounds to indicate that you’re awake or even alive. You haven’t used your voice in days, having had no reason to as you’ve avoided everybody to the best of your abilities, but somehow you manage to find the strength to send them away, but even that doesn’t dissuade the persistent person outside of your door who only knocks louder and more urgently. It’s enough to make you want to cry, just wanting to be left alone, but nothing ever goes your way.

With light footsteps, you throw your bedroom door open, glaring up at whoever decided they needed your company. Tony’s bashful expression doesn’t melt your anger the way you hope, and impatiently you wait for his explanation with your arms folded across your chest. You’re wearing one of Wanda’s shirts, drowning in the oversized t-shirt that was one of the first she’d ever had after moving in. It smelled like her when you put it on, but six days is a long time, and now the only thing that clings to it is your tears. Natasha’s pajama shorts are tied around your hips, two sizes too big but the only comfort you’ve had throughout this entire experience. They’re a deep shade of red like her hair and the softest shorts you’ve ever felt, but nothing is softer than the way her hands grip at your skin in the middle of the night when she needs you close. Nothing will ever be as comforting as having them in bed beside you.

“It’s Christmas Eve.” Tony states the obvious, scratching at the stubble growing out of his chin that he hasn’t bothered to shave away. Pepper doesn’t mind the scruff, but your heart aches knowing that Natasha would’ve had some kind of comment about his graying features.

“No shit.” Your response is dry, and your voice is hoarse, but you can’t find it within yourself to tolerate his intrusion to your depressing quiet that is just barely keeping you together. “Did you need something?”

“Pepper thought you’d want to join us for a movie. Just one.” The sincerity in Tony’s voice is a rarity that only a few lucky people get to experience, but you can’t find it within yourself to give him the time of day. He’ll never know what this feeling is like, and for some reason that only makes you angry as your eyes slit into daggers.

“No, thanks.” You’re about to slam the door in his face when you hear a commotion out in the common room and Maria anxiously calling your name, the echo traveling down the festive hallway that makes you want to throw up. There are wreaths on every door, and in the center of the hallway is a red-berry stock of mistletoe, taunting your lonely lips that haven’t felt the kiss of your girlfriends in almost three weeks.

Almost too quiet to make out, Maria’s voice is shrill as the commotion in the common room only amplifies, but what followed wasn’t anything you would’ve expected to hear after seventeen days in the dark, but the second your brain processes what Bucky shouts, you’re fleeting to the source in seconds, side stepping Tony and practically tripping over yourself with an evident lack of grace as your limbs fly around wildly. “The comms are online!” Bucky’s words repeated over and over again in the front of your head like that godforsaken Christmas carol Tony had been singing all day, but everything became quiet the second static crackled out from the speakers of the laptop Maria was feverishly typing on, trying to secure the line Wanda and Natasha were supposedly on the other side of.

You couldn’t find it within yourself to look at anyone besides Maria as you all gathered around the couch and watched the woman work at a pace you’d never thought was imaginable. Your tired eyes bore into her soul despite her fixation point being the laptop screen, but you knew she could feel your desperation. Your entire body was crying out to have some relief, to be told that this was real, that somewhere out there, Wanda and Natasha weren’t separated and alone, that they were alive and ready to come back home just in time for Christmas. Nothing good ever happened to you, but they had, and you couldn’t afford to lose them now. Not when you had come so far to fix what had been broken a million little times over.

“Nat!” Maria shrieked when the static cracked and the faintest hint of a voice filled the silent room, so still that you’d know if a pin dropped and hit the hardwood floors. Another whirl of static almost deafened Steve and Bucky, but Maria was quick to adjust the frequencies and bring the voices of your girlfriend home, even if their bodies were five thousand miles away. “Nat! Maximoff! Can you hear me?”

With hardly any patience left in your agonizingly numb body, you reached for the laptop with the little strength you could manage, feeling your knees tremble the longer you stood on your own two feet. Maybe it was the lack of food and water, maybe it was the lack of sleep, or maybe it was just the sheer exhaustion you felt both mentally and physically that reduced you to nothing but a pile of bones and skin. Whatever was the culprit, it had you feeling like the world was about to collapse around you if you didn’t hear their voices. You only had this to hold onto, you couldn’t bear to see it get taken away after all these days.

“Nat.” Your voice was soft, trembling and hoarse just like it had been when you greeted Tony, but there was a thickness in it that held nothing but adoration for the redheaded woman that so bravely risked her life over and over again. “Natty, can you hear me?”

The static cracked again, and just when you were about to lose hope, just when you were about to chuck the laptop across the room and drown yourself in a bottle of whiskey, that silky voice you loved so much cut through the static and called out to you. “I can. Clear the land-” The static broke apart her words, it filled the room with a horribly deafening sound, but all that filtered through your mind was that they were alive. They were alive and they sounded okay. That was all you could ask for.

“Nat. Nat. Hello?” You bellowed, keeping the laptop away from your face knowing that it always sounded clearer from a distance. “Wanda?”

“H-h-home.” That was all you could make out before the signal was lost completely and the connection died again, but unlike before, your world didn’t feel so dull. There was an energy in your veins that hadn’t been there before, and with reluctance, you handed the laptop back to Maria bearing a smile nobody had seen in almost three weeks.

With the news of your girlfriends coming home, you finally took in the sight of the common room. You had missed all the little things that Tony had added this year, so stuck in your head on the few occasions that you ventured around the compound. There were the typical Christmas decorations that he pulled out from storage every December, like the fake snow on top of the mantle and the customized stockings with all of your names embroidered on the top, the ten foot tree that was adorned in warm yellow lights, and the annoying train that circled the tree on a loop, but there were little nutcrackers all in the Avengers costumes on the mantle as well, and a picture you’d never seen before of all of you together last Christmas, smiling and laughing and looking so at peace, it almost felt like a normal family celebration had you overlooked the cuts and scrapes on Sam’s cheeks.

Your girls were coming home. Maybe Christmas miracles did happen.

⋆*:･ִ ࣪🎄ೃ࿔

A snowstorm had drifted toward upstate New York in the hours you spent waiting by the door for Wanda and Natasha, curled up into yourself just trying to keep warm as snowflakes turned the frozen ground white just like it had on the day of their departure. Something about it was sweet, but another part of you dreaded the sight of fresh powder like even the thought of it would make this entire nightmare start over again. Stubbornly, you’d decided to wait by the window for the quinjet to arrive, not wanting to miss their arrival by any means, but the mug of hot chocolate you’d made to keep your insides warm had gone cold in minutes and as the harsh wind blew in, your porcelain skin became raw and red. Everyone else had gone to bed hours ago, not wanting to impede on your intimate reunion with the two women who you yearned for desperately. You appreciated the sentiment behind their actions, but the loneliness that had crept into your bones was only amplifying as the minutes ticked by so agonizingly slow. It was almost three in the morning when the first flickers of light came from off in the distance, followed by the unmistakable sound of a plane landing in the backyard. Bolting from the common room and leaving your snowman mug of cold chocolate on the side table to rest, you shoved the patio doors open with little regard for how you might snap the hinges, racing to see your girls emerge from the quinjet in one piece. Your naked legs weren’t protected from the cold, and your sock clad feet grew wet in seconds as they stomped over the snow, but you couldn’t even begin to register the feelings as you looked expectantly at the large black and sleek airplane.

When the gate began to lower to the ground, and wisps of red hair became visible in the darkness of nightfall, you wasted not a single second before you raced into their company and threw your arms around the first woman you could reach with all of your might. It was Wanda that earned your embrace, and the Sokovian woman returned your hug with the same intensity, her nimble fingers running through your hair and working apart all the knots and tangles that had formed over days of being left unbrushed. You wailed into Wanda’s chest with little grace, throwing your dignity somewhere out into the snow without care of who was watching from their bedroom windows. As you fisted the neckline of her stealth suit and dug your nose into the warmest crevice of her neck, your eyes searched for your second lover who was only inches behind your entangled bodies.

“N-Never do that again.” You sobbed desperately, reaching a trembling hand out for Natasha to hold, wanting to feel the both of them against you. “Promise me you’ll never do that again!”

Deep down, you knew that was something they couldn’t promise. No matter how much it would mean to you to never have to sit alone in the dark wondering if they were even alive, this was the only thing they knew outside of your love. This was the only thing that helped them sleep at night. It would be cruel to ask them to give up the one outlet they had for all of the trauma and pain they kept inside. You could never ask them to give this job up, not until they were ready to do it for themselves, but for tonight, beneath the stars and the sunflakes, they agreed.

“I missed you so much.” Wanda admitted as she laid innocent kisses to the cold skin of your neck, her warm body doing its best to keep yours from freezing as you shivered in the cold in only a thin pair of shorts. Her wandering hands found a home on the back of your thighs, and she smoothed her palms over your skin until they didn’t feel so cold anymore, but she could only help so much as the snow came down around you like a shaken snow globe. “Let’s get you inside, moya lyubov.” Her voice was thin as it carried through the open field, just loud enough for you to hear her, but it still made your heart skip a beat after so many days of painful silence.

Reaching a hand out for Natasha to hold, you linked your frozen fingers with the redhead and let your other girlfriend lead the way inside, leaving the quinjet to be dealt with at a later date, preferably by somebody else. They knew you wouldn’t be letting them out of your sight for the foreseeable future, and selfishly they didn’t mind your clingy behavior that always reared it’s head after a mission. Your girls yearned to feel wanted, to feel like they truly belonged after so many years of being treated like they were replaceable. You gave them everything they never thought they would have, and even after six years together they questioned what they did to deserve you or each other. You were all alike in that way, always willing to shell out comfort and reassurances but unable to internalize for yourself to believe. One day, the three of you would believe that you deserved to be happy, but for right now, you had each other to lean on.

When you made it back into the compound and Natasha closed the patio doors behind you, the scent of pine and cinnamon hit you in the face like a brick. For the first time in eighteen days the lingering essence of Christmas didn’t make you queasy. The kitchen was dimly lit with electric candles, ribbons and bows hung on every cabinet door like a Hallmark card, and in the center of the island were gingerbread houses Tony and Steve had spent hours competing over, decorated with stale vanilla icing and crushed up candy canes. The warmth from the furnace circled around your trembling body in a tight embrace, making your skin burn as it was forced to adjust to the rise in temperature in only seconds, but you welcomed it with a light heart and gleeful eyes.

“I felt so lost without you.” You whispered, leaning back into Natasha’s chest, letting her arms slink around your waist and keep you close to her despite her desperate need to shower and slip into comfortable clothes. You didn’t mind the weapons digging into your back, or how she smelt of sweat and blood, just glad to have her back home for your favorite day of the year. “I meant it when I said I wouldn’t be able to handle anything bad ever happening to you. I know this is your job, but it doesn’t scare me any less when shit like this happens. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I can’t afford to lose the only happiness I have.”

Wanda’s gentle hands cradled your face as Natasha held onto your body. They cherished your tender heart and all the broken pieces that made you the woman that they loved. “We will always come home to you. No matter what may happen, or who might come for us, you are worth fighting for.” Wanda’s red lips laid the softest kiss on the tip of your nose before Natasha was leading you down the halls and toward the bedroom, sparing a glance at the common room that illuminated a gentle glow as the Christmas tree remained lit in the farthest corner from the entryway. The fight wasn’t worth it anymore. Not when they had so much to lose. Maybe now, in snow soaked stealth suits bearing bruises and cuts and the blood of the enemy, they could finally find peace within their broken hearts to give this up.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes, dorogoy.” Natasha’s husky voice sent shivers up your spine as Wanda closed your bedroom door gently, not wanting to disturb the rest of the compound anymore than you already had. Natasha’s fingers worked at pulling your shorts off, and then your top, discarding them on the floor to be dealt with later. Wanda didn’t need to be asked to grab you a change of clothes, already scouring through the closet until she found the matching pajamas you’d ordered a month ago. Two days ago, you laid in bed alone, staring angrily into the dark closet wishing you’d never even ordered them. You hated the reminder of what you didn’t have, of what you might never have again, but in this moment, you knew it was the right call. As Natasha laid kisses from the lobe of your ear, down your neck, and past the blades of your shoulders that were tense from nights of restless sleep, you knew you didn't regret a single thing that led up to this moment.

Wanda was the first to get changed, slipping into the red and white checkered pajamas set with ease and leaving her stealth suit in a ball on the floor to be dealt with later. Her callused hands replaced Natasha’s on your bare waist when the older redhead peeled away to change her clothes, you melted into her rough hands, sighing in content when she began to work out the knots in your back and shoulder blades. “Did I ever tell you your fingers are magical?” You practically moaned when she hit a sensitive spot between your shoulder blades, wincing away from her touch before you sank back in. She giggled, letting her lips dance across your neck softly.

“Once or twice.” She teased, but just as quickly as she coaxed you into her grip, she was pulling away and helping you get dressed, only pausing when her green eyes caught sight of something hanging from the ceiling. With your shirt halfway over your head and your shorts hanging off your waist yet to be tied, your eyebrows furrowed as she twisted in her grip and looked at her.

“What?” You asked breathlessly, letting your fingers dance along her cheekbones. The bed rustled as Natasha climbed in, and seconds later you heard her beautiful laugh as she looked up toward the ceiling.

“Look up.” She hummed, and Wanda took that as an invitation to settle a finger beneath your chin and tilt your head upward toward the ceiling. Despite the lack of Christmas in your bedroom, one single stock of mistletoe hung from a string, hardly visible in the darkness of midnight that engulfed you like a warm blanket after days of feeling like a punishment.

“Mistletoe.” You mused gently, letting your lips crash against hers in a passionate embrace that you had so desperately longed for. Climbing into bed to share the same passion with Natasha, your forehead rested against hers heavily as you panted for breath. “Remind me to thank Tony later.”

Your girlfriends laughed as you settled into bed, four arms hanging off of your body as you were sandwiched in the middle, finally at peace after three weeks of agony. “Merry Christmas.” You whispered into the dark as sleep took over.

Wanda kissed the back of your head and Natasha kissed your hand, both entirely content with this simple little moment that was entirely deserved. “Merry Christmas, detka.”

#wandanat #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #wandanat x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #avengers x reader #wandanat fluff #wanda maximoff fluff #natasha romanoff fluff #fluff #wandanat angst #wanda maximoff angst #natasha romanoff angst #angst

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crosshairlovebot · 2 months

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i've got you / hunter x gn!reader

pairing: hunter x gn!reader (no y/n). reader has endearments.

description: hunter finds you unwell, so he tries his best to take care of you.

word count: 1,779

warnings: references to illness (fever, headache, coughing, sneezing, lethargy). but otherwise, it's soft hunter at his softest.

been writing much hunter lately! i'm not complaining! (but i will try and get some crosshair out next week) i wrote this super quick for a twitter mutual <3 but i hope this brings comfort to anyone who's reading and sick. you deserve an attentive hunter looking after you.

also posted this on ao3. feedback is welcomed, reblogs are appreciated.

Hunter knew something wasn’t right as soon as he walked into the Marauder. He’d come back after leaving the rest of the squad at 79’s, deciding he wasn’t in the mood to go out, especially when you’d decided to stay back on the ship, citing a headache. He’d initially offered to stay back with you, but you’d waved him off, insisting he go out with his brothers since they rarely got time off and you’d hate it if he used that time to sit around with you on the ship.

“I��m just going to lay in bed and maybe fall asleep early. I’m feeling a little tired anyway. Very boring stuff. Go have fun, Hunter. You need it,” you had told him as you came out of the fresher, face washed and in the comfiest clothes you had – baggy pants and short-sleeved shirt that you’d stolen from one of Wrecker’s old civvie disguises.

He’d been apprehensive but had left with his brothers anyway, telling you to comm him if you needed anything.

It had barely been an hour when he’d told Crosshair he was leaving, and to keep an eye on the others. Not only was the club loud and overcrowded, but he also just wanted to be with you.

But when he stepped onto the Marauder, something felt off. He could feel it in the air, and the sound of uneven breaths made the hair on his arms prickle under his blacks. He walked further into the ship, calling your name softly when he heard sniffles and a cough.

“Cyare? Hey,” he said when he saw you lying in his bunk, covered in a blanket and looking much worse than when he left you. You were unwell; the headache had been a precursor to something more serious. You squinted up at him as his shadow covered your eyes. He crouched down next to you immediately and ran a hand over your hair gently. “Why didn’t you call me?”

You groaned but leaned into his touch. “You’re supposed to be out.”

“I’m glad I came back.” Hunter pressed the back of his gloved hand to your forehead. Even through the skin-tight fabric, he could feel you burning up. “You should’ve called me,” he chided, a frown etched into his brow.

“Didn’t want to bother you,” you muttered, pulling the blanket tighter under your chin, and coughing lightly again. Hunter grazed the back of his fingers against your cheek.

“You’re never a bother. Why would you think that?” he asked, shaking his head.

You just shrugged, then sneezed under the blanket. When you re-emerged, moaning in discomfort, Hunter gave your cheek another caress before he put his hands on his knees and stood up. “I’m getting you a cold towel for your head.”

“No, don’t go,” you weakly protested as he walked off to the fresher.

“I’ll just be a minute, love,” he said and went to rifle under the fresher sink for a small clean towel, cursing that he and his brothers weren’t tidier. Once he found one, he quickly wet it in cold water and wrung out the excess before walking back to the bunk. You cracked open your eyes when you heard his footsteps and twisted on your back as he crouched down again.

“Here,” he said softly as he placed the cold towel on your forehead, smoothing it down. You hummed before a shiver went through your body.

“Have you taken anything?” Hunter asked.

“A couple of pills when you guys left,” you told him, eyes drifting shut again. Hunter frowned. He wasn’t used to treating sick people. Clones rarely ever got sick, their immune systems engineered to withstand any illnesses. Any time he was treated for anything, it was for injuries, and Tech usually handled it.

But Hunter was your partner, in every sense of the word. He wanted to be there for you in any way he could. Not just as the leader of the squad, but as someone who loved you more than he thought he could ever love anyone.

He always took care of the people he loved.

So, he tried to remember what they’d learnt from their training modules as cadets, the ones that detailed nat-born illnesses and how to treat them if they ever encountered sick civilians.

Fever, sneezing, coughing, headache. Sounded like a flu-type sickness. Maybe you had picked it up on Felucia during their mission there a few days ago.

You’d already taken some medication, so he knew you wouldn’t be able to for the next few hours. He just had to try and make you comfortable and ease the symptoms of the fever as much as he could while the medication worked.

Hunter gently flipped the cool towel to the other side as he looked down at the blanket. “You need to keep cool, cyare. We don’t want the fever to get too high,” he hooked his fingers over the edge of the blanket. You made a sound of protest but ultimately let him remove the blanket, pushing it down to the end of the bunk. You shivered, but you looked up at him, eyes blinking at him. He’d never seen you look so helpless before, and he hated it. He cupped your jaw, skin still hot, thumb moving over your cheekbone.

“Where’s your water canteen?” he asked.

You nodded to the cockpit, and he went to go get it, filling it up on the way. He crouched beside you. “Can you sit up?”

You nodded and tried to move. Hunter grabbed the towel from your forehead before he placed a hand under your shoulder blades and held your arm to support the change in position, fixing the pillow behind you. You groaned, complaining about the heaviness in your body as you sat there. He looked at you, shoulders slumped forward, peaky expression on your face as you rubbed your eyes. Being sick looked miserable, and he wished he could take it from you and suffer with it himself, just so you didn’t have to. He unscrewed the canteen.

“Small sips, okay?” He held the lip of the canteen to your lips and the back of your head as you tilted back and took three small sips before Hunter pulled the canteen away. Some water dribbled down your lip and chin and he gently wiped it away with the pad of his thumb. You looked over at him, brows slanted down. You looked upset, which surprised him a little.

“What is it?” He asked, screwing the canteen shut again.

You made a noncommittal noise and slowly moved to lie down again. Hunter cradled your head as you guided it down to the pillow, removing his hand once you were fully down. He ran his hand over your hair again. He watched your eyes close slowly at the movement. He repeated it a few times, soothing you the only way he really knew how. He tried not to worry too much, but it was hard when you barely had the energy to look at him. He knew nat-borns slowly got better from illnesses such as these in a matter of days, and he would have Tech check you over once they all got back, but he didn’t like seeing you like this; eyes dull, skin clammy, body curled up. He just wanted you to get better sooner rather than later.

After a few moments, he picked up the now half-dry towel and said, “Gonna wet this again.”

He stood up and walked to the fresher, and when he came back, he placed the damp towel back on your forehead. As he pulled away, you grabbed his hand and cradled it to your chest, interlocking your fingers together and sighing. He smiled softly.

“Oh, ner cyare,” he whispered gently.

“I’m sorry, Hunter,” you croaked.

Hunter shook his head. “It’s nothing to be sorry for. You’re sick. It happens.”

“Not to you,” you scowled at his hand like it was to blame for his immunity to illness.

“Well, I can’t help that.” His mouth tilted up at the corner.

You fiddled with his fingers and traced lines down to his palms. “I just feel so helpless like this.”

“Lucky for you, I’m here now. I’ve got you,” he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on your temple. He lingered there for a second before he pulled away, his other hand coming to your cheek.

You looked up at him, pout on your lips. “I didn’t want to ruin your night out.”

Hunter caressed your cheek. “There was nothing to ruin. You’re my priority.”

“Still. I’m sorry,” you said before kissing his fingers.

Hunter shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.” He adjusted the towel and then fixed the pillow underneath your head, so it was better supporting your neck. “Do you feel like some food?” he asked. He wanted to feel useful to you, but he didn’t know what else he could offer right now.

You shook your head. “Just wanna sleep.”

“Then sleep, love,” he said, pulling his hand from yours and sitting on the floor next to the bunk, his back against the wall opposite, legs stretched out and the soles of his feet resting against the bunk frame. “I’ll be here.”

You watched him, mouth pressing into a line before you reached out to him and your voice said quietly, “Closer?”

Hunter smiled. “Hang on.”

He stood up and began to remove his armour. Piece by piece, he placed it in a pile on one of the chairs in the centre of the ship. Now only in his blacks, he made his way back to you. You opened your eyes again and smiled when you saw him in his underarmour. He crouched down.

“Shuffle over,” he whispered, and you obliged, moving slowly so your back was almost up against the wall. Hunter climbed in next to you, sitting up in case he needed to move out if you got too hot. Once he was situated, you shuffled closer, head resting against his thigh, eyes closed. You’d curled yourself in a ball, and Hunter looked down as he repositioned the cool towel on your head, making sure it was in the right place.

“Rest, cyare. I’m right here.” He stroked your head, then moved his hand down to your shoulder, rubbing his thumb there. You snuggled into the side of his leg, letting out a sigh.

“Love you,” you mumbled as you began to drift off to sleep.

He smiled down at you, his hand stilling as he rested his palm, so it cupped the curve of your shoulder and kept you close to him. “Love you.”

banner art by @vimse thank you reading!

🏷️ @starrylothcat @sinfulsalutations @moodymisty @nahoney22 @freesia-writes @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @bobaprint @crosshairsnose @jesseeka @thegalaxys-edge @chopper-base @shredderwest @leavingkamino @r2d2staser @beckbucket @pb-jellybeans @mylifeisactuallyamess @padawancat97 @littlecrowtime @jedipoodoo @ezras-left-thumb @lovelycurls @fruitsaladtree @literallydontlook @burningfieldof-clover @queencousland101 @clonethirstingisreal @skellymom

TAGLIST FORM

#larissa writes #hunter x reader #hunter x reader fic #hunter fluff #hunter bad batch fluff #soft hunter #hunter bad batch #hunter bad batch fic #the bad batch hunter fic #the bad batch fluff #tbb x reader #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter

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the-californicationist · 4 months

Text

a safe house

(Price/Reader) SFW - But MDNI on my blog please!

“Ghost! How copy? Riley, come in!” Price shouted into his headset.

You were sending cover fire over the fallen tree that you and your captain were hiding behind. Unfortunately, you’d been separated from the rest of your team. Soap, Ghost, and Gaz were on the other side of the large, icy ravine, and they had done a good job drawing the enemy away from the target zone. Price kept trying to connect, but there was too much snow cover. A nasty blizzard was rolling in, and you needed to find better shelter, quickly.

“Captain! Enemy has been eliminated. We need to find shelter,” you tried to pull him up off of the ground.

He looked up at you, frustrated,

“Aye, Corporal, but they’ll be back. We need to find a way to warn the boys.”

“Look,” you showed him the map on your datapad, “Laswell said there’s an old town…I think she called it Khabnoye? It’s been abandoned for years, about two klicks away. There might be some old technology, radios, whatever. We can reach them on some long-range.”

“Alright, let’s move.”

It was a short distance, but the terrain was brutal due to the snow. You made it there by nightfall, and carefully approached the outskirts of the town, following Price’s lead to scope out possible enemy combatants. There was no one in sight. It truly was a ghost town, and you were justifiably creeped the hell out.

A small house was mostly intact near the very edge of the town, plenty of empty space around its edges, and only one broken window. You began to sweep the rooms, of which there were only three, noting that its prior occupants had left in quite a hurry sometime in the late 80s. You were fighting a nameless, secret war inside of the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone, so most of the towns you came across were similarly abandoned.

You stood in the kitchen with Price, catching your breath and unpacking your bag. He was starting up the small, convective space heater checking for high levels of radiation in the room, making sure it was sustainable for the night.

“Alright, let’s go dark. No lights, no comms until we get a better idea about what happened,” he said in a low voice.

“Yes, sir. I did get a notification from Soap, but the message is unreadable,” you showed him the datapad before you powered it down.

He sighed,

“At least we know he’s alive and stable enough to send comms. We’ll work on connecting when this storm blows through.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Drop the formality, Sparrow. Not spending the whole night listening to your sirs.”

He was upset. The operation was ruined, and he had no idea where his team was or if they were even alive anymore. You said nothing, letting him unpack two MREs and prep the bags for you. You checked the other rooms. There was a tiny, filthy bathroom without running water, and a bedroom with a dingy full mattress without sheets. You set to work arming the windows with night vision motion cameras - much good may it do you with all this snow - and rigged the front door.

“No use,” Price muttered, digging into his chili and beans MRE, starving.

“Why? You think we’re safe here?”

“No tracks in or out. No trash younger than me, and no pings for ten miles,” he showed you his passive EMP monitor, “Our tracks are covered by now with the storm. They’ll assume we rendezvoused back at the base. It was closer and easier to access.”

“Closer? Why’d you come here then?”

“Base might be compromised,” he shrugged, “Couldn’t reach McTavish, so we can’t assume anything at this point. Might as well get comfortable and wait til morning. This’ll clear once the sun comes out, and we’ll send an AM ping.”

You sighed a breath of pure relief,

“I know I’ve only been with you guys for a few months, but honestly, I don’t know what’s more impressive, your technology or your level-headedness under insane fire. Feeling very much like the amateur I am, Captain.”

“You handled yourself well out there, little bird. I’m impressed,” his praise rushed through you like adrenaline, and you basked in it.

“Thanks, Cap,” you smiled, drinking the broth of your soup and packing up your MRE trash into its bag.

“You smoke cigars, love?”

It was midnight before you even considered going to bed. You and Price had stayed up in the kitchen, smoking and chatting in the dark, only illuminated by the glow of your ashes. The snow fluttered down outside, layering itself on the ground like a pile of white sheets. There’d be at least two feet of it at the door tomorrow morning.

“...and I got this one in Amsterdam, chasing some smugglers out of the wharf. Motherfucker stabbed me right through the arm. Missed the bones, thank Christ. But, that’s not the bad one.”

You were telling each other stories about your scars, and you were in all states of dress. It was warm with the space heater, and you were comfortable around each other. Aside from admiring the mountainous swell of his shoulders and chest, you tried not to think much of it. He was hot, but he wasn’t interested. You just had a small crush. It would pass.

Okay, maybe a big crush. But, you had some self-control.

Some.

“Oh,” he leaned across the table to get closer and look at your arm, “What was the bad one?”

You blushed, not that he could see it,

“It’s in a certain spot. Not sure you want to - ”

“Don’t make me beg, little bird,” he smirked, rolling his eyes at your modesty.

He was right, of course. You weren’t sure why you were shy.

Liar. You were shy because you had an enormous, filthy crush on your commanding officer.

You tucked your elbow beneath your shirt and pulled it up over your chest, showing him your sternum,

“This one. It’s a - ”

“Flare burn,” he whispered, his demeanor changing from jovial to serious very quickly.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

He was silent for a long time. You watched as Price too a big mouthful of cigar smoke before letting it billow around him, looking like a big, brooding dragon in the quiet room.

“How’d you get it?” He asked, avoiding your question.

“Enemy trap. They rigged the door to blow a flare. My vest, all my plate, none of it mattered. The flare burned so hot that it cut right through the gear like butter. If it wasn’t for our medic knowing that he needed to knock it out, I would’ve died. Three weeks in the med bay. It was bad.”

Price reached out slowly, almost as if not to scare you, and touched the circular wound. It wasn’t sexual, but that didn’t stop you from immediately feeling aroused by having his hands on you. You shuddered involuntarily, and he jerked his hand back. The silence in the room was suffocating.

“Sorry, little bird,” he whispered his apology, “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” you chuckled, taking a drag of his cigar for yourself, trying to calm down, “Uh, no.”

“What?” He prodded, not realizing what truth he was asking you for.

“It’s nothing, sir,” you stood up from the table, trying to escape, and forgetting you were in a 200 square foot house.

He stood with you, reaching out to touch your shoulder. You sighed into his contact against your will, feeling the stress of the day melt away as he did.

“It just…” You tried to throw him a hint, “Feels good, you know. To be touched. Been a long time… sorry, sir.”

“Told you to swallow those sirs, little bird,” he whispered in a low rumble, putting his other hand on your other shoulder, grabbing you gently.

There was very little space between your bodies now that you were away from the table, standing in the no-man’s-land between the bed and the kitchenette. It smelled like sweat and tobacco and 1987 in there, and you were breathing hard, nervous and desperate for him to do something to you that he couldn’t take back.

“Sorry,” you said under your breath, not knowing what else to tell him.

Price lifted your chin up to meet his eyes, grabbing your jaw firmly, but gently. In the blackness of the night, the moon reflected only a little of his icy blue eyes, and the glow from his cigar made his face appear sharp and saurian. You didn’t expect for his touch to be so light. Just hours ago, he’d snapped a man’s neck with these same hands, and now he was passing the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip like you were the petal of an orchid, careful not to bruise you.

“I’m trying,” his breath was ragged as he confessed, “I promise, I’m trying to let it go, little bird.”

“Let what go?” You put your hands on his hips, trying to steady yourself, feeling dizzy with lust and fear.

“My desire,” he put his forehead against yours, closing his eyes, struggling, “Turn me away. Please, little bird. End my fucking torment. I’ll never mention it again. I swear it.”

You kissed him, pressing your lips into his chastely but firmly, enjoying the heat and the smoothness of his skin, the smell and the feel of his beard, coated in tobacco smoke and his own sweat. The comforting spice of the chili lingering on his mouth. He breathed in like you’d pressed a hot iron brand into him, blissful pain radiating through his body, pulling you in close to his chest. He deepened the kiss, slanting his mouth against yours, moving your skull with his powerful jaws, leading you, commanding and strong in his desire.

“Love, don’t… don’t do this. Not unless you mean it. I’m bloody beggin’ you.”

You smiled, resting your nose alongside his, kissing him again slowly and carefully before answering him,

“I mean it, John. I mean it.”

Reblogs and comments deeply appreciated! <3 <3

AO3 Link

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mwii #captain john price #cod #john price #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #john price x reader #call of duty #captain john price x reader #captain johnathan price #captain price fluff #john price fluff #afab reader #Female reader #x female reader

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aeferfckr · 8 months

Text

very few. because reader (me) has sensory issues and would shrivel up and die the second they feel grass. but since you are not me, i feel like it happened once.

aether would have to be beyond pissed to not wait until he gets home. yes, you volunteered to do this but he's not the type to neglect your comfort for his own desires. like this one time...

you two just came from an escorting commission. some snotty old man wanted body guards for his snotty son to send him to a snotty party.

one strike for aether

he also complained throughout the whole trip - "my feet hurt! this journey is taking so long!", "the likes of you wouldn't be able to dream about attending an event like such! just look at your attire.", "my father might have hired some of the most boring bodyguards EVER. you barely say anything, you talk way to much, and you..."

another strike for aether

the final strike was the worst one.

now, aether was never the jealous type. he always reasoned things out before letting his emotions get the best of him. but there was one thing he just couldn't stand, people trying to take what's his.

he demands a break and as soon as he gets it he uses it to try and mingle with you, leaning frustratingly close to you on a nearby tree. every time he talks about the party he never fails to comment about how stunning you would look in formal attire, the way how a corset would bring the look together excellently.

and the most maddening attempt was degrading everyone in the party, but you.

"...you are wasting your true potential associating yourself with these.. people. if we were to be wed, you would be much suited for a soft, lavish life."

aether didn't speak for the rest of the comm, not that he had anything to say anyways

as soon as the doors closed and the brat sealed inside, he shood away paimon, took you by the hand and let you to the nearest forest - not his first choice of location, but it'll provide some sort of privacy.

you could tell that he was pissed from the way that he squeezed your arm, his nails slightly digging into your flesh as he drags you along the greenwood.

pining you against a tree, his anger blatantly obvious, he whispers (it was more of a growl, really. his teeth clenched together as he spoke) into your ear,

"i didn't like how that guy was chatting you up."

his gloved hands start to roam your body as he leans down to spawn dark hickeys on your collarbone. as soon as you sigh he devours it with a kiss.

"you're mine. and everyone needs to know that."

#˗ˏˋ THIRSTS #i put my whole foot into this just for you at user that fucked up girl 25 <3 #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #aether genshin impact #aether x reader #aether x you #aether x y/n #aether smut

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jupiter-letters · 3 months

Text

Dating Bruce Wayne would include:

Fem! or GN! Reader TW: None

A/N: I have a lot of thoughts about Bruce as you can see, he's a complicated guy. I wouldn't say he's super romantic like the other guys I've written, he's like a slow burn kinda guy. I can see why people like him but I'm still on the fence if I'd date him fr fr.

I won't sugarcoat it, it'll be a rocky road dating Bruce but it's not impossible. Unlike Clark, Batman is who he is and Bruce Wayne is what he can do. The mission always comes first, so him taking time to dedicate to you is special. It's a lot protecting the city and being the backbone of the league.

He is consistently booked and busy, nobody can do what he does so he always has do things himself. It can be difficult for him to ask for help or just allow people to do things for him. In and out of the costume he's got a lot of walls up. He may seem cold on the surface but he feels very deeply. The death of his parents really stunted him emotionally so it will take some time to soften him up.

In terms of a partner ideally he'd need someone with some softness to file down those hard edges he has. Even if his partner isn't soft he provide that comfort and warmth in his own way over time. He's spent most of his life keeping people at an telephone pole's length away(except Alfred of course).

Physical touch with a partner will feel foreign, all the batfam like to hug him and stuff but their the ones intiating most of the time. That will also be the case for you, you'd have to hug him first if you want to touch him. The longer your relationship goes you'll be able to tell when he wants to be hugged or kissed just from the lingering looks he gives you. The touches he does give you are long gentle caresses, he loves stroking your cheek with his thumb. Sometimes after a difficult patrol he'll just hold you in his arms and press his forehead against yours.

Staring!! He'll always be staring at you whether you're looking or not. He's kind of like a cat, blinking at you real slow is his way of blowing kisses. The way he looks at you is exclusive to you only! It's so much softer and adoring than his usual scary pokerface staring. In a JL meeting, before everyone knows you're dating they might think he can't stand you. Inside though he's like 💓💗💖💘💝.

You can translate his grumbles and sounds. Bruce isn't the most talkative guy and he's in his head alot. So when he's busy or distracted and you ask him a question you understand his tone. Barry: "So is Bruce gonna be at the Flash parade tomorrow?" Bruce: "Hmm..." You: "Yeah he'll be there!".

The rest of the batfamily notice the effect you've had on him, you managed to crack the coldness he's built over the years. In addition to already liking you they're grateful for you being there for him. They'll even tease you both when you have dinner together. Fake vomitting when Bruce kisses you on the cheek, calling you Mom/Dad/Parent.

If you are another superhero(yes he does have a contingency plan for you) You may butt heads from time to time he may come off as underestimating you but he just wants to protect you by getting ahead of the problem. When he knows your abilities/skills maybe exactly what he needs in a certain situation, he’ll hit you up. He does his best not to hover when you go on solo missions, he will check in over comms at the most random times though. When you do go on missions together, you never notice but he'll stay very close to you.

You've got maximum scary dog privilege when you two go out together but when he goes out as Bruce Wayne he's still gotta put up that raunchy facade. He won't get too frisky with you but he will take the opportunity to flirt a little. He'll whisper little compliments and pick-up lines in your ear when you slow dance together.

Thanks for reading! Lemme know what you think. Please like or reblog if you like my stuff.

#~⋆｡°tales from the dreaming #reader insert #dcau x reader #dc comics x reader #dc animated imagine #dc comics headcanons #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne headcanons #dcamu x reader #dc x reader #bruce wayne x black!reader

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shadesofecclescakes · 1 month

Note

Are you a big fanfic reader? What have you read lately and what's been your favourite fic so far?

Oh mannnnnnnnn. Why don't you ask me to pick a favourite child while you're at it???

Just kidding. I don't have kids. But I assume having to pick a favourite would be hard if I did.

So, am I a big fanfic reader? YES. And what haven't I read lately? We are lucky enough to have so many talented writers in this fandom that it's possible to subscribe to numerous multi-chapter fics to the point where you're just constantly getting update emails. Which I do. It's great. It gives me something to do at work aside from, y'know, work.

*Me at work being smug about being paid to read porn* (Also I just wanted to look at this gif)

So what is currently on my endless update list? Coming up after the cut!

I am an absolute whore for human AU, so if you like that then you will probably like:

The Cure for a Broken Heart by @rofell

a medical student AU based in the Canadian medical system (I'm a Canadian so I was pretty excited about that). It manages to tackle the continued systemic discrimination of Indigenous people in our medical system (and in general), homophobia and the ensuing trauma from those things all while also being informative, funny, sweet, romantic and hot af. Like. It's so good.

Free by @maaikeatthefullmoon

This is another one with with a heavy topic that also does a great job of making sure to break it up with some excellent fluff, hurt/comfort and humorous moments. And it's handled with the sensitivity and thoughtfulness necessary to write something that takes place in a mental health ward and deals with some intense situations. Definitely make sure to read those author notes before diving in. They lay it out very thoroughly.

The Sincere Way by @tsyvia48

A martial arts AU. Crowley is a karate sensei and Aziraphale is his student. Slow burn that keeps you on the edge. The screams I have scrumt at my screen over this one. Plus you learn a lot about karate (but it never gets boring or over-explainey. Excellently balanced) which is pretty cool. Mostly light (there is some angst. This is the Good Omens fandom. I think we are all sad, wet chihuahuas at heart). Funny and sweet.

Terminus by @emotional-support-demon-crowley

Plus One by @caedmonfaith

Astronaut AU. Aziraphale is an astronaut who meets his mission controller, Crowley, over the comms system when he finds himself in need of assistance.

Super cool concept and really well-done in my opinion. Like, I don't do any space or physics-related work (ok I straight-up failed math 9) but I find it entirely believable. And it's well-written which is the entire point. Cute, funny slow burn with an intriguing mystery happening in the background.

Aziraphale has family money but a shitty family (except for Muriel! Never Muriel!) and his shitty brother Gabriel is getting married to shitty Michael, an Earl's daughter.

Aziraphale's family disproves of his entire life pretty much and he has been lying to them about having a boyfriend. Now they are expecting him to bring said boyfriend to the wedding. His famous footballer friend sets him up with their mechanic, Crowley.

It starts as a slow-burn but becomes a hilarious, smutty romp that just gets more and more insane. The chapter titles alone have made me cackle out loud.

Some older human AUs I'm a huge fan of include Old Vines by @sevdrag. Crowley owns a vineyard and Aziraphale is a wine critic. It is so amazingly written. It makes me think of the author Joanna Harris (Chocolat, The Five Quarters of the Orange) because it's SO beautifully, vividly descriptive that I end up craaaaaving wine. So have a bottle on hand if you're giving this a read.

Also the love story in this. My god. I devoured it. The story and the (many bottles of) wine.

There is also Loosely Ballroom by marginalia_device and mortifyingideal. It's a Strictly Come Dancing (Dancing with the Stars in North America) AU and it is so. Fucking. Good.

But it comes with a disclaimer. It's unfinished and looks likely to stay that way. But honestly? Still worth it. It's nearly finished (I think) so you have most of the story. And it's just SO good. It's been a while since I read it but it was one of the first human AUs I read and what got me hooked on them.

If you're still with me...nice! Just know that was me holding back and that isn't my entire list by a long shot. If you want more recs, feel free to message me and also share your own!

I just finished Slow Show the actor AU by @mia-ugly and yes please.

Some serious angst, pining and hot hot smut.

There is another long-form multi-chapter actor au I loooved but I can't remember the name for the life of me. Just that the show they were on was basically good omens and that they swapped roles with great success (inspired by the whole Michael thinking Neil wanted him to play Crowley when he wanted Aziraphale thing).

Thanks for the ask! That was really fun!

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #aziraphale x crowley #good omens fanfic #good omens fanfiction #good omens fan fiction #good omens fic rec #good omens fanfic rec #ask

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cowboydisaster · 7 months

Note

reader dying in Simon's arms... med evac being too late... Simon in denial?

i like to cause pain 🫡

nonny... you are a little torturer, but I'm here for it. I actually wrote this a bit ago, but tweaked it b/c it was very similar to this prompt. Anyhow, enjoy you little angst-lover!

Fine Line

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader word count: 1.7k a/n: reader goes by callsign: Red. Also, this is like-- super angsty. I'm SORRY. I'll make it up to you later I promise. xx warnings: death, reader death, blood, gore? i think thats the word im looking for, denial, trauma, hurt/no comfort. masterlist

It doesn’t look good.

You hold your palm over your torso, pulling it away to look down at the ruby colored liquid that is coating your hands. It’s sort of beautiful, you think, oddly. Like rose petal after rose petal spilling out from your wounds, coating your being in its own life sustaining substance. It hurts, an unrelenting burn radiating throughout your body, causing you to tremor uncontrollably. You’ve seen death plenty. You’ve been the hand of it, and now you’re the victim. Funny how things come full circle like that.

Bodies lie around the room you occupy, already having suffered the same fate that you’re about to. You’d succeeded in clearing the room. Ah, but the closet. You’d missed it. A simple mistake, and it would cost you your life. You managed to take out the enemy, but not before he pressed his damning shotgun against your stomach, not before he’d pulled the trigger.

Your breathing is shallow, the puffs of air are visible in the cool air, and they shrink smaller as an overwhelming cold begins to creep around your lungs. Ice wraps around your frame like an old friend, like a lover.

“Red, how copy?”

You glance down at your radio, a bittersweet smile gracing your lips at the familiar voice. Simon. Oh, how you love him.

“Fuck, sergeant. How copy? I heard shots.” Simon says again, this time harsher. You’ll miss his voice, his touch, his eyes. You hope that in some way, after you’re gone, he’ll be with you.

His voice soothes you, your heart skipping a beat even as it slowly gives up, unable to carry the burden of keeping you alive for much longer. Blood trickles down your body like vines, wrapping around your arms and holding you heavy to the ground. You hope they’ll plant roses on your grave.

Slippery fingers press down on the comms button, trembling and soaked with crimson.

“I’m here, Ghost… I’m here.” You say into your comms. Your voice is barely a whisper, nothing more than a wisp. You used to be so bubbly, the loudest in the room. Your voice is foreign in your ears as the soft, comforting hands of death steal your air away from you, unwilling to compromise. Not this time.

“I'm coming, Red. Fuck, I’m on my way, love. I’ll be right there. Just hang on.” Simon pleads. You can hear his heavy breathing through the comms, swallowed by the panic in his voice. He sounds scared, terrified. It contrasts how you feel. Death has never been peaceful. Not when you watched teammates die on the field, not even when you killed. But this, being on the fine line of life and death? It’s peaceful. Death is quiet, it’s numb. Living. That’s the hard part. Fighting. Surviving.

Your eyes flicker to the door as Simon kicks it clean in. Your love enters the room quickly. You hate seeing him so worried, you’d take it away if you could. You’d carry the burden to ease the weight on his shoulders.

“Red!” Simon yells, running towards you and sliding to his knees on the ground beside you. His eyes scan over your wound, refusing to acknowledge the warm, red liquid that pools around you. He’s had a lot of blood on his hands, but never yours. Never.

Big hands push against your torso, attempting to stop the inevitable seeping of blood from your broken and battered body. It’s no use. Your time is up. The blood that Simon so desperately tries to stop from flowing has already been used to sign your life away.

“Price. I need a medevac, now!” Simon screams into his radio, the desperation is thick in his voice. His hands on your body hurt you, pushing against wounds that you know will never be sealed again. You groan uncomfortably as he attempts to force the life back into you.

“You’ll be just fine, baby. Just fine. Hang on for me, yeah? I’ll get you out of here.” Simon rambles.

“Simon, stop.” You whisper, hand weakly covering his. He shakes his head, unbelieving that this is happening. It can’t be. He’s lost everything. He can’t lose you too. Anything, anyone but you. He’s not strong enough. His skeleton gloves are painted red, like the rose petals, the blood, seeping from your mouth and your body. He pushes harder, noises of anguish escaping from his throat. A tear slips down your cheek, the liquid mixing in with the blood.

“Simon, stop.” You plead. He shakes his head.

“I won’t let you die out here.” He says, frantic, hands putting pressure on your wounds.

“It’s too late and you know it. Please. It hurts, Simon.” You whisper, head lolling back against the wall, “Just hold me… please.”

Simon hesitates. Everything in his being is screaming at him to fix you, to make a futile attempt to heal your wounds. But how can he deny you? He doesn’t move, but your hand squeezes his and he gives in to the weak gesture. His back slumps against the wall beside you, and he scoops you into his warm arms.

You were wrong. Death isn’t peace, his arms are. You smile weakly, curling into his chest as the life seeps out from your very pores.

“I can’t lose you, Red. Not you. Medevac’s almost here. You’ve got to hang on for just a bit, yeah?” Simon says, eyes darting around the room before they land on you again. There’s so much blood, too much blood. It covers you and him. He knows that no matter how hard he scrubs, it won’t ever come out. It’s etched into his very being, stained forever.

He’ll have to burn his clothes.

For his sake, you nod, though you know it’s a lie.

“They’ll get here in time. They will.” Simon nods to himself, attempting to convince himself that you’ll be okay.

He rocks you lightly, tears slipping down his cheeks and wetting his balaclava. His brown eyes are stained red from tears. The pain in your torso begins to dissipate, a searing burn turning to a dull ache. An overwhelming numbness begins to spread from the tips of your fingertips, spreading through you like clover. It covers you, a peaceful escape from the constant pain. You realize that time is slipping through your fingers, and no matter how much you try, it will continue to fall.

“I love you, Simon.” You whisper, voice barely a puff of air. You need him to hear it, just one last time. You don’t ever want him to forget. Simon shakes his head.

“You’re gonna be okay. Don’t– don’t say that. You’ll be just fine, love. You can tell me how much you love me when you’re safe at the base.” He stumbles over his words, begging to wake up from this nightmare and be in bed next to you.

“Say it back or you’ll regret it.” You whisper, knowing he’ll beat himself up for the rest of his life if he doesn’t repeat those familiar words to you just one last time.

“I’ll tell you when we get home. You’re not going to die out here.” His resolve is strong. Denial. A cold, bloody hand comes up to rest on his cheek, leaving a bloody handprint as you cup his masked face.

“I want to–” You gasp for breath, a wheeze that Simon won’t ever unhear for the rest of his life– “I want to hear it one last time.” You smile weakly, eyes locked onto his large brown irises. They are brimming with tears that you’ve never seen fall from his eyes.

“I love you.” He whispers, shakily. “Love you so much, my Red.”

“Thank you, Simon.” You whisper, “For everything.”

Your eyes are tired, and they slip shut to unburden themselves from staying open. Simon rocks you as his warm tears drip down onto your hair. A kiss is pressed to your hair, your forehead, your cheek. A sound of anguish, of raw pain shreds through the room. You can’t bring yourself to react.

It’s like falling asleep, lulled into a blissful slumber by the man you love. It’s peaceful. Simon’s warmth fades away from you, replaced by a cold that wraps around your heart and your lungs. The icy compression squeezes the last ounce of life from your being, and the rose petals stop falling.

–

Captain Price rushes into the room, Gaz and Soap on his six. His feet stop once he lays eyes on the scene in front of him. Ghost rocks you gently, eyes frantic, full of a pain and fear that Price has never seen in the stone-cold man’s eyes.

“Where’s the heli? You’ve got to help her!” Simon yells angrily at the three men. Soap backs up slightly, a few tears brimming in his eyes.

“Price!” Simon screams, his voice raw. He doesn't understand why no one is reacting, why no one is helping. He stands up from the floor, cradling you in his arms tightly. Your head is lulled back unnaturally, your hair cascading towards the floor.

"Simon…" Price whispers, taking a few steps towards you both.

"You've got to help her! Fucking hell, Price! Please!" Simon roars. His arms are trembling. His eyes are stained red with tears.

"Simon… she isn't breathing." Price whispers, his own tears coming to the surface as he looks over your lifeless body. You're unmoving, forever still and cold in Simon's arms.

“She’s alive–” Simon shakes his head, refusing to face the truth, “She’s alive, we just have to get her into the heli!”

“Simon…” Price whispers again, “She’s already gone.”

“You have to help her, Price. Fucking hell, please– Soap, Gaz, anybody please. Fuck!”

Death had already passed through, carried you away as red dripped down from the very being of your soul.

You're grateful to not be able to hear Simon's screams.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #cod mw x reader #cod fanfic #simon ghost riley #cod #ghost call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2

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jpitha · 5 months

Text

The Oxygen Breathers: Careful what you wish for.

It’s another story in this world.

Despite my best efforts, the cycles continue.

The solar years pass, and I age.

My name was drawn, and in the twilight of my life, in my final instar, I find myself speaking for the Coalition. I don’t rule, not really. The Coalition is lead by a panel of ten people. Not all races are represented, but those who aren’t trust us to have their best interests in mind.

When the humans were ejected from Coalition space, their final words were not of anger, or jealousy or resentment. All they told us was, “Beware the Felimen. They are planning something.” We laughed off their warning, thinking they were just sore losers. Thinking that they had finally felt the sting of a Coalition sapient and went back to their corner, nursing a bruise.

I wish we had listened then.

Ten solar years after the humans left, the Felimen made their move. Sweeping in to colony worlds bordering their space, they struck quickly and decisively. It wasn’t a mistake, or a miscommunication or an accident, it was war.

And we were losing.

One by one our worlds fell to them. One by one the sapients of the Coalition surrendered to the Felimen. If they surrendered before an attack began then the Felimen were magnanimous. They would send down some of their number as a garrison and replace the administrators with those loyal to them. Life would continue on their world much as it had done so before. If they chose to fight back, then their destruction was complete.

We needed help, and we only knew one place to go.

Honestly? I was surprised that the Humans would even take our calls. We sent envoys and gave them our ansible and they called back almost immediately. “Come and meet with us.” they said “We will discuss things.” Because of the dangers presented by traveling, I was chosen to speak for the Coalition and packed into a ship with a very small retinue and we took a long, circuitous route to our border with Human space. I remember thinking it was odd. They shared a border with the Felimen as well, yet I heard no reports of violence on their borders.

We met on a large human ship right on the border. This time it was my turn to suit up. Their oxygen based breathing gas is utterly toxic to me. My race is fortunate that we can be in the presence of their gas mix - for a short time - without taking damage, but it was still not recommended. Our ship eased up to theirs and a docking umbilical slid out and connected to our ship. “Administrator!” A bridge officer turned towards me. “Their breathing gas is… different than what we have on file.”

I turned sharply and unconsciously gestured surprise. “How is it different?”

They turned back to their screen, peering carefully at the display. “It seems… to be a mix of their atmosphere and ours. Half ours, half theirs. It’s odd, neither party can breathe that.”

There was a tone from the comm set. The ansible officer raised their arm. “They are hailing us, audio only.”

“Greetings Coalition vessel. This is the human ambassadorial ship Speak Softly. In the name of cooperation, we have adjusted our breathing mix to be a combination of yours and ours. The temperature, pressure, and gravity have been adjusted to be more comfortable to you as well. We will all require masks for breathing, but full pressure suits are not necessary. We will of course not be upset if you wear one anyway, but we will not be suited. Additionally, the Empress of the Human Empire herself has graced us with her presence. She will be speaking on our behalf. We await your presence.”

Empress? The humans have an empire? A single sapient that rules over the entirety of their space? How odd. While I was ruminating the commander of the ship got my attention. “Administrator Kre’kk, you’re not actually going to go over to their ship without a suit are you? That is madness.”

I raised an arm in a gesture of calm. “I will, commander. The rest of my retinue however shall be suited. If the humans wish to compromise, then we shall compromise.”

In hardly any time at all, we were ready. I was wearing my mask, and my retinue was suited up. We had dithered over taking weapons, but decided against it. This was not a show of force. We were coming to them, arm parts open, asking for their help. We were the ones who did not have the strong argument.

As we stepped through the umbilical, their airlock opened. Three humans - not suited - stood there, in their breathing masks as they had said. “Welcome Administrator. Please accompany us.”

I had to force myself to not make a gesture of fear. They were small and dense and looked like they could lift all of us at once. I had only seen images of unsuited humans in reports and had only ever seen their faces when they came to my station so long ago and got into a disagreement with the Felimen. I had ejected them from the station then, and their leader, a human named Margaret had warned me then. I wonder if Margaret would be pleased to know that she was right all along.

We were lead through their halls towards a meeting room. The human ship was bright and utilitarian. Not one bit was wasted space. It was surprising. Their ship was so large! Why were they this efficient with their use of space? Me and my retinue were taller than the humans and their ship felt like a warren. Small, winding with low ceilings. Fortunately, I didn’t have to duck, except when we passed through a pressure door; they’re not using force curtains?

After a short walk, we reached a meeting room. The guards accompanying us did not enter, but instead formed up on either side of the door. “Please, enter.” At that, their eyes flicked away from us, and took up station looking straight ahead. We entered the room and…

And I gasped sharply and made a gesture of surprise. The person sitting in the center of the long table was Margaret Kellerman! She was not in her polished vermillion suit, but instead wore a long, flowing outfit in the same vermillion color. She sat slightly elevated above everyone else and looked down at me imperiously. Her eyes widened in recognition, and she smiled broadly with her mouth closed. “Why, Administrator Kre’kk. As I live and breathe. I had not expected to ever see you again.”

Her voice! It wasn’t the translator speaking for her after all. She was speaking the trade language perfectly, without machine translation. Her voice was clear and beautiful. Following the protocol, I bent my body towards the centerpoint. A bow. “Empress Kellerman. I admit I was not expecting to see you either. When we had first met, I did not know you were royal.”

Her smile settled into something that my translator’s body language module described as a smirk. “That was by design, Administrator. One cannot advertise they are a member of the royal family and also go galavanting across the galaxy leading a small group of mercenaries. Still, it is good to see you again. I recall that you were a being of reason. Did you ever reach out to your family on the colony worlds bordering the Felimen?”

She remembered that? Impressive. “I did, Empress. My crèche mate transferred to an inner world shortly after you left and I messaged them. They are with us still.”

“Most excellent. I knew I was right in warning you.” She looked down at the people on either side of them. They looked up and she nodded. “Now then, Administrator. What can humanity do to help?”

“Just like that? You’re willing to help? We ejected you from Coalition space solar years ago.”

She put up a hand and gestured. “True, true. But perhaps we were a little too… rowdy when we first met. It’s just how we are. Work hard, play hard you know? We also were coming off our first war with the Felimen and were a little touchy. We’re willing to extend our hand to assist.” Her smile slid just a small amount. “Our assistance will not be free, however.”

Here it comes. “We anticipated this Empress. My ship is loaded down with trade goods, currency, and I have authority to offer you any price for your help.”

She chuckled. “Oh no, no, Kre’kk, we don’t want money. We want a seat on the Administration Council. We wish to join the Coalition as equals.”

I tried to hide my surprise. That’s it? There would be arguments when I returned, but here and now? It seemed almost too cheap. “I-it is done, Empress. Humanity will have a seat on the council.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. I have been given authority to speak for the Coalition. Right now I am the Coalition.”

She clapped her hands together once. “Excellent! Thank you for being so reasonable once again, Kre’kk.” She smirked again. “Not even trying to negotiate. You must be desperate.”

“We are, Empress. The Felimen seem unstoppable. They are on a war of conquest. We can only count ourselves fortunate that it is not a war of extermination.”

The small hairs over one of her eyes raised slightly. My body language module indicated that what I said interested her. “Do you wish it was? Speak carefully, Administrator.”

My chromatophores tried to cycle, to match the color and texture of the floor. I forced myself to stop trying to hide. What did she mean? “I… can’t say that I do, Empress. I dislike the war, but I… harbor no desire to see the Felimen exterminated.”

She bent down and spoke very softly to the human on one side of her. I was not able to hear what she said and I knew better than to turn up my audio amplification. “As you wish.” She raised both her hands and addressed the room. “The Felimen shall be defeated but not obliterated. We shall push them back to their original borders and set up a DMZ to keep them contained. So I order.”

“So it is done.” The rest of the humans in the room responded to her words. My retinue started. It was the first thing that anyone other than the Empress had said.

“There. Now that is out of the way, would you care for a tour? Big Stick is behind us, in nullspace. Would you like to see it? It’s pretty impressive if I do say so myself. I don’t think any Coalition races have ever been on a human dreadnought before.”

“Empress, I thank you for the invitation, but I must report back to the Coalition when they are to expect your assistance. Do you have an idea how long before we’ll see ships?”

“Oh, it’s done already.”

“I do not understand.”

“We have defeated the Felimen. All of their ships inside Coalition space have been destroyed, and all of the colony worlds that they controlled have been re-taken. Please, check your ansible.”

I turned and faced my retinue. One of them took out a pad and connected back to our ship. The ansible officer was shaken. There were reports of gigantic ships materializing out of nowhere and immediately destroying any Felimen ship they saw. Still others executed pinpoint strikes on colony worlds, seemingly only destroying Felimen administration. Already, word was coming that the Felimen were on the run, and abandoning their war wholesale.

I turned and looked at the Empress. “How?”

This time she smiled wide, with her teeth exposed. “Oh Kre’kk, we can’t give away all our secrets. However I will tell you this: None of you, not this Coalition, not the Felimen not anyone, ever presented us with a real threat. We were being nice and neighborly. We got a little rowdy and you asked us to leave. Fine. Like a good neighbor we obliged. Now you come asking for help and again, like a good neighbor, we helped. It is not our fault that you never decided to learn more about us. We were always only ‘Oxygen Breathers’ to you.” She stood. “Now then. Would you like a tour? You can’t see the whole thing, but we’ll take out enough to impress.”

Her smile was terrifying.

#humans are deathworlders #writing #humans are space orcs #sci fi writing #jpitha #humans and aliens #humans are space oddities #The oxygen breathers

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