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pathologicalreid · 3 days

Note

heyyy!!! I just wanted to say I really love your work and this is my first time sending a request so sorry if it’s not very specific 😭💕

If you’re still doing requests, I was wondering if you could do a fem reader x Spencer Reid where it’s similar to your cryptic pregnancy one, except Spencer is at home with her when she’s in labour without realising, and she’s just in a lot of pain and it all of a sudden gets worse and she’s just in the bathroom shouting for Spencer, he comes in and eventually works out what’s going on, readers sort of in denial? Maybe the ambulance doesn’t get there in time so Spencer has to help her give birth? Lots of fluff and hurt/comfort :)

Also completely fine if your not comfortable doing it, but again really love your work and hope you have a great day 💕 :)

three's a family | S.R.

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: cryptic pregnancy, traumatic birth, precipitous labor, hospitals, medical inaccuracy (its just me and google against the world), takes place after 9x7 "gatekeeper", surgery, near death experiences, periods, home birth word count: 3.16k a/n: anon i'll be so honest with u i wasn't sure if i was gonna write this but then i learned what precipitous labor was and i was like "i would not wish this on my worst enemy... i'm going to force it on y/n" BUT please keep in mind that there is a .000012 probability of this happening to you (i did the math) this is the wildest thing ive written to date i think

“I’m going to try a bath,” you murmured over to Spencer, wincing as you dragged yourself out of bed, walking at a turtle’s pace to the bathroom, hoping the warm water would soothe the cramps away.

Your period came and went as it pleased; it was just your luck that it decided to give you debilitating cramps on your one day off. Padding on the tile floor behind you, Spencer leaned against the doorframe to the bathroom, “I could run to the store and get a new heating pad.”

Sticking your hand under the tap to check the temperature, you plugged the drain once you found it to be satisfactory. You shook your head, “No, it’s fine.” Your original heating pad must’ve gotten lost somewhere in the depths of your storage closet, but you didn’t have the patience to look for it. You could manage just fine without it.

“Will you let me know if you need anything?” He asked, leaning forward to press a comforting kiss to your forehead.

Nodding, you hooked your thumbs in the waistband of your pajama pants and pulled them down, watching as Spencer pointedly flicked the bathroom fan on – something you often forgot to do.

You lasted about thirty minutes in the bath, not only was the water beginning to grow lukewarm, but if anything, your cramps were getting worse while submerged in the water. Grunting, you reached over and tugged the plug from the drain, watching as the water drained, you managed to pull yourself to a squat before you felt stuck.

Aunt Flo really had it out for you this month.

Burying your face in your hands you accepted defeat and called out for Spencer, reaching up and trying to stand again, but only succeeding in knocking over several shampoo bottles. “Spence!” You tried again, white-knuckling the edge of the bathtub as you bowed your head. A creeping feeling that this wasn’t your period was beginning to rise.

You listened as your husband made his way up the stairs, turning the corner into your room, and opening the door to the ensuite. Moving quickly, Spencer dropped to a crouch in front of you, cupping your pained face in his hands, “I don’t think this is your period, angel.”

Clamping your lips together to prevent yourself from crying out, you simply nodded in response. How awful was it that you were going to die, naked, in your bathtub?

Spencer wiped tears away from under your eyes – you hadn’t even realized you started crying. “What does it feel like, darling? What else could it be?” He asked, voice urgent but gentle as he tried to stop you from panicking.

As you shook your head, you couldn’t focus on anything else besides your breathing as another pain rose up through you. “It’s like a cramp, but with more pressure,” you said, depending on the bathtub and Spencer to keep you upright as your legs shook beneath you. “Like something’s pushing on me, kind of like I have to shit.”

Reaching behind him, Spencer dug through one of the drawers in the bathroom vanity before retrieving the handheld mirror that you used when you cut his hair. Before you could ask what he was doing, he placed the mirror at the bottom of the tub, just beneath you. “I think you’re in labor,” he announced, breaking the news to you.

“There’s no– fuck,” your voice broke off as you dropped your head onto Spencer’s shoulder, breathing through what was apparently a contraction. “I’m not pregnant,” you insisted as your symptoms started to make sense. You had been in labor all morning.

Nodding to himself, Spencer quickly kissed your cheek before standing up and making sure you were stable before stepping to the side.

You frowned as you looked up at him, “Where are you going?”

He didn’t go far, opening the linen closet and piling towels into his arms, “I’m getting towels to put in the tub beneath you, and then I’m going to call an ambulance.”

“You want me to give birth in our bathtub?” You asked, furrowing your brows quizzically before letting out a low whine as another contraction hit.

Stopping what he was doing, Spencer dropped down to you, running the flat of his palm up and down your back as he gently reminded you to breathe. “Did you want to change positions?”

Immediately, you shook your head. You already had an insurmountable task ahead of you and you saw no reason to add to that task by trying to move. “This is fine. Squatting is good, right?”

Nodding assuredly, Spencer smoothed your hair away from your face, “Gravity can help the baby descend the birth canal, and some people even say that the position can increase the pelvic diameter.”

While you were currently less concerned with the diameter of your pelvis and more concerned with feeling like your body was being split open, you continued going through the motions as he called for an ambulance, trying to explain the situation to the dispatcher.

“Have you been timing your contractions?” Spencer asked, tilting his head at you curiously as the dispatcher spoke on the phone.

Releasing a groan, you gripped the ledge of the tub, “I didn’t know they were contractions!”

Relaying that information over the phone, Spencer dropped to his knees in front of you, “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll take care of it.” He continued to reassure you, taking one look at your desperate expression before ending the call with the dispatcher.

He understood that you were vulnerable right now, and you didn’t want that broadcasted to a stranger on the phone. If you weren’t so preoccupied with remembering to breathe, you’d be more grateful. After a contraction ebbed away, Spencer stood up.

“I have to go unlock the door for the paramedics,” he told you, keeping a wary eye on you. “I’ll be right back,” he comforted you as he took one last look at you before tearing out of the bathroom.

In record speed, he returned to the bathroom as promised, “It’s bad,” you cried, the pressure on your pelvis becoming insufferable.

Crouching in front of you, Spencer studied your face before he spoke carefully, “I have to check your cervix.”

Despite his carefully chosen words, your lips still parted in shock, “You have to what?”

“I’ll use my hand to measure how dilated you are, and then… we’ll go from there,” he told you, nodding almost imperceptibly. At this point, you weren’t sure who he was trying to reassure – you or him. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you answered instantly, “indefinitely.”

You bit down on your lip as you let Spencer check you, understanding entirely why people choose to get epidurals – this was horribly uncomfortable. “On the next contraction, you need to push, okay?”

For just a moment, your breathing faltered as your scared eyes met his, “Spence, wait,” you pleaded.

Smoothing your hair back, your husband did everything he could to comfort you, “What is it, love?” He asked, his voice soft.

“I’m scared,” you confessed, voice cracking ever so slightly as tears flooded your lash line.

He leaned forward to gently kiss your lips before pulling away to press his forehead to yours, "I've got you. You're going to be fine. You're both going to be fine."

You could see his carotid pounding, and somehow the fact that he was secretly as scared as you was more comforting than the words that came from his mouth. As you pushed, you focused on everything that Spencer was saying instead of the pain. Don’t push for more than eight seconds. Remember to breathe. Your body will know what to do. I love you. I love you. I love you.

By the time Spencer was saying something about the head, your hearing had gone muffled. “You’re doing so well, baby,” you made out his voice and nodded dazedly. “You’re wonderful. I’m so proud of you – just a little more,” he cajoled.

Taking a moment to breathe, your ears and eyes focused as shaky breaths filled your lungs.

“I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful,” he murmured, dropping a kiss on your bare shoulder as he comforted you, continuing to keep you upright.

You shook your head, sniffling as your eyes screwed shut, “You’re perfect. Don’t stop. Keep talking,” you begged, needing something to focus on other than the pain.

“There’s about a point zero four percent chance of you getting pregnant and not finding out until you’re in labor,” he told you, hoping that the information would help you wrap your head around what was happening to you. “One to three in one hundred people have a precipitous labor,” he continued to speak as you pushed, and you wondered what the odds of you squeezing his hand so hard that you did damage were.

Against your better judgment, you looked down to check your progress, “Holy fuck,” you said breathlessly. You weren’t entirely clueless, you knew that once you got past the shoulders the remaining pushes would be easier. You also found yourself grateful that Spencer knew what he was doing – this was, after all, the second baby he had delivered.

You bore down, determined to get the baby out while Spencer untangled your hands, bringing his own down to catch the baby. Out of breath, you panted heavily as you started to feel lightheaded. “Done,” Spencer said quickly, “it’s done. I have him.”

Carefully, Spencer held the baby along the length of his forearm, rubbing the tiny newborn’s back. “Come on, come on, come on,” he muttered under his breath, and it dawned on you that the baby wasn’t crying.

At the realization, your legs finally gave out from beneath you, watching with wide eyes as Spencer tried to clear your son’s lungs. White hot tears streamed down your face as you whispered, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You took a gasping breath as you silently pleaded for a cry, “I didn’t know,” you sobbed, guilt building a pit in your stomach.

With bleary eyes, you looked on as the baby finally spluttered and let out a wail. “There you go,” Spencer cooed softly, his own voice stiff with emotion as he cradled the baby and handed him off to you.

You were still sobbing as you held the baby to your chest, “I’m so sorry,” you continued to babble, watching as Spencer briefly disappeared into the bedroom before returning with a blanket and wrapping it around the both of you. While holding the baby, your vision started to blur around the edges.

Watching you intently, Spencer cupped your face in his hands, “I love you.”

Nodding, your face crumpled before you responded, “I love you too.”

When the paramedics announced themselves, Spencer called out for them, not wanting to leave your side. The two of you focused your attention on the wriggling baby in your arms.

He was premature – too little to stay with you in the recovery room. The NICU doctor had estimated that he was born at approximately 32 weeks, meaning he’d likely need to spend a few weeks in intensive care. “I want to see him,” you said insistently, looking over as Spencer as he fussed over you.

“You just had abdominal surgery,” Spencer responded simply, as if that was meant to clarify everything for you. He continued fluffing your pillow, which wasn’t entirely productive considering you were lying on the pillow.

As it turned out, you had experienced what was called a precipitous birth, or a rapid birth. It tended to be dangerous, and the fact that you did it in your bathtub only heightened that danger. You reached your arm out for Spencer, “c’mere,” you muttered, trying to get him to stop fretting. “Did you listen to anything that the doctor just said?”

Spencer nodded in understanding, “Lots of rest, no physical exertion, IV medication for now-“

“Did you hear the part where he said I was going to be okay?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him curiously, you watched as he took your hand in his and sat on the edge of your bed. “I’m going to be fine,” your voice was determined, you had a few small incisions on your abdomen from the surgery to repair a tear in your uterus. “Thank you for looking after me,” you whispered.

Your husband gently smoothed your hair back from your face, “I should’ve noticed it sooner.”

Using all of your strength, you squeezed his hand comfortingly, “You were incredible,” you assured him. “If it weren’t for you, neither of us would’ve made it.”

He shook his head, “Don’t say that.”

Raising your eyebrows, you cocked your head to the side, “It’s true. I couldn’t have done it on my own, I’m so, so thankful for you, my love.”

You had passed out in the ambulance as a direct result of blood loss, so you were brought to a trauma bay as soon as you made it to the hospital. Once they were in the ER, the baby was taken to the NICU, leaving Spencer with a lot of decisions to make.

When you woke up in the recovery room, the first thing you did was ask about the baby.

Spencer, of course, had been up to see him. The nurses claimed he seemed like a fighter, and Spencer knew the survival odds of a 32-weeker, so he turned his attention to you. Every other option had already failed, so the next option was a laparoscopy. Your husband admitted that while it seemed extreme, the very last choice was a hysterectomy, and he didn’t want to make that decision.

Furrowing your brows, “When can I see the baby?” You asked, not entirely sure how to refer to the infant just yet. It wasn’t until then that you realized you needed to name him at some point – your son.

“Once your blood pressure goes up,” Spencer told you with an authoritative tone. “You lost a lot of blood in the ambulance, but the blood transfusions will bring your blood pressure back up.”

Tilting your head to the side, you glared at your husband, “And is this rule from a doctor with a medical degree or a doctor whose name is on my marriage certificate?”

In response, Spencer shrugged, sitting in the beige armchair at the side of your bed, “That’s a secret I’ll never tell.”

You rolled your eyes dismissively, “Will you go see him?”

He leaned over the edge of your bed, taking your hand in his. “I can, will you be alright on your own?”

Nodding almost imperceptibly, you squeezed his hand affectionately, “I just don’t want him to be alone.” You whispered as tears pricked your eyes, you took your free hand and waved at your face, “god, what’s wrong with me?”

“A sudden drop of estrogen and progesterone immediately following birth causes mood swings. Nothing is wrong with you, your body is acting naturally,” Spencer explained patiently, dropping a gentle kiss on your lips.

You sighed before melting back into your pillows, “At least something about this feels natural,” you responded. Your brain felt like a spinning top, while your body felt like you were being weighed down by an elephant in a commercial for COPD medication.

The fact that the NICU nurse informed you that your son had a ninety-five percent chance of living a completely normal life did nothing to calm your nerves. He’d have to stay in the NICU for a few weeks and you tried to convince yourself that the extra time to prepare for him to come home would be good for you, but the idea of leaving him alone at the hospital – save for a small army of doctors and nurses – put a pit of dread in your chest.

Spencer had the forethought to warn you about the tubes and wires that he was hooked up to, ranging from oxygen to a feeding tube. “He’s been undergoing red light therapy to be treated for jaundice, but you can hold him for a while if you want to,” the nurse told you, leading the both of you through the NICU as Spencer steered your wheelchair through the hospital.

Your breathing hitched when you finally saw him, this tiny stowaway that had been growing inside of you for the last several months, and he was just so little. While you were still in your own room, you had convinced yourself that you’d hold him, but now you weren’t so convinced.

According to the sign in his room, he weighed three pounds and ten ounces and was sixteen inches long. He was sound asleep in an incubator, a small hat on top of his head, “Spence,” you breathed.

Behind you, your husband placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, “I know.”

“Did you want to hold him?” The nurse asked you gently, looking over at one of the machines that he was hooked up to.

Genuinely, you didn’t know. “Is… is that okay?” You asked, wiping your sweaty palms on the blanket draped across your legs.

The nurse gave you a knowing look, “Even better than okay, it’ll be good for him to have that kind of contact from both of his parents.”

Frowning, you watched as it took two nurses to break him out of his acrylic prison before they carefully placed him on your chest, making sure you were okay before they stepped back. Your movements were stiff at first, you had never held a baby this small before, but you eventually remembered to breathe and gently cooed at the baby in your arms.

Spencer crouched down next to you and started to ask the nurse a bunch of questions that he had likely been holding in for hours, but you just kept your eyes on the sleeping baby. He was too small to open his eyes, but everyone assured you that he’d get there.

The nurse stepped out to give you some privacy, leaving the door open just in case you needed something, “This doesn’t seem quite as difficult while I’m holding him.” You knew there was a steep learning curve ahead, but with a newborn on your chest, the pit in your heart dissipated.

“That’s called oxytocin,” Spencer said, sitting in a chair, eyes fixated on the infant in your arms.

Humming, you skimmed the pad of your thumb across your son’s tiny back, “He looks like you,” you observed quietly, they had the same nose.

Your husband smiled softly, “You can’t possibly tell which parent he takes after yet,” he informed you.

“And yet, I know he looks like you,” you insisted softly, and Spencer didn’t push back. “You look like your daddy,” you whispered to the baby, “he was the first one to hold you, you know?” You looked over at Spencer, “he’s been my superhero for four years, and now he gets to be yours too.”

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 1 day

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Pretty Boy | s.r. x fem!reader

a/n: you know i had to do something for glasses reid i’d be crazy not to.

“oh, here comes your pretty boy. capital p and b.” derek’s smooth voice entered your shared office with jj. you didn’t bother asking who, even coyly, he would just say something along the line of “your other half, pretty girl.”

so you rolled your eyes while scanning over a case file, not bothering to direct attention to the man. “and why the need to visit my space?” a teasing reply, both knowing his visits to the double liaison office were once in a blue moon.

there was the sound of shuffling before derek responded, “cause i wanna see your reaction.” such a vague answer that it caused you to pick your head up with a quizzical look, “what are-“ and you stopped when spencer poked his head through the cracked doorway.

“hey y/n, i brought you…” you didn’t hear the rest of his sentence. eyes too focused on spencer’s face and the new wardrobe attire perched along his nose.

your heart beat fast in your ears and you could feel your body warm in temperature. it was like you were sent back in time to high school and spencer was the insanely smart, pretty student ripped right from your fantasies. you hoped you weren’t drooling at the sight.

“y/n? you alright?” spencer’s voice was much closer now and when you blinked he was directly in front of you with the back of his hand to your forehead and a frown on his face. derek’s chuckles filled the crowded space and you couldn’t even manage a side eye.

“you feel warm. you didn’t happen to catch anything from the last case, did you?” full concern with round puppy eyes shining behind black frames. your heart was the picture of a popsicle melting on a hot summer day.

you took a swallow, “not- not that i know of.” eyes honed onto a freckle placed to the left of spencer’s chin.

derek laughed again, “ease up on her, pretty boy.” he moved closer and stood behind spencer’s left shoulder, a smug expression painted on his chiseled face.

“i’m just checking if she’s physically well.” spencer’s voice got high from defending himself and his actions while glaring at derek.

derek then jerked his chin at your sheepish expression, “well it’s declining each second you’re in her space.” joking at the expense of your crush, but spencer took it the wrong way and pulled his arm back to his side. “sorry, right boundaries. should’ve asked first.”

you managed to bounce back when he started moving away, “no! no, it’s- derek’s just joking. i- i don’t mind you touching me.” and it took two, two seconds, for your mind to process your wording.

“oh this is a great morning.” derek howled then decided he’s seen enough, leaving both of you hot and pink cheeked.

squeezing your eyes shut you wished for the floor to swallow you hole and drag you away from this situation. “i’m- i’m sorry… about that. bit- bit scattered brained right now.” trying to play everything off.

“you- you sure you’re alright? i’m certain hotch will let you leave early.” spencer’s brows pinched in the middle turning his face into more of a pout. oh he has no idea the effect on you.

you smiled gentle at his worry, “i’m well, just been staring at potential cases too long, that’s all.” fingering at the edge of the manilla folder in your lap.

“also i like the new look,” circling a finger around your eyes to play charades with him than just mention the holy glasses. “they suit you nicely.” friendly but said with a hint of flirty.

spencer’s smiled widened and his cheeks turned from bubblegum pink to a rosie hue, oh how you wish to just cover him in thousands of kisses. “thanks. i ran out of contacts for the month so i’m stuck with these until then.” making it sound like an inconvenience, but oh how you were gonna suffering for a month of those handsome frames.

you turned your head away before you were caught staring for too long and saw a baby pink bag sitting beside your picture frames. you reached out to grab it then pulled it apart to see a sweet morning treat awaiting for your teeth to sink in. “did you bring this?” asking spencer since you then remember that he said something when arriving but you didn’t hear what.

spencer straightened up and happily beamed, “yeah! i was walking past that pastry shop you like and thought you’d enjoy something for all your hard work.” you both knew that was a straight lie since that pastry shop is an extra ten minutes out of either of yours work routes.

but you didn’t comment on it just looked spencer in the eye and said softly, “thank you, spence. you’re very sweet.” and with a sudden boldness you leaned forward to press a delicate kiss onto his right cheek.

pulling back you noticed spencer’s lips were slightly parted, he looked almost winded from the sudden action. you were gonna apologize if you over stepped but then jj entered her office with derek trailing behind.

“uh… hi.” she stopped two steps inside then saw the way you both fidgeted to appear normal. as if you were doing something you weren’t supposed… “hi, welcome.” “everything normal here.” you and spencer talked over each other.

“okay, not even gonna ask…” waving a folder about, “but i found a case and hotch approved so into the conference room for debriefing.” jj gave both of you a final stare then walked around derek to flee the scene.

“come on pretties, you can smooch later.” “derek!”

#erin writes #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x gn reader #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fan fiction #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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sinner-as-saint · 10 hours

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the alchemy

Mob!Bucky x Reader

Run-through: About a decade ago you left your home and ran away, looking for a fresh start after having had your heart broken by the boy you loved. Now you’re back and turns out Bucky Barnes – the same man who once broke your heart – is adamant on tormenting you some more. But why? Why does he want you back at all cost when he was the one who once pushed you away and crushed your heart like it meant nothing to him? What secrets has he been keeping for almost a decade? Most importantly, what truly happened that night he broke your heart?

Themes: forced marriage/marriage of convenience, angst, mob!bucky, metal arm, fluff, smut, possessive!bucky, childhood friends-to-enemies-to-lovers trope, bratty!reader, mentions of violence, explicit language, slow burn-ish, HEA

a/n: new mob!bucky pics dropped–

“I do.” You said in a sombre voice, with blood dripping from the cut on your lip as you sealed your fate and married your worst enemy.

Bucky’s face was bleeding too, your nails had done some damage earlier when you both got into a physical altercation like wild animals. You nearly smirked when you realised he looked worse than you did.

Then again you both looked like you went through hell as you stood here, at this makeshift altar, in the middle of what used to be the foyer of your father’s mansion before Bucky and his men shot at it until it was nothing but rubble, broken glass, and cracked marble.

Messy hair. Cuts and bruises all over your bodies. Dishevelled clothes. Your white jumpsuit had your own bloodstains on it, and his all black suit was torn in certain places. But he looked every bit the man they say he is. Dangerous. Cold, dark presence. The large bruise on his jaw was beginning to get darker now, thanks to the many punches from you. His near shoulder length hair was surprisingly looking neat. It pissed you off.

You looked like a mess too. And for a brief second, as his blue eyes looked down at your throat, you knew he could see a matching bruise forming around your neck from when he’d pinned you down to the floor earlier with that damned metal arm.

No one was dead, none of your people and none of his. Thankfully. But right now, as you married the man standing in front of you, you felt dead inside.

“You may now kiss the bride.” Was all you heard and you remained still as Bucky grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into him.

You resisted for a moment, but then he pulled you harder until your chests collided and you had no choice but to remain pressed against him. “I’m tired of these games, princess.” He hissed in a lowered voice, looking down at you with his merciless blue eyes.

You stared back at him with equal contempt. “You’re gonna regret this, Barnes.” You sneered, in a hushed voice. Not that the injured family members and men surrounding you – both his men and your father’s guards who stood and watched the show in disbelief and shock would mind the disrespect for each other in both your tones – but you didn’t want to add to the ridiculousness of this situation.

“Oh?” He taunted with a faint smirk. Only then did you notice the small cut on his upper lip. It brought you a little solace. “You’re my wife now, you will do as I say.”

The bitterness in your tone matched his as you said, “We’ll see about that, husband.”

You could tell he’d accepted the unspoken challenge, and he would do anything to win. After all, everything was a game to Bucky Barnes. He didn’t care who he used, who he manipulated, or who he tossed aside. He paraded around like he owned this world and everything and everyone in it.

Bucky scoffed then leaned in to kiss you, hard. It wasn’t a loving kiss in any way. It was possessive though. Like he was putting on a show for whoever was watching, making sure everyone in this dilapidated room understood that you were his now.

You kissed him back, angrily. You despised him. Your entire family did. But they couldn’t save you this time. Bucky’s attack was unexpected. Your guards were unprepared. You were the last line of defence and this… union was necessary. You had to offer something, anything. Otherwise Bucky and his guys threatened to burn down your half of the city and turned it to ash immediately.

But it wasn’t always like this. Your families used to be allies. You actually grew up with Bucky, he tolerated you enough back then and you had always had a crush on him.

Then that night happened almost a decade ago…

It was your twentieth birthday party, and your father made an announcement which you were not ready for.

He announced to the ballroom filled with important people that you were to marry Bucky, and that both families were beyond happy to transform their friendship into something more solid through this alliance.

You remained frozen in place for long minutes after that announcement was made, even though your heart raced like never before. No one had told you about this, but judging by the way your family hugged and congratulated Bucky’s family you understood that this was all planned.

You kept that smile on your face though, as people walked over to congratulate you. You looked around and tried to find Bucky in the crowd to see if he knew about this but he was nowhere to be found.

You were certain he was here just a moment ago, leaning against one of the pillars and brooding as always. And he’d just disappeared.

The announcement made your heart flutter incessantly. After all, you’d always had a huge crush on Bucky. How could you not? He was the boy you grew up around, he had pretty eyes and nice hair. Sure he was broody and rarely ever smiled but you liked how it suited his bad boy personality. And your young heart was weak for the handsome boy with tattoos and blue eyes.

After people were done congratulating you, you discretely walked out of the party and decided to look around and try to find Bucky. You hated how giddy you were. Sure, Bucky was broody and rarely ever laughed. He spent his entire time glaring at you then getting jealous when you talked to other guys. But you had liked him since forever.

You looked all over your father’s mansion. Bucky was nowhere to be found indoors. So… maybe the pool area outside? You started walking in that direction, feeling like a princess in your white ball gown as you walked down an empty hallway, a faint smile on your face as you looked for the man you were meant to marry soon.

Maybe Bucky knew about this announcement. Maybe he was okay with it. Maybe this would be your fairytale in real life, you thought. Maybe you’d melt his frozen heart and everything would be perfect. Maybe he liked you back all along and you just never knew!

“...marry her?”

Your smile vanished as you stopped right before you stepped outside onto the patio. Was that Bucky’s voice? Was he talking to someone? You quietly stepped closer, hiding behind the plants as you tried your hardest to listen to what he was saying.

You could see him, standing on the black tiles by the pool. He had his back to you, and he held a phone to his ear. His broad shoulders and lean waist accentuated by how well that black suit moulded to his muscular body. You watched as he ran his fingers through his short black hair in frustration.

Who was he talking to?

“No!” He barked at the phone. “Did you not listen to what I just said? I don’t want to do this!” He yelled, not bothering that anyone around might hear him. “I tried to talk them out of it! This is so fucking stupid!”

You blinked in surprise, unable to process what you were hearing.

“I don’t care what I have to do, but I will not marry her.” He said with enough venomous certitude that a silent tear fell down your face.

All your previous delusions turned to nothing but heavy disappointment. It made you feel stupid. This gown felt stupid. The diamonds around your neck, around your wrists and in your hair felt stupid. How stupid of you to think this was all going to end well? How stupid of you to think your childhood crush actually meant something? How stupid of you to think that there was a chance he liked you back? Of course he didn’t. He wouldn’t have ignored you for years if he did.

You couldn’t stop the sudden sob that escaped your mouth. Afraid that he might have heard, you took a few steps back and hid behind a nearby, tall potted shrub.

Things were quiet for a moment or two. You heard him whispering so quietly you couldn’t make out what he said. Your face burned in embarrassment at the thought of him finding you here. You already felt stupid and childish, you didn’t want to get caught eavesdropping in this situation.

But then he resumed talking on the phone. You couldn’t risk moving to look at him so you remained hiding, and listened. Your heart broke with each word that left his mouth.

“And she’s so blind she doesn’t even see it.” He hissed, louder this time. “I barely tolerate her. Her whiny, and bratty attitude. I mean she’s a grown woman and still acts like she’s daddy’s little princess.” He scoffed. “You should’ve seen her today, she looks like a kid’s toy with that ridiculous dress on.”

More tears streamed down your face as you heard nothing but distaste and irritation in his voice. This was the boy you had a hopeless crush on? This is what he thought of you?

You didn’t need to hear more. This was more than enough to completely break you so you turned around and quietly walked back down the same hallway. You wiped your tears, and put a fake smile on as you went back to your party. This time with a plan in your head.

You endured the party with a heavy heart. Faked some more smiles until it ended. You didn’t see Bucky again for the rest of the night, which was good. By the early hours of the morning, everyone had left. You wandered around that empty ballroom like a ghost that night. For hours. Thinking, plotting. It was clear Bucky didn’t want this. And now neither did you. But your families had announced it. So what exactly could you do?

By the time the sun rose, you had already written a note to your father and left it on his desk. By the time the sky brightened, your bags were packed and you were already driving out of the mansion grounds. And you knew that by the time your father would go into his office and find that note, you would already be on a plane, on your way out of here.

You didn’t give too many details in the note. You simply said that you were leaving, not knowing when or if you’d be back.

Truth was, you had no solid plans. All you knew was that you needed to get away from home.

You didn’t know that when you’d return home – almost a decade later, so much would have changed.

Your father was angry. Livid actually, that you’d been away for years without contact. You briefly explained why you needed to leave. And how you’d been able to make a name for yourself elsewhere. But after he was done berating you for what you did when you were twenty and stupid, he filled you in on all that you’d missed in the past decade almost.

Some important points were: your family and Bucky were no longer allies, but were now each others’ worst rivals but no one knew that. The city was now secretly divided – your family ruled and controlled one side, and Bucky ruled the other.

“It’s just him now?” You had asked, and your father nodded.

“A lot happened after you left, actually–”

A loud noise cut him off. Rounds of bullets shot at the windows of the house, from all sides it seemed. And it was pure chaos. You could hear your guards fighting back, but even by just hearing the commotion you could tell you were severely outnumbered.

But whoever it was, they weren’t shooting at anyone, just at windows – making enough noise to get your attention and to get you to come outside.

You marched out of the room despite your father ordering you not to. And you were halfway down the grand stairs when he walked in and spotted you immediately with a smug look on his face.

Bucky. Walked in like he owned the place. He stopped in the middle of the foyer, which was now ruined. Bits and pieces of concrete and glass all over the marble floor. Flower pots destroyed, the gilded mirror in pieces as well. He made a mess of the home you grew up in and you almost shot him right in the heart there and then.

Here was the man who once broke your heart after making you think for years that maybe you had a chance.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You hissed. You could hear your father coming to a stop on the landing several steps behind you. He was unprepared. You were armed with only one handgun tucked into your pocket. Your guards were outnumbered. This was a shitshow.

The guards – his and yours – stopped firing and now just stood all over the place on high alert. And you knew, deep down in your gut you just knew something which you weren’t ready for was about to happen.

“I see you’re finally home, princess.” Bucky just gave you a cold smile and shoved his hands in his pockets. The action drew your attention to one specific thing. The metal arm. You frowned at it in confusion, but didn’t react.

But that word… ‘princess’ brought back memories which chased you out of this place. And it only fueled your anger.

“What the fuck do you want?”

He lifted his nose slightly in the air, like the arrogant prick he had always been. “I’m here to collect what I was promised.” His voice was strong and confident. “A bride. Now you have a choice, princess. Either we do this in peace and no one gets hurt, or…”

He didn’t even have to finish his sentence because on cue, one of his guards sneakily appeared on the landing behind you, holding a gun to your father’s head. You froze for a moment. The look on your father’s face made everything so serious all of a sudden. You had to be extra careful here.

“You wouldn’t.”

He scoffed, “Wouldn’t I?”

You argued, “It’s been almost a decade.”

“I don’t care. We were supposed to marry each other–,”

You cut him off, “Yes, and you didn’t want that, did you? I heard you on the phone that night.” You finally confessed. “By the pool. I remember every single word that came out of your fucking mouth. So don’t come here acting like you’re entitled to–,”

“You think you know everything, don’t you?” He smirked, shaking his head. “Is that why you ran away? And didn’t come home for a decade? Because you spied on me that night and didn’t like what you heard?”

That did it. One moment you were standing on the stairs, afraid that your father might get hurt and the next you had your gun out and shot right at his metal arm, knowing it wouldn’t hurt him but it would make him lower his guard for just a second.

And that one second was enough to jump him and punch him right in the jaw. Fuck, it hurt but it also felt so damn good. All those years you’d been away, you were also training in your free time. And you knew you were good at combat.

But so was he. A few punches in and he managed to throw you down on the floor and pin you to the ground with that same metal hand around your throat, keeping you in place. You didn’t know why his guards just stood and did nothing, as though they had been ordered not to shoot at anyone here.

But you weren’t under any such orders, so you managed to land another punch to his jaw before he yelled, “Enough!” Right in your face. “Stop this shit, or I swear to–,”

You cut him off by punching him again, trying to get free the moment you felt his metal hand get loose around your throat. He growled in annoyance and tightened his grip.

“You’re like a wild fucking animal. Stop!”

You gritted your teeth at the insult and scratched his face exactly like how a wild animal would. You tried everything, tried to punch him again, tried to scratch down his neck and arms which only tore his shirt instead of his skin. You went for yet another punch and only then did you feel another pair of arms – one of his guards – pulling your hands away from his face. You thrashed and tried your hardest to break free but you couldn’t and ended up biting your own lip rather badly in the process.

“I fucking hate you, Bucky Barnes!” You hissed, defeated, and now with a bleeding, throbbing cut on your lip which matched his.

Bucky kept his hand around your neck as he leaned in menacingly and whispered, “Hate me all you want, princess. But you will marry me. Right here. Right now.”

And that’s how you found yourself kissing your husband, in the foyer of your father’s ruined mansion. With your helpless father, and the many guards as witnesses.

You pulled away from the kiss, breathless and angrier than earlier. Jaws clenched, you were ready to tackle him to the ground again, maybe actually shoot him with your gun this time, but he spoke before you could say anything.

“Let’s go.” He spoke, and like the loyal followers that they were, all of his guards silently walked out of your house. And Bucky grabbed your hand firmly in his and began pulling you out of the house as well.

You resisted again. “Wait! You brute!” You pulled your hand away from his and ran back up the stairs to your father. “I ruined everything, I’m sorry.”

He just hugged you and told you to be careful and be smart. And that he forgives you. You promised you’d come to see him soon. And then you left, refusing to take Bucky’s hand again as you walked out of your father’s house.

You needed to think. You couldn’t fight him right now. Besides, it’s not like you married him legally. All Bucky wanted was to make a scene and you let him. For now. You’d need some time to come up with a plan and decide what needed to be done. But for now…

“If you’re thinking about running away and disappearing for a decade again, you better stop. You’re not getting away this time. You hear me?” Bucky spoke, sitting next to you in the backseat of his car as the driver drove to his side of the city, to his house surely. That authoritative tone of his made you want to scratch his face again.

“You seem to be under the impression that you’re in control here, Barnes. Just know, I could still shoot you right now if I wanted to.” You didn’t look at him, you looked out the window. At the city that had changed in your absence.

“Ouch.” He faked his surprise. Then proceeded to put his arm around your shoulders to pull you into his chest, leaning down he whispered into your ear, “That’s not a nice way of treating your new husband, now is it?”

You gave him a fake smile, ignoring the way your brain thought he smelled delicious, and reached into your pocket to pull out your handgun. Placing the cold barrel right under his chin you said, “Try me, husband.”

The driver cleared his throat in nervousness and you didn’t want to traumatise the man so you pulled your gun away but left it in Bucky’s line of sight. He pulled away then, pulling his hand away from your shoulders but placed his metal hand on your thigh. A possessive move.

Yet that didn’t bother as much. But the metal hand? Where did that come from? What happened while you were gone?

He answered your questions voluntarily. “Got caught in a crossfire. I got shot too many times, the arm was beyond saving. So I had the metal arm made. It’s a very intricate technology, but it works just fine.” He said, flexing the hand on your skin.

You didn’t miss the hidden sexual connotation in that last part of his sentence. And you certainly couldn’t ignore the way your body responded to the cold, metal touch. It looked… badass. Not that you would ever tell him.

You tried to look out the window again, but his touch on your thigh was more distracting than you wanted it to be. It was all you could focus on. Just to stop thinking about it you said, “I don’t have any of my things.”

“It’s all been taken care of. Don’t worry.” He answered, looking down at his phone. Acting like he didn’t know his hand on your thigh was messing you up.

Still you frowned at his answer, “What do you mean it’s been taken care of?” Then you paused and thought about it for a moment, “Did you–” You sighed, “You knew I was coming, didn’t you? Did you have people spying on me?”

He shrugged, “You thought I would let my betrothed be out there in the world without keeping an eye on her?” He scoffed, looking up from his phone for a brief moment, “Of course I did. I know everything about you. I even know all about that secret, women-only army you created.” He added, “I was half expecting them to pop out of nowhere earlier at your father’s house.”

You were in disbelief. This whole time you thought you’d hid well. But no.

“Where are they anyway? Your girls?” He asked, and for once it didn’t sound like a taunt. It sounded like he was genuinely curious.

“Probably out hunting and beheading men who think they can get away with forcing women into marrying them by threatening to kill their fathers.” You gave him another one of your fake smiles, “I’ve trained them well.”

Bucky smiled back. “Well good. When they get here to try and free you, we could unite our forces. We’ll be untouchable then, you and I. I have the money and you have an army.” He winked. “Ultimate power couple.”

“You won’t get away with this, Barnes.”

He looked out of the window and said, “I just came to collect what was promised to be mine that night.”

You argued, bitterly, “Oh we both know what happened that night.”

“I do.” He said, “But do you? Do you really?”

You remained quiet for a moment. This was the second time he questioned your knowledge of what truly happened that night. As if you hadn’t heard him loud and clear on that phone call.

“You–,”

He cut you off and looked out the window as he said, “We’re home.”

It had been a long day. And you were running out of energy so instead of arguing some more, you just followed him out of the car and remained stunned for a moment as you looked at his house. It wasn’t his family home. This one seemed new.

It was just as large as your father’s mansion, just a lot more contemporary compared to the more Georgian architecture-inspired one you grew up in.

Bucky’s house sat on a sprawling green and pristine property. It was a perfect blend of sleek architecture and a glass house, which allowed the right amount of privacy but also allowed glimpses of the warm, farmhouse inspired interior. Even from outside you could tell it was homey and bright inside.

Before you could get a word out, you felt his hands on you again. You tensed up and almost hit him again in defence but before you could, Bucky was carrying you bridal style – literally – and marching towards the large doors of his ridiculously pretty home.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You questioned, squirming just a little in the intimate embrace.

“Traditions,” He said, looking down at you, “Can’t have you trip at the doorstep and risk bringing bad luck into our marriage.”

You frowned at him, reluctantly wrapping your arms around his neck for support. “You say ‘our marriage’ like it’s gonna be a real thing. It won’t, Barnes. I’ll be out of here before you–,”

He used you to push open the door and the warm interior of the home shut you up. For some reason you never imagined someone like Bucky would live in a house that actually looked like a home. You pictured him living in some villain’s lair.

But this was… beautiful.

You squirmed into his arms until he finally set you down carefully. You stood there for a minute, in the foyer, just looking around. Then you couldn’t help but say, “It would be a real pain if someone just started shooting at the windows of your house like a madman, wouldn’t it?” You waved your gun in front of his face.

“I’ll send people over tomorrow morning to fix your father’s house.”

“You don’t even sound apologetic.” You scoffed.

“I’m not.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Was it necessary? To shoot at my house like that? You couldn’t just, I don’t know, ring the doorbell to get me to come outside? You absolutely had to be a child?”

He smirked then said, “First of all, that isn’t your house anymore. This is where you live now, and you will call this your home. Second of all, why blame me when you acted just as childish when you decided to run away all those years ago? Third of all, I did it because, well, I do like some drama.”

You couldn’t not believe him. “You amaze me with your stupidity, Barnes.”

“You amaze me with your bratty attitude, Mrs. Barnes.”

You stepped closer to him, slow and in a threatening manner. “Don’t call me that.”

“Don’t call me that.”

You sighed, “You know you’re still that little boy who used to bully everyone when we played as kids.”

He clarified, “No, I bullied you because you were annoying. Everyone else was fine.”

“I hate you.” You said with enough hostility you hoped it would shut him up.

It didn’t. “Well, see.” He took your hand in his and said slowly as if talking you down, “That’s something we’ll work on together as a couple.”

You pulled your hand away and were so tempted to just–

“Come,” he said, “I’ll show you where our room is.” You began protesting immediately but he cut you off by saying, “Stop being fucking difficult. We’re married now, act like it.”

“I want a separate room!”

“No.”

“I’m not sleeping with you!”

“Then don’t. But you will sleep in my bed. Like my wife should.”

“You’re a fucking animal!” You tried tugging your hand free from his grasp.

Bucky had had enough. So he pinned you to the nearest surface, which happened to be the closed door of his bedroom. He grabbed both your wrists in his metal hand and pinned them above your head. His face was just inches away from yours, and he stared deep into your eyes.

Your mind immediately went to that harsh kiss you’d shared earlier. And you hated how your body squirmed just as the thought of it. You refused to think about it any more, but his mouth was just so, so close. The cut on his lip, the slight stubble on his cheek and around his mouth, the texture of his skin, you were picking up on details you’d missed.

Bucky spoke in a calm, deep voice which sent shivers down your spine. “Let’s be adults here, okay? You stop acting like a brat, and I’ll stop treating you like one.” He said, pressing his chest into yours. “It’s been a long day, and I know you’re running out of energy as well so stop resisting me. If I was an animal, I would’ve dragged you to bed right now and would’ve made you mine in every sense of the word.” He whispered, his voice cold and dangerous. “But I’m not. So you will walk into this room, and head straight for a warm shower and after you’re done we’re gonna clean these wounds. Am I clear?”

You nodded quickly, like an idiot entranced by his gorgeous voice.

“Use your words, princess. Am I clear?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

—

You leaned against the counter, wrapped in a fluffy robe and another towel wrapped around your wet hair, and Bucky was cleaning the cut on your lip.

His wounds were all cleaned. It looked like he had used a different shower while you were in here. His long hair was damp and tied into a small bun, with strands of his dark hair falling on either side of his face. He had changed into a tight black t-shirt and PJ trousers. It was frustrating to look at him. Because he looked so damn good.

Last time you’d seen him was when he was a twenty year old boy. He’d changed since. He seemed taller somehow. Or maybe it was just the muscles making him look bigger.

You couldn’t look away from the metal arm. And the intricate details on it.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” He asked, throwing the used cotton balls and napkins in the trash can.

You didn’t miss the way he was being gentle all of a sudden. Calm voice, calm movement. Very different from the man who’d forced you to marry him just hours ago.

“No.” You answered, turning around to look in the mirror. The bruise on your neck was very much visible now. You didn’t notice Bucky approaching you again, you didn’t notice how close he got, not until he reached out and touched your neck with his warm fingers.

And for the first time, he sounded genuine when he said, “I’m sorry. About that.”

You met his eyes through the mirror and remained quiet for a moment. For a brief moment you thought back to that night. What if you hadn’t heard him on the phone? What if you had married him back then? Would this be a normal, daily thing? Sharing a bathroom, a bed?

“I punched you. Multiple times. This makes us equal.”

Bucky scoffed, then nodded. Then said, “Come to bed when you’re done.” And left you alone in the bathroom.

Shit. You stared at yourself in the mirror. What a day. All you wanted was to pay your father a visit and maybe spend some days at home and then fly back to where you came from. Having your father’s house be attacked, getting married, and having to share a bedroom with the man who once broke your heart… yeah, all that wasn’t in the plan.

You changed into some comfy PJs Bucky had brought you earlier and walked out into the bedroom. You found Bucky on his phone again, standing by the foot of the bed.

“Which side do you sleep on?” He asked, not looking up from his phone.

“Uh, right.” You answered, because for some reason now he felt the need to ask for your opinion.

Bucky didn’t say a word as he moved to the left side of the bed and peeled back the covers before getting in. Like this was just another day. Like this was normal. You awkwardly walked to your side of the bed and just stood there for a moment.

“Just get in bed. I won’t touch you.”

He didn’t even look at you as he spoke and, well, the lack of attention from him bothered you. Oh what the hell. You pulled the covers and got under them. You curled onto your side, with your back facing him.

Soon, you heard him click something and all the lights turned off. You sensed movement behind you but that was it. He didn’t touch you. In fact, there was so much distance between you two that your back felt cold. And now that annoyed you as well.

You couldn’t sleep.

An hour went by, you still couldn’t sleep.

Another hour went by, and now you’d begun tossing and turning so much that you heard Bucky groaning.

“Will you stop that?”

“I can’t sleep.” You mumbled.

“Don’t make it my problem. Stop moving.”

“Wow. Some husband you are.”

Silence. Then you felt your body sliding across the bed as Bucky wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into his warm chest.

“What the–,”

“Shh.” He cut you off, his warm breath tickling your cheek as he spooned you from behind. “It’s cold. We could both use the warmth. Now go to sleep.”

You scoffed, but didn’t move. “Your fancy house doesn’t have a thermostat? Fix the temperature.”

“I like this better.”

“I better not find your hands wandering.”

You moved around for a bit, finding a comfortable spot. Then you moved some more and Bucky tightened his arm around you and whispered into your ear, “Stop wiggling against my cock. I understand it’s our wedding night and all but I’m too tired to do anything.”

Your face burned in embarrassment. You tried to put some distance between your bodies, even though you liked his body heat, but thankfully Bucky pulled you right back.

“Did I say you can move?” He chided.

“What now, I need your permission to get comfortable in bed?”

“Brat.”

“Asshole.”

—

You didn’t know when you fell asleep at night. But the heat from Bucky’s chest definitely helped. It must’ve been that. And in the middle of the night, you must’ve searched for more heat. That was probably the only reason why you woke up and found yourself sprawled all over him, face into the crook of his neck and both your hands under his shirt, legs tangled with his.

“You call me an animal. But look at you. Touching me while I was sleeping.” He mumbled. “Shameless.”

You pulled away so fast, but then regretted it. Because now you missed his warmth. You shivered even under the covers. “Would it kill you to keep your damn house a little warmer?”

He just yawned and got out of bed. “Get ready.” He said, “We might have a guest coming over. And you have to be a good little wife and play host.”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh you will.” He teased, “Soon.” Then he winked and walked out of the room.

Well, he at least was giving you some privacy and let you have this bathroom all to yourself. Screw his and his mind games. First he barges into your house, forces you to marry him, then cuddles you to sleep.

You caught yourself frowning multiple times while you showered, did some skin care, and found the closet on the other side of the room. You weren’t even surprised when you found a whole section filled with all you could need. All the shoes seemed like they would fit you, all the outfits as well.

Nothing fazed you anymore. Not even the fact that your new husband might be a bit of a stalker. How else would he know your underwear size!? And there were drawers full of them.

You tried not to worry too much as you got dressed. You were gonna get out of here soon anyway.

Once dressed and ready for the day, you got downstairs and immediately heard Bucky’s voice, along with another voice. They were laughing over something. You found out where they were and approached the high-ceilinged, charming, farmhouse-inspired kitchen which blended with a spacious, cosy dining area.

The other man had his back to you, but you knew that voice. Even though you hadn’t heard it in years.

“Sam?” You couldn’t help but call out, lingering by the large doorway. Bucky remained leaning against the kitchen counter with a coffee mug in his hand, while Sam got up from where he sat at the breakfast counter.

He turned around and his familiar, warm brown eyes met yours. He gave you a comforting smile. You, Sam, and Bucky all grew up together, along with some other kids from families similar to yours. And Sam had always been a sweetheart. You’d missed him.

So you didn’t even hesitate to walk right into his arms once he opened them, wanting a hug. You squeezed him tight and said, “I thought I’d never see you again, Sammy!”

Sam hugged you back just as tight, “I can’t believe I haven’t seen you in almost a decade.” He pulled away to look down at you before giving you a loud kiss on the cheek. Safe to say, he was just as handsome as he was when you left this place. “How have you been?”

You looked over Sam’s broad shoulder and found a broody Bucky. “I’ve been better.”

Sam got really serious, and was about to say something but Bucky’s voice rumbled from behind. “That’s enough hugging and smooching. Sam, stop touching my wife.”

“Ooh, your wife.” Sam teased, before letting go of you and letting you walk out of his arms. “First of all, why didn’t you tell me you two were planning to get married this whole time?” He asked Bucky in an accusatory tone. “My childhood friends got married and I wasn’t even invited.”

Sam sat back down at the breakfast counter, so he didn’t see the questioning stare you sent Bucky. So Sam wasn’t aware of the circumstances under which you got married? Of course he didn’t. Nobody knew, and Bucky wasn’t about to tell anyone

“It all happened so quickly, Sam.” You placed a gentle hand on his shoulder as you said, “Bucky was… impatient. Even my father didn’t have time to prepare much. It all just, you know, happened.” You spoke as you helped yourself to some breakfast, taking a seat at the table where you could see both men well.

You didn’t miss the way Bucky’s jaws kept clenching and unclenching as you tiptoed the line between telling the truth and lying to Sam.

“Yeah,” Sam agreed, “I know how impatient he can be.” He glared at Bucky, who shook his head in disbelief.

“I take it you two work together now?” You only asked because you remember how the parents would always talk about how wonderful it would be if these two boys worked together. Apparently they made a great team back then.

“We do.” Bucky answered, placing his mug down before turning around and began chopping some things.

“You see,” Sam began explaining in a playful tone. “After everything happened, Bucky was all along. Poor little princeling with no guidance and a kingdom to run.” You saw Bucky shaking his head at Sam’s words. Sam continued, “So I knew I had to step in and become his mentor. He wouldn’t have survived without me.”

You made a mental note to ask about what ‘everything’ he was referring to, but couldn’t help but smile at the camaraderie between them, despite it all. Sam had always been a good company. He was the sun rays filtering through dark clouds, and Bucky was the dark, gloomy day who needed the sun’s brightness.

“Wouldn’t have survived.” Bucky muttered, mocking his friend. “You helped me train sometimes. You introduced me to people. That’s about it.” He clarified, bringing over a bowl of chopped fruit over to you and pushed it towards you without a word said.

You liked fruits for breakfast. And you assumed he remembered. But he did it all too casually. As if he did it every day. You didn’t want to cause a scene so you accepted the bowl quietly.

“That’s about it?” Sam shook his head, then turned to you. “I took care of him like a parent–,”

“No you didn’t. You–”

“–and this is how he treats me. I should’ve let you bleed out from that bullet wound that one time. Maybe you wouldn’t be here disrespecting me then.”

You chuckled, clearly on Sam’s team. Bucky didn’t like that. “What about my wife then? Who would be taking care of her?”

“I would.” Sam answered without missing a beat. “We all know if not you then I was gonna marry her.” He turned to you, knowing damn well he was gonna get a reaction out of Bucky any time now. Sam lived to mess with Bucky after all. He always did, ever since you were all kids. “Wouldn’t you have married me if Bucky had died?” He asked you with that mischievous smile on his face.

“I–,”

“You answer that and you’ll never see Sam again.” Bucky said, narrowing his eyes at you, before you couldn’t get a word out of your mouth.

Sam smirked triumphantly.

You rolled your eyes at Bucky and looked right at Sam and said, “I would’ve married you in a heartbeat, Sammy.”

Sam went to grab your hand, surely to bring it up to his lips for a kiss, but Bucky threw a napkin right at him before he could.

“You touch my wife again and I swear–,”

“Must you always threaten people?” You asked, glaring at Bucky.

He glared back. And opened his mouth to say something but Sam cut him off. “Hey, hey, kids. No fighting.” He quickly changed the topic, “Now, since you have gotten married and no one was there, how about a party? To announce it to everyone? We could invite the whole city.”

Party. Yeah right. The last time you attended an extravagant party you had your heart broken. Not just broken, but stepped onto and crushed to a pulp.

You went to say no, “Maybe we shouldn’t–,”

But Bucky declared, “Absolutely we should. After all, we waited almost a decade to marry each other.” He looked right at you as he said that. “It’s time everyone knows you’re finally mine.”

“Perfect!” Sam began planning immediately. He had always been the life of all parties, and he loved them.

While you occasionally answered his questions, you didn’t stop glaring at your husband while you finished your breakfast. There was something he was hiding. You were certain of it. But what?

—

A couple days later, it was finally the night of the party.

The past few days had been more or less similar. You’d always wake up sprawled all over Bucky’s chest, and he always made a teasing comment about it. You’d have breakfast in silence, after which he’d disappear and then he’d come home in the evenings. You never talked while having dinner.

The one time you did talk, it didn’t end well.

You brought it up at dinner. “I tried to go out today. Your people followed me into the city.”

“Our people.” He corrected. Bucky didn’t find anything wrong with that apparently because he simply said, “And they’re your security detail. They’ve been ordered to follow you.”

“So I don’t escape?”

“So you’re always safe.”

“Oh come on. You can’t keep me here forever.”

He shrugged, “You’re not being kept. This is your home, we’re married. This is where you live now.”

You stood up from the table.You didn’t care that the housekeepers you’d been recently introduced to could hear. “And who are you to make that decision for me?” You asked, in a surprisingly calm tone.

He replied in a similar tone. “Your husband.”

You sighed, trying your hardest to keep it all contained. “I have a life, you know? A totally separate life I’ve been living since I left this place. I have to get back to it at some point. You proved your point. Now let me go.”

He ignored all of that. “I’m working on transferring all your businesses and staff here.” He announced. “I’m buying a brand new building in the city, you can have it and set it up however you want. The only thing I can’t find is your secret army of highly trained soldiers.”

“You’ll never find my girls.”

“Why’s that?”

“They’re trained to outrun men like you. All men, in fact.” You added, “I made sure of that. I made sure they’d never be used and moved around like pieces on a chessboard then discarded by people like you.”

“Sounds like you speak from experience.”

“Fuck you, Barnes.” You spat before walking away.

You made sure to sleep on the very edge of the gigantic bed that night, as far away from him as possible. But in the morning, you still woke up snuggled into his chest, on his side of the bed, like you’d been trying to burrow under his skin seeking warmth at night.

You didn’t speak after that. You made sure to ignore him. Each time you left the house, to go see your father or to just roam around the city you’d missed so much, you’d look in the rear view mirror and find big, bulky SUVs following you around.

And here you were now, after days of silent treatment, you stood in front of the large mirror in the closet of your bedroom and watched your reflection. Of course the bastard had chosen an extravagant evening gown for you to wear which looked eerily similar to the one you wore that night for your birthday almost ten years ago.

Except this one was much more elegant. And looked a lot like a wedding dress. With its simple square neckline, thin straps, fitted bodice and a majestic skirt. All white and sparkly. The last time you felt like a princess, the night ended terribly. So this time you were afraid to even let yourself appreciate the beautiful woman in the mirror who stared back at you.

You kept fidgeting, with the skirt of the dress, watching it swish around. You didn’t notice Bucky approaching you from behind. Not until he stood right behind you, his chest brushing against your slight exposed back.

He looked… unreal in his all black suit. Shiny black tie and a small shiny pin. His hair was perfect as always, and his all black outfit really made his eyes seem bluer than ever. Or maybe it was the lights in this closet that did it. But it made you notice the lines by his eyes, which gave away just how much time had gone by.

He was still that bad boy with tattoos whom you had a crush on, who made your race whenever he looked at you. Except now he was older, meaner. And your husband. Whom you hated.

Did you?

You tensed up when he placed a hand on your waist, right where the bodice and skirt were sewn together. You met his eyes through the mirror, but said nothing. You had no mean words to throw at him this time and neither did he.

“You look beautiful.” He said, leaning in just a little to rest his cheek against your temple.

You froze at the soft touch which drove you insane. You must be ovulating, you thought, because there was no way that mere touch was making your heart race like this for no other reason. You began breathing faster, that’s how fast your heart was racing.

You almost leaned into his touch, ready to forget it all just for one moment of warmth. Of peace and quiet. Just one moment to appreciate that you looked beautiful and you had your husband’s attention and all was well. To appreciate that you two look great together. To stop fighting this weird alchemy between you two which kept drawing you to one another no matter what. But then you remembered.

“Do I?” You asked, keeping your voice steady. “You sure I don’t look like a kid’s toy with this ridiculous dress on?”

He remembered too, judging by the look on his face. He looked surprised, then briefly apologetic before settling on a familiar, broody frown. “What did I say about being a brat?”

“I’ll stop being a brat when you stop being an asshole.” You scoffed. “You always were so… careless. With people. With everything. Always thinking you were above everyone else, ever since we were just kids.” You added, “I hate you.”

He smirked, then grabbed your elbow and turned you around so he could look at you, or glare at you with his ocean blue eyes. “You didn’t hate me back then, did you?” He pushed you against the closest surface, which happened to be a wooden dresser. “You craved my attention back then. You used to find excuses to hold my hand when we were little. When we got older you used to hate it when I looked at other girls at school. Now look at you. You’re in my house, you sleep in my bed.” He leaned in, whispering in your ear, “You’re my wife. Then why do you keep resisting me, hmm?”

“I was stupid back then. Wasted so much time trying to get your attention, and all I ever was to you was a whiny, bratty–,” You cut yourself off with a surprised gasp as you watched Bucky lower to his knees in front of you, his hands lifting the skirt of your dress. He was rough with it, crumpling it in his strong fists. “What are you doing?” You asked, shocked and surprised but not making a move to get away. “You– you’re ruining my dress.”

He looked up at you, bunching some of the fabric near your waist and holding the front part of your dress up, pinning the bunched up skirt at your abdomen. As if he wanted to–

Your entire face burned when you realised just how close and intimate this was.

“I bought this dress. I’ll ruin it if I want to.” He spoke in that arrogant tone you weren’t sure you entirely hated at this moment. “You’re lucky I’m not tearing it off of you.”

“And you’re lucky I’m not–,”

He cut you off by leaning in and kissing your inner thigh. Just like that. As if you weren’t on the verge of arguing just now. You were still processing that soft kiss he left on your thigh, and he was already moving to spread your legs apart as he slowly looked up, waiting to see if you’d tell him to stop or push him away.

You didn’t.

His eyes remained focused on your face as his hand reached out and he ran his metal knuckles between your legs, along your wet folds through your thin underwear, making you shudder at his mere touch. You flinched at the cold, but didn’t pull away.

“You’re dripping.” He commented, slowly sliding down your underwear. “Does arguing with me turn you on, baby? Is that why you do it all the time?” He smirked, finally throwing your underwear to the side.

You glared at him, opening your mouth to argue yet again but you ended up just letting out a soft moan as you felt his metal fingertips gently trail up and down your legs. He chuckled at how sensitive and responsive you were. Bucky placed a kiss on your inner thigh again and you gasped.

“Looks like you haven’t been taken care of in a while.” He said, moving his fingers over your clit, circling it slowly. “Have you?” He sounded like he was accusing you.

“No.” You hissed, angry at how much you didn’t mind his touch. “You barged in and married me before I could go out and find someone who might–,”

“I tolerate you talking to and about Sam because he’s our friend.” He cut you off. “But if I hear you talking about any other man, I promise I will be committing unnecessary crimes and it’ll all be on you.” He paused, glaring at you. “You hear me?”

You nodded. Fuck he looked good from up here.

He held your stare as he leaned in and placed his mouth to your core, giving your clit a firm such before his warm tongue slipped past your folds and teased your dripping hole. One hand holding part of your dress up while the metal one worked in tandem with his tongue, circling your throbbing clit and parting your wet folds with ease.

“Should’ve known you’d taste like fucking heaven,” He whispered, almost to himself.

You couldn’t hold the moans and whimpers in, feeling his stubble rubbing against your soft skin, craving more of it. You couldn’t help but slide hesitant fingers into his hair, pulling him closer. “Please, more…” You whined.

That made him wild. And he ate you out relentlessly, taking his time and learning what worked for you and what didn’t, until your legs were shaking and your moans were louder.

He slid his fingers, just a knuckle deep inside you and watched how much you loved that. “That feels good, doesn’t it, baby?”

You only whimpered in response.

When he was certain you were right on the edge, hips moving in a frantic way which made you grind against his fingers and tongue, only then did he pull away and let go of your dress before standing back up to face you with a condescending smirk.

“You think it’s that easy?” He spoke, but you focused more on the wetness coating his lips rather than his words.

You blinked a couple of times to break out of whatever spell he’d just put you under using that damned mouth and fingers of his. He’d… he’d dared bring you right to the edge. But hadn’t let you come.

You were breathing heavily, feeling hot and tingly all over.

He chuckled, enjoying the speechlessness which was rare when it came to you. “If you want more, then behave tonight. Be good and tell everyone how in love we are and all the nice things, and I promise I’ll take care of you later tonight. Okay?“

You knew what he was doing. He wanted you to tell as many people as possible because the more people knew, the harder it would be for you to sneak out of this place again.

He didn’t even wait for a response. He just licked his lips clean, shamelessly holding your stare while he did. Then turned to the mirror and fixed his suit before bending down to pick up your discarded underwear. You looked away, embarrassed but waiting for him to hand it to you.

Except he didn’t. He pocketed it like it was nothing and said, “Come on, our guests are waiting.” Then he walked out of the room like nothing happened. Like he hadn’t made you almost lose your mind just minutes ago. Like he didn’t have his tongue and fingers inside you. Like he hadn’t gotten so close to making you come.

Like your heart wasn’t still racing even after he’d left the room.

Eventually, you calmed down. Fixed your makeup, hair and dress again before heading towards the temporary, clear outdoor party tent Sam had people install in Bucky’s huge backyard. The closer you got, the more it looked straight out of a fairytale. Given the clear walls, you could see the golden lights and decor inside.

The chandeliers, the floral arrangements, the tables and the dance floor where people danced with their partners.

Speaking of partners, there by the entrance stood a tall, dark figure. Your husband.

“Took you a while.” He muttered once you got close enough to him.

You stopped by his side and sighed. Then answered in a monotone voice, trying to hide how bothered you were. “Well, some conceited asshole left me to deal with a mess he made so there’s that.”

Bucky snickered. “Don’t act so indifferent. You were dripping all over my tongue and hand just minutes ago.”

“Keep your voice down.” You hissed.

“Nothing to be ashamed of. It’s not taboo for a husband to take care of his wife, you know?” He sounded just as annoying as you expected he would.

You looked down and noticed he had his elbow extended out for you to take. You took it and spoke once you two began walking into the venue. “If you think you are getting anywhere near me to take care of me again, husband, you are dead fucking wrong.” You put a fake smile on as people began noticing your arrival and flocked to you.

Bucky whispered one last thing into your ear before he left you in the care of the excited, curious, and loud group of ladies coming your way, “Oh you’ll beg me to touch you soon enough, wife.”

Then he was gone again. Leaving you right on that edge again.

Damn him!

—

You had to give it to Sam, he knew how to organise a party. The decor, the food, the music, the performances, all of it was perfect.

He even re-introduced to all the people you might have forgotten while you were gone. And naturally everyone had questions. You repeated the same answers to them all. The same lies.

Where were you this whole time? You wanted to do your own thing, and make your own name so you decided to get away from home.

Why did you leave right after it was announced that you were to marry Bucky Barnes? Oh your father never said when you were to marry him. He just said you would. Besides, both you and Bucky were too young to marry back then.

Did Bucky know you were going to be gone? Of course he did! You two were childhood sweethearts after all. Yes, you did keep in touch this whole time and only fell more and more in love. Yes, distance does make the heart grow fonder and all.

Why did the wedding happen so suddenly and in secret? After almost a decade of being far apart from each other, you two could no longer wait anymore. So you eloped the day you came back.

There are rumours that your father and Bucky have some kind of tension going on between them, is any of it true? That was the one question you didn’t feel too confident about. Because your father never ended up telling you why that was. How did the rivalry start? You lied and said, it’s just because you eloped. Your father wanted to be involved but you were too in love to think straight. So now your father was giving your poor husband a hard time for stealing his little girl.

As you paraded around and met everyone, you could feel Bucky’s eyes on you at all times. You didn’t have to look to know. You could feel the burning sensation along your back and you just knew he was watching you.

And he watched all night. Up until the moment people began leaving and you had no choice but to find him again, not knowing what else to do.

“You lie very well.” He commented, holding his elbow out for you to take again.

You did. And also leaned into him a little because you had been standing for too many hours. You decided to ignore the hostility for just a minute. “Yes, I’m a natural.”

“Everyone bought your bullshit about how we are childhood sweethearts turned lovers.” He whispered, turning his head to face you.

“Well, you did say to make it believable.”

“Oh it is.” He boasted, “Especially since you’ve been looking at me like that the whole night.”

You rolled your eyes, “How?”

“With longing, and desire. You’re all hot and bothered. You crave my tongue back on that throbbing little clit, don’t you?”

“You’re delusional, Barnes.”

“And you’re dripping wet for me, Mrs. Barnes.”

—

The party ended, and after Sam left you and Bucky made your way back inside the house. Sam, being the angel that he was, had made sure a clean up crew would be here early the next morning so you had nothing to worry about.

Not that it should bother you whether or not Bucky’s house is tidy.

You had a faint smile on your face as you went about your nighttime routine. Shower, skin care, a quick snack in the kitchen. And while you were downstairs, searching the pantry for something sweet, you saw Bucky near the thermostat.

The pantry hid you well, so Bucky didn’t see you. But you watched him mess with the temperature. You squinted and realised he was lowering it. The damned bastard was making it colder! No wonder you were freezing each night and woke up each morning snuggled up to him, basking in his warmth.

This asshole.

You remained in hiding until Bucky left, and this time as you made your way upstairs you vowed you wouldn’t reach for his warmth. No matter how cold it got. And he wouldn’t get to use you as a personal heated blanket either. Let him freeze.

You barely lasted thirty minutes under the covers.

And he was quiet and didn’t move so you thought he was asleep already as you carefully scooted a little bit closer, trying to feel where he was in the dark. If only this bed wasn’t so damn big. You patted around, trying not to move to much as you–

“I can hear you, you know? If you want to cuddle, just say it.”

You stopped moving immediately. “Shut up.” You muttered, frowning at him even though he couldn’t see it. You could see his faint silhouette in the dark, so you knew when he turned on his side to face you.

“What is it, wife? You need some warmth on this cold, cold night?” He asked in that mocking tone of his.

“No.” You answered, lying. Because yes you did.

He muttered ‘stubborn brat’ under his breath and then grabbed you and pulled you close until your back was completely pressed against his chest. His warm, comfy chest. You bit back a sigh of relief once you felt his body heating wrapping you in a cocoon.

“I saw you messing with the thermostat.” You admitted.

“Oh?”

“Yes. You make it cold on purpose.”

“Oh no.” He mocked. “ Why didn’t you fix it then?” He asked, and it hit you how childish this was. He leaned in just enough so that his lips brushed against your cheek when he spoke. “Could it be that you like cuddling with me?”

“Shut up.”

He scoffed, finally wrapping his arms around you, but you hissed upon feeling his metal arm on your body.

“It’s cold.”

“Warm it up for me then.”

“What–”

You stopped talking the moment Bucky grabbed one of your legs and hooked it on top of his, spreading your legs to make room for his hand as you both remained on your sides, with him spooning you from behind.

His metal hand found itself sliding into your shorts, past your underwear and he cupped you with such confidence and authority that you couldn’t help leaning into and grinding into his touch. His other hand slid under your pillow and down so he could grab and give your breast a firm squeeze.

Fuck. His hands felt like they were touching you everywhere.

“I told you I’d take care of you if you behaved.” He whispered into your ear. “Time for a little reward, wife.”

He slid two fingers inside you, you gasped at the feeling of him being knuckles deep inside you. You whined as he stretched you a little, moving his fingers around until your hips were moving on their own, trying to get him to move some more.

He chuckled. “That feels good?” He murmured into your ear.

His voice, his warmth, the softness of his embrace, the unhurried way his fingers were moving in and out of you, sliding over your clit and stroking your walls like he had all the time in the world.

Your hands wrapped around his metal wrist, keeping his hand in place as you rode his fingers the way you wanted. Hips moving forward and causing his fingers to slide in and out, while you moaned and whimpered.

His lips brushed against your cheek over and over again as he whispered against your skin, “See how nice it is when you behave? Hmm? You can have me whenever you want, baby. Just be good for me, and I’ll do anything for you.”

The animosity between you was forgotten at this moment. Here, in this dark room the past didn’t matter for a few minutes. Nothing mattered, just that you wanted something and he was giving it to you.

His thumb caressed your clit, teasing it a little more until you cried out, “Bucky, please…”

He froze. You did too. Then he chuckled and said, “So all is takes is a little finger fucking and now you have manners and you call me by my name?” He sounded just as annoyingly playful as you knew he would.

“Oh fuck you!” You spat, then immediately let out a loud moan as he sped up and really fucked you with his fingers until you were a whimpering mess. “Please, please, please…”

“What did I say, huh?” He hissed. “Keep acting like a fucking brat and you’ll be treated like one.” He kept his fingers moving in and out of you. “I planned on really taking care of you tonight, but you know what? This is all you’re gonna get.”

Your moans and whimpers got louder and louder until you began clenching around his fingers, coming undone with a loud cry of his name. Body shaking and your hips grinding down on his hand as you savoured the last moments of your orgasm before he pulled out and pulled away from you.

You thought he’d go right back to sleep but then you felt him get out of bed. “Where are you–,”

“I’ll fix the temperature.” He mumbled, sounding annoyed. Rightfully so. “Go to sleep.”

And that was the last you heard or saw of him until the morning because you passed out right after. You didn’t even know if he returned to bed or not. Not that you cared much.

Right?

—

Things changed after that night.

A lot changed actually. Bucky had, miraculously, managed to uproot ten years of your life from elsewhere and planted it right here in the city. He took you to the building he’d been getting ready for you and it sure was something. You didn’t know what you expected but a brand new skyscraper was not what you had in mind.

The day he handed over papers and keys and gave you a tour of the huge building was the first time you felt a shift in this… bond you shared with him.

“Thank you.” You simply said as you both stepped into the shiny elevator so he could take you all the up to the top floor, to show you to your new office.

Bucky slid his hands in his pockets and turned to face you. “You think being nice equals sexual favours from me, wife?”

You could’ve told him to shut it. Or told him to go get fucked. But he was trying to be good to you, wasn’t he? Even after all he did, he wanted you next to him for some unknown reason and frankly you were tired of resisting. Your entire life was here now anyway. It wouldn’t hurt to… try. Would it?

So instead you answered with, “Doesn’t it?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes at you, searching for the catch. He didn’t find any so he said, “We’ll see about that.”

And that night he followed you into the shower and kissed you hard under the falling water. “I see you behaved yourself today.” He whispered against your mouth.

You pulled him closer by grabbing his neck and said, “Do I get a reward then?”

He didn’t say anything, just kissed you hard again and walked the two of you backwards until your back collided with the cold clear glass of the shower cubicle. Then he pulled away, looked down into your eyes. His own filled with lust and hunger as he asked, “You’re gonna let me fuck you?”

You nodded quickly before saying, “Yes. Please.”

He didn’t waste a single moment. He grabbed one of your legs and hooked it to his hip, spreading you open. He kissed you senseless again while he pushed inside of you. You moaned into the kiss as he filled you up, his cock stretching you out, making you whine and whimper as he slow fucked you.

“Fuck…” He breathily moaned against your open mouth while he moved against you. Pushing deeper, in and out of you until your moans and whimpers got louder and louder. The sound of the water falling from the shower drowned out most of it, so he fucked you until you moaned loud enough that he could hear you over the falling water.

“Please,” You cried out. Weeks of frustration wanting to be let out. “Please, Buck…” Your hands wrapped around his shoulders, and you held on while he fucked you.

Bucky almost froze again at the sound of his nickname falling from your lips. But he maintained his composure and sped up into you, feeling your walls clenching around him, gripping his cock.

“You’ve been good today,” He said, noticing the way you clenched around him hard at the sound of praise. “You didn’t talk back, not once. Is it because you wanted this cock, baby?”

You whined in response. Feeling his damp skin rubbing against yours, and for a brief moment you wanted to live in this moment forever.

“Oh, poor baby.” He gave you a messy, heated kiss then said, “It’s all yours, you know? You just have to ask nicely. And you can have it whenever you want.”

“Please…” You begged again, your pride nowhere in sight. “Please, Bucky.”

“Come for me, baby…” He breathed against your skin. His hands held you in place as he pounded into you. “Come for me.”

You did, moaning so loud it was all he heard as he came right after you.

—

It became a daily thing over the next few weeks. You’d seek Bucky out at random times during the day or more often right when he’d get into bed at night.

“Were you good today, wife?” He asked, his hands already moving all over you trying to undress you as fast as he could.

“Yes,” You breathed into his ear, your hands touching him all over his tattooed chest. “I even made you breakfast, remember?”

“Those burnt pancakes count?”

You shut him up by kissing him, pulling him down onto the bed and straddling him, then proceeded to ride him until you were both moaning and spent, too tired to move.

—

Things got… playful.

Oftentimes you’d catch yourself wondering why you weren’t actively working to get out of here. But your whole life was here now. Work, your family, and your husband. You didn’t hate Bucky as much as you thought you would. Just a few months ago you wanted to kill him on sight but now…

“I saw the new building you work at. He bought you that?” Your father asked one morning when you went over to join him for breakfast.

You cleared your throat and answered, “He did. He moved everything here. My businesses, my staff, all of it.”

“And the girls?” He asked, referring to the infamous, feared, and fierce army you had raised and trained over the last ten years.

“My girls are free to go wherever they want to.” You let pride fill you as you thought of them. “Besides, they don’t have to be here for me to know I can always count on them. They’re just a phone call away.” You explained. “Plus they have work to do. People to save, women to recruit. You know, the usual.”

“I’m proud of you, you know?”

You smiled at your father. Then a few moments passed and you couldn’t help but ask, “What happened after I left? Where is the rest of Bucky’s family?”

Your father looked surprised. “He didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

Your father shook his head. “It doesn’t matter now. They’re all gone anyway. Plus the boy, he… he treats you right, doesn’t he?”

You nodded. Then left it at that. You wanted a peaceful morning with your father, you didn’t want to ruin it by insisting he tell you about whatever it was that he wanted to keep in the past.

—

But it bothered you, knowing that something happened while you were gone that you knew nothing about and everyone refused to tell you about it.

All except one man. Your beloved friend, Sam.

He showed up one morning, demanding to see Bucky.

“He said he has an important phone call to attend to. With someone named Steve. He’s been outside for over an hour now,” You explained to Sam, who stood at the foyer looking disappointed, “It looks like he’ll be out for quite some time.”

Sam frowned, and sighed. “He said to come over for a round of golf.” He sounded like he’d been betrayed. “Ever since he started doing business and being friendly with that Steve guy,” Sam complained, “That bitch has been trying to steal my best friend.”

You chuckled and grabbed his hand to lead him further into the house. “I’m sorry my husband ruined your playdate, Sammy. But you can hang out with me.”

Sam reluctantly agreed only after you promised to make him blueberry muffins. He liked those ever since you were kids.

He agreed to help, and you both had a nice, comfortable conversation going while you worked. You caught yourself shaking your head a few times thinking about how just a few months ago if someone had told you you’d be in Bucky’s kitchen making muffins you wouldn’t believe it.

But here you were now.

Then Sam casually said, “I’m glad you two worked it out, you know? You’re so perfect for each other. Even back when we were kids, remember how everyone used to tease you two and say you would surely marry one another?” He laughed. “I mean after he told me all about how you heard him on the phone with me by the pool, I was worried you might never clear up the misunderstanding.” He chuckled, keeping his eyes down as he lined the muffin tin so didn’t see the way you froze. Sam continued, “I thought that’s why you left when I heard about your sudden disappearance. But–”

You cut him off, heart racing as memories of that night came flooding back in. “Sam… what do you mean on the phone with you?”

Sam looked up, frowning. “That night of your twentieth birthday. Remember how you found Bucky by the pool? He was on the phone with me that night. He was so angry when he told me what his family was planning to do to yours, how they were going to–,” Sam cut himself off as the realisation set in. “Did he not tell you the truth?”

Your heart pounded. Something was wrong.

“Tell me what truth?”

Sam’s eyes softened. “Oh, I shouldn’t be the one to–,”

“Sammy, please.” You begged in a whisper. “Even my father refuses to tell me anything. I have the right to know. What happened?”

Sam tried his hardest to make sense as he told you everything in a rush. “Look, something went wrong back then. Bucky’s family began siding with the rivals and they were trying to take your father down. They tricked your dad into thinking that getting you and Bucky married would be a good idea and well, your father chose to believe his friends so he made that announcement at the party.” Sam sighed, “But Bucky’s family were planning something really bad. They were going to use the wedding as an excuse to gather all your family in one place and… end all of you. Just so they’d be able to expand their territory. Bucky found out about this plan and he was pissed. So that night, he called me. To vent.”

You felt your eyes begin to water.

Sam continued. “But then you found him. I remember him whispering to me that you were doing a terrible job at hiding behind a plant or some shit. Then your huge gown gave away your hiding spot. But given you were listening, Bucky decided he’d get you annoyed enough to have you at least try to call off the wedding which would buy us some time to figure out what to do. That’s when he began saying those things about you. Trying his hardest to sound like he truly did not want to marry you.” Sam sighed, “I mean there might have been a better way of doing it rather than fake dialogues on a phone call, but we were twenty year old boys. We didn’t know better. We didn’t know you’d write that note and just disappear.”

What the actual fuck.

“Sam…” You whispered in disbelief.

He shook his head. “Please tell me you didn’t truly believe all that. He lied when he said those things that night, you know? Bucky liked you ever since we were kids. You don't remember how he used to get mad at me whenever I was around you for too long? How he always ignored your hiding spots when we played just so you’d win at hide-and-seek? You don’t remember how he used to bully your stupid boyfriends as we got a older?”

You couldn’t believe any of this. But Sam would never lie to you.

“Wait,” Sam put the pieces together. “So you didn’t know about any of this?”

You closed your eyes and sighed, “I didn’t. I heard all the things he said that night and… I had spent my entire life loving him and I thought…” You sighed. “I was young and stupid and heartbroken so I just left.” Then you explained. “I got back recently, Bucky made this whole show of raining down bullets at my father’s house and, well, we kinda got married that same day, in my father’s destroyed foyer.”

“You didn’t talk to each other this whole time?” Sam was in disbelief. “Oh for fuck’s sake. And I thought Bucky just never mentioned you while you’ve been gone because… well, he’s not exactly good at the whole heart to heart thing. He’s Bucky.”

Your surprise morphed into anger really quickly. “I need to find my husband.” You said, quickly walking out of the kitchen.

Sam yelled behind you, “I'm gonna take this muffin batter and go before he shoots me after he finds out I told you all this!”

You just yelled back, “Bye Sammy, I love you”

Sam’s voice sounded distant as he yelled back, “Don’t let him hear you!”

You ran out to the back, where Bucky said he would be. And you found him by the pool. Again. The sight of him standing there gave you déjà-vu. Except he wasn’t your twenty-year old crush, in a black suit, arguing with who turned out to be Sam, on the night of your birthday anymore.

He was older now, your husband, wearing dark trousers and a loose white-button up shirt, standing by the pool with the sun setting behind him. You stood on the patio, for a second more, admiring him. The metal hand casually shoved in his pocket and his heavily tattooed arm held a phone to his ear.

You called out, no longer containing your anger. “You absolute piece of shit!”

Bucky looked towards you and just frowned, before rolling his eyes. Then said on the phone, “Hang on a minute, Steve. My wife’s angry at me again.” He lowered the phone to his chest and whispered to you, “What is it this time?”

“How long were you going to keep the truth from me?” You accused him. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

He raised the phone to his ear again and said, “I’ll call you later Steve, something came up.” Then he hung up, tossed his phone onto one of the lounge chairs before turning to face you again. “Don’t get mad–”

“Stop telling me what to do!”

He sighed. “Did Sam tell you anything? I saw his car coming in earlier.”

You hissed, “Oh leave him alone! He’s a good man who doesn’t lie to me!”

Bucky shook his head, understanding that you knew all about what he’d been hiding, and too calmly said, “They were gonna kill you. All of you. Not just your family members, but the guards, the family friends, the members of your family who aren’t even in this life – all of you. I had to do something. My folks were wrong, I couldn’t let innocent people die just because my family got too power hungry.”

You took a step forward, “Why didn’t you tell me before I left? I would’ve talked to someone.”

“We barely even talked to each other as we got older. I thought you wouldn’t believe me.”

“But you could’ve at least tried to say something!”

He was quiet for a moment. Then said, “I came to see you the next day.” He confessed. “The morning after the party. But your father had found your note and you’d already left. You never mentioned exactly why you left in the note, so I let him think it was because of me.” He explained, “Since there would be no wedding I didn’t have to worry anymore. But the threat remained. So I goaded your father into a fight. He took the bait and tried to shoot at me. He missed, of course. But enough people heard about it so he ended up declaring war against my family.”

He paused. You listened quietly.

“No one knew it was all because of me. But at least from then on, your father was more cautious. And he began hating my folks. And they couldn’t keep pretending to be his friend for much longer either. All the truth began spilling out. Soon the city was divided and the attacks began. Allies became enemies, just like that.”

You were quiet. Processing everything. All of that shit happened and you were not aware.

For some reason, you asked, “During those attacks… Is that when you lost your arm?”

You only realised you’d been stepping closer and closer to him when he raised said metal arm and touched your cheek gently. He smiled and said, “No, baby. That was a different time.”

You had a tear sliding down your face. He wiped it away. “What happened then?” You asked.

“My folks didn’t stand a chance. Your father was not only angry and betrayed, but he was also sad that he lost you because of them, or me.” Bucky explained. “It got… really bad. Your father lost a lot of his guys. Then he got angrier. So he stopped responding to the petty attacks and came after my folks directly.”

“He killed them?” They were his friends once.

Bucky said, “He still doesn’t know I helped him all the way until the end.”

“But he spared you.”

Bucky smirked. “He just could never catch me.”

“But your family…” Bucky went against his own you realised.

“They were bad people. Not just because of what they planned to do to you but…” He sighed. “They were doing bad things in the background. Dealing in substances, and people.” He spared you the gory details.

But you understood.

“Why didn’t you tell me all this that day we got married?”

“You wouldn’t have believed me. You had just spent ten years hating me.” He shrugged. “But hey, it kept you safe.”

You stepped closer to him, feeling tired with all that you felt inside you. “So you never meant the things you said that night?”

Bucky pulled you close, cupping your face in his hands. “I have loved you my entire life. I never stopped.”

You sniffled, looking up into his pretty eyes. “We lost so much time. I spent years hating you for nothing.” It hurt thinking about it.

He smiled at you, “I should’ve thought it through better. But I was young and rash, and my family threatened to kill the girl I loved. I thought I was doing the right thing by pushing you away.” He sighed. “I just didn’t think I was going to lose you for almost a decade. I was always aware of where you were and what you did in life in those years. I was so proud of everything you did, the name you made for yourself. But I couldn’t reach you. You were angry and you hated me. So I waited. And then you came back and… I needed you with me. I’m sorry, I couldn’t wait any longer.”

You wrapped your arms around him, shoving your face into the crook of his neck as you let the tears fall quietly.

“Shh,” He whispered, running a comforting hand down your back. “It’s okay now, I’m here. We’re okay.”

“I’ve been mean to you.” You whispered. “I’m sorry.”

He chuckled quietly, “And I shot at your father’s house. We’re equal.”

“I… I love you too, you know?” You sniffled.

Bucky pulled away so he could look down at your teary face. “Sorry to say this, wife, but this isn’t half as romantic as the first time you told me you loved me.”

You frowned. “What?” Did you talk in your sleep? Oh no. Did you? “When did I say it?”

“We were seven, playing in the hedge maze in your father’s backyard.” He smiled, thinking about that day. “He had just had a new water fountain placed in there, and you wanted to show it to me. You must have thought it was pretty and that I needed to see it too. Then you dragged me all the way there and told me you loved me.” He smirked, “Seven-year old you would be disappointed in you right now.”

A chuckle escaped your lips at the faded memory. “I wish we could go back in time.”

“Well, we can’t. But we can have the rest of our lives together.”

You sniffled again, wiped your tears. Then nodded, and leaned in for a kiss. Deepening it the moment he kissed you back. Your fingers found their way into his longish hair and you gently tugged at his roots.

He smiled into the kiss when you whispered against his lips, “I like you with long hair.”

“I see you’re being nice again,” He murmured in between kisses, “Does my wife need something?”

You giggled this time. “I want you, Buck. Just you.”

“You have me.” He said. “Always.”

#mob!bucky #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut

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leilanihours · 1 day

Text

# IMGONNAGETYOUBACK

pairing: paige bueckers x ex-gf/iowa!reader

word count: 4880

warnings: suggestive content, arguing

summary: your "rivalry" with a certain uconn blonde has its speculation, but no one knows what happened behind the scenes

from lani: why is every single thing ive posted based off of a song..anyways..hope yall enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it

AS YOU SLIP into your black jersey, adrenaline courses through your veins. you and your teammates have successfully carried iowa to the final four of march madness. you've all come this far and refuse to break the streak.

but similar to your previous game against lsu, there's a lot of speculation surrounding the tension on the court with uconn. people are going crazy over the paige bueckers and caitlin clark face-off, but they’re going even crazier over your own heated interactions with the blonde.

the internet has decided to constantly pit you two against each other after observing your intense taunting and confrontations in previous years. they believe that it’s merely competitive tendencies but they have no idea where it all actually stems from.

you haven’t always been a hawkeye. for your first two years of college, you were a husky through and through. the public knows this, of course, which adds to the stigma around your name. but after a season-ending injury, you decided you needed a change of pace and environment. it was nothing personal against your teammates, coach, or school in general, you just felt like uconn wasn't where you were supposed to be.

so after you were in the transfer portal, everyone went ballistic. there was a plethora of reactions - some encouraging and supportive, others targeted and calling you a "traitor."

that's what the public is aware of. but they have yet to discover the deeper scars.

"you gonna lock in, y/n?" one of your teammates asks from behind you. turning around, you are met with caitlin, the other hawkeye under extremely close observation tonight.

"i gotchu," you smirk, "what about you? you gonna carry the team again?”

"you already know," she says, mirroring your expression. the two of you have gotten very close over the past couple years, which honestly makes the whole paige situation worse as people make comments like "caitlin and y/n versus paige is crazy" or "ready for this 2v1 game tonight!” they piss all three of you off but really just add to the hype and buildup of the game.

soon enough, your coach is ushering all the girls out of the locker room and onto the court. screams and cheers fill your ears as the crowd observes your entrance. and damn, if your ego wasn't high before, it definitely was now.

the two sides of the arena were filled, one side a sea of navy and white, the other a myriad of gold and black. music blasts from the speakers and makes the walls shake with energy. as you make your way over to the bench, you raise your arms repeatedly to get the crowd going. gaining an immediate reaction, you smile big and put your hand to your ear to play into the praise.

your teammates shake their heads at your antics. they know how competitive you can get. you tend to interact with the crowd and cameras a lot, but no one (especially fans at home) complains.

the crowd before you quiets down for a split second as you focus back onto what your coaches are saying in the huddle. suddenly you hear echoes of booing and other taunts as everyone turns around to see the uconn girls run out excitedly. the last one to come out is none other than paige bueckers, blonde hair in her signature braids and ponytail immediately catching your eye.

part of the reason people always compare you to her is because of how similar you are. your game style, skill set, and energy has always resembled the husky's, but you never understood it until she does the exact same hand motions you did but to the uconn supporters.

as she turns away from the crowd, her eyes dart around to find yours, doing so in a matter of seconds. her icy blue eyes sending a chill down your spine and she hold intense contact. fuck. she knows exactly what she's doing.

you can tell from the few seconds your eyes are glued to hers that she still wants you. you just know. there's too much emotion behind the stare, saying everything that needs to be said and more.

coach bluder gives the run-down on defensive assignments quickly and explains some of the plays. somehow, by some force of nature, you're stuck guarding the one person you were conflicted with: number 5, paige bueckers.

your teammates all turn to you as soon as the words leave your coach's mouth. they are well aware of your special history with the blonde as well as your complicated relationship now.

"you got that, y/n?" caitlin asks you.

"yeah," you shrug, "you don't have to worry about me. i'm good." and you meant it. you were sick of being compared to paige all the time and were ready to show people who's better.

did you still care for the girl? of course; you always have and always will. but will you let that get in the way of your winning streak? hell no.

the referee beckons each team to the center of the court for the tip-off. hannah sets herself up for the jump ball, standing across from aaliyah edwards on uconn's side.

you confidently walk over to where paige is standing. your eyes meet hers once again as you wordlessly dap her up, offering a civil front. you already know you'll being seeing the clip on your feed a lot tomorrow morning.

despite the cordial interaction, your mind is running wild at the feel of paige's long fingers brushing against yours. you missed her like crazy, but were also upset with her for multiple different reasons. right now you were enemies, opponents, rivals. but in a few hours after the game? well you would have to wait and see.

the ref throws the ball in the air and aaliyah manages to get her fingers on the ball first to swat in her teammates' directions. uconn almost immediately turns it over due to paige missing kk's pass as the ball goes out of bounds. it's just too easy.

------

the buzzer sounds loudly, signaling the end of the second quarter and halftime. you and your teammates jog to the locker room, sweaty and out of breath. the score was currently 32-26 with uconn in the lead.

you had to admit, that definitely wasn't your team's best first half but you were ready to come back twice as hard.

"c'mon guys," lisa yells, "we gotta seriously up our game right now and fight against their defense. keep giving them as many fouls as possible.

"caitlin, we're gonna try to give you more threes, so everyone else, if caitlin has the ball set those screens, got it?"

you all nod wordlessly as you pay attention to her words. your coach turns to you, looking you directly in the eye, her stare deadly.

"y/n, you gotta push bueckers more, don't direct all your focus on getting cait the ball. really use that energy that i know you have."

"yeah i hear you," you pant as you wipe your forehead with a towel.

one of the coaching assistants hands you a waterbottle, so you immediately squeeze the ice cold water into your mouth without putting the nozzle on your lips. it's a habit that you have whenever you're in a rush or busy thinking about something.

"and one more thing, y/n," you hear your coach call you before you make your way back on the court, "please, for the love of god, leave your emotions out of it tonight."

the words shoot a prick in your chest, not expecting such a direct statement. nonetheless, you nod firmly, agreeing with her as you jog to where your team is lingering.

you may or may not have had a few...touchy altercations with a certain number 5.

like in the middle of the first quarter...

------

"bueckers with the lay-up, does she get it? no! it is rebounded by l/n!"

your hands grasp the ball tightly under the net but before you can make your way over to the opposite side of the court, another set of hands on the ball stops you.

you look up to see paige also grabbing the ball as it sits in your hands, starting to fight to get it in her possession. with the two of you pulling back and forth, the refs whistle blows to put an end to the quarrel.

however, you two continue to push until one of your teammates wraps their arms around you to pull you off. walking away, you laugh, energized by the interaction. you put your hands up in surrender as kate releases you from her grip.

you turn your head back around to see that paige has also been forcefully pulled away by one of her own teammates with a similar expression on her face, clearly as equally as fired up as you.

------

and the middle of the second quarter...

------

"THREEEEEEE! Y/N L/N!"

you flex your arms and let out a proud yell. it's your 4th score of the night and you feel amazing. your teammates clamor over to you, patting you on your back and bumping you with their chests.

paige failed to block your attempt, putting her arms up and jumping but not being able to reach the ball before it falls in the net.

seeing her tough front falter for a second, you point a finger to her just to spice up the game a little more and get the crowd really going. she shakes her head and chuckles darkly, waving you off with a hand.

"did you see that? bueckers and l/n back at it again with their supposed rivalry, what a dynamic duo, am i right?"

------

time flies rapidly as the clock runs down. it's the last quarter of the game and tensions are at an all time high. with less than 10 seconds left, iowa has the lead 71-69. it's way too close for comfort.

everyone's on edge. the announcers narrating the game for folks at home, coaches, benched teammates, the audience on either side of the court.

when uconn forces a turnover, you stand out of bounds waiting to pass the ball in. 1.1 on the clock. paige stands with her back to you. no one could've predicted your next move.

you take advantage of her guard let down and quickly bounce the ball off of her, chopping the time in half as she fails to catch it in time and lets it out of bounds once again.

you feel a second of remorse once you catch the defeated look on her face. but you couldn't let the game slip out of your hands that easily. not without a fight.

less than one second on the clock, there's no way for uconn to win. caitlin passes the ball to gabbie who simply throws it high in the air to run down the clock.

the buzzer sounds as you and your teammates run into a group hug, screaming and cheering. you have a small celebration before going to the handshake line. as you pass and commend the uconn coaches and players, you allow your fingers to linger on paige's for a second longer than others.

when she meets your eyes there’s a look of hurt apparent in them, yours filled with guilt. you know how important that game was to her, to her entire collegiate career. but this game was also important to you, she had to know that.

------

your teammates insisted on celebrating at a nearby bar and restaurant, feeling high off the recent victory.

you were obviously down to go with them, but decided to take a little extra time in the locker room showers just to get some peace and quiet to yourself. you tell the girls that you'll catch up in your own car.

so now you're changing into a fresh set of clothes in a dim, empty locker room. some people might find the setting eerie but you enjoy the stillness of it all, especially after the day you've had.

you’re wearing a basic white crop top and a muted purple skirt, a thick black leather jacket draped over your shoulders to protect yourself from the cold evening air. as you grab your backpack and make your way out to the gym’s parking lot, you spot a familiar figure wandering around aimlessly.

of fucking course i'm left here with her, you think.

you let out an irritated sigh as you continue to rub a small towel against your head to dry your hair.

the sound of your shoes against the pavement catches paige's attention and causes her to turn around. when she observes your relaxed, freshly showered figure, her chest tightens. whether it's from hatred or attraction, she doesn't know.

"hey," she yells to you, stalking over.

you look up to her direction and laugh, "you look like a lost puppy, bueckers."

"damn," she says, "first you decide to beat me and now you're insulting me and calling me by my last name? way to kick me when i'm down, y/n.”

you try not to display how flustered you feel when she says your name like that, “i didn't decide to beat you, i just did. deal with it."

"attitude much? i'm just tryna be civil, ma, no need for the hostility."

that fucking nickname.

"did you need something from me? i'm just tryna meet up with the team so spit it out."

"you heading to the bar?"

"yes," you say skeptically, "how the hell do you know that?"

"i'm heading there too, dumbass," she replies.

"what the hell are you talking about?"

"your team invited mine to hangout," of course they did, "is that a problem?"

"might be," you respond shortly, "so why are you here if the rest of your team is at the bar?"

"i could ask you the same question, l/n," she mocks the way you say her last name.

"i asked you first."

"eager to hear me talk i see." before you can reject the idea she interrupts you, “it’s okay, i know how much you love my voice."

she's not wrong, of course, but you would never admit it to her face. you ignore the question with a roll of your eyes.

"i took a longer shower than everyone else,” you shrug, “told 'em i'll just meet them there. your turn."

she laughs nervously before answering, “uh, i was supposed to get a ride from azzi but i guess she forgot," she says as she looks around the empty parking lot. now it's your turn to tease her.

"that's crazy," you laugh and shake your head, "your own friends don't even wanna be around you."

"man, shut up," she scoffs.

there's a beat of silence before you begin to walk to your car, getting the hint that the conversation was over.

you hear paige groan behind you before asking, "yo..do you think you could give me a ride?"

the nerve.

"excuse me?" you say incredulously as you unlock your car door and slip into the driver's seat. the blonde jogs up to your car, resting an arm on the frame of your door. you become hyper aware of how close you are, and how good she looks.

for the first time since you started talking to her, you take in her appearance. she's wearing a light blue cropped tank top, almost like a sports bra, and dark gray distressed jeans. there's a white uconn hoodie in her hands.

the amount of skin exposed makes your body heat up. the way her arms are flexed against your car makes you think back to the many times they've been flexed underneath your weight.

“can i. get. a ride.” she staggers out, like it’s painful to ask you for a favor. you take advantage of her position immediately.

“i dunno, can you?” you smirk.

“i fucking hate you, do you know that?”

“i dunno, do i?”

“dude.”

you throw your head forward in a laugh, shoulders shaking at her irritation.

“you’re so easy to piss off, i love it.”

“yeah well there’s a lot of other things about me that i know you love but we don’t have to talk about that.”

“do you want a ride or not?” you deadpan, “’cause if you’re gonna act like this all night i don’t want you at the bar, bro.”

“‘bro’? that’s what we’ve come to? that’s even worse than just bueckers, y/n.”

“just shut up and get in the car.”

“yes ma’am,” she says with a mock salute as she closes your door and jogs around the front of the car to the passenger seat.

as you turn on the engine, paige settles into the spot next to you and immediately reaches for the aux cord .

“um,” you pause, “what are you doing?”

“blessing you with my awesome music taste? what do you think i’m doing?”

“absolutely not,” you say, “my car, my rules.”

“um, no. the ‘rule’ is that the passenger chooses the playlist while the driver sets up the queue. we’ve been over this.”

“okay but,” you start carefully, “that was when we were together.”

silence.

“so do you want the ‘late night drives’ playlist or the ‘oldies but goodies’ playlist?”

“what?”

“you heard me.”

she brushes over your comment painfully fast. you had no idea why. you refuse to leave it at that.

“can you just put on our playlist?”

more silence. you gotta be kidding me.

“i don’t-“

“don’t even try, paige, i know you still have it.”

“but-“

“don’t fight me on this. all i want is to celebrate with my team and get a drink so can you please hurry up so we can go?”

“shit,” you hear her say under her breath, “yeah.” she pushes her hips forward as she gets comfortable in the seat.

your eyebrows furrow at the reaction. this girl is so fucking complicated. you weren’t sure if you wanted to curse her out or take her right there.

———

“y/n!! you made it!” jada squeals as you walk into the bar, “and…paige? wait. are you two back together??”

“hell no.”

“definitely not.”

you and paige turn to each other.

“oookayy..” jada trails as she pulls you away from the blonde in the direction of where your team was sat.

the girls cheer your name as you take a seat next to caitlin. you can tell they’ve already had at least 2 drinks each.

“hey,” caitlin says with a warm smile, “you got some catching up to do. let’s go get you a drink.”

she ushers you to the bar where you are able to sit and observe the environment. the venue is fairly dark, the ceiling lights dimmed to a warm hue with a few candles on each table. the stools at the bar were a cold metal that gave you goosebumps. all the table booths have dark brown leather couches one side and wooden chairs with intricate designs on the other.

“so,” caitlin starts after she’s ordered you a drink, lord knows what it was, “i saw you and paige walk in together. that mean anything?”

“please,” you scoff, “i’m done with her, cait, like seriously.” she stays silent, waiting for you to continue, “i mean, she’s so annoying and cocky and confusing, it’s exhausting - i hate her.”

“you sure about that?”

“yes.”

“then why do you still put up with her?”

“what do you mean?”

“i mean,” she says as the bartender delivers two of the same drink, one for you and one presumably for caitlin, “just stop talking to her. ignore her.”

you pause to think. “but she’s always the one starting these dumbass petty fights.”

“then don’t answer her?”

“i have to.”

“and why is that?” she eggs you on, sipping on her drink.

“because,” you sigh, “i can’t let her win.”

“or,” caitlin smirks as the two of you get up to head back to your table, “you still like being around her.”

“as if.”

“okay. tell me this then - why do you two still smile at each other like nothing has changed?”

“we almost never see them, cait.”

“no, i know but…i saw the way you looked at her today. and i saw the way you looked at her when we played them in sophomore year. you still like her, y/n.”

you two have returned to your seats with the rest of the team. you find yourself looking for a particular blonde (again) across the room. the uconn girls were sitting at a similar table to the one you were currently at, just on the other side of the bar.

to your relief, caitlin drops the conversation to engage in one with kate about the game. you quietly sip on your drink as you continue to stare at paige. she’s smiling - laughing - with azzi and aaliyah. you missed them. you missed her. you didn’t acknowledge it until now, until caitlin knocked some sense into you. you did enjoy being around her, mainly because it reminded you of how it was before you transferred to iowa. even though your conversations consist of constant jabs and insults, it was better than radio silence.

but you also hated it. you hated how you couldn’t be with her like you used to. you hated how you left. you hated how she treated you when you left. you hated how she acted like nothing happened. that’s why you have to win every time you’re up against her - literally and figuratively.

paige scored 4 three-pointers in a game? you score 5. paige got 6 rebounds? you got 7. paige had 8 assists? you had 9. it wasn’t just for yourself, it was for the media. with how they constantly have a magnifying glass on your life, you can’t jeopardize your career. so you have to be better than her.

your jaw clenches at the thought of the pressure, the expectation. you down the rest of your way too light cocktail and make your way back to the bar for a stronger drink.

“hey,” you say to the bartender, “can i get a sex on the beach, please?” he nods with a polite smile as he walks away to make your order.

“still rockin with those?” you hear an all-too-familiar voice say.

“if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” you mutter, not bothering to turn to her.

she scoffs. what is her problem now? you think.

“you’re so damn predictable,” she laughs, “it’s hilarious.”

“at least i’m reliable,” you retort, “when’s the last time you had any stability in your life?”

“when i was with you,” she says immediately.

that makes you turn your head. you are greeted with paige’s cold eyes and an unreadable expression.

“what are you doing, paige? what are we doing?” you sound exhausted.

“you tell me. i never got a good explanation when you…left.”

“i tried. you wouldn’t let me. didn’t think you wanted to hear from me after our last conversation.”

“don’t pin this on me,” she says pointedly, “you left me.”

“i didn’t have a choice, paige, you have to understand that.”

“but did you have to leave me? you know we could’ve worked it out.”

“could we have?”

she sighs. the conversation has elevated quickly. you didn’t expect her to open up like this now, to bring all of this up now. maybe it was the ambient atmosphere or the influential alcohol, or both. the man behind the bar sets your drink down on a small napkin in front of you, but you decide against going back to your table.

“so…” she says quietly, “have you been seeing anyone? i know how the fans like to twist shit, but is any of it true?”

“wouldn’t you like to know,” you laugh.

“hey, i’m just tryna gauge where you’re at right now. scope out the competition, you know how it is.”

“‘scope out the competition’?”

she shrugs.

“have you been seeing anyone?” “have you heard that i’m seeing anyone?”

god, this girl could not give a simple answer to save her life. but two can play that game.

“maybe i have. maybe i haven’t. and maybe i’ve seen you with a certain husky named azzi?” you have no clue where you got this idea knowing damn well that they’re nothing more than friends.

“and what if i am? you jealous, ma?” they’re nothing more than friends…right?

“hilarious.”

“that’s not a no.”

“no, it’s not..” you mumble under your breath, turning away from her to avoid her burning stare.

“good.” what the hell is this girl getting at? her avoidant yet suggestive responses set something off in you. “you never answered my question.”

“i am with someone,” you lie through your teeth, wanting to get a reaction out of her.

her breath hitches, “who?” her tone is targeted with a hint of…anger?

“why do you care? you’re with azzi right?”

“i never said that.”

“but you didn’t deny it,” you point out, using her own tactics.

“i am now. i’m not with her. so who are you with?”

“i don’t need to tell you anything.”

“so you’re not with anyone?” she laughs. this girl.

“i am.”

“then tell me.”

“no.”

“fine. be like that,” and suddenly she’s pulling you up from the barstool and into a poorly-lit hallway.

“where are we going?” you demand as you two turn a corner, the only light is the distant hue from the main part of the bar.

“we need to talk about this.”

“talk about what?”

“this,” she motions between the two of you as she pushes you against a wall, one strong arm preventing you from leaving.

“there’s nothing to talk about.”

“i’m not gonna let you keep dodging this, y/n. you left me to go to whole different state with no explanation whatsoever.”

“because you ghosted me first! what was i supposed to do?”

“we were supposed to work it out. remember? when we were teammates on and off the court?”

“you shut me out.”

“because, y/n,” she sighs deeply, “i knew i couldn’t handle it if i had to say goodbye to you. i would’ve-“ she stops herself.

“you would’ve what?”

after about 10 seconds of silence, she whispers, “i would’ve begged you not to go - not to leave me.”

your eyes shoot to hers, but she’s looking down at the floor. her head is almost resting against yours as you observe her adamant yet vulnerable state. you’ve never seen her like this.

from what you’ve seen online, paige seemed to have the time of her life after you transferred. you assumed that she moved on so easily, so quickly. you didn’t consider that it was all just a front.

“paige,”

“what?” she barely gets out, still avoiding your eyes.

“look at me,” she doesn’t, “please.”

her head flies up at that, “what?” she repeats.

you don’t know what to say, you just needed to see her - really see her. her eyes are filled with such clear emotion yet you can’t put your finger on what she was feeling. from her body language you can tell that she misses you. and as you realize you subconsciously put your own hand on her waist, you body is telling you that you miss her too.

you contemplate your next move for a second, questioning if all of this is worth it. but she’s worth it. in the time you’ve spent apart from her, you grew and matured. you also realize that you need her like you need oxygen. you come to the conclusion that you always have, but it took distance and space to accept it.

not wanting to get too in your head, you smash your lips onto hers as your shoulders instantly relax. you feel paige pause but eventually melt into the kiss, moving her hands up to the nape of your neck. you bring your other hand up to her wrist, resting it there as you relish in the feeling of her lips finally against yours after almost two years. you guide her hand down to your thigh as you move to grasp her shoulders. she glides over your upper thing, riding up your lilac skirt.

she breaks the kiss for a moment, “i’ve always loved you in purple.”

before she can resume the heated kiss, you push against her and observe your surroundings. to your left is the open area you just came from, all your friends oblivious to your activities. all the way down to your right is a door leading out to the back lot and a closer door - presumably a supply closet.

you weigh out your options: do you want to stop the interaction completely, drag her into your car all the way outside, or simply shove her into the closet and have your way with her?

smirking up at her, you pull her into the closet as she laughs at your desperation but follows you nonetheless.

yes, there were still broken pieces in your relationship. yes, you have always claimed to hate each other. but no, you weren’t leaving without her, even if you had to use handcuffs.

she was never not yours, and you were never not hers.

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tempted-byhyuka · 2 days

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| enhypen when… |

they want you back

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

inc: requested, hurt/comfort, angst, some fluffy endings, some nonidol!au, situationship (riki), food (heeseung), getting drunk (sunghoon), long distance (jungwon)

ೃ⁀➷ lee heeseung

ੈ♡˳ you didn’t expect heeseung to break up with you so suddenly, especially just a week before what would be your 3rd anniversary. he insisted it was for your sake, that he didn’t know if he could ever make you happy with the way his schedule was working out, that he wanted you to find someone better than him…

ੈ♡˳ he just so happened to dump you right before a tour, so trying to work things out was out of the question. this meant that he had left you to deal with your emotions with nothing but a bowl of ice cream and whatever tv show could get your mind off of the breakup. and to say it worked would be a lie.

ੈ♡˳ you spent months on end in a slump, and it wasn’t exactly like you could just open your phone to get away from reality when every other post you scrolled past had that handsome prick dancing in your feed. it felt like the universe was mocking you. you swore you hadn’t smiled since the day he dumped you…

ੈ♡˳ when that fateful phone call came, you were so glad you didn’t ever block the number. heeseung sounded regretful, asking to meet you in person for a conversation. as he finally saw you for the first time since the breakup, it was clear that he realized what he had done to you, dumping you the way he did.

ੈ♡˳ “listen, i’m sorry… breaking up was a bad idea and i should have talked to you before making such a big decision… i still love you, baby, and i want you in my life.. will you please come back?” he asks, holding out his hand. you reach out your hand to intertwine both of your fingers, your lips curling into a smile as you tearfully nod your head ‘yes’.

ೃ⁀➷ park jongseong

ੈ♡˳ it wasn’t like it was a decision you wanted to make, but jay clearly had other priorities that outweighed you. he tried to talk you out of it at first, but after hearing your feelings and thoughts, it looked like he realized just how much this must have been effecting you, and let you go.

ੈ♡˳ nearly 3 years after you two called it quits, you saw jay’s ever so recognizable face literally everywhere. but you didn’t feel upset, not at all.. it seemed that those years of training and practice finally paid off, and you were happy. maybe that break up was the right decision for him, he got what he wanted.

ੈ♡˳ you were standing in line at a cafe, stepping away from the counter to find a table when you crashed into another person. immediately you begin to apologize at the same time, but you recognize that voice anywhere. behind the cap and mask, you make eye contact with the same eyes you hadn’t seen in 3 years, “jay..?”

ੈ♡˳ of course, you end up at the same table, jay insisted he had time to spare and wanted to talk to you. his face has matured, but that’s the still the same jay who you used to see nearly every single day. after some catching up on both ends, jay clearly has something on his mind that you press him into expressing.

ੈ♡˳ “i have never stopped thinking about you, never… i did this all for you. i was so scared that i would never see you again, y/n… i don’t ever want to not see you again, you know?” he begins to ramble. “jay, are you sure we can…” you begin to ask, but he nods before you finish. “they lifted the ban… please, come back to me…?”

ೃ⁀➷ sim jaeyun

ੈ♡˳ it broke jake’s damn heart to break up with you, but he just couldn’t risk it… he didn’t blame you for your less than amicable reaction to the break up, but he still insisted that this decision wasn’t out of malice. words were said that you both regret, but in the end, jake always deeply regretted letting you walk out.

ੈ♡˳ his world literally became dull, his only light left in his life was of course his precious puppy, but not even performing was making him as happy as it did before. it was noticeable to literally everyone, to the point that his managers were telling him to either shape up or go into hiatus, and at this point, what did he have to lose?

ੈ♡˳ he sat on the edge of his bed, staring at your contact like it would make you materialize out of thin air if he stared hard enough. finally, he gathered his courage and clicked the call button, holding the phone to his ear. to his shock, you picked up after the second ring, “jake…?” and your voice is like honey in his ears.

ੈ♡˳ “oh, y/n… i… i don’t know where to start.” he admits with a nervous laugh and he drags his hand down his face. “let’s start with why you called.” you say in the voice that always walked him through any problem. “i… miss you,” he starts and clears his throat, “i shouldn’t have ever broken it off.”

ੈ♡˳ “you’re right…” you say, jake can hear that damn smile. “can you please come over…? i’d be a shitty boyfriend if i asked you to come back over the phone.” he says, slipping out the word before he even fully realized what he was saying. he hears your giggle, and it feels like the color comes back to his vision, “i’ll be over in ten.”

ೃ⁀➷ park sunghoon

ੈ♡˳ you didn’t know what switch had flipped in sunghoon to make him change so suddenly, but all you knew was that this wasn’t the boy you fell in love with. when you told him you were leaving him, it was like he didn’t care, he just scoffed and waved you off, “fine, leave then, you weren’t ever gonna stay.”

ੈ♡˳ safe to say it was a bit of a messy break up, you are sure he still has some of your clothing that you hadn’t dared to ask for back. whatever had come over sunghoon, it wasn’t worth pestering him over a couple of t-shirts. you weren’t scared, just frustrated, you wanted to know why he had such a drastic change.

ੈ♡˳ seeing him around campus felt like you were walking on eggshells, whichever new girl was trying to persue him constantly gave you stink eyes like they were trying to impress him (which only made you more confused because he certainly didn’t want them), and you started to wonder if there was something more…

ੈ♡˳ that is until sunghoon calls you at 1 in the morning of all hours, waking you from a deep slumber. you picked up the phone out of pure curiosity, hearing obvious faint party chatter, “sunghoon?” you ask, hearing a mumble on the other end and a shaky deep breathe, “y/n.. i’m sorry… i love you, babe…”

ੈ♡˳ “sunghoon, you’re drunk.” you stated the obvious, but he kept talking. “i know, fuck i know.. i’m being a damn idiot, baby please listen… i love you and i never stopped. please babe…” he muttered, slurring his speech. how can you tell if this is sincere…? you sigh and rub your temples, “call me when you’re sober, sunghoon.”

ೃ⁀➷ kim seonwoo

ੈ♡˳ with sunoo, the break up was out of left field, you swore you both were on a great path, you barely fought and not a thing was causing problems in your relationship, or so you thought. sunoo swore it was just so he could keep you out of the trouble that is life in the public eye… but you could see in his eyes it was more.

ੈ♡˳ it was so much worse not having closure, for all you knew, sunoo just decided to dump you and lie about it while holding back his own tears. all of it was enough to make you wonder if someone made him do this.. his company, his management? but even in that case… your love wasn’t grounds to ruin his career.

ੈ♡˳ you supported him from a distance, as painful as it was seeing your now ex constantly on a big screen, knowing that you could help him in some way was enough to bring you comfort. for all that your friends knew, you were just a very loud and proud sunoo bias. to be honest, you were, just not for any old reason.

ੈ♡˳ you almost dropped your phone when you turned a corner only to run into someone, who quickly grabbed your shoulders to steady you. “are you alright ma’am-?” he asks, and as soon as you looked up, you were face to face with sunoo’s equally shocked expression. “y/n…? holy shit.. i-i…” he looks on the verge of tears already.

ੈ♡˳ before you even say a word, you bury your face back into his chest, embracing him regardless of who saw or tried to snap a photo. much to your relief, you feel him hug you back, burying his face in your hair. “oh my god, i.. y/n, i can explain myself, will you let me?” he is frantic, but with a smile, you shush him and nod your head. “yes sunoo, let’s go somewhere quiet.”

ೃ⁀➷ yang jungwon

ੈ♡˳ jungwon is a smart guy, you’ve known that ever since you met him. that being said, you would never want to stand in the way between him and his education. that’s why when he was offered an abroad study opportunity, you swallowed your feelings and told him to go. it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity.

ੈ♡˳ the goodbye was full of tears that even his parents couldn’t hide. he swore that he wasn’t ever going to forget about you, he would never replace you, despite how much you wanted him to move on with his life. little did you know how much you meant to him, and how those years of studying didn’t feel so worth it.

ੈ♡˳ for years it was just him, he barely made friends and whenever he called it parents, it was obvious he was not happy. they urged him to message you, even they could see just how happy you made their son if it was to the point he couldn’t focus. jungwon finally caved one evening, sending you a message and breaking that one promise.

ੈ♡˳ ‘i know you told me not to message you, but god y/n i can’t do this anymore, i miss you too damn much. it hurts going every day without you, i don’t want to keep living this way. i know you didn’t want long distance, but i can’t do this without you. please will you consider? i love you.’ he sends, setting his phone down and groaning.

ੈ♡˳ it’s a long and painful silence before he finally heard his phone buzz, snatching it up and reading the response from you. ‘jungwon, i thought you would never ask… i love you too baby, ill wait 2 more years for you.’ and with that text you sent a photo of yourself. with that one message, he felt like everything would be okay…

ೃ⁀➷ nishimura riki

ੈ♡˳ the best way to describe your and riki’s relationship would be something akin to a ‘situationship’. you both did couple activities that normal couples would do, going out on fun dates and sharing a few kisses; but at the same time, he never outright called you his girlfriend, or him your boyfriend.

ੈ♡˳ it wasn’t any surprise to anyone you both knew that the relationship was in a constant state of turmoil, with you both constantly calling it quits only to hit eachother up like nothing happened the next week or so. safe to say it was getting toxic fast, and even if you didn’t know how riki himself felt, you felt terrible.

ੈ♡˳ so you broke it off, telling him that this arrangement was permanent and final, and that little punk had the audacity to laugh and say, “you’ll come back, you always do.” to your teary face as you stormed out of his dorm. but you were determined to stay gone, and for weeks, you were… the longest you had been.

ੈ♡˳ you didn’t entertain a single text or dm, you avoided him like the plague and deleted every photo of him on your phone, but you still felt like complete garbage… riki made you happy even when you felt so disposable to him. in the midst of one of your depressive bed rotting episodes, you heard a knock.

ੈ♡˳ needless to say you didn’t expect mr. nishimura himself standing there with a reasonable sized bouquet of your favorite followers, and for once in his life, he looked sad… “i realized i’ve been treating you like shit lately… i’m sorry, i want to be serious with you y/n.” he says, and he felt an immense joy as you leapt into his arms.

bang bang bang i’m so back baby, requested by anon, i hope you like it! 😚😚 not yet proofread whoops

#enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fanfic #enhypen reactions #enhypen x reader #enhypen angst #heeseung imagines #jay park imagines #jake sim imagines #sunghoon imagines #sunoo imagines #jungwon imagines #ni ki imagines

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teddybeartoji · 2 days

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toji is a cat dad. the cat looks so fucking tiny next to him that it's a little comical actually. they spend every morning together – the cat twirls around and between his legs as he's grabbing the food, quietly meowing and purring. toji smiles softly to himself at the little thing's neediness. so cute.

the cat also just loves to follow toji around the apartment. always. he goes to the bathroom? the cat goes to the bathroom. he's cooking in the kitchen? the cat is in the kitchen. he's asleep in the bed? the cat is in the bed. (big man toji stomping around the house with the smallest cat in the world running after him.......... guys i'm melting i'm dying)

ok but he was a little weirded out by the cat's need to be in the bathroom with him lmao. like he's taking a piss and he looks over his shoulder only to find the little kitten just staring up at him with big eyes😭😭😭 toji grumbles under his breath and tries to ignore him but then he ends up looking over his shoulder again, hoping that he left but no. he's still there. sitting like :3 😭😭😭😭

"yer fuckin' weird..." is what toji tells him as he places the cat on the bathroom counter and he just gets a cute meow back as a reply. the cat watches him brush his teeth and toji has to fight the thing because he's now in the sink????? toji needs to spit out the toothpaste but the critter is getting comfortable in the bowl and he actually feels bad abt pushing him away... wahh he's so soft actually guys i can't do this anymore.

if the cat happens to be a big meower, toji's definitely talking back to him. he literally goes "what're ya yappin' about, lil man? 🤨🤨" while looking at the tiny creature. but he loves it, he thinks it's so funny. he picks the little guy up and just stares at him up close O.O (plss the cat is literally like the size of his palm i'm dying it's so cute).

he also likes to carry the cat on his shoulder. i think every cat would actually love toji so much, this is also canon here you cannot argue with me. and i think they'd all find him very comforting? and i think they'd love to sleep on him. so whenever he's cooking and the cat paws at his legs, he just picks him up and places him on his shoulder.

he once did that when shiu was over and he was just ????????? like man what are you doing put the damn cat down ????????? and toji just went. "no. he wants to see." with a blank face. to him it's very obvious. c'mon, the cat is so little, he has no idea what's happening up here, ofc he wants to see??????? smh shiu do better😒😒😒

oh and this was definitely just a stray cat he took in btw. after a long day at work, he was just walking home with a cig between his lips when he heard the teeeniest tiniest little meow coming from behind the dumpster in an alley. and well... the curiosity got the best of him and he went to check it out aaand lo and behold!!!!!!! itty bitty kitty!!!!

big eyes peering up at him behind a thrash bag, he just knew he couldn't leave the poor thing there. he reached out his hand, letting the kitty smell him and he almost dropped his cig when he actually leaned into his touch immediately!!!! that's his baby now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

he held the cat to his chest as he made his way home and he even stopped by a little corner store to buy him something to eat. the cashier did look at him with a raised brow bc what the fuck this massive man is holding the smallest cat in the world, but toji didn't mind. he didn't care. the cat slept on his back that very same night.

ALSO. thank u @kentophilia for putting this idea in my head ily<33 during the late hours of the day, toji lays in bed while reading his book with his glasses on – the cat stands on his chest with a determined face. he's already purring even though toji hasn't even done anything. he's just soo comforting and the cat just loves him soooo much okay:((((( toji lowers his book to look at the thing before scratching the top of his head and smiling to himself when the cat closes his eyes and purrs even louder.

the cat ends up trying to make biscuits on him and that makes toji yelp lmao. the tiny little claws dig into his warm skin as the he kneads toji like he's a piece of dough. purring and content – toji doesn't have it in him to make him stop either. it's not like it actually hurts, he was just caught off-guard. he didn't get scared by a cat btw, he didn't. in the end, he keeps reading his book with his one hand while petting the creature with the other. this is their routine. they're family!!!!!!!

anyway. he loves his little kitty cat with all his heart and he would literally kill for him:33333

#TOJIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII WITH A CAATTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT #YAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY #YIIIPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE #yeah not to be weird but.... in a way this is just moji lmao..........................#and when i say in a way i mean that it is moji #toji #mickey is daydreaming #toji fluff #jjk toji #moji #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro fluff

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genericpuff · 2 days

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Lore Olympus just pulled off the biggest whiff in webtoon history.

I promised I would choose one of two headlines and of course, this is the one we wound up with. But should we really be surprised? Rachel herself seemed to be telling on herself down to the minutes leading up to the finale, fully confirming to us that yes, she's been writing this comic at the last minute, by the seat of her pants, for ages now.

(that second one was literally posted TWENTY FUCKING MINUTES BEFORE THE COMIC UPDATED.)

Welp, let's get into it. Possibly the last essay I'll ever write about this dumpster fire of a comic (but probably not, let's be real LOL)

CONTENT WARNING: DISCUSSION OF SEXUAL ASSAULT AND FASTPASS SPOILERS FOR THE SERIES FINALE AHEAD!

Holy crap, where to even start with this. I knew it was going to be bad. I knew it was going to be rushed. I knew it wasn't ever going to live up to what I had hoped it would be years ago when I was still a diehard fan.

But I didn't think it was going to fall quite this hard. Despite bracing myself for the worst, Rachel has once again let my expectations down through a final display of explosive mediocrity and disappointment.

Yes, the episode is called "You're Welcome", and yes, that instant "ick" you're feeling is the exact same as what we're all feeling. This title plays into the dialogue later, but what a shitty, lowkey mean-spirited title for the series finale.

Now, before we get into the actual episode, the WT ads for this are just... so desperate and misleading.

They are trying SO HARD to hype up something that isn't there, and at the last minute to boot, because Rachel definitely hadn't written any of this ahead of time.

First off, the bit about the gods being in "eternal chaos" of course isn't a stake worth worrying over because Gaia literally does away with Ouranos in the first 5 panels.

Did you really think I was joking about that 5 panels thing?

That's it. That's the death of Ouranos. As mysteriously and quickly as he arrived, he was gone, after Gaia ripped out of him what appeared to be some purple sunny side up - but it's actually, in fact, Apollo.

And that's when we start to get some of the worst dialogue I've ever seen throughout LO. Remember when I said LO's dialogue was like Shenmue 3? Welp, the finale decided to continue that tradition and further fuel the suspicion that this entire thing was written by ChatGPT.

Oh, by the way, that "thank you, ma'am" was Artemis' first and last line of the episode. So once again, just like in Episode 248, we're completely robbed of her reaction to Apollo being a rapist piece of shit and the character development she could have had as a supporting character. The women in this "feminist retelling" really couldn't be more half-baked.

Gaia stumbles upon Persephone, and I'm not even gonna fucking bother showing the panels where Gaia says it's time to "make things right" because they literally don't matter. Why don't they matter? Because Rachel just had to get in one more pointless time skip.

We're shown a sequence of pointless images that I'm not gonna show as I don't want to waste my image limit on them, depicting Hades having a sad day because his small wife isn't with him and oh nooo what could have happened?? Did Persephone finally divorce him ??

Nah, we couldn't possibly have an actually happy ending in this comic. Instead we get a completely pointless phone conversation between Hades and Hecate-

Not only is the grammar particularly bad in this episode, but the actual script-writing is atrocious. We literally did not need this phone conversation to happen because-

-we're cutting BACK TO THE PRESENT THAT WE JUST CUT AWAY FROM FOR A 3 MONTH TIME SKIP. FOR NO REASON BESIDES SHOWING HADES BE SAD OVER SOMETHING THAT ACTUALLY ISN'T THAT BIG A DEAL, AS YOU'RE ABOUT TO SEE.

I- I LITERALLY HAVE NO WORDS. I HAVE NO WORDS TO DESCRIBE WHAT THE FUCK THIS IS. ALL I CAN HEAR IN MY BRAIN IS THE LEGEND OF ZELDA ITEM GET MUSIC-

youtube

-BECAUSE THIS WHOLE THING SUDDENLY SOUNDS LIKE SOME CONTRIVED FETCH QUEST. WHAT DO YOU MEAN HADES AND PERSEPHONE HAVE PROVEN 'TRUE LOVE' IS REAL? WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY HAVEN'T USED 'LOVE' AS A FORCE FOR DESTRUCTION?? ARE WE FORGETTING THAT HADES MUTILATED A GUY IN THE NAME OF 'LOVE'? THAT PERSEPHONE LITERALLY INVADED THE HOME OF HADES' CANONICAL FIRST WIFE BECAUSE SHE FELT MILDLY THREATENED BY HER?

This whole concept of "true love" that Rachel is trying to convey feels so juvenile especially for a series that has sold itself as being mature and thought-provoking and progressive.

HAHAHA SO FUNNYYYYYYY why does Rachel write like this. this is, at best, the writing of a 13 year old on fanfiction.net, which I SHOULD KNOW, because I WAS ONE OF THEM. BUT I'M 28 NOW AND RACHEL HAS ANOTHER 10 YEARS ON ME.

Okay, this is the part where I'm CONVINCED Rachel either just mashed this into the episode in the MINUTES leading up to its release, or she used ChatGPT or something. Because NONE of this dialogue makes any sense. Beyond how stilted and lifeless it is (seriously, this dialogue reads like something from Empress Theresa) Gaia is clearly meant to 'replace' Erebus here which I SHOULDN'T HAVE TO EVEN EXPLAIN IS SO FUCKING DUMB, but ALSO what is even Persephone trying to communicate here? "That is true, but it was a deal I was willing to make and ties me to the Underworld. Please don't change me." What? Gaia hasn't even insinuated that she's going to do anything to Persephone, why is Persephone immediately jumping to this conclusion? What does 'changing' her mean? Is she asking Gaia not to force her to sacrifice something (which she never did)? Or is she asking Gaia not to strip her of her Underworld status? Because again, why is that even something Gaia would do?

Maybe this is harsh but I'm pretty sure even Empress Theresa is more coherent than this, what in the flying fuck is Gaia talking about?

"I can just see the potential for conflict! To relieve you from the burden of the whats, the hows, and wheres." Like... okay, first of all, that second sentence isn't even a complete sentence, it's a dependent clause left hanging, but also what the fuck does this MEAN. Is she EXCITED for the conflict but then contradicting herself by saying she wants to relieve Persephone of that conflict? Or is she saying she can see the conflict it would cause for Persephone to have to perform duties in both realms and trying to insinuate that she's going to relieve her of those complications?

Here's what I think happened - I think that second 'sentence' wasn't supposed to be a sentence, but the start of the sentence to the next panel-

So with that theory in mind, the sentence becomes, "To relieve you from the burden of the whats, the hows, and wheres, you are to spend three months in the Mortal Realm to do spring and the rest of the year in the Underworld. That seems fair to me."

It's still a very poorly written line of dialogue, but at least with that fix in mind it makes sense. But man, you can really fucking tell this episode was submitted at the last minute because that's a serious syntax error that should NOT have happened in this two-time-Eisner-winning comic.

Errors aside, it's clear that Rachel is following through on having Persephone spend only three months in the Mortal Realm, rather than the traditional six. There ARE other translations that have that number closer to four, but those four are the time she spends in the UNDERWORLD, meaning she's always spending either equal or MORE time in the Mortal Realm. Of course, Rachel doesn't want her self-insert small wife power fantasy to actually have to be separated from Hades despite this being a retelling of The Abduction of Persephone, so instead of her spending three months in the Underworld, she's now spending them in the Mortal Realm, literally doubling the MINIMUM amount of time (four months) she was originally meant to reside in the Underworld.

But oh no, apparently those three months are STILL NOT SHORT ENOUGH FOR PERSEPHONE-

Of course, Rachel "Retcon" Smythe had to have her cake and eat it too. I always worried something like this was a possibility, but I never thought she would actually prove me right - not only is Persephone only separated from Hades for three months out of the year, but actually he can visit her any time he wants to, so really, they're not separating at all.

I think Rachel needs to look up "reunion" in the dictionary, because if you can visit each other any time, then that means the 'reunions' are no longer special occasions. This completely removes any semblance of depth or meaning from all of the storytelling leading up to this, all of it with the expectation that this was a retelling of the Abduction of Persephone, because that's what Rachel said it was going to be. At this point it's safe to say that Rachel has zero business attempting to "retell" mythological stories, because she doesn't even seem to grasp the concept of why they were written the way they were to begin with. Either that, or she really just doesn't care, and the only reason for making LO a Greek myth comic at all was to propel her career.

This also brings me back to those promotional ads, the other one that posed the question, "Will sacrifice be enough to bring these two back together?"

This is stating the obvious, but I need to make it perfectly clear - Hades and Persephone have never sacrificed a single thing. The only thing they could POSSIBLY quantify as a "sacrifice" is "not being tied at the hip for a few hours", because even Persephone going on the equivalent of a work trip next door is apparently enough to make Hades sad as we saw in the 3 month time skip panels. Why is Hades so sad and lonely if he can visit her any time? Why is he acting like he hasn't seen her in years when he's actually on his way to reunite with her? Why is Hecate calling to ask him if he's "okay" as if he JUST got separated from her, but actually he's about to literally go to the Mortal Realm to reunite with her?

Hades hasn't 'sacrificed' a damn thing, neither has Persephone. They've both always gotten exactly what they wanted, even at the cost of breaking the story's own established rules. Their 'sacrifice' is equivalent to what billionaires think are 'sacrifices' when they can't buy another yacht or go on that third overseas vacation for the month.

And even outside of this episode, when have these two ever sacrificed anything?

I've tried so hard to think of what sacrifices have been made by the characters within LO, and I genuinely can only think of one - and that was when Artemis chose to go to the Mortal Realm with Persephone instead of staying with her family in Olympus. That was a genuine, selfless sacrifice, made by a character who has been shelved in favor of focusing on the self-centered pink and blue airheads.

Being forced to be apart for a couple days to do the equivalent of a day job and whining about it the whole time is not a 'sacrifice'. Neither of these characters have ever sacrificed anything, they just feel like sacrifices because they have the integrity and empathy of soggy cardboard.

sigh Anyways, we're back in the present and Hades and Persephone immediately decide they're gonna have sex because ofc, and then we get this gem of a panel-

MMMMMM

FUNNYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY JOKE

For some reason it's just a common thing for people to just be in Hades' home, and they can't seem to get any privacy as a result of this, but I digress. Turns out they still need to have that coronation for Persephone.

There is... so much wrong in these three panels.

First, to state the immediate issues - why the fuck are they mentioning Apollo at Persephone's coronation? Like first of all, no shit Apollo isn't gonna be there, but also, if this is supposed to be an event for and about Persephone becoming Queen of the Underworld, then why in the WORLD is Apollo even being mentioned? This is supposed to be a "feminist retelling" where the victims are empowered and heal from their trauma, but LO once again can't try to show any sort of positive growth for the victims without bringing up the assaulters and giving them screen time. It just goes to show that Rachel's idea of "healing" is purely rooted in the revenge, and not the growth. It's a very high schooler approach to this subject, hellbent on showcasing how all the meanies from the past are losers now and life just sucked for them forever, but inadvertently proving its own point that the victims haven't and can't move on because the narrative is spending so much time on caring what's going on with the abusers. It's the "I don't care! Look at how little I care! I'll prove it to you by putting in the effort of showing you how little I care!" approach, it doesn't really feel like moving on.

It's not about how Persephone and his other victims could have grown and healed, no, Rachel always needs to highlight just how much worse the bullies and haters and abusers are doing to make the victims seem like they've healed by comparison. Don't get me wrong, I can understand wanting to showcase the downfall of a character like Apollo, but this just... isn't the right context for that? Because it's once again taking attention away from the victim to focus on the abuser. It's once again spending screentime on the voices of the oppressors rather than the oppressed.

And speaking of, what the fuck is this punishment even? I knew Rachel wasn't gonna be able to resolve this plotline properly, she never had the capability to, but ... community service? Are you fucking for real? What is this even a punishment for even? Was this EXCLUSIVELY the SA, or does this ALSO include his attempts to overthrow Zeus by poisoning him, nearly killing Daphne, Eris, Eros and Psyche, trapping Eros and Psyche in an enchanted basement, and framing his father's 'death' on his half-sister? Because if so, how in the world is anyone content with community service? He hasn't even been turned into a mortal, HE'S STILL A GOD, so what's to stop him from going "WE'LL MEET AGAIN, SPIDERMAN" and trying something else? How is this a reasonable resolution in ANY context?

This is why I talked at length about what an issue it was to hide what Apollo really admitted to. Because now we really don't know what exactly he confessed to, and thus we can never really see the point of views of the victims outside of just Persephone - and we still don't even get Persephone's, because she just walks away from him and then he gets eaten by Ouranos and next we see of him is him doing community service! Once again, any emotional development that could be given to Persephone and the other victims is stripped away to make room for the point of views of the oppressive men. In this, the two-time-Eisner-winning "feminist comic" that is LO.

And that brings us to the "where are they now" segment. Yes, as we all feared, there's a "where are they now" segment, and it's as rushed and underwhelming as we ought to have expected it to be.

There is just... so much to unpack here, and yes, all of it is delivered in the dumbest way possible that only raises more questions than answers.

So Rhea and Metis are just back and we're not gonna talk about the implications of them being alive again?

Dionysus is a 3 month year old in the body of a teenager / young adult, and his mom is just alive now because Hades conveniently got his hands on more ambrosia and brought her back to life offscreen? But somehow Triptomelus and Hedone are still child-sized relative to their ages?

How did they 'heal Zeus'? And why is he so content with losing his power as King and Apollo being sentenced to community service after making an attempt on his life? How does he feel about the letter that Hera gave him? Did he even read it?

Where the fuck is Hebe in all of this? Is she okay? Do people still think it was her who put Zeus in a coma? Or did Apollo confess to that, too?

You're telling me Hera and Echo are just in a relationship now despite the fact that Hera is literally racist towards nymphs and there is ZERO reason for them to have a relationship in the comic beyond the fans making gratuitous headcanons out of it? How is Rachel, a bisexual woman, so bad at writing actual lesbian relationships and giving them the same amount of attention as the heterocis ones without shoving them into the background as props for insincere queer rep? And what about Hera herself? How did she overcome her role as the Goddess of Marriage to finally divorce Zeus?

"Ares is still a dog!" Haha! Ares is still a Persephone simp! Happy end!

Why is Eros just standing there smiling at the camera struggling to be seen past Hedone who's just floating right in front of him? You're telling me there wasn't a better place to put her out of that entire panel?

"Hades and Thanatos have been making more time for each other. Sometimes they even have a conversation." I'm sorry, is this supposed to be funny? The man abused Thanatos for years, treated him as just a lowly employee when he was literally his adopted son, and now you're trying to play it off as a joke that they're "making more time for each other"? What the fuck is this?

TGOEM disbanded? Why? What about the women who were genuinely a part of it?

Also, Artemis and Selene are just good friends now because reasons? Because they're both affiliated with the moon, I guess? Why is Selene even in this comic-

"They are still looking for Kassandra". Who? And why? This feels like such a last minute addition to acknowledge a character that the comic spent WEEKS foreshadowing only to have her finally appear as a pointless McGuffin, but it's so last minute that it does nothing. I'm assuming it's Eros and Psyche looking for her, but like... why can't they find her? They're gods, tracking down one mortal shouldn't be that difficult LOL ???

And also, where the fuck is Leto?? You're telling me she was an accessory - maybe manipulating Apollo, maybe not - but we don't see what happened to her? Is she just back to being a social outcast then? jesus christ this comic isn't finished-

Kassandra is where the "where are they now" sequence ends, and we're treated to one final horribly written dialogue scene between Hades and Persephone, where they tell each other how much they love each other in a desperate attempt to convince the audience that this is, in fact, a romance.

There's this thing in romances called chemistry, and if you're good at writing it, you shouldn't have to write dialogue like this. You should be able to see how much the characters love each other through their actions, through their small behaviors around each other. It's not always about what they say out loud, it's about what they don't have to say, because when two people really share that close of a bond based on love and trust and chemistry, words often aren't necessary.

Hades and Persephone do not have that chemistry. It has been apparent for years now, but this final exchange really is the nail in the coffin. There are no microexpressions or subtle emotions, no subtlety in their word choice, and nothing unique setting their voices apart. It's all just "wow thank you for being such a wonderful amazing partner, you are amazing and I love you" word salad that has to do all the heavy lifting for the completely non-existent chemistry that's been at its absolute worst throughout this entire season.

And worst of all, despite this story trying so hard to be focused around Persephone, around her story, her trauma and her healing, her voice... it's still all just about Hades. In the end, she's thanking Hades, and forcing him to say "you're welcome". All of it is trying so hard to convince us that Hades has been a positive addition to her life, that she 'owes' so much to him, but we've obviously seen plenty throughout the comic that begs to differ. And even if he were a better person than he is, it still doesn't change the fact that once again, the men are being held up above the women, with the women being grateful to the men who choose them. LO can try its hardest to convince people that it's feminist, but it is, at best, reinforcing the very same structures of the patriarchal system that it claims to despise and rebel against.

We do get one line from Hades acknowledging Persephone's part in the relationship-

-and it falls so fucking flat because it's still about him and what she does for him, and because nothing about their relationship was built on any sort of organic chemistry. There was a lot more chemistry back in S1, but it was still predicated on Hades lusting after a vulnerable 19 year old girl.

Yep, and that's it. That's the end.

Except it isn't because Rachel wanted to try and be smart by including an 'epilogue' that's really just stretching the episode out pointlessly for another few panels. And of course, we had to get another time skip, just a final dose of salt in the wound, this time to years ahead when we inevitably had to reconnect with Persephone and Hades in the future after Melinoe was born.

To recap, Melinoe doesn't remember... because Hades had Morpheus erase her memories.

This plotline has really started to give me the ick because it actually feels very familiar. Bear with me here, because I'm gonna go on a bit of a tangent about my own original work, but it's because I wrote a plotline exactly like this years ago.

There's this... turning point, in Time Gate: Reaper, when the main character Uzuki is kidnapped by a Reaper (see: undead) who wants to experiment on her in the hopes that he can somehow gain her abilities to bond her soul with others (which later allows her to literally possess people after she becomes a Reaper herself). Mitsuhiro, the male deuteragonist who kickstarts the plot by telling Uzuki she's got a limited amount of time left to live (which he knows thanks to his magical death timers that mark themselves on his skin), feels an immense amount of guilt after finding out she was kidnapped by the Reapers (at this point she's been gone for three months), as they were originally after him; he worries that she was made a target simply due to him associating himself with her, and vows to rescue her.

With the help of some other spunky teenagers and anime trope characters, Mitsuhiro does eventually rescue Uzuki - but for the three months she had been gone, she had been tortured, abused, and experimented on, causing her mind to split and for her to lose any sense of awareness of who Mitsuhiro or her other friends were. She was no longer herself after the hell she had been through.

Mitsuhiro's solution to this is to have Springlock - another Reaper with motivations that are not yet clear to the cast - erase her memory. This is not a light decision that comes without consequences - for the remaining duration of the story, Uzuki is plagued by night terrors and panic attacks, unable to really remember what happened to her aside from whatever brief flashbacks her brain recalls in its haze of memory loss. She is traumatized, both physically and mentally. She has lost three months of her life and memories, and doesn't know how to explain why she's covered in scars that are still healing, why she's missing organs, why she's now blind in one eye, and why the sound of scraping metal and ticking clocks gives her panic attacks. Mitsuhiro has convinced her friends that she's suffering from memory loss due to trauma, but only he knows the truth that he forcefully took her memories away from her, without her consent. This was not the right choice to make. It was not noble of him, it was not a grand gesture of love, he made a decision on her behalf without her consent that has now resulted in her becoming a nervous wreck. Sure, she still would have had PTSD if she remembered what happened, but at least she would know why and could then seek adequate help. Without those memories, she has nowhere to begin to heal. And so we see the consequences of this throughout [AFTERBIRTH] and even the upcoming Thread of Fate. It is a long-term problem that is not going to be solved overnight, especially not with Mitsuhiro withholding information from her.

Reading about Melinoe having dreams about her experiences trapped in Tartarus with Kronos ... it felt familiar enough that I had to talk about why the insinuations of this are so fucked up. I know there are people who are gonna handwave it away as "she's just a kid", "these are gods so what does it matter", etc. but ... it just feels like such an oversight to have Hades effectively erase her memory of her trauma and then hint at them still being present in her mind through her dreams. She did not ask for that. And the fact that she's now dreaming about it all does not bode well. But we're supposed to think Hades made the correct choice, regardless.

But none of this is effectively expanded on or explained, because we get one final scene of Melinoe and Demeter visiting Persephone, who has just given birth to... Makaria?

So it turns out Persephone and Hades are just able to have biological children now. Don't know why, but of course they both look exactly like Hades.

What I was really confused by though is the fact that it's Makaria and not Brimos. Do you remember Brimos? The child that was foreshadowed in Hades' original fantasy dream sequence about his future children about Persephone?

Either Rachel completely forgot about him, or she saw all the criticism over the fact that Brimos isn't a confirmed child of Hades and Persephone (rather, an epithet that can apply to basically any Underworld god including Persephone and Hades) and that her "research" was dependent on a book she read when she was 13 and decided to axe that. But she went to the effort of establishing that all the dreams Hades had were , in fact, canon visions of the future, so good job Rachel, you created yet another plothole on top of the hundreds of others.

And that's where the series ends, on a final nuclear-family-photo of Persephone, Hades, Melinoe, and Makaria. Of course, Dionysus and Thanatos aren't present in this shot because this is Lore Olympus and only biological children count /hj

Why Rachel couldn't move the "the end" portion to THIS part, I don't know, but I'm also expecting way too much of the person who finished this 20 minutes before it was due.

So that's it. Six years and that's what we get. I didn't expect much, but I was still incredibly disappointed, as were many others who walked away from this dazed and confused. Maybe it's all the "haters" deserve at this point. But what of the fans? While many of them are celebrating this ending at best and tolerating it at worst, I can't help but think of the fans of this comic who hung on for so long in the hopes it would "pay off", just for it to go out as gloriously as a wet fart.

As for me, I have such mixed feelings about Lore Olympus ending, but none of them pertain to the comic itself. Most of what I'll miss from this comic isn't the comic itself, but the people who have made reading it every week so fun, the artists and writers who have enriched the content with their own interpretations of what could have been, and the experiences of being part of such an amazing community made up of people who are as long-term-obsessed about this piece of media as I am.

I get people who ask me a lot if it's "worth it" to be so engrossed in the LO slander, who assume that I'm going to "regret" ever being a part of it all... but from where I'm standing right now, I couldn't ask for a better view.

Even if I didn't love every minute of it, everything I have here I owe to this comic. This stupid, wonderful, boring, amazing, pile of shit comic.

#lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #lo critical

449 notes · View notes

dandylovesturtles · 3 days

Note

Using a random number generator for the angst prompts: 20 Starved + 30 Dangerous Temperatures

... and Leo, of course.

OH GOD OK

uh so. I had an idea. and I decided to write it for this ask I got forever ago. And then, uh.

it really

really got out of hand.

This is a pretty dark fic (even for me) and at the current moment in time it is hurt/no comfort. I do intend to write a part 2, probably tomorrow, but as of the time I'm typing this author's note I've been writing for around 5+ hours straight and I need to take a break! So please, if you don't want to read all this without the comfort included, feel free to wait for the next part before reading! I'll link it and the end once it's posted.

Content warnings: Kidnapping, confinement, psychological torture, nonconsensual voyeurism (I guess this is the best way to put this; Leo isn't doing anything sexual but it's still violating), mild violence, HEAVY ANGST, Leo just having the shittiest time possible.

I HOPE?? YOU ENJOY??? hahahaha....

btw this is set between S2 and the movie (though tbh its canon compliance is... /waves hand)

-----

When Leo imagined himself getting captured by some kind of shady, quasi-governmental agency intent on imprisoning mutants, it was never anything like this.

When he let his mind go there, he always pictured that he would be strapped to a table. Maybe muzzled. That scientists would stand over him, scalpels and drills in hand, and start to take him apart. That they'd examine him piece by piece, and wouldn't give him any anesthesia while they did it.

But there is no table, no muzzle, no restraints at all. He's just in a room.

Well, a cell, technically - the steel door is locked, and there are no windows, no furniture but a bare cot in one corner and a lone toilet in another. But it doesn't really look like a cell. It looks like a room.

A very, very white room. White walls. White ceiling. White tiles (with white grout, even). The toilet is white, a roll of white toilet paper on the floor next to it. The only things that aren't white are the cot and the door and Leo himself.

They took his gear and his weapons, because of course they did. Since the door is steel, he already knows he's not breaking it down; he gives it a half-hearted slam anyway, just to say he tried. He should be able to just portal out, except he hasn't learned how to use his portals without his swords to channel his ninpo through, and there's nothing in here with him that he can use to make new ones.

So he's stuck. He's going to have to wait until someone opens that door for some reason. Or, of course, until his family swings by to pick him up. Though, if possible, he'd like to escape before that happens. The image in his mind, of sitting outside his cell and grinning at them as they arrive to rescue him, is too cool to pass up.

He's not sure how long it's been already. He knows that they knocked him out after ambushing him, and he doesn't know how long he was unconscious. The heavy molasses feel of his head and arms when he woke up suggests that he was drugged. It's wearing off now, though, which means he has a clear head to take in the all of nothing that's in the room with him.

He sits on the cot he woke up on and waits for something to happen.

There's no way for him to tell time, but he thinks it's an hour or so later when there's a sudden beep, and then the sound of a metal panel sliding up. It's a slot near the door that has just opened - inside the revealed alcove is a bottle of water.

He comes to it curiously, taking a long look around the bottle. The slot doesn't open straight through, and even if it did, it's not big enough for anything more than his arm or a foot to fit through. He thinks it must function like an airlock, or maybe they slid the bottle down from somewhere above - he feels around just in case, and finds that the slot is enclosed on all sides but his. Probably his airlock theory, then.

As soon as he removes the bottle, the panel slams shut again.

"You're really determined to keep me in here, huh?" he says to whatever hidden cameras are watching him. He carries the water bottle back to his cot, but doesn't open it, instead setting it down on the floor by the wall. The paranoid part of his brain, the one that doesn't miss a trick, is reminding him that drinking the water is probably a bad idea. Who knows what they might have put in it?

He sits on the cot for awhile longer. Still, nothing happens.

"I'm getting pretty bored in here," he says for the audience that must be somewhere. "Come on, you have a one of a kind turtle in here, and you don't even want to talk to me?"

Time passes, slow and quiet. Leo goes through periods where his anxiety spikes and he starts to wonder if he's been abandoned by whoever brought him here, before the boredom eventually numbs the anxiety back out. Another bottle of water is eventually delivered, and this one he keeps in his hands after retrieving it. It's completely unlabeled, not even a "Use by" date printed on the bottle itself, so it doesn't provide much mental stimulation. He spins the bottle to make little whirlpools inside, because it's something to do.

He's trying to make the fastest whirlpool he can when he hears a sudden click, different from the beep of the water bottle hole, and he looks up just in time to see a large section of the wall in front of him turn black, and then light up to show the room beyond his cell.

He jolts, setting the bottle aside. He knew they must be watching him, but somehow he didn't catch that part of the wall was a whole window.

His audience isn't very large - five people, unless there are others he can't see. Two wear lab coats, two wear fatigues... but the one who comes to stand directly in front of the window is wearing a black suit, with steel rimmed glasses. He leans forward, and speaks into a small microphone.

"Inmate 24365," says the suited man. "I am Agent Bishop, of the Earth Protection Force. My subordinates tell me that you can speak and understand the English language. Is this correct?"

"Qué?" Leo asks.

Bishop does not look amused. "Inmate 24365," he says, "you have two options. You can cooperate with me, answer my questions, and we will make your stay here more comfortable. Do not cooperate, and we will make your stay uncomfortable. Do you understand?"

Leo pretends to hem and haw over this. "How comfortable are we talkin'?"

"I'm sure you would like some dinner."

"You know, I'm not really hungry." He says it to be difficult, but it's actually true - the uncertainty of the situation has put his stomach in too many knots to want to eat anything. "Maybe if you offer me some comic books? Or a TV?

To Bishop's credit, his face doesn't so much as twitch. He keeps his steely eyes locked on Leo. "Answer our questions, and you will receive food. Do you understand?"

Leo stays noncommittal. "What are the questions?"

He's expecting Bishop to ask about his family. He's not expecting what comes next.

"How many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave?" he asks. "How are these gateways accessed? What kind of defensive capabilities do the yokai have?"

Leo keeps the surprise off his face. Bishop thinks he's a yokai.

This is, overall, a good development. Bishop might not know about Leo's family, then, or at least not know that they live on the surface. This means the Earth Protection Force likely isn't pursuing his brothers, which means they will be safe until they can help Leo get out of here.

He doesn't let the relief show through, either. Bishop doesn't know anything, and now Leo just has to ride out the next few hours until the calvary arrives.

"You know," he says, "I think I'm good with my current levels of comfort."

If Bishop is mad or frustrated or dismayed by this choice, he doesn't show it. His expression stays stony as he stares in at Leo, sizing him up.

"Very well," he says after a few more seconds. "I will see you tomorrow, then."

The window goes dark, and then turns stark white to match the walls. Leo wants to go over and tap at it, see if it feels different when he touches it, but knowing that Bishop is surely still there, watching him, keeps him rooted to the cot.

He goes back to making whirlpools with the bottle. If they aren't going to entertain him, he isn't going to entertain them, either.

-----

Another water bottle comes some time after his talk with Bishop. He finally opens this one and takes a cautious sip. Nothing tastes off or strange, so he drinks more. They don't want to feed him, but they're fine keeping him hydrated. No reason to stay thirsty, then.

He wishes the water calmed the anxiety still roiling in his stomach, but if anything it just makes him feel even more energized. He bounces his foot and surveys his room again, looking for any weak spots or access points. He can't see anything, though, other than the areas where he knows the water bottle hole and window are; even the vents that relentlessly blow cold air into the room are well hidden.

Knowing that there are people standing just outside his cell watching him, like some kind of zoo animal, puts him on edge. The window is so big that he's pretty sure the only blind spots are either directly underneath it or right by the door on the same wall. After debating it, he leaves his cot and sits on the floor underneath the window, surveying the room from a different angle now and still coming up empty. At least they're going to have a harder time staring at him.

His eyes catch on the toilet in the corner, directly across from the window. It's not in the blind spot, and realizing this makes his insides lurch uncomfortably - hopefully he has a chance to bust out before using it becomes necessary.

Though, he's not sure when that chance is going to come. If they have a slot to pass him water, they could use that to pass him food, too, so it's unlikely that anyone is going to open the door unless they need to take him out.

So maybe his fantasy of being outside when his brothers arrive isn't going to happen. Well, that's okay; he'll just be sure to make some other part of their escape totally rad. That will make up for the embarrassment of getting kidnapped a block from Run of the Mill.

(Seriously, some kind of ninja he is, to let a bunch of human soldiers sneak up on him.)

He drains the water bottle, then starts to roll it back and forth across the floor, like a cat batting at a toy. Leo's not sure what's worse right now: the worry or the boredom. There's nothing to look at and no one to talk to, just an empty room with him and his water bottles.

He's too keyed up to sleep, and the fluorescent lights are still on, anyway. He has no way of telling what time it is, so maybe it just isn't that late yet. And even sitting here, in the blind spot, the idea of closing his eyes while people are watching makes unease crawl up his spine. Staying awake is the easy choice. He'll sleep after he's out of here.

So he sits under the window and rolls his bottle back and forth, back and forth, with only the sound of plastic on tile to keep his thoughts company.

-----

The first three water bottles came pretty regularly, but now there is a very long stretch where nothing is delivered. Leo is starting to think maybe it really is night now. They don't turn off the lights in his cell, though, and he has no controls to do it himself. At least it helps with the whole "staying awake" thing.

Just in case they've decided to suspend his water privileges along with the food, he holds off drinking any more for now.

Speaking of food, his appetite has finally decided to return. His stomach starts to growl at him after several hours (he thinks) of sitting in the floor, an annoying emptiness in his stomach. Knowing there's no food accessible just makes the hunger sharper, but he puts it out of his mind the best he can with nothing else to focus on. He can eat once he's free.

Which should be soon. Seriously, his brothers have to be on their way by now, right?

He's pretty sure it's been the better part of a day, if not a whole day, since he was kidnapped. And, okay, he's willing to give them some leeway; it's understandable if they got a late start. He did storm out of the lair after his latest fight with Raph, and no one ever came to check on him when he did that. Understandably, he thinks, because who wants to be around Bad Mood Leo? Not even Leo wants to be around Bad Mood Leo!

But he'd already turned back into Good Mood Leo by the time he left Hueso's, so surely they knew it had been more than enough time. They would have noticed when he didn't come home. They would have realized something happened. They would be looking for him.

And if they're looking for him, they'll find him! Obviously.

His stomach growls again, and Leo leans his head back against the wall behind him. Maybe he shouldn't think of being at Hueso's. Now he just wants pizza. Pepperoni and mushroom, maybe, or Hawaiian. Mix it up a little with the barbeque chicken.

Another growl. He groans out loud.

He stays awake, twisting and crinkling the empty bottle in his hands, until another full one finally arrives.

-----

No chance to escape comes before using the toilet is necessary.

He tried to hold out, he really did, but he ended up drinking more water to stave off the growing hunger, and it's lowkey cold in here, which doesn't help. Still, the issue of the window sends an uneasy shiver up his spine, doubting that any people outside will feel the need to turn away and give him some privacy. Maybe he should have gone while he suspected it was nighttime.

(Maybe he shouldn't assume they ever aren't watching him.)

He stands up and walks over to the cot, giving it a light nudge with his foot. In a stroke of luck, it isn't bolted to the floor, and it's light enough that he can lift it. The black mesh it's made of is tightly woven, enough that not much is visible through it. It will have to do.

He picks it up and drags it over in front of the toilet, propping it up on its legs so it makes a small wall between himself and the window. It's hardly ideal, but the semblance of privacy makes him relax somewhat.

(He can't think about how there are surely cameras in the room watching him from all angles, making his attempt at a barrier moot. He knows better than anyone that sometimes pleasant lies are necessary.)

After he does his business, he leaves the cot propped where it is; it's not like he's sleeping on it. There's no sink for him to wash his hands, but he's never been the strictest about it, anyway (much to Donnie's disgust). He returns to his spot under the window, squeezing the water bottle to the rhythm of the first song that comes to mind.

Only two verses and a bridge later, the window above his head turns black, then goes clear. Thinking that Bishop might have been watching him just now makes a cold, slimy feeling roll down his spine. Creepy!

"Inmate 24365," comes Bishop's voice through the unseen speaker. "Stand."

Leo doesn't. He stays right where he is, under the window.

Bishop waits only a few seconds. Then Leo hears him say, "Temperature down two degrees."

He gets up at that, turning and leaning his arm against the window. It strangely doesn't feel like glass, even though it must be. "It's already cold enough in here," he says. He wonders how they can hear him, when he doesn't see a microphone on his side.

"You were told your conditions would only be made comfortable after you answer our questions," Bishop informs him. "The same as before: how many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave? How are these gateways-"

"How about you answer my questions first," Leo interjects. "You keep calling me "inmate," but I haven't been charged with anything. Pretty sure you can't detain me without cause."

"The EPF is authorized to detain non-human inmates for as long as deemed necessary for the security of the United States," says Bishop smoothly. "Probable cause doctrine does not apply in this case."

"That's gotta be unconstitutional."

"The constitution does not recognize the rights of yokai. You have no right to counsel, no right to a speedy trial, and no right to protections from cruel and unusual punishments." Bishop's stare is colder than the temperature in the room. "But I am not an unfair man. Answer my questions, and I will provide you with food and clothing."

Leo tosses a glance over his shoulder. "How about a private bathroom?"

Bishop's expression stays ever in place, unimpressed and stoic. "Food and clothing," he repeats.

Leo gives his head a shake. "Then nope," he says, popping the "p". "I plead the fifth."

"As I have already explained, the Bill of Rights does not apply to you."

"That's such crap." Leo bangs his fist on the window. "You can't just keep me here forever for no reason!"

"I do have reasons." Bishop leans closer to the window, his eyes narrowing. "Let's try a different question. What is your relation to Baron Draxum?"

The surprise is fast and sharp, but Leo just manages to keep it from showing on his face. "Who?" he asks innocently, even as the panic sets into his chest. If they know about Draxum, what else do they know?

"We know you are acquainted with him," says Bishop. "What is the nature of your relationship?"

Leo knows they aren't bluffing - why would they bring up that very specific name otherwise? There's no lie he can tell that won't reveal something.

So he doesn't say anything. Instead, he turns his back to the window and sits down, staring resolutely at the opposite wall.

Bishop clicks his tongue. "Very well," he says. "I am a patient man. I can wait." Then, more muffled, like he's facing away from the microphone, Leo hears him say, "Temperature down two degrees."

The window goes dark, then turns back to white. Leo doesn't move for a long time.

-----

The third water bottle arrives, so he guesses that's the end of day two.

He's shaking as he gets up to retrieve it, adding it to his growing water bottle hoard. He's gone through three and a half by now, but he's trying not to drink them too fast.

As promised, no food is delivered, and his stomach growls and rumbles in protest. The water helps, but only slightly. He needs to eat.

He also needs to sleep.

The panicked adrenaline spikes that have kept him awake this long are starting to die down, with more and more long stretches of exhaustion between them. The shaking is near constant, bringing with it the weird jittery feeling he gets when his insomnia gets particularly bad.

The window is still unnerving him. The idea of sleeping while they're watching him feels staggeringly unsafe.

But he doesn't think he can hold out now until his family gets here. Sure, they're probably getting close (they have to be getting close), but they're sure taking their sweet time. And he's just so tired.

After a long internal debate, he lays down on the cold tile floor. It's not at all comfortable, but somehow he doubts the cot would be any better. Besides, even if he moves the cot under the window, he thinks it would be easier to see him if he uses it. So on the floor it is.

He presses as close to the wall as he can, curling up into a ball for warmth. He wishes he had a blanket.

He wishes he was home.

He squeezes his eyes shut tight and forces back the sudden wave of overwhelming homesickness. There's no reason to feel this way. It's only been two days! What is he, a baby?

It's fine. It's all fine. They're definitely on his trail now. Raph is leading the team. Donnie is using some kind of invention to blah blah blah nerd stuff. Mikey is razzing his tazz. April is using her investigative journalism skills to find clues.

They're on their way. He just has to hold out a little longer. He can do this.

He sleeps, and in his dreams, something grabs him tight and drags him down and down and down where he can't escape.

-----

The same routine plays out over the next two days.

Leo gets two water bottles delivered, spaced, if he had to guess, about five hours apart. Bishop comes to visit him some time after the second bottle. Leo refuses to answer his questions. Bishop turns the temperature down and then leaves. A few hours later his last water bottle comes. Then nothing for the whole night.

They still don't turn off his lights, but exhaustion is starting to win over the brightness.

More than a few times, Leo tries to summon a portal on his own, without his swords. If his family is going to take their sweet time in coming, he might as well try to help them out. He tries to summon his ninpo (without glowing), tries to feel the tug inside of him that he always does when he teleports, tries to envision the place he wants to go and tunnel through space to get there.

Nothing. Always nothing.

(Donnie can make his constructs independent of his bo staff. Raph can send his projections away from his sai. Mikey's learning to use mystic powers without his nunchucks. So why does Leo need his katana? Why is he the only one this useless?)

It probably doesn't help that he's so damn hungry. It's a constant companion now, a low and hollow ache that chooses inconvenient times to turn into white hot stabs of urgency, into seizing cramps that steal his breath. The water only helps so much - it keeps him alive but doesn't satisfy, doesn't soothe. In some ways it just makes the feeling worse.

And he's always shaking, too, but he doesn't know if that's the hunger or the cold.

Maybe the cold wouldn't bother him so much if it were at least still. But the vents blow fresh air inside relentlessly, and no matter where he goes he can't seem to get out of the direct stream. The cold wind batters his tired body, and there's places his skin is starting to turn dry and flaky. His nose won't stop running, and he's allowed himself a small section of his one roll of toilet paper to blow it, already stiff and congealed and disgusting.

It's miserable.

And there's still nothing to do.

He stacks a pyramid out of his empty water bottles, knocks it down, then stacks it up again. He tries to come up with some new and exciting ways to demolish it, but it's only new and exciting for so long.

He spends a few hours of day three singing karaoke as obnoxiously as possible. He hopes everyone outside enjoys the performance.

He recounts every issue of Jupiter Jim he knows to himself, then the plot of every movie. Then he goes through Lou Jitsu films, then anything else he can think of. That eats up a good chunk of day four.

By the time he gets his first water bottle of day five, he's out of ideas to entertain himself. He's never been good at this. He doesn't know how introverts like Donnie can go multiple days without talking to someone.

But when Bishop comes back with his daily offer of conversation, Leo once again impolitely declines.

-----

Something new happens on night five.

It's been a long time since the last water bottle. Leo has been trying to sleep, but it's not coming easy; he's exhausted, but the floor is so cold and he's so sore from staying on it night after night. Not to mention, his nightmares have been getting worse, and he isn't eager to return to them.

Add on the hunger, and sleep is elusive.

Suddenly, there's the telltale shadow of the window above him turning dark - this time, though, it doesn't light up as much as normal. Confused and curious, Leo sits up and takes a peek.

The room beyond is dim, only the glow of a green EXIT sign and a small desk lamp lighting the space. But it's enough for Leo to see a man standing there, looking inside. It's not Bishop - in fact, he doesn't recognize this person at all. They're wearing fatigues, but it's not anyone he's seen in the room during Bishop's normal interrogations.

The man catches sight of Leo, and the grinning leer on his face makes Leo regret looking.

He beckons for Leo to stand up. Warily, Leo does, unable to help but keep his arms folded tight over his chest. Not for the first time, he wishes he had some clothes - his gear, at the very least. Anything to not feel quite so exposed.

The man reaches down and picks something up, holding it aloft for Leo's inspection. "Want a sandwich?" he asks into the microphone.

The sandwich looks like white bread and bologna. No cheese, no other toppings that Leo can spot. Maybe some mustard, if anything. Overall, the most boring possible sandwich he could have been offered.

Leo's mouth is watering.

He has to swallow hard before answering. He doesn't trust this. Even if his stomach is slamming up and down at the promise of food, food, food.

"I'm not hungry," he lies.

The man laughs. It's not a kind sound. "Sure you ain't," he says. "You spend every night curled up on the floor like the dumb animal you are. Can you even eat this?" He waves the sandwich for emphasis.

Leo doesn't answer. He takes a step back from the window, like that will put any kind of distance between them. Like that will save him.

The man watches him with a sleezy grin. He waves the sandwich again.

"You want this," he says.

Leo shakes his head.

"You really sure?"

Leo shudders. Stands tall. Nods.

The man watches him for a long, long moment. Leo fights the urge to hide.

Finally, with a shrug, the man says, "Suit yourself."

Then he starts eating the sandwich. Right where Leo can watch.

Leo's stomach growls, loud and angry in his ears, and he has to physically hold himself back from crumpling.

After several bites, the man suddenly reaches out and taps the window, indicating the cot stood up in front of the toilet.

"That," he says, giving another tap for emphasis, "doesn't do shit."

Leo wants to crawl out of his own skin.

The need to hide is suddenly too great. He rushes to the cot, grabbing it and dragging it back to the blind spot under the window. He sets it down on all four legs, so it's as close to the floor as possible.

Then he lies down on his belly and wriggles underneath. It's a tight squeeze, and the cot ends up pushed up by his shell, suspended in the air, but he doesn't care.

He curls up in his pleasant lie of privacy and bites his hand to keep from screaming himself hoarse.

After an eternity, the window above him turns white again. It doesn't matter. Leo knows he's still there. Still watching.

-----

"You look tired," Bishop greets him. Leo answers with a dead-eyed stare.

"I keep telling you, if you want your conditions to improve, all you have to do is answer my questions."

Leo says nothing. He just stares, arms wrapped tight around himself to try and keep his body heat in.

"How many gateways are there between New York City and the hidden yokai enclave? How are these gateways accessed?"

For a moment, Leo considers just... telling him.

His family doesn't live in the Hidden City. The yokai have never exactly greeted them with open arms. What does he care if these military guys go after them? At least then, maybe he can finally eat something.

That's not what a hero does, Leo! echoes Mind Raph disapprovingly. Innocent people will get hurt!

Right. He's a hero. And heroes don't give into the demands of shitty guys like Bishop.

Leo swallows hard. "No comment."

Bishop's face changes ever so slightly: his brow creases. Leo wonders if that's good or bad for him.

"You understand that Baron Draxum is a known threat, don't you?" he asks. "We are aware of his plans to commit mass murder on the human population. We also know that he has been dormant for some time, and we need information on what he is planning."

Leo thinks of Barry's ambitions to be recognized as the best lunchperson in all of America and can't help but laugh. It comes out cracked and wheezing.

Bishop's furrow gets deeper. "Do you think this is funny?"

"Little bit," says Leo.

Bishop has a chasm to rival Raph's now. Leo knows he shouldn't, but he grins. It's his one moment of triumph - only he can be this aggravating.

And then Bishop says, "Temperature down seven degrees," and that wipes the smile right off Leo's face.

-----

The plastic of the water bottles is soft and pliable and feels weirdly good under Leo's teeth.

He chews the top of the bottle, gnawing at it until it's completely flattened out, pockmarked with little tiny indents from his incisors. It's not eating - it won't fill his belly or ease the persistent hunger pains. But something about the motion is soothing. The place-bo effect.

Pla-ce-bo, corrects Donnie's voice in his mind, sounding testy.

Where are you? Leo thinks back.

There's no answer.

He's gnawed his way through four water bottles. There's eighteen in total now, two and a half still full of water. He thought about using one to wash up a bit, but decided against it in the end. He knows he stinks, but the last thing he wants right now is to be wet. Not when he's starting to see his breath.

Oh well. It's not like he has anywhere to be.

He turns his attentions to the lids next. These are harder and thus tougher to chew. Still, if Leo uses his molars, he can eventually crack the lip, and then bend the plastic in and in, chewing until he ends up with a flat disc.

It's just small enough that Leo could swallow it, if he wanted to.

He thinks he remembers watching some kind of wildlife documentary. Or maybe he didn't watch it himself, but Mikey told him about it. Or maybe April? He doesn't know. His thoughts swim in and out and get lost on the way.

Point is. Sea turtles in the wild die all the time because of plastic in the water. They cut open their stomachs and find trash inside.

Well, Leo is a turtle in captivity. Maybe that means he's immune. Maybe he could swallow this plastic lid, and then he'd finally feel full and the pain pain pain of his empty stomach would go away.

He does not swallow the plastic lid. But it's more tempting than he'd like to admit.

It's going to be okay. When his family gets him out of here, they'll have a big pizza to celebrate. Maybe he can even talk them into letting him have the last slice.

It has to be any moment now, right? It's been a week. They have to be closing in. Any moment now, the door will open, and there they'll be to take him home.

The air conditioning blows relentlessly against his skin. He sneezes, then rubs the snot on his arm. He's given up on the tissue paper.

It'll be over soon. It has to be. Just hang in there, Leon, just a little longer.

He picks up another bottle and starts chewing.

-----

He's playing a mindless little game with his flattened bottle lids the next time Bishop comes.

"I'm surprised you still have any energy at all," says Bishop, and Leo wants to punch him.

(Really, he wants to do more than that. But those kinds of thoughts always make him feel weird and bad, so he pushes them away.)

"You should have learned by now," he says, pushing to his feet and trying not to show how badly he's trembling, "you can't keep me down."

"This is all unnecessary," says Bishop. "I'll feed you as soon as you answer my questions."

Leo barks out a laugh. "Sure you will."

"I will," says Bishop. He turns and says over his shoulder, "Bring it here."

One of the men in fatigues steps forward and hands a tray with a covered plate over to Bishop. Bishop uncovers the tray and holds it where Leo can see.

Baked chicken, broccoli with cheese, mashed potatoes.

Leo's stomach twists and cramps so painfully he has to bend at the hips and clutch his midriff.

"This is yours, as soon as you answer my questions."

Leo pointedly keeps from looking at the food. He shakes his head. He can't. He can't.

"Such persistence." Bishop's voice is scolding now. "You understand that you are a known accomplice to a terrorist, don't you? But if you become a cooperating witness, you will be granted some leniency."

Leo barks a laugh, lifting his eyes to look at Bishop's face, and pointedly not the food. "What's the point?" he asks. "If I'm not... protected by the constitution, or whatever. Are you going to let me go?"

"No," says Bishop. "But as I have told you, your conditions will become more comfortable." He waves the tray of food.

Leo stares at him, before a manic smile splits his face.

"You... stupid bastard. I can't even answer your questions." He slams a shaking hand against his plastron. "I'm not even a yokai! Do you get that? I'm not a yokai!"

Bishop looks skeptical. "Obviously you are."

"I'm not!" Leo rages. "I'm a mutant! I'm from New York! I don't even live in the Hidden City!"

Bishop's eyes flash. "I see," he says, "so you do know of it."

Leo falters, his body going slack.

What an obvious, stupid mistake.

(Some face-man he is.)

It takes Leo a long moment to answer. Bishop stays right where he is, holding the food so tantalizingly close and yet still out of reach.

"...I don't know about the gateways," he says finally. "I don't know about their defensive capabilities. I don't know what Baron Draxum is planning."

"Your lies are obvious," says Bishop. "You really don't want this? It's your last chance today."

Leo stares at the food. His mouth is watering so hard it might start to drip. Would it really be so bad to answer? They don't live in the Hidden City. And Draxum dropped him off a roof.

Draxum is trying to change, says Mind Raph. You see what these guys are like. You can't turn the yokai over to them. They'll hurt them!

What about me? he asks. Is it okay if I get hurt?

You're a hero, Leo, says Mind Raph. You can deal with it for a little longer. It's just a room. Just a little cold. Just some hunger.

He's a hero. He can deal with it. He can. He can.

He'll make them proud. Show them they can trust him.

It takes everything he has, but he shakes his head.

Bishop tuts. Then he throws the entire plate in the trash.

"Tomorrow, then," he says. Then the window is gone.

Leo collapses on his cot and tries not to cry.

-----

After his third water bottle on day eight, one of the fluorescent lights over his head flickers and then dies out.

It's not surprising, since they keep them running twenty-four seven. The blessedly dimmed lighting is actually nice, for once. Leo thinks maybe he could get some sleep, if the gnawing hunger and the constant shivers don't keep him awake.

He's just closed his eyes and snuggled up under his cot when it occurs to him: they may come in to fix it. If keeping the lights on day and night is part of their plan to torture him, to keep him exhausted and anxious and on edge, then they have to.

Which means his chance is finally here.

He has to be careful about this. He has to be ready to move, but he can't let them know he's ready to move. He has to let them think he's too weak, too exhausted, to make an escape attempt.

(He can't let himself think that, though. He can't give up before he tries.)

So he stays under his cot, but subtly shifts it so it won't restrict his movement. He has to be ready to burst out as soon as he gets a chance. Get past whoever comes in, then get out the door. It's after the last water bottle, so it's nighttime. There will be fewer people. He can do this. He can do this.

Find his swords. Make a portal. Get out.

Just as he was thinking, after a long time has passed, there is a loud warning beep, different from the water bottle beep. An automated voice says from somewhere unseen, "Inmates clear the door. Security personnel entering. Stay still and you will not be harmed."

Then the door slides open, and someone comes in.

It's a man wearing fatigues. Leo thinks this is the one who "offered" him a sandwich the other day. He's holding some kind of gun with a long barrel. He does a sweep of the room with his eyes, coming to rest on Leo under his cot. He gives Leo the same leering grin, and waves the barrel of the gun in his direction.

"Now you behave, and we'll get along just fine," he says.

He steps to the side, and another man enters, this one wearing the kind of jumpsuit Leo sees janitors in on TV. He's carrying a stepladder in one hand and a long tube in the other. Is that what fluorescent lights look like? Leo didn't know.

The man walks to the middle of the room and sets up his stepladder. Then he walks up and pulls off the light casing. When he unhooks the old bulb, it causes the other bulb to flicker, just for a few moments.

Leo explodes out from under the cot, grabbing the man in fatigues by the legs and yanking as hard as he can. The man yelps in surprise, and Leo hears the sound of the gun going off in a random direction. The janitor shouts and drops the light bulb - the sound of shattering glass joins the cacophony.

Leo jumps to his feet and runs out the door they had been too stupid to close, sprinting toward the EXIT sign. He's exhausted and shaky but he's coursing with adrenaline, and he leans on it hard to keep him moving. Don't stop, don't stop, get out of here. He'll figure out what to do next once he's free.

Past the exit sign there's a large open room with desks and computer monitors. Most of them are off, but one lingering woman in a lab coat, seated at her desk, screams when she sees Leo dash through the middle of the office space.

"Security!" she screams into a device on her chest. "Inmate is escaping! Inmate is escaping!"

Leo doesn't have time to shut her up, he just keeps moving. He pushes through the next door and arrives in a hallway; he only has time to glance one way and then the other before scrambling to the left, hoping it was a good choice.

He rounds a corner and sees another green EXIT sign up ahead. It's not where he meant to go - he meant to find where they're keeping his swords first. But he hears shouting behind him and doesn't stop. Fine, so no portals - he'll figure out something else once he's away from here.

He throws himself forward into the exit door, which leads him into yet another hallway. Another long sprint, with shouting and slamming doors at his heels, and then finally, finally, a third EXIT sign, and he crashes outside.

Where there's snow on the ground, snow on the trees.

It steals his breath away. There shouldn't be snow. It's May.

Where is he?

He takes a breath of air so cold it seizes his lungs, then takes a step forward. He'll worry about that-

BANG!

A piercing pain in his shoulder nearly sends him toppling over. Leo shouts, grasping for the wound and feeling something sticking out of his skin. He grabs it and yanks, pulling it free.

It's a dart.

Damn it, he thinks, before his vision goes woozy, and he collapses into the snow.

-----

"Are you proud of your little escape attempt?" comes Bishop's voice.

Leo looks up from his cot. Bishop has to get so close to the window to see him that his nose is pressed flat against it. It should be hilarious, but Leo doesn't really have the energy to laugh. Or to do much of anything.

He's hungry. He's tired. He's cold. He's still sluggish from the drugs.

And they threw away all his water bottles. Fuckers.

Leo rolls over on the cot and covers his ears.

"What a childish response," says Bishop, and that's funny, too, because Leo literally is a child. Or a teenager, anyway. He doesn't feel like it will help him much to point that out, though.

"All you have to do is answer my questions, and all this will be fixed."

That's the funniest thing of all. The idea that he spills his guts and Bishop treats him to a five course meal to make up for all the pain up till now. Hilarious.

He says nothing.

Bishop sighs.

"You are likely still affected by the tranquilizing agent. I'll return tomorrow."

Before he leaves, he says, "Temperature down five degrees."

-----

The same man is back that night. He opens the window and looks down at Leo with the same leering smile. Leo can't even take satisfaction in the bandage on the side of his head.

"Neat little trick you had yesterday," he says. "Almost got me fired."

Leo wishes it had gotten him fired. But he clearly has no luck in this situation.

"You know, I respect the attempt. And you probably would have gotten farther with a little food in your belly." The man reaches down, then retrieves a sandwich, as mouth-wateringly unappetizing as the last time. "You sure you don't want this?"

And Leo knows he shouldn't trust this guy. Leo knows he should say no.

But he's just...

so...

hungry.

So he gets up. And he turns to the window. On shaking limbs that can barely hold him upright anymore. With a body that is laced with pain and aches and cramps.

And he nods.

The man's smile gets wider. "What do you say?" he asks, in the sing-song tone of a parent scolding a child.

It makes a sick nausea rise in Leo's throat. But he wants the sandwich.

"Please," he gasps out.

"Mmm... not good enough." The man waves the sandwich. "You want this? You beg for it."

Leo stares, eyes wide. But the sandwich... the sandwich...

He gets down on his knees. Feels a searing flush of humiliation. His stomach is rolling and gurgling and cramping with pain, a hollow, empty chasm inside him desperate to be filled.

He lowers his head.

"Please," he says. "I... I want the sandwich. I'm... begging you, please."

The man laughs, loud and long. When Leo finally finds it in him to raise his eyes, the sandwich is already half eaten.

"Hey, good job," says the man, licking a bit of mustard off his thumb. "That was real convincin'."

And then he takes another bite.

Just like that, Leo forgets about the pain, the aches, the cold, the hunger. All that's left is pure, white hot, screaming rage.

Leo lunges at the window and slams his fist into it so hard it cracks. Not enough to break the glass. Not enough to free him. But enough that the man startles and steps back.

And Leo starts to laugh. High and manic and unhinged even to his own ears.

"I'll kill you," he says, and his voice sounds almost joking, and yet- "I'll kill you. You're dead. You're dead, as soon as I get out of here, you're dead, I'll kill you, I'LL KILL YOU!"

The man has dropped the rest of his sandwich. He fumbles for his gun, left somewhere on a table to the side. For one satisfying moment, Leo sees a flash of genuine fear on the man's face.

"Shit," he says, his voice far away the further he gets from the microphone. "Pretty scary, frogboy."

Then he slams a button, and the window goes black, and Leo gets a glimpse of his own reflection.

His face is gaunt and drawn. His eyes are ringed by deep circles, so dark they look like bruises. His body is shaking like a leaf.

And his stripes...

His stripes are lit up like when he uses his ninpo, but they aren't their usual Neon Leon bright.

They're almost black.

Leo gasps and stumbles back just as the window goes white. The full body quakes he feels now aren't from the cold or the hunger or the exhaustion.

He turns and sinks onto the cot. Puts his face in his hands and tries to breathe. Tries to will his ninpo to stop rolling and snapping and to go back to normal.

This isn't what he wants. This isn't him.

This place is breaking him. He's letting it break him.

He pulls his legs up onto the cot and buries his face in his knees. Wraps his arms around them and rocks gently, the way Donnie used to do when things got overwhelming. Maybe he understands that better, now.

This isn't him. He's Leonardo, Neon Leon, the face-man, the jokester! The one who's always ready with a quip and a laugh. The one who can do anything!

Except portal out of his room. Except escape from this building. Except resist begging for a sandwich like he's a dog.

Leo's breath hitches, and for once he doesn't stop himself. He knows the guy outside is probably watching. He knows there are cameras recording this. He hates giving them the satisfaction.

But he's tired, and hungry, and he...

He wants to go home.

He cries, silently, until he's completely rung out.

-----

Maybe they aren't coming.

That's the thought that pops into his head, just a bit after the first water bottle of the day.

He knew they would have gotten a late start, because he stormed out. And he knew it would take them awhile to figure out who took him - he hadn't heard of the EPF before, so why would they? And he knew it would take them time to figure out where he had been taken, which must have been pretty far out if it's snowing outside. But the EPF got him here within a night, he's pretty sure, so unless they have a super fast jet, he must still be on the continent somewhere.

So... so surely they must have figured it out by now, right? Raph is leading the team. Donnie is doing science things. Mikey is razzing his tazz. April is using her investigative skills.

Unless they aren't coming.

Maybe... maybe it's true. Why would they want him back, after all? Leo took Raph's leader position, and since then all he'd managed to do was piss Raph off. Mikey and Donnie hadn't been happy about it, either, and he'd noticed that they'd been avoiding him more and more. April claimed she wasn't taking sides, but she always seemed to be on Raph's anyway. And Dad... well, he was probably disappointed that he made Leo leader only for him to do nothing and then get himself kidnapped.

He doesn't bring anything to the team. He doesn't bring anything to the family. And no one likes his jokes.

So. Maybe they just... aren't looking. Maybe they aren't going to come.

Maybe he's held out this long for no reason. Maybe he's been cold and starving for no reason at all.

Maybe it's time to give up.

---

Don't give up, says a new voice in his head.

You are not alone.

-----

He has no energy left to stand when Bishop comes. The man looks down at him, lips pressed into a thin line.

"You don't look well," he observes.

No shit, Leo wants to say.

"This has gone on long enough. Answer my questions, and we will provide you with food, clothing, and medical care."

The list is getting longer. Leo's fuzzy eyes stare up at Bishop. Medical care. Does he need that?

"You already know what I want to know." Bishop has a furrow between his eyebrows now. "Will you talk to me?"

He could. He could do it. He could finally have some relief from all the pain. All the hunger. All the cold.

But they might hurt the yokai in the Hidden City.

They might hurt Draxum.

They might hurt his family.

And maybe, if nothing else... if Leo could just keep his mouth shut, just this once...

Maybe that would finally make Raph, Dad, and everyone proud of him.

Maybe they'd finally trust him.

Maybe, at least, he can have that much.

Leo shakes his head.

Bishop scowls.

"Temperature down ten degrees."

-----

Leo isn't shivering anymore. That's probably a bad sign.

He can still see his breath, each time he exhales. It rises like smoke, before disappearing into the air.

He doesn't have any energy left, not even to chew on his new water bottles. He hasn't even collected the last two, and they sit crowded together in the slot, untouched.

He kind of wishes they had just dissected him from the beginning. It would have been faster. Freezing to death, he's decided, is a real zero out of ten. Starving to death isn't any better. No stars.

Even though the damn lights are still on, he feels extremely sleepy. It's probably the cold. He wonders what will happen if he brumates. He's never done it before, not like his little cousins, and he has no idea if it's even safe.

Probably not, given he has no calorie reserves left. All it means is he won't be drinking water, either.

But he's so sleepy.

It's going to be time soon for Bishop to come back. Leo doesn't know what the point is anymore. Maybe he'll just sleep through it. Yeah, that would really make him mad. And making Bishop mad is all he has at this point.

And he'll get to sleep. It's a win-win.

So thinking, Leo rolls himself over onto his belly. Then, one by one, he pulls his limbs into his shell.

He doesn't do this much anymore, not since he started growing. His body just doesn't seem to fit his shell like it should - a side effect of the mutation, probably. It's not really comfortable to be inside for long.

But Leo is sleepy. And his shell feels like the best place to be.

So he pulls in his legs, then his arms, and then, finally, his head.

It's not any warmer in here. But at least it's dark.

At least he's not shivering.

Leo sighs, content, and closes his eyes, and drifts to sleep.

-----

(Outside his cell, there's a bang, and shouting, and a gunshot.

The sound is muffled, and Leo sleeps on.)

-----

Part 2 (not yet out)

#rottmnt #rise leo #agent bishop #cw: psychological torture #dandy fanfiction #I want it to be clear that any time Leo is hearing “Mind Raph”#that's just his own inner voice manifesting #please don't be mad at Raph himself lol

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waves-against-a-cliff · 1 day

Text

Where Soul Meets Body - Ghost x Reader

Ao3 Link

Content Warnings - afab!reader, no pronouns used, reader has a call sign, canon typical violence, ghost's past :(, angst, smut, fingering, oral, thigh riding, PiV, unprotected sex, happy ending. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary - Simon Riley has been your best friend since the two of you were five. You've been in love with him since you were 15. It's too bad life has other plans

WC: 18k

Big thanks to @shotmrmiller for helping me with the last chapter and big thanks to @itsagrimm for listening to my rambling about this since January. I'm so happy to see it written and finished.

Rainy days in the United Kingdom we're far from abnormal. Seeing the bright sun with no clouds obstruction was abnormal. Seeing someone without an umbrella, even a jacket, in the rain was more than abnormal to you. Who in the world would set out to school without a jacket or umbrella? You approach the strawberry blond boy and tentatively hold your umbrella over his head. "What are you doing without an umbrella?" You ask, head tilting ever so slightly at the boy looking up at you. Oh, he's from your class, what was his name again?

"I don't have one."

"Did your mum not buy you one?" There was a small silence but you smile, "Well it doesn't matter now, I'm here and we can share." You give him your name and get the smallest smile from him.

"I'm Simon Riley." Ah, that's right, Simon Riley.

"Well then Simon, let's get to school." The umbrella was hardly large enough for you to fit under but you held it over his head as the rain came down. It rained all day but that was okay because you and Simon sat together all day. "I'll walk home with you so you don't get wet." You say while playing another round of Sorry!.

"You don't need to." Simon mutters as he moves his piece, his brown eyes downcast. You frown, brows pinching together as you try to piece together the logic behind that statement.

"I don't need to but I want to." You respond with a toothy grin. "It's what friends do." You say with confidence as you draw a card.

"We're friends?" Simon asks, his eyes suddenly meeting yours.

"Of course. We're sharing an umbrella." You laugh and move your piece according to the card. "And when you get your own umbrella, we can be umbrella friends." He repeats the term umbrella friends as if testing the waters and then smiles. A smile suits him much better than a frown you decide. During lunch, you offer part of your sandwich when you realize how sad his packed lunch is. "Here, I'm full." A lie but he hardly had half of what your mum packed. He looked at the triangularly cut sandwich with apprehension. "Please eat it." He continues to stare at it before picking it up and taking a bite then looking at you. When he sees your smile, he keeps eating it. "You have very brown eyes." You suddenly comment, unable to keep it to yourself. "I like them."

Simon easily fit into the routine of your life, each day after school he would walk home with you on Fridays. Together the two of you would chatter about anything and everything, conversation flowing easily. Somedays were worse than others, like right now while you treated Simon's busted lip with a bag of cold peas pressing against his cheek. "I'll beat him up." You promise. He seems different these days, he had always been a bit timid before but any loud noise scared him. You don't ask what happened, you could see it in his eyes that he didn't want to talk about it. Those same eyes were always looking down all the time now too, you wish he wouldn't. You like to see his eyes.

"You can't beat up Tommy." He insists.

"He beat you up, I'm just returning the favor." You huff as you dab the blood away from his lip and hand him a bag of cold broccoli. The attic of your home had become a safe haven to him and the walls and ceiling were decorated in drawings that the two of you had created over the last two years. A plate of triangle sandwiches sat half eaten on the box-made-table. "I'll just punch him. Serve him right." You huff and cross your arms after throwing the wet rag in the corner. Books and half put away board games were scattered all around the little attic.

"Please don't." Simon begs, his brown eyes downcast again.

"Will it make you happy if I don't?" You ask, twisting your shirt and pulling at the loose thread. Simon nods and you sigh, pushing your hair from your face. "Fine then but you're staying the night." You declare.

"Don't you need to ask your mum and dad permission?" He asks.

"They'll say yes. They always do." It was true, there hadn't been a time your mum hadn't let Simon sleep over if you had asked. Simon tapped your arm and handed you a book from the pile.

"Out of your head, let's read." He says while giving a frail smile. When did his smiles get smaller? You take the book from his hand, you hope it'll make him happy. A knock on the attic door as your mum peaks her head up.

"Are you staying for dinner Simon?" You mum asks and you jump on the opportunity.

"Can Simon stay the night mum? Please." You draw out your please and put on your best puppy eyes. Your mum looks between you and Simon who still held the bag of broccoli against his mouth.

"Of course he can stay. Just be quiet after eight pm." Your mum disappears back down the ladder towards the kitchen while you turn to Simon with a victorious smile on your face.

"Told you so."

You knock rapidly on his home's front door, "Come on Riley! I'm not gonna stand out here all day waiting for you." You would, of course you would. Rain or shine, warm or hot. The door swung open and you scrunched up your nose when Tommy was standing in front of you. "You smell like a sewer rat." You remark, "Where's Simon?"

"Don't you ever shut up?" Tommy snapped, "Simon isn't your boyfriend."

"He doesn't need to be my boyfriend in order for me to ask where he is." You immediately respond. He snorts and rolls his eyes. Tommy, Simon's younger brother, had been teasing the two of you for years since the first time he saw you walk Simon home. "Simon!" You say, a smile immediately appearing on your face as he finally appears behind his brother. "Come on!" You push Tommy out of the way and grab Simon's hand. "I got my drivers license." You boast, "Dad's letting me drive his truck around whenever he doesn't need it."

It was a rare day in spring when it wasn't raining and you weren't gonna let it go to waste. The windows of the truck were rolled down and the wind blew through your hair. The city of Manchester slowly disappears, the loudness exchanged for the quiet of the countryside.

"Don't look so grumpy Simon." You say when you notice he had his head in his hand and a scowl on his face. "You're acting like I'm driving you to your death."

"With how you drive, I'm sure you are." He retorts, a small smile growing on his face as you bark out a laugh.

"Well we're almost there so your death won't be quiet so soon." You remark. You slow the truck down before pulling off into a dirt road and coming to a complete stop. You turn the truck off and tuck the keys into your pocket and grab the basket you brought from the back of the truck. You look at the fence blocking the way into the flower field before you toss the basket over the fence before you launching yourself over the fence. "Come on Simon, just jump it!"

"Isn't this illegal?"

"Only if you get caught." You laugh and wink before helping Simon over the fence. The field of flowers stretch far and bumblebees buzz around from flower to flower. You open the basket and lay out the thin blanket onto the ground. Lowering yourself onto the blanket and you motion for Simon to join you.

"What's all this then?" He asked with a brow raised as you began to pull out a few cans of coke, a couple of sandwiches and apples.

"Happy 15th birthday." You say with a grin, "I got your present back at my house but I figured you'd like it out here." Simon stares at you, brown eyes wide as he looks between you and all the food you somehow managed to pack into the basket. You shift a little his heavy gaze as anxiety crept up as your cheeks turned red. "Do you not like it?" You ask.

Simon looked at you before a lopsided grin grew on his face, "It's great. Thank you."

"What are you planning to do after school is over?" You ask after taking a sip from your coke. "I mean, we only have next year left. Are you going to attend University?"

"I'm gonna take a butcher's apprenticeship."

"What?"

"My grades aren't doing great and I figured why not." Simon shrugged, "Not like it's a bad idea." You punched his shoulder lightly and glared at him.

"Why didn't you tell me you were struggling Riley? You know I would have helped." The wind blows softly, the flowers and grass rustle, birds sing in the distance. "You're a smart man Simon, if this is what you want to do," You take a steadying breath, "then I'll support you."

Simon smiles at you, "You took it better then my mum did at least." He sighs and takes a bite from his apple.

"She just wants what's best for you." You say, softening your voice. If there was one thing you learned about Simon Riley after these five years, it's that he loves his mum more than anything. You lean against him, coke can still in hand as the silence blankets the space between you and him. After a few minutes of silently eating and drinking, he nudges you.

"Look." He whispers and points to a flower by his side. You lean over and a massive smile grows on your face as you spot a very tired bumblebee resting within a flower. You look at Simon and feel something within yourself turn on or maybe become louder as you see his soft gaze at the sleeping bee. Suddenly, you wanted him to look at you with that same soft expression.

"You know Daisy?" Simon asks one day while you were driving to the flower field. It had become a place to get away from school and home, away from all the stresses of life for at least a few hours. Daisy was a classmate in the same year, you had never been close with her but you had grown up with her the same as you had with Simon.

"Of course, Daisy Lockmon right?"

"Yeah." There's something in the way he says it that makes your heart clench. It's the softness of it, the fondness and the soft sigh, even the sort of dreamy look in his eyes you spot in the mirror as he gazes out into the countryside.

"Yeah?"

"I'm dating her. She asked me out a few days ago." Few days ago. Why did that sting so fucking much? You smile at him as you grip on the steering wheel until your knuckles turn white and your fingers go numb. It doesn't compare to the squeezing grip of whatever is holding your heart. No, you know who holds your heart and he doesn't even know it. It's my fault, I never told him. You try to reason with yourself but it doesn't stop the hurt.

"Congratulations then. Daisy is a sweet girl."

A few months later, you feel like you're going to throw up. You fight back any words threatening to come out of your mouth besides something good and kind because he doesn't deserve your anger or sadness. Simon doesn't know, you keep reminding yourself, you're just his best friend that he's confiding in. Just the person he's grown up with since ten years old, just the person who treated his busted lips, cuts and bruises. Just his best friend. Not the girl, not Daisy Lockmon who he thinks he loves. He probably does love her, you've never seen him look at someone the way he does Daisy.

You lay in the field, something that allows your stress to melt away, does nothing for you. Not as Simon lays next to you, not as you think about the times before all of this you could have said something. Simon says nothing, you say nothing and the two of you just watch the clouds float by. Simon sits up as he speaks, "I'm ready to leave, how about you?" Your heart clenches again, time in the field has been getting shorter and trips less frequent. You know it's not just because of his relationship and it's just how life is sometimes. He has his butcher's apprenticeship and you're studying for university classes but logic doesn't dictate emotion.

"In a moment, I'll catch up with you at the truck." You say, pasting on a smile. Simon shrugs and grunts as he gets up. You wait until you're sure he's already hopped the fence and heading towards the truck before you move over to his spot. Where the grass and flowers are flattened down into his shape, slowly you curl into the spot. For a moment, you imagined that you were the one he says he loves. For just a bittersweet moment, you pretend that you're his and he's yours.

"I'm joining the military." Your ceramic mug shatters on the floor. Just like that, everything comes crashing down. The world was still reeling from the twin towers attack in the United States, the sense of safety shattered in a terrorist attack.

"What?" That was the only word that could come from your mouth. You look at Simon with wide eyes, the cozy atmosphere of your flat turned cold. "You're joking. Right Simon?"

"I'm not."

"What about your apprenticeship Simon? You've been working as a butcher since you were 16. You're nearly done." The words come flying out of your mouth, "Simon-"

"I'm not asking you to understand my decision. I'm just telling you that I'm doing it and you can't stop me." You laugh bitterly and the sound is so foreign to both your ears and Simons.

"As if I could stop you Simon." You mutter, moving to grab a broom and dustpan to clean up the shattered mug on the floor. "But why? You've never once shown interest in joining the military." The answer is clear, its reason why many people were joining the military and you already know his answer before he opens his mouth.

"The attack in the US." Of course, he doesn't elaborate. "I'm being sent to bootcamp in two weeks."

"Two weeks? That's hardly any time at all." You sigh and sink down into your couch, putting your face in your hands as you try to process everything. "What about Daisy?"

"Broke up with her." He says so plainly and with a shrug of his shoulders. You have to bite your tongue to keep from saying something back handed. You're not petty, you're not petty, you're not petty, is the thought running through your head but you can't deny how good it feels to know he isn't dating her anymore. Not like you have much of a chance now since he's going off to bootcamp. "She said she didn't want to date a guy in the military. It's a deal breaker apparently." It's not for me you think quickly.

The day comes too quickly, for once you wished life would slow down and let you soak up Simon's presence in your life. It's not like he's dying, he's just going off to bootcamp and then he'll be back is what you think to keep yourself from falling apart. Nearly nine years of friendship, spending hardly any time or going a long distance away from one another, now Simon will be gone for 14 weeks. Then he'll be stationed somewhere for two to six years. You wrap your arms around him, squeezing him hard and burying your face into his jacket. "You be safe Simon Riley or I'll raise you from the dead."

He chuckles and pats your head, "Its bootcamp not an active war zone." You just shake your head and he wraps his arms around you. "But I'll be safe. I'll write to you every chance I get, I promise."

"Good."

"Simon?"

The last three years had passed quickly with the letters from Simon being the only rest stop between university studies and work. Grabbing your coat from the back, you sigh as you finally shut off the lights to the cafe you work at part time. With a small click, your work day was finally, finally over. You twist the lock on the cafe front door, struggling momentarily from your thick gloves. You turn to start walking towards your rather cheap flat and scream when you see a massive figure barely a foot away. The familiar voice hissing your name made the panic subside as quickly as it appeared.

"Glad to know you still have those pipes of yours." You look at Simon, he is barely illuminated by the street lights but you can still tell he's different now. He's no longer the slightly slender boy you knew three years ago. He wasn't slouching and made direct eye contact with you. You take him all in before you rush to him and wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his coat and drinking in his scent.

"Simon Riley," You whisper into his coat before pulling back to look up at him, "you've really grown. Come on, I'll let you crash at my place." He opens his mouth to argue but you're already pulling him along. You lead him to your flat, which isn't far away from your place of work thankfully. You kick off your shoes at the door and tell Simon to do the same. Placing a kettle on the stove to boil some water you then sit down and look at Simon. "So, what's brought you back here?" You ask.

Simon looks at you, drinking in your appearance. You look tired, worn down and ready to collapse. "I'm gonna fix my family." He finally answers after you cock your head to the side.

"You're... gonna fix your family?" You ask, leaning back as the words wash over you. Your heart hurt slightly for a reason you didn't want to understand, for a reason you didn't want to voice out loud or in your own head.

"Yes. And I'm not leaving until it is."

You purse your lips and get up to pour the boiling water into two cups. You put an earl gray tea bag with a splash of milk into the mug for Simon and a few cubes of sugar for your own cup of tea. You hand him the tea and sit back down as you continue to run through the implications of his choice. "Alright." You finally say. "You can crash at my place while you fix your family."

"You don't believe me." Simon states and you snap your head to look at him completely. "I know it sounds crazy but I'm stronger now. I can finally do what I've always wanted." He says between sips of his tea. "And I won't leave until it is fixed."

You sigh and set your cup down, "Fine." You get up and grab a piece of paper and a pen. You scribble down the addresses of Tommy's friends that he keeps couch surfing between before handing it to Simon. "This is what I know about Tommy. You'll probably get a confirmed address from your mom."

"And my dad?"

"Still an arsehole who comes and goes as he pleases." You grumble.

You walk out of your bedroom as quietly as possible. You peak over your couch and feel a weight lift off your chest. He was still here, right here in your flat. Your best friend, your rock and crush. Simon was finally back, not for the reason you might have fantasized about more than often you were willing to admit, but he was back. Love is such a funny thing, you think to yourself as you lay in bed. It had been three years since you had last seen him, hugging and barely holding back tears as he hopped on a bus to bootcamp. You hadn't cried that hard ever as you had cried on that day when he left. You turn onto your side and wipe away a few tears that leak from your eyes, at least he was here now.

You stand outside his family's home. You look down the street and recall the exact path that you could take to see your family. You had turned down Simon's offer to come inside, you didn't want to intrude on his reunion with his mother. You tap your foot as you lean against your truck, the same one you had driven to the fields outside of Manchester all those years ago. Simon steps outside of the house and hugs his mother one last time, his mouth moves but you don't hear what he has to say. His mother looks around him and looks at you. She's been crying you realize. You exchange a smile and a wave before she goes back inside of the house.

"Got the address?" You ask Simon as you both get into your truck.

"Got it." He confirms and gives you the address. You can't stop yourself from grimacing, of course it had to be that arsehole’s address. You hadn't left Simon in the dark of what was going on with his family while he was deployed and away. You didn't bother to spare details, okay, well maybe a few. Mostly about your own interactions with Tommy and his friends. But Simon didn't need to hear that, he had already sworn to come back and fix his family at least a dozen times since the third month. He didn't need to stress himself over you.

The car ride was quiet, the radio was off and the only sound was the wind blowing in through the open windows. You can feel the rage rolling off him but also the concern for his brother. The truck comes to stop outside of a dingy and unwelcoming flat building, you look at Simon and take him in. His brown eyes fill with determination and rage the longer he looks at the building. Finally, he opens the door, "I'm gonna get Tommy." He says before turning to go into the building after shutting the door. You let out a shaky sigh and let go of the steering wheel, looking at your shaking hands you try not to think too hard about what Tommy and his friends had done. What kind of people they were.

Tommy, your best friend's young brother had let his so-called friends push you around at your job until they were banned by your manager. Then they slashed your tires. Tommy hadn't changed, just become a carbon copy of dirt-bag father. Simon was made from something different, he was his mother's son, the undying love of his family and the ability to go with the flow of life. To never give up. You tense up as the people who lived in the flat walk past you, your breathing becoming more shallow as you watch them enter the flat. Oh god. Oh god. You panic and go to unbuckle yourself but struggle as your trembling hands only become worse.

You could hear the fighting coming from inside the house as you finally unbuckle yourself. There were five of them and only one of him. Oh god. Oh god. You push the truck door open and nearly tumble out, rushing to Simon's aid. You didn't expect to see him handling himself well against five other people while Tommy crouches low to avoid the fight altogether. One of the men goes to try and put Simon in a headlock, you do the only thing you can think of. You grab the man's jacket and pull him into your punch.

Simon places Tommy in the back seat, telling him he's going to bring him to the clinic and get him clean. You rub your throbbing knuckles, the pain from that one punch still echoing in your body. Simon gently takes your hand and inspects your knuckles, clicking his tongue. "You were never much of a fighter." He comments and looks up into your eyes. "But that was a good punch."

You're standing outside the clinic, the cold early spring wind making you pull your jacket closer to your body. Today was the day Tommy was going to be released, you weren't going to turn down Simon's request for you to be there. You had been spending more and more time with Simon and his mother. She is such a sweet lady, and loves her sons more than anything in the entire world. Simon looks at you and smiles, "I told you I would fix my family."

You roll your eyes, "I'll believe Tommy is clean when I see it." You grumble.

"I know he wasn't a good man back then,"

"He was a fucking mess Simon." You say, "He and his druggie friends cornered me once, demanded whatever money I had on me." You finally spill your guts, "I don't like him. You've been defending Tommy and his stupidity every day since I've known you." You look him right in the eyes, "He doesn't deserve your love or your mothers. As far as I'm concerned, he's been on my shit list since the first time I had to clean your bloody lip."

Simon looks at you for a long moment, your words hanging in the air until he pulls you into a hug. "I'm sorry." He mutters and hides his face in the crook of your neck. You freeze and he hugs you tighter, "I'm so sorry. You should have told me about that. I would have never-"

"Don't be sorry." You whisper quickly, "Never be sorry. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry. Simon you're too kind, too forgiving."

"That's not true."

"I think it is."

Someone coughs and Simon lets go of you, his face breaking into a smile as Tommy stands in front of the two of you. He looks different, better. Healthy and alive. "Can we go home now?" He asks. You watch as Simon walks up to Tommy and wraps him in his arms.

"Of course."

You watch from the driver's seat as their mum opens the door and jump into Tommy's arms as Tommy hugs her tight. You can't help the smile that grows on your face when Simon joins the hug. Their mum looks at you and motions you to join them. You shake your head but Simon walks over and pretty much drags you from the car and into the group hug.

Later that night, their mum pulls you to the side. "Thank you." She says and takes your hand into hers, "for being there for my Simon."

"It really was nothing." You assure her and she shakes her head.

"You love him very much. Don't try to deny it, you've stuck by his side all these years and I've seen the way you look at him." She winks, "I just hope the two of you get together before I'm dead."

You can't help the quiet laugh that comes from your throat, "Me too." You whisper and look over at Simon who sits next to Tommy as they watch a football match after eating dinner.

You can hardly believe that you're sitting here at Tommy's wedding next to their mum as you comfort her. Simon stands as Tommy's best man as they trade vows. Beth looks beautiful as she always has. Long black hair and charming blue eyes, she was beyond kind as well. Perfect for Tommy who hadn't lost some of his snark but Beth softened him. You look at Simon and smile when you notice he's holding back tears as they exchange vows.

The wedding's reception wasn't filled to the brim with people but it was lively, friends and distant family members mingled as you sit at a table with a glass of champagne. Simon lets out a sigh as he sits next to you at the edge of the party. "Are you having fun?" You tease and Simon rolls his eyes. Joseph, Simon's nephew who you are sure will never know a day of fear or hurt like his uncle and father, is exchanged between party members and snuck small bites of cake.

"I'd let to get away from all of this for a moment." He admits as he runs a hand through his sandy blonde hair. You remember when he was the sad strawberry blond boy that rainy school day. The way he avoided eye contact and others. You smile and take his hand.

"Then lets go."

You can faintly hear the music from the reception but other wise, this bench away from the party was the perfect place. The night sky is some what visible, with only the brightest stars being visible from all the light pollution of the city. A small breeze blows through your hair and you close your eyes to just soak in the moment. You open your eyes and Simon looks at you, softness in his eyes.

"What?"

"You're stunning." He says and you furrow your brows, ignoring the heat in your cheeks and neck. He leans in closer and cups your cheek, "Can I kiss you?" The words don't come to you but you nod frantically, feeling worried that he might change his mind for some reason. His eyes look between your eyes and lips before he leans in. The kiss is slow and he holds you like you might break or in case you want to leave. His lips are slightly chapped but soft and you vaguely wonder if he put on flavored chapstick earlier. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer and he takes the hint. The kiss turns from soft to practically ravenous as he holds you close, your mouth parts automatically and he slips his tongue in.

When you finally pull back to breath deeper, he looks at you with amazement. "I love you Simon Riley." You whisper and rest your forehead against his, "I have since we were 15. Don't leave me again Simon. Not if you can help it."

"You're gonna hate me then." He whispers as he holds you close. "I'm returning to duty in a month."

"I could never hate you Simon. Not in a million years. Just… write to me and when you go on leave again,” You take a steadying breath, “We can talk about what we are." He nods and you press your lips to his again.

You stand in the rain. You fucking hate the rain. It soaks through your black clothes and makes it stick to your skin. It mats down your hair and hides the tears that run down your face. There is no one here, no one but you and the priest at this funeral. How could this happen, you wonder. Everything was perfect. You look at the name on the gravestone. Tommy, Beth and Joseph, there's another gravestone a few feet away that has his mothers and fathers name on it. Simon is the only one who is buried alone. A bitter and petty choice from their distant family. Everyone thinks Simon did it. There was no proof to prove otherwise and it fit the story. A soldier returns home and suffers a PTSD breakdown and kills his entire family.

It didn't make sense. Simon was getting better, he promised he was getting better and attending therapy appointments. He loved Joseph, he loved his family and he loved you. He would have never done this. Maybe he would have murdered his father but the anger there was long and bitter, if he wanted to kill his father, he would have done it years ago.

Earlier last month, you had passed by a stand with different brochures. Some of them were for churches, others for activities to do with the family. Normally, you would have passed by it, eager to leave the store as quickly as possible. But you stopped this time and glanced at a particular brochure, you picked it from its spot and glanced over it. “You belong here.” A soldier is yelling while another is taking cover, inside are different recruiting offices and general information. You pocket it.

It was an impulsive decision. But the papers were filed and your two week notice already given. You didn't want to think about the consequences of what you were about to do, you just felt lost. University didn't matter, your cafe job didn't matter and every street in this fucking city reminded you of him. You decided if you were going to join the military. You had been accepted, the letter sat in your bag now that all of your items in your flat had been packed up and stored in your old childhood bedroom. This was just the last thing to do before the bus picks you up tomorrow morning.

You throw the roses in your hand into the caskets until you reach Simons. Your hand trembles as it holds the thorny rose, shakily you bring it to your lips and kiss the petals before tossing it into his grave. "I love you Simon Riley."

You watch as the city of Manchester flows past you like a river. It's raining again and the droplets obscure your vision of the outside world. People around you talk and you realize just how out of place you are. These are 16, 17 and 18 year olds with bright eyes and dreams. You vaguely wonder if Simon had sat in silence as he liked to do or if he had been dragged into a conversation. You glance at your duffle bag by your feet before leaning your head back and shutting your eyes. The bus ride would be a long one, you figure that some rest would make it faster.

Your name is called and you step forward, you hold onto the bag of items shoved into your arms. You listen to the drill sergeant yell that these are your items. You are responsible for maintaining and keeping track of all things in this bag. You realize, in a way that makes it difficult not to smile, that Simon was right. They are hard arses here.

You wonder why Simon never told you about this but he never seemed to tell you anything. You curse the dead man and curse yourself for being impulsive. Nearly done with university and you dropped out for him, for a dead man who was buried alone in his own grave. You use your anger to make it to the end, your uniform is covered in mud and the sensation makes your skin crawl but you run forward towards the rope wall, swinging your rifle over your back. “Come on Private!” The drill sergeant screams at you, “I’ve seen injured men move faster than you do!” You grit your teeth as he mocks you.

The scratches that litter your body sting as you crawl through the mud and muck underneath the barbed wire with a rifle held close to your chest. You breathe out puffs of condensation in the air, you’re shivering and you keep your jaw clenched so your teeth don’t chatter. You keep crawling, inching like a caterpillar towards the end of this section and fight the urge to just lay there on the ground. The cold rain soaks through your clothes and you grunt when part of the barbed wire above you catches onto your leg again. “Fuck.” You hiss but you’re nearly there.

It's his job, you remind yourself, to try and break you. If Simon leaving didn’t break you, if him and his family dying didn’t break you then this fucking drill sergeant was not going to break you. You climb up the rope and grapple onto the next bit of rope, locking your legs with your ankles and you inch down the rope even as your hands burn.

That night as you sit in the corner of the mess hall, you itch at the bandages wrapped around your hand. Whatever salve the lady in the med bay had slathered onto your hand hadn’t done much to cool the burning. You know it's counterintuitive to scratch at it but who was going to stop you? You were an adult now and could suffer the consequences of your stupid actions. Like not demanding Simon give you answers on why he was pulling away after finally confessing his feelings. You clench your fist and smother those feelings with the pain you feel.

No matter how many times you try to remind yourself there's no point in focusing on the past you can’t stop. How can you stop? Everything you’ve done has been for him and now he’s gone and you’re still doing things for him. You look around the mess hall at the different groups of fellow trainee’s and know you’ll never have that kind of connection with anyone else. Simon was it. Your best friend since childhood, your first crush and first heartbreak. You wander outside and sit on a stack of crates near the mess when the talking and clanking of silverware grows too much.

The night is cool, the sky is clear from the rain that had poured so hard earlier but you can’t see the stars anyway. You go to itch at your hand again when a drill sergeant comes around the corner. You stiffen up and immediately get up to salute but he dismisses you before you even get your hand to your forehead. “Private, why aren’t you in the mess eating?”

“Lost my appetite, sir.” You reply, “Figured some fresh air would do me some good.” You go to scratch at your hand again and his eyes snap to the motion.

“Private, did the nurse not provide you with burn cream?” He asked and it was weird having the man who yelled at you all day suddenly become concerned for your well-being.

“She did, sir, it just itches.” You explain and the drill sergeant makes a face, for a second you worry that he will demand that you return to the med bay again. Instead, he nods.

“Dismissed Private. Get some rest.” You nod and scurry away to your barracks.

The helicopter’s wings slow but any flyaways in your hair whip and stick to your face anyways. After serving in the SAS for five years, you had been picked by Chief station Laswell and Captain John Price to be a part of the 141 task force. You couldn’t believe you had finally done it, all these years of serving and you start to finally believe that you might’ve done Simon some justice. All the broken bones, bruises and scars are worth it if it means he’s looking down on you fondly. You look between the four men in front of you. You recognize Captain Price immediately with his boonie hat and well groomed mutton chops. He extends his hand which you take and shake with a firm grip. “Boys, this is Gator. They’ll be joinin’ our task force startin’ today.”

The man standing next to Price smiles at you, beautiful white teeth with a stunning smile and soft brown eyes. He has a scar on his cheek and you wonder how he got it as you shake his hand, “This is Sergeant Garrick.” Price says and you beam back at him.

“A pleasure to meet you Sergeant.”

“No need for that, just call me Gaz.” He assures you and lets go of your hand. You turn to meet the third man and before you can even open your mouth or extend your hand to shake, he’s grabbing yours with a grip tight enough to shatter a few bones. He has a stupid mohawk haircut that he somehow makes work, crystal blue eyes and you can tell that he’s a little mischievous.

“I’m Sergeant MacTavish but e’eryone calls me Soap.” He laughs, warm like an early summer day, when he sees your eyebrows raise. “I’ll tell ye why later.” He promises with a wink.

“Oi! Johnny, stop hoggin’ the new meat.” You turn to the voice and have to stop yourself from taking a step back just so you could look at the man fully. He’s fucking huge. Broad shoulders, wearing all black and a skull mask to hide his face. You can barely make out his brown eyes from under all that eye black. His accent is rough, with a voice that gives away how much he smokes. He looks down at you, like you suspect he has to most people, and you want to slink away into whatever hole he thinks you crawled out of. Despite this, you stick your hand out for him to shake.

“And this is your Lieutenant, Ghost.” You have to stop yourself from snorting. Ghost, how fitting for a man literally wearing a skull mask. He grips your hand and gives it a firm shake as his eyes burn holes into your soul. You look at his hand when you feel something other than familiar flesh, it's a glove. Even funnier, its skeleton gloves. It sends you nearly into a giggle fit, yes this man is intimidating to a point where you would have been shaking in your boots a few years ago. But he’s unironically wearing skeleton gloves. How is that not funny? He gives you a firm shake but just as quickly removes his gloved hand from yours. “Alright Gator, Ghost will give you a quick tour around here and then I want you to report for training at 0500 hours.”

The tour is silent besides the simple sentences Ghost speaks and you’re that sure he wouldn’t if Price hadn’t put him on the spot for giving you the tour. “This ‘ere is the training hall, this is where yer expected to be tomorrow.” He gruffly says, stiff as a board. You nod and nearly jump out of your skin when someone wraps their arm around your shoulders.

“There ye are! I was tryin’ tae find ye.”

“Sergeant.” Ghost says gruffly and Soap rolls his eyes before removing his arm. “They are busy.”

“Away an bile yer heid.” Soap says with a laugh, “I ken that yer aboot as excited fer this tour as they are.” You didn’t need to see Ghost roll his eyes to know he did, it was just in the way the air shifts around the three of you. “Lemme take over the rest of the tour aye?” Ghost sighs but concedes which confirms that he would really rather be anywhere else than giving the FNG a tour. “Good lad.” Soap chuckles and pats Ghost’s shoulder.

Ghost leaves quickly for being a man so massive and Soap turns to you, “Dinnae mind him, he’s a big grump.” You snort and laugh while nodding in agreement. “Alright, let's continue this tour.” Soap claps a hand on your back and for the rest of the day, with breaks for food of course, he showed you around. He was certainly better at it then Ghost who acted like he had been asked to travel across the sahara desert while carrying you.

“Steamin’ Jesus.” Soap groans while he stumbles back from you. Sweat sticks to your forehead and your usual hairdo is ruined but so is the way of sparring and training. “I see why they call ye Gator.” He grumbles as he holds his head. “Ye fuckin’ death rolled me.” Soap accuses and it was true. You have the strength to take down men bigger than you in not only height but sheer mass. It was a skill you had honed for the past several years ever since you figured it out in bootcamp.

You wrap your arms around him as he tries to pin you to the mat and roll. You twist with all your might and switch the position then without a second thought you slam your head against his. The force knocks your brain around and the headache you’ll get later is going to be absolutely terrible but the man under you groans and holds his forehead. “I yield! Holy shite.” He curses as you immediately back away from him. You glance around at the group of people who had made it this far into the training and then meet the eyes of your drill sergeant who, if you weren’t mistaken and didn’t have a concussion, looked almost proud.

That night as you hold an ice pack against your forehead and sit outside the mess hall away, he approaches again. “Never seen a private do that.” He says after immediately acknowledging your salute and telling you to be at ease. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone do that before.” You sheepishly shrug.

“I didn’t want to lose.”

“And so you didn’t.” A silence hangs in the air as the crickets chirp and you wonder if that's an owl’s hoot you hear. “I think you're going to have a nickname before you even leave camp.” He says, “You have the other sergeants wantin’ to call you Gator.”

“Gator?” You ask even if you understand the implications. You guess you did a kind of death roll that poor buy but Gator? Really?

“Better than some poor sod who got named Dirt because he ended up with a mouth full of dirt after tripping on the 20 mile march.” You chuckle at that.

“I guess Gator is much better than Dirt.”

“That’s the spirit. You better get some rest for tomorrow, Private.” He says before walking away and just like that time, leaving you to sit in the cool night air before you heed his warning.

You grit your teeth as Ghost ignores you again. You’re just trying to get him to sign from fucking paperwork Captain Price asked of you. “Lieutenant I need-”

“Not now sergeant.” Ghost says as he walks away from you and you want to scream. Its been like this the entire time you’ve been on this team. At first you thought it was his way of hazing you, act like a dickhead and see if the FNG breaks. Well you haven’t broken, you’ve only doubled down because every time he acts like this you keep being reminded of Simon and how he wouldn’t have given up.

At least Gaz and Soap were more open to you being on their task force now that months had passed. Although you doubt if Soap had ever disliked the idea of you being on the force. You barely duck Gaz’s punch but aren’t fast enough to catch his leg before it slams full force into your side. You grab it before he can bring it back and yank on it so he falls onto the floor, he rolls over before you can pin him down. You stare at each other for a moment before you lunge at him like a rabid dog without a leash.

He steps to the side and then grabs the back of your shirt collar to slam you down into the mat. You squirm and fight to keep him from pinning your arms back but it's no use. And in this position, death rolling him was nearly impossible. And you’ve definitely been trying. “Distracted Gator?” Gaz asks as he pants and you snarl back at him before you let out a meek ‘I yield’. He releases you immediately and you rub your wrists. “Broken?”

“Negative.” You say as you walk over to grab your bottle of water.

Watching you spar from the corner was Ghost. He observes the way you fight and the way you wiggle out of every attempt to pin you until the last. If it wasn’t for your infamous ability to death roll, he’s sure you would have ended up being called Weasel. And wasn’t that an amusing thought? Still better than Soap. “Ye stalkin’ the FNG.” Soap teases and Ghost glances down at Soap with what he knows is a deadpan expression. Or at least deadpan eyes. Mask and all that.

“You stalkin’ me?” Ghost shoots back and Soap grins this feral grin that makes Ghost groan inwardly because that grin meant only one thing. Dog with a fuckin’ bone, thats what Soap is when he thinks he’s smelt something out. “Don’t start MacTavish.”

“Oh its MacTavish it is?” Soap feigns hurt as he clutches his chest. “Ye wound me sir.”

“It is when yer about to say somethin’ god awfully stupid.”

“Yer no fun L.T.” Soap laments and Ghost rolls his eyes while shaking his head at Soap’s antics. Soap looks past Ghost and to Gator who is talking with Gaz on the bench while the two of them drink water and give the other advice. “Slippery thing they are.” Soap comments and Ghost nods. “Dinnae think I’ve ever seen someone slip out of your hold befure.”

“Is tha’ the reason yer botheirn’ me Sergeant?”

“Botherin’ ye? Nae sir, jus’ wanna see how Gaz manages to take them down.” Soap says, a half truth and they both know it.

“They gave him a hard time too.”

“Do ye think tha’ they oil up befure every sparrin’ match?” Soap says with a smile and Ghost rolls his eyes despite the small smile growing beneath his mask. You look up and notice Soap and Ghost which immediately makes him want to flee the scene. Every time you lock eyes with him, it sends him back to his time in Mexico. You’re a constant reminder and he wants you gone. Simon is dead and he’s not sure why you even joined the fucking military in the first place. Last he knew you were close to finishing off your degree, did you drop out to join this place?

Ghost grits his teeth as he shoves the memories of both Roba and you back into the box he had stuffed the two of you into years ago. He can’t open the box for one without the other escaping. You offer him a small smile and he turns on his heel. He walks as quickly as he can back to his private quarters, perks of being an officer and also being dead he guessed. He slams his door behind him and marches right into the bathroom. He yanks off the mask and stares at himself. He stares at the scars across his face, his broken one-too-many-times nose and the scar that cuts his lip. He takes stalk of his flaws within his face, the one you had seen and hadn’t recoiled from.

He wonders if you even suspect that its him and his chest hurts at the thought that you’ve forgotten him. But he knows he hasn’t earned his right back into your life, he’s dead. He can never be the man you need or want, he’s different now. Much more scarred than when he returned from Mexico, he’s brash and rude. He doesn’t like people and he doesn’t like that he still wants to be near you. It’s irrational, it’s stupid and there’s nothing he can do about it but try and get to you to quit.

“Captain Price told me to give this to you.” A Corporal says, clearly shaking in his boots, as he hands Ghost a file. “A-and he told me that he wants you in the briefing room.”

“Dismissed Corporal.” Ghost says and the man scurries off. Ghost looks at the file and opens it, the first thing he sees is that it’s a duo op. The second thing he sees is that you’re the one coming along. “Fuckin’ hell.” He mutters as he looks at your little picture papercliped to the top of the page next to his faceless one.

“He always does that.” You groan to Gaz as you watch Ghost turn on his heel and leave once you lock eyes with him. “Did I do something wrong?” You ask, “It's been months.”

Gaz shrugs, “Ghost is an enigma, when you start to think you know him you find something else about him. That man has secrets upon secrets.” You frown at that statement. Obviously he was hiding his face to protect his identity and of course that made you naturally curious but you’ve never pressed about it. He’s quiet and efficient if any of the stories told you by Gaz and Soap were anything to go by. And now he’s a secret keeper.

Who are you Ghost?

”The group that had been inhabiting the old soviet base are still lingering around and might return when they realize that they’ve left behind a very important piece of information.” Captain Price says and points to the projected map on the wall. “You’ll need to be fast and efficient. Is that clear?” His blue eyes scan over the two of you and both of you echo a ‘yes sir’ at the same time. “Good, get your gear and be ready, you’re wheels up in two hours.”

You sit at the table in the briefing room, bouncing your leg up and down under the table as Captain Price goes over what the mission objective is and what intel you and Ghost will be going in with. The mission is in Siberia, the objective is to get an old usb drive from a recently re-abandoned USSR base. You glance over at Ghost who hasn’t stopped looking at you this entire time, only dragging his eyes away from you when Captain Price addresses him specifically. His brown eyes seem to be trying to burn holes into your very soul so you try to match it. This would be your first duo op with Ghost and you would not be pushed around during it.

“Yes sir.” You say and leave the room after being properly dismissed. You look at the file in your hand, the information covered in the briefing summarized in the file with certain things blacked out. Like the fact this is in Siberia or that it’s an old soviet base that had been taken over by a terrorist group for a short while. You worry about that fact, if this base had been well and truly abandoned, why would the group set up there? Siberia wasn’t exactly a very hospitable environment and would take a certain amount of resources to deal with. Not just any kind of terrorist group would be able to afford those expenses.

“What’s got ye frownin’ so hard?” Soap asks and you jolt, not even aware that Soap had come up to you. He glances at the file and whistles, “Yer on a mission with L.T?”

”Somethin’ wrong with that? Something I should be worried about?” You ask, glancing behind Soap to make sure that specter wasn’t there.

“Nae, nothin’ ye should worry about besides the stick up his arse.” Soap jokes and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you. Soap grins, “There’s that smile.” Soap pinches your cheek and you swat at his hand.

”What are you? My aunt?”

”Nae I’m worse.” Soap laughs as he goes to pinch your cheek again. You squeal and laugh as you take off towards the armory and Soap gives chase. You eventually make him leave, shoo-ing him off so you can change into your gear. The gear is heavy but familiar, a comforting kind of weight that you always mourn once an op is over. Tightening the strap of your vest until you felt like it was secure enough and doing the same thing with the gun holster on your thigh.

”You tighten it anymore and you’ll lose blood flow.” Ghost grunts and you stop yourself from startling a little. Ghost walks up to you and loosens the straps himself a little before your brain starts working again. You slap his hands away and glare up at him.

”I am perfectly capable of knowing when to stop tightening my straps.” You hiss. You had been in the SAS long enough to know your preferences and the fact that he is trying to baby you is insulting at best and downright disrespectful at worst. Ghost stares down at you, brown eyes dead but also filled with some kind of emotion you can’t place. He says nothing else, doesn’t even grunt, before he turns to get his gear on. You huff and finish preparing your items for the op.

You go over the file one last time while on the flight to Siberia, flipping through the different pages and you can’t fight off the gut feeling that something isn’t right. You bounce your leg as you look at the map of the base, for an old soviet base, it's small. Granted, you don’t know how big USSR bases in Siberia tended to be but this is just too small. You glance at Ghost and contemplate mentioning this to him but since the armory he hasn’t spoken a word to you. Let alone even look your way which would normally be a reprieve but right now you wish he would look, just so you’d feel less awkward starting a conversation. You remind yourself that he’s a Lieutenant, he knows more than a Sergeant such as yourself. You need to trust your commanding officer.

Ghost can feel the warmth from you, like you had leaked a part of yourself into his gloves and now he can’t get rid of it. He doesn’t understand why he had approached and went to fix your straps, really they are too tight for comfort, but when you had slapped his hands away it was like a shock had gone through him. Like his entire system had been rebooted from the simple touch, now he can’t even bear to look at you. He can feel the weight of your gaze on him though and that’s how he knows that he acted out of character. He clenches his fist so tight his knuckles are cramped when he opens it again, he wishes you would just say what you want to say.

He wishes you would yell at him so he would have something to tell Price about, to maybe get you booted off the team. He’s been a prick to you, moving your stuff in the rec room, eating your food and being condescending. What kind of drill sergeant you had, he didn’t know but they must’ve turned your will into steel. Or maybe you were always like that, you hadn’t given up on him when you got a glance at his life at home. You treated his bloody noses and busted lips, you convinced your parents to let him stay over as often as possible. You even went with him to get Tommy despite the shit Tommy and his shitty friends had put you through.

Ghost clenches his jaw, no matter what, this is better for you. He just needs to get you to quit or maybe transfer to some kind of safer job in the military if you’re so hell bent on staying. He still can’t wrap his mind around the fact that you dropped out of university. He steals a glance and sees you looking at the file the same way you would look at study notes before a test.

You were right. Of course you were fucking right. Why do you have to be right? The base is much, much bigger than the intel said and worse is the fact that its not completely abandoned. “Get the fuck out of there!” Ghost yells over comms and you’re so close to just tearing the wiring in half so you don’t have to listen to him. You turn another corner, refilling the ammo in your pistol as the sound of pounding footsteps echo down the long concrete hallways of this underground base. You wait for the man to turn the corner and shoot him right between the eyes, the muzzle on your pistol only does so much and the sound bounces off the walls. ”I said to get out of there soldier!”

You snarl, “I’m getting this fucking USB drive, fuck off!” You say into comms as you run down the halls. Lights flicker above you and distantly you can hear soldiers yelling. Just a few more turns, you tell yourself as you slide into a wall, using your arms you push off it and keep going. Once out of this god forsaken underground, NOT abandoned, USSR base you’d die happy never seeing another concrete hall. You slam the door open to the server room stored deep in the base and lock it behind you, hoping that might spare you some time between you and soldiers surely running down the halls towards you.

”Don’t ignore me Sergeant!” His voice comes out warbled, likely because you’re so far underground. You clench your jaw so hard your teeth hurt as you fling open different desk drawers, toss everything onto the desk in search of the USB they sent you here for in the first place. After six desks, you realize there is no way there is a USB.

”Fucking CIA intel.” You grab an unused USB from a desk and jam it into the nearest computer. “Fucking lucky I took that damn class.” You mutter to yourself as you bypass the passwords and begin to download the information.

”Sergeant! I said get out of there, use your bloody ears!”

”I have to download everything myself!” You yell into the comms, “The intel was shite!” You slam your pistol into the PC you’re not currently using. “Fucking CIA.”

”I don’t care! I’m pulling us from this mission.”

”I’m getting this USB Lieutenant, you’re welcome to chew me out once I’m back on the surface.” You snap, “Going dark.”

”Don’t you da-“ You rip the wires out of your comms and throw the damn thing onto the floor.

Ghost yells into the comms again but only gets static back, he looks down at the base from the scope of his sniper. It looks abandoned, it looks small and easy to navigate but he heard what you said. He knows that its all a facade, that the terrorist group had found tunnels to another base nearby and have been smuggling weapons and food between those tunnels, hardly ever having to go outside at this base. Which is what led the intel team to believe its been abandoned and therefore an easy op. His heart is pounding against his chest and it hurts from how hard its beating against his chest, he keeps trying the comms. “Gator! Gator turn your comms back on!” He snarls into the mic but still nothing.

It’s then that it dawns on him that you didn’t just turn comms off, you ripped the wiring out. “God damn it.” He grunts as he gets off the ground, the snow disguising him falls to the ground as he hauls his sniper up and buries it under the snow between two trees. He pulls out his shitty cracked phone, that he frankly refuses to replace. He knows why and its not because he doesn’t like the newer versions. It’s because this one has those pictures of you, the version of you that hadn’t turned your back on civilian life yet. The version of you that makes him feel kind of sick for looking at now that he knows you now.

He opens up his map to the coordinates to the nearest safe house, and grabs his pistol before he puts his phone away. He sighs and makes his way down towards the base that must be crawling with enemy terrorists but no one gets left behind. And he’s not about to let you die down there, his grip on his pistol tightens for just a second before he forces his fist to relax. He saunters his way in, everyone is far too distracted with chasing you down to pay attention to the cameras. He slides down the ladder into the base and is immediately greeted with the muffled sound of an alarm. “Fucking hell.” He mutters as he readies his pistol and knife.

You grunt, push the metal cabinet against the door, pushing through the pain in your thigh to do so. By the time it’s in place, you collapse against the wall next to it, grunting at the pain that shoots up your thigh in quick bursts. You look at the bullet wound and can’t help the disgust that crawls up your face when you realize it's pumping blood out in the rhythm of your heart beat. It’s funny, you’ve been shot before but you never had the time to look at it. It makes sense that it would do that though. You lean your head back against the concrete wall and can’t help the sob that rips it way out of your throat. Not because you’re going to die, not entirely because of that. Because you’re going to die in a concrete box alone.

You smear your bloody hand against the wall, wiping it off as you fumble with your shirt, pull just enough fabric out and rip it. No, you think, you’re not going to die here. Anywhere but in fucking Siberia surrounded by enemies and in a damn concrete room underground. You wrap the torn fabric around your thigh, just above the wound and wrap it tightly. So tightly you can actually feel the blood flow being slowed and this time on purpose. You check the bullets in your pistol and laugh when you see only two. “And I’m fucking out.” You mumble just as you hear someone’s boots echo outside of the room. You rise on shaky legs and bite your tongue to keep from crying out from the pain but walk over to the corner. You raise the gun and point towards the metal cabinet that is rocking from the force of what must be either several people pushing or one big motherfucker.

You don’t pray, no sense in praying right now. Even if you did ask for forgiveness you wouldn’t get it, the blood on your hands is more than any person can justify, not even God because it is a rule. Thou shall not murder. You huff out a laugh at that, well you’ve certainly sinned. The metal cabinet comes crashing down and in bursts three men. Fuck. You fire your last two shots and take down the first two but when the third enemy hears the gun click, he laughs. It’s an ugly and horrible laugh, one that expresses his entire arrogance of you being in this situation. Wounded and without any ammo, your knife left behind in some fuckers neck a few corners ago. “You lose.” He taunts as he walks closer and your leg finally loses feeling, you slide down the wall as you stare at the man who is going to hopefully bring you death.

You’re reminded of that quote you read once, When I die, bury me in the woods, the wolves will be kinder to me than any man. And if you weren’t about to meet your end, you’d laugh at the fact you can’t even remember the woman who said it. You hope she got her wish. The man raises his pistol and presses it to your temple. You hear a bang echo in the room and expect for it all to be over but you grunt when the man lands on you. “What the fuck?” You mutter as you struggle to push the weight of a dead man off of you. He’s pulled off of you and you look up at the bloody skull face plate, “Aren’t you just a life saver?” You quip before you throw up.

Ghost huffs when you pass out after throwing up and narrowly avoiding his boots. He hauls you up and over his shoulder, tucking your pistol into your thigh holster. Trying to get you up the ladder was hell, he was constantly afraid that his grip would loosen and you’d fall to your death. The walk to the safe house is about half way done when he feels your stirring. He grips you tighter just in case you try to flail around and attempt to land yourself in the snow.

When you come to, you realize that you’re over someone’s shoulder. Just as you’re about to flail around, the memory of Ghost standing over you. “Awake now?” Ghost asks, his voice rough as always and that reminds you of someone you used to know. You give your reply in the form of a groan which is all that seems to want to leave your mouth. “We’re about an hour away from a safe house.”

”And I wasn’t told?” You snap, anger pushing past the way you feel like you’re going to throw up if you speak again.

”Need to know.”

”Well I might’ve needed to know!” You flail your arms around harmlessly before you collapse back to being a rag doll on his back. He doesn’t respond and when you think he’s about to return to his normal grumpy silence, he breaks it.

”What the fuck were you thinkin’?” He snaps and you jolt awake from the half sleep you had unknowingly slipped into. “Ripping your comm wires out and going dark. What the fuck Sergeant?”

”I wasn’t able to focus with you screaming at me to abandon the mission.” You immediately jump to defend, “I got the damn USB drive with the intel they need, I completed the mission.” You don’t even realize that he’s reached the safe house until he nearly kicks the door in because the doorknob is frozen. He practically tosses you onto the couch before slamming the door shut. “I completed the objective.” You nearly snarl out.

”You failed to follow simple orders to retreat.” He slams his pistol and knife down on the table, “You nearly died.”

”Yeah, well it didn’t seem like you’d care all that fucking much if I did! If I hadn’t gotten the USB,” You pull the damn thing from your front vest pouch and throw it onto the table. “then the entire thing would have been a waste!”

”I don’t care about the USB, if you’re in danger like that you follow my damn orders! I can’t lose you!” Ghost grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you just a little. You look at him, feeling confusion creep up before it is swallowed down by anger.

”What?”

”Forget about it.”

”No. You’ve been treating me like a damn nuisance the minute I joined the task force and now you suddenly care? Why now huh? Why now? Because you sure didn’t act like I mattered very much.”

”I said forget about it.” He snarls but you go to stand on shaking legs

”No fuck that! Fuck you Ghost! What changed?” You keep hounding him until he slams his fist down the table and rips off his mask.

He says your name gently, like he’s trying to soothe an animal but you’re frankly ready to sink your teeth into his skin if he tries to approach. “You didn’t even have the courage to write? Not even a little postcard? Something! Anything! To let me know you’re not dead? You’re lucky I’m not able to walk.” You spit.

Rage boils up in you so quickly, so quickly you aren’t able to express it all just through yelling. It burns you up, sets you on fire and throws lighter fluid into that inferno any time you think it's about to burn a little less. It’s all consuming anger mixed with all those years of grief that you never properly addressed, just slapped a bandaid on called military life and carried on. Hot tears run down your face as you scream and rage at him. You even throw something at him, though he ducks out of the way easily. “You fucking bastard! You bastard! Fuck you Simon Riley!” You scream as you cry, head pounding from something. The pain in your thigh? The rage in your temple? Or how hard you’re crying? Probably a mixture of all three. “You’re dead! I buried you! I went to your funeral Riley!” You throw something else at him, probably an MRE.

”Would you listen-“ Simon tries to say but you immediately cut him off. Hearing his voice makes whatever walls you have built up over these five years crumble so easily. You can’t let him speak or else you’ll fall into his arms and just cry. And you need to be angry because you deserve to be angry.

”No! You listen to me Simon Riley!” You ball your hands into fists, “Why? Why did you treat me like shit? Why did you undermine me at every turn? It’s bad enough that you let me believe that you were dead! Wasn’t that enough for you? But of course it wasn’t, you had to make my life hell because you met me again!”

”Shut up!” Simon finally snaps, his brown eyes swirling with fury and guilt. “I had my reasons and if you would just-”

”Well what were they then? Huh? I’m all fucking ears.”

”You keep interrupting me. If you didn’t-“

”You had months to come clean Simon! Years if you count the time before I met you again and after all that time you couldn’t just be a man and tell me? Couldn’t even send me a hint that you were alive?” You slam your fist into the wall, you ignore the pain that shoots right up your arm into your shoulder. You glare at him through your tears and wipe at them frantically. “You didn’t even try.”

”I did it to protect you! And if you’d just let me speak I’d tell you all the reasons I had to not tell you or even let you think I was alive!” Simon finally manages to say, he goes to speak again and you hold up your hand.

”Don’t talk to me Simon Riley.” You say as you wipe away any tears from your cheeks that hadn’t rolled all the way down. Your eyes burn and your stomach hurts from just how much you’re feeling right now. Deep down, past the anger you feel relief because he’s alive. Your Simon is alive and maybe more rough around the edges with a scar bisecting his lip, a nasty scar along his cheek and nose broken and not properly set several times. You’re also sure his eye bags have increased tenfold since you last saw him but his eye black keeps that little fact hidden from you. His teeth are chipped and broken but his brown eyes still hold that same depth. You can tell he still smiles the same and he’s still that overprotective boy who had scared off your date that one time just by opening the door.

That’s still your Simon Riley. But damn him to the deepest hell and back for making your heart hurt so badly. “Fine.” He grits out before he marches to what you assume is the safe house bathroom and slamming the door behind him.

There is something wrong with me. That is Simon’s first thought when he looks at himself in the mirror that must be old because his reflection is warped. There is something wrong with me and it's not the scars or the way my joints ache when I stand or sit down. There is something wrong with me and it makes my blood run black. Simon wonders if he had been born wrong. He suspects he’s always been this way, he was his father’s son after all, doomed to be awful to all of those he knows. To use them and drain them dry until they cut him off or he tosses them away. He doesn’t want you to be part of that cycle, to be a part of the cycle that always results in those close to him dying.

He already lost his family, he couldn’t lose you too so he cut you out completely. It was better if you thought he was dead. You were better off thinking he was dead in the ground even if it hurt you, even if it hurt him. And fuck did it hurt that first year, every time something happened he wanted to call you or text you. Tell you all about it late at night in a part of base where no one would care if he was awake if they even dared to approach him at all. Simon wanted to return to you more then anything but Ghost hadn’t dug himself out of that grave and lost his entire family as consequence for not fucking dying just for you to meet that same fate. No, you’d be his only in memory. Maybe one day he’d stalk your social media and find that you’ve moved on. Hopefully out of that fucking city, working a good paying job with a man who deserved you.

And it didn’t matter how much that thought made his supposedly ice heart hurt. It didn’t matter because he was dead and there was nothing he could give you besides this rotting body and whatever love he could scrape together for you.

Simon looks at himself in the mirror, completely maskless and bare for what felt like the first time in years. It felt like his skin had been pulled away to show the maggots, rotting tendons and muscle underneath. Every tear that had left your beautiful eyes had felt like acid on his skin, every word thrown his way a well placed knife throw. He knew he deserved all that malice and if you didn't want to talk to him, then he wouldn’t talk to you. No matter how much he wants to.

The next two days go by slowly, it reminds you of the time you had to go through a bog. Slow movements and time seemed to slow to a fucking crawl as you traversed the bog to go around an enemy encampment so you could get the jump on them from behind. It didn’t matter that your clothes had been soaked through or that you could feel the cold of the water seeping into your bones. You kept going. So the same logic was applied here. Your bullet wound in your thigh eventually got treated properly, in silence of course. Simon had given you the first aid kit and you did your best with what you had. Digging out the bullet had to be one of the most painful experiences you’ve ever had.

Simon had wanted to step in and do it himself but he knew you’d sooner accept an infection then let him any closer then needed. By the end of the hour and several deep, guttural screams cut off only by the belt between your teeth, you had managed to pull the bullet out. You were quick to stitch the hole closed and to wrap it in bandages. When that was over, you only had enough strength to crawl onto the shitty couch and pass out.

The first day not talking to him was filled with tension. It was so thick you could cut it with your knife, if you had it that is. It’s still stuck in that asshole’s neck which sucks because it was a good neck. You were hesitant to put any pressure on your wound, terrified of ripping your frankly shit stitches and increasing the chances of you getting an infection. You spent the entire day cleaning and taking apart your gun with occasional glares sent to Simon if he tried to enter the same room as you and stay for more than a few minutes.

He understood your anger, he did, but he couldn’t stand it at the same time. He wants to sit right next to and soak in your presence in a way he hadn’t allowed himself before this. He hadn’t bothered to put his mask back on and when he had stepped out of the bathroom without it the first time you had jerked like someone had pinched you. You could still tell he had blonde hair from his eyebrows but seeing his blonde hair in a buzz cut had felt like an electric shock. That was still your Simon even all these years later and that made you angrier. How could he? How dare he? After all these years, he looked the same despite the scars on his face but you? Do you still look the same despite the weariness in your eyes and being grief eaten.

The only word he spoke to you was, “There’s a blizzard coming in tomorrow.” You had only given a grunt in acknowledgement which he had to admit, stung. How many times had he responded to you like that while trying to get you to quit and transfer somewhere else? Far too many times, he ran a gloved hand through his prickly hair as he shook his head. God he had been so fucking stupid and stubborn. As it turns out, the blizzard couldn’t wait until tomorrow or maybe it was the next day. The wind shook the entire safe house, the walls creaked and groaned from the force of it. The windows were covered by snow or maybe it was a white out, you couldn’t tell. You didn’t even want to lift your head to check. You were fucking freezing despite your thermals and the blanket. Your teeth chattered as you pulled the blanket even closer and closed your eyes. Your cheeks were numb and you could barely feel your nose, your fingers actually hurt from how cold they were.

You blew more warm breath into your cupped hands, your entire body shivered as another burst of wind caused the house to groan from the weight of it. You glanced around the living room/kitchen area, the fireplace was boarded up but it wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t, you had no wood. The only thing of light was a battery powered lamp that you had been surprised still worked. You knew where Simon was, in the only other room besides the bathroom, the bedroom. Getting up those stairs would have been impossible for you the first two days here with your injury. Hell, you even doubted if you had enough strength to do it now even with the protein and nutrient packed MRE’s given to you for rations. But you suspected if you didn’t seek out another form of warmth and soon, you’d end up a popsicle. And frankly? That sounded like a bad way to go.

You shakily got to your feet, where it was from being nervous about putting weight on your injured leg or if you were cold, you couldn’t be sure. But you wobble up the stairs, gripping the rail for life the entire way and nearly falling when you finally manage to get the doorknob to turn. Simon catches you, he opens his mouth to chastise you before he realizes the state you’re in. He mutters your name, brown eyes filled with worry as you shrug, too tired and frozen to verbally shrug. He shakes his head and brings you to the mattress in the corner, he quickly runs downstairs and grabs your blanket before returning upstairs. You grumble, which honestly was just noises from the back of your throat as he settles next to you, pulling both blankets over the two of you. After a few minutes and warming up a little you mumble, “This doesn’t change that I’m upset with you.”

”I would never expect it to.” He whispers back as he wraps an arm around you. It shouldn’t be as easy as it is, like two pieces of a puzzle finally snapping together. You seep warmth from him like a leech while he holds you close and steady enough that you don’t shiver or shake. He stays awake the entire time, long after you’ve fallen asleep on your pack-made-pillow. Simon looks at you and drinks you in properly this time. Despite the blizzard outside still raging on and the cold temperatures making your skin lose a little color, you’re still as stunning as the day he confessed his love to you. He can still recall that day, sitting at a bench a little ways away from the reception party. The cool October breeze blowing through and the way you looked so relaxed. So content with the moment and with him. He kissed you that night, he kissed you like a starving animal. Like he might never get to kiss you again and that he needed to take what he could now.

“I love you Simon Riley. I have since we were 15. Don’t leave me again Simon, not if you can help it.” He was fucking idiot not to say it back, he didn’t even think to do so because his heart had been stabbed the moment you pleaded with him not to leave because he was leaving again. He was leaving you, the best thing in his entire life. Then he came back fucked but he did his best to get better. He didn’t want to touch you, he was terrified he would hurt you. Force himself on you, every night he dreamed that he was hurting you and that he enjoyed it. The therapy helped a little, you and his family helped a lot. Having something to return to helped so much. Then it all came burning down and damn it, he wasn’t going to let you die. So he killed the men then he returned to Mexico and killed Roba and his entire cartel. Then he never returned home, he never let you even think that he was alive. He glances down at you, sleeping in his arms

Sometimes, if he looks at you even now, he can recall the day the two of you met.

It was so cold and the rain didn’t make anything better. He trembles in his too-big shirt and pants which are rolled up to stop him from tripping again. He sniffles and wipes at his face, if he wipes away tears or the rain he doesn’t know. Other kids pass by him quickly with their umbrellas, rain coats and boots, protected by the things their mum’s and dad’s buy for them. His dad had sold his and Tommy’s umbrella’s and coats to afford more alcohol and drugs. Being the good big brother that Simon told himself he was, he let Tommy take their mum’s coat instead of him. He didn’t regret that, he could never regret making Tommy’s life a little better.

He isn’t expecting you to walk up to him with an umbrella with yellow ducks on it. He recognizes you almost instantly, you go to his class. You ask him, “What are you doing without an umbrella?” with your head tilted to the side like a confused puppy.

He mumbled out, eyes averted to the ground and soggy strawberry hair sticking to his forehead, “I don’t have one.” You asked if his mum didn’t buy him one. She did, she always did her best to provide for him and Tommy but his dad always ruined it. You don’t wait for him to respond, you don’t push for further answers or make fun of him for not having an umbrella or raincoat.

Instead, you smile at him and hold the umbrella with yellow ducks on it over his head after pulling the hood of your coat over your head. “Well it doesn’t matter now, I’m here and we can share.” You give him your name and he gives you his with the tiniest smile on his face. You held the umbrella over his head the entire way there then you walked him home because it was still raining. You called him a friend.

When you wake up, he lets you sit in silence. The blizzard had mostly passed through during the night, the worst of it was over but the safe house outside of the blankets was freezing cold. Simon knew he wasn’t exactly in a rush to leave the warmth and comfort of this moment. The silence hangs between the two of you and at some point, you begin to play with fingers in the way you used to when growing up. It takes a better part of an hour for him to work up the courage and it really feels like he is going to throw up when he whispers, “Do you still love me?” It’s quiet that if you didn’t know his voice that you’d think it was the wind still blowing.

He swallows hard and squeezes his eyes shut as he waits for the killing blow. For you tell him that you don’t love him anymore, especially after these five years and the shit he pulled. But it doesn’t come, instead he hears your shuffling and feels your slightly cold hands cup his stubble covered cheeks. He peaks his eyes open and nearly melts at the sight before him. You, nearly in tears as you look at him so fondly like you did that October day. “Of course I still love you Simon Riley.” He can’t stop himself from closing the gap between the two of you as tears spill from both of your eyes and kiss you.

”I love you Simon Riley.” You kiss his cheeks, “I love you.” You kiss his forehead, “And I’ll keep loving you for eternity.” Simon melts with each kiss you give him and sighs when you kiss his lips again. His large hands find your waist and tug you closer, his thick thigh parting yours as his tongue swipes at your bottom lip. You happily part your lips for him, your hands gripping his shoulders as his tongue explores your mouth and a needy moan leaves you. Your heart aches still and tears keep slipping down your face because he’s here. Simon Riley is alive and has been for years. The relief is almost enough to make you forgive him on the spot.

You’re taken by surprise when he kisses you, it's gentle and some tears slip between your connected lips. You don’t even realize that either you or him has started to cry but you return his kiss, trying to keep him this close for as long as you can without breathing. His hands tug you closer, if he could tear open his ribs and stuff you in there instead of his heart and lungs, he would. When you finally pull away, tears still running down your cheeks, you look at him. Tears run down his cheeks too and wet the fabric of his shirt now that they’re not being caught between your lips and spread between your cheeks and his. “Say it again.” He croaks and you repeat it.

Maybe you are forgiving him in a way, not fully. God knows that it will take a lot more than just this to make you forgive him but it's a start. And it’s a start you desperately need, your fingers dig into him further which pulls a groan from him. Immediately you loosen your grip on him, fearing that you’ve hurt him until he pulls away completely breathless and with pupils so wide there’s hardly any brown left, “Don’t stop doing that.” He leans in and whispers against the shell of your ear. It sends goosebumps rising up on your skin as you dig your fingers back into him right as his mouth connects with yours again.

He rests a hand on the back of your neck to keep you close and connected to him. You feel like a teenager again when he slips one of his thick thighs between your own and you grind down on it nearly out of pure instinct. The pressure of your pants seam pressing against your clit makes your legs weak and a liquid warmth to pool. You do it again and you moan into the kiss, his other hand which he had used to cup your cheek immediately went to your hip and grabbed it. He doesn’t try to stop you, instead he encourages you to grind against his thigh. He mutters something against your lips and it comes out muffled but it sounds like, “Take what you need love.” And you’re not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

You grind against him, a little harder this time which causes your entire body to jolt as the electric pleasure shoots up your spine. His hand on the back of your neck tangles itself into your hair and he pulls away only barely so he can catch his breath. You’re left breathless and panting as you grind against his thigh, he rests his forehead against yours and his eyes focus on you using his thigh. “Fuck.” He mutters as his hand on your hip moves up and cups your chest. “I’m sorry.” He whispers and you furrow your brows, your pace faltering at his words.

”Did I do something wrong?”

“No! No, I’m sorry fo’ bein’ such a twat.” He says and pushes his thigh back against you. Your head tips back as a moan leaves your throat and you resume your previous pace. He gropes and paws at your chest, trying to pinch and twist at your hardened nipples from over the fabric of your shirts. “Love, please let me- let me push your shirt up.” He begs and you immediately give your consent. He doesn’t waste another second and pushes your shirt up as far as it would go then he grumbles something to himself before he pulls it over your head and discards it nearby.

He dips his head down and immediately takes a nipple into his mouth while his hand squeezes the other breast. He sucks on it, laving his tongue over it like a dog and letting his teeth graze it slightly when he figures out it makes your hips jolt. You tighten your grip on his shoulders as your thighs tense up and you desperately keep rocking your hips against his thigh. “Si-Simon I’m cl-“ You’re cut off by your own moan when he switches nipples and when he looks up at you between blonde lashes your orgasm washes over you. Your hips stutter and your entire body jolts once or twice as you soak your underwear. Simon swears at the sight of your mouth falling open and your head tipping back to expose your entire neck.

His fingers are nimble as he unbuttons your pants, he hooks his thumbs under the waistband of both the pants and your underwear then yanks them down. “Let me? Please let me make you feel good.” He begs and you nod, mind still trying to piece itself back together after the first orgasm. He shuffles under the covers and it’s kind of funny to see the bottom half of his body sticking out but the sight of it is pulled away from you as he yanks you further down the mattress.

”Simon-“ You yelp before it’s cut away into a moan. There’s no preamble or teasing, likely because he feels like he’s going to die if he doesn’t have his mouth on your cunt now, before he buries his face in it. You grab at the blankets, your mouth falling open as you moan when his tongue flicks your engorged clit. He can’t seem to decide if he wants to focus on your clit or your pulsing hole, dipping his tongue down to slurp up your juices before returning to your clit. He’s desperate, his hands are gripping your thighs like you might try and pull away despite your moans and pleads for more filling the safe house.

He eases one thick finger into you as he sucks on your clit and you see stars in your vision. “Like that- oh my god- like that please don’t stop.” You whimper as your fingers card through his hair. You moan and start to squirm a little as he begins to pump his thick digit in and out of you. He seems to be searching for something, trying different things and sticking to the one that makes you keen the loudest. He crooks his finger just right and your thighs tense up around his head as a moan tears through your throat.

Like the sniper that he is, he focuses on that spot within your increasingly soaked cunt as he tortures your clit with his mouth. The slurping sounds have your cheeks heating up and you squirm as he pushes a second finger into you with no resistance. He rubs against that soft spot inside you that causes your body to relax further and pins down your hips when you try to squirm away from his tongue.

“Simon- nngh- that feels so-“ You can barely string together a sentence as he seems intent on rendering you boneless and incapable of speech as he abuses your g-spot. You feel a tightness growing within your abdomen, like something is winding up before it lets go. It barely registers in your brain that you’re on the verge of cumming. Simon must feel it too, with the way your pussy clamps down around his fingers, because he redoubles his efforts. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as your pussy pulses without a rhythm and you’re thrown over the edge. The muscles in your thighs clench involuntarily as the pleasure runs through you. He keeps rubbing at that spot through your orgasm, his fingers soaked in your slick as you twitch a little from the aftershocks.

You try to move upwards when he eases a third finger into you but he holds you down. “It’s too much.” You choke out as he crawls up your body, leaving a trail of sticky wet kisses. “Si please.” You hiccup as he begins to work you open with those three fingers.

”Got to work you open love.” He mutters reassuringly before capturing your lips in a kiss. He swallows down your moans like the greedy man he is, keeping all of these sounds for himself. He doesn’t care if the two of you are the only people around for miles upon miles, he doesn’t even want the walls to know your sounds in case they ever learn to talk. You whine at his words and a hand grabs his bicep as he fucks his fingers in and out of you. The stretch of three of his fingers is delicious, just that slight sting that ebbs away the more he finger fucks you.

It feels like he rips the next orgasm out of you, your entire body tenses as it slams into you. You feel yourself gush on his thick fingers and he keeps going, keeps fucking you through it until your pushing at his arm and pleading for a moment of reprieve. It’s only until tears gather in your eyes that he finally stops. Simon peppers your face in kisses while he whispers that he’s sorry. He promises that he’ll do right by you this time, no more running away or disappearing. He swears it as you unbuckle his pants and pulls them down. There’s a noticeable wet patch on his boxers but you don’t comment on it, just pull those down as well. Your mouth waters and your eyes widen when you see his cock.

It's thick, uncut and long. The tip is red from neglect and drips pre-cum like a leaky faucet. His cock is heavy that it hangs low and his brown eyes are filled with lust as he watches you reach down and wrap your hand around his length. “That’s not going to fit.” You finally whisper out, meeting his eyes which crinkle from the cocky smile on his face.

He leans down, body draping over yours. You can feel his body heat rolling off him in waves as he takes his cock from your hands and lines up the bulbous tip with your cunt. He strokes it a few times with his slick coated fingers as he looks you in the eyes before whispering, “I’ll make it fit.” When he pushes it, he does it slowly. You can feel every ridge, every pulsing vein of his cock against your walls. Despite having stretched you with three of his fingers before hand and making you cum twice the sting remains. It’s a sweet burn, a delicious heat that licks from your hips up to the back of your skull. It grounds you to the moment as his fingers dig into you as his hips meet yours, bottoming out in you he lets out a low moan. His eyes flicker down to where the two of you meet and he licks his lips at the sight.

He pulls back just a little and the squelch that comes from your cunt when he pushes back in makes your face hot. He leans down and grabs your uninjured thigh. He hooks his arm around it and forces it up as he cages your body between his arms. You grab onto his shoulder and bicep, your eyes can’t seem to leave his as he thrusts in and out of you. The pace isn’t fast but his hips snap against yours, the sound of skin on skin fills the room and mixes with each noise pulled from you. Simon swallows the lump in his throat as he supports himself on one arm and cups your cheek, his thumb swiping something away. You sniffle and reach your hands up to his face, you try to drink his face. The same face you thought you would never see as tears roll down your cheeks and his cock fills you past the point of full.

“I love you.” You say between hiccups and moans. You watch as his eyes water and he buries his face within the crook of your neck. He mouths at the sweaty skin there and whispers that he loves you back. That he loves you so much it hurts and that he’s sorry. He repeats it over and over again with each roll of his hips and that feeling within your stomach grows again quickly. With each snap of his hips you feel yourself getting closer and more tears leak from your eyes. You cum again with his name on your lips and feel his hips stutter and loose pace. He grinds up against you, nudging your cervix in a way that causes a slight pinch within your lower abdomen that makes you clench down harder on him.

You feel him cum, you hear his groan right next to your ear as his hips come to a complete stop and pressed against the meat of your thighs. His sticky warm cum fills you, the feeling is odd. Foreign but not entirely unwelcome as he stays in that position after letting your thigh rest back down onto the mattress. You twist your head to the side and give him a quick kiss, “Say it again?” He whispers.

”I love you.”

Simon lets out a shaky sigh, the relief he feels is palpable, “I love you too.”

It’s not all that surprising that he can’t keep his hands off you and you’re not innocent either. After seemingly fucking all of your anger towards him out, the two of you cling to each other. He rocks his hips into your again, every movement lighting up your nerves in a way that seems never ending. Like this pleasure will swallow you whole but you don’t mind, it hides the twinges of pain from your thigh from being pressed so close to your chest. You kiss all of his face, soft moans from both of you mixing together into a melody.

”How long until someone is able to get us?” You ask later while you lay on his chest and trail your fingers up and down his abdomen. You’re exhausted, barely able to keep your eyes open and the heat between the two of you is slowly lulling you further into sleep.

”The radio said they’ll be here tomorrow.” Simon replies and you mindlessly hum.

”What will happen when we leave?” You ask, “When all of this is over.”

”We’ll figure it out.” he murmurs and kisses you. “Rest up love.” You’re not surprised, actually delighted, when he wakes you up with kisses on your neck. He trails down from your jaw, nipping occasionally at the soft flesh which earns a wanton moan from you.

”Happened to resting?” You tease and he chuckles against you.

”Oops.” He says and it would be convincing if you couldn’t feel his smile. Simon’s hands trail down your naked body and he pushes two fingers back into your sopping wet cunt. You gasp and arch your back, eyes fluttering closed as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. “You’re so wet.” He groans, like he still can’t believe that you still want him. “Never going to let you go again.” He promises as he begins to abuse that soft part inside you.

Simon kisses your nose and you chuckle. “Excited?” You ask and he nods. It’s been two years since that mission when everything changed again. Two years since you found out Simon Riley never died, that he had refused to die once again. It had taken a little while to figure out what the both of you wanted, therapy helped a lot. It helped you realize that the military lifestyle, despite it being the thing you had only known for the past five years, wasn’t truly for you. Of course you had known that you had only joined in Simon’s memory but therapy helped you let go of it.

God bless John Price, bless him for being utterly professional despite two of his soldiers fucking which has to be the most unprofessional thing to do in the military. He looked at you with that smile that made his eyes crinkle when you placed the discharge paperwork on his desk that day 8 months ago. “Finally figured out what you want then?” He asked as he immediately signed off on it, not even bothering to read through it.

”Yeah, I have, Captain.” You said with a fond smile, you’d miss this. You’d miss him, Gaz and Soap but it wasn’t like they couldn’t come and see you when on leave. You’d only be an hour away in a nearby city anyways. You glance at the two keys in your hand, one for you and one for Simon. You place the second one into his palm. “Let’s go see our home then.” You pick up the cat carrier and Mittens meows in protest. You coo your reassurances to her, promising that it’s almost over. The three of you climb the steps up the porch of the townhouse you now own and Simon unlocks the door.

You glance around the currently empty space then glance behind you to the moving truck parked out on the side of the street. “I think it might take us a day to get everything in here.” You say when you turn to look at Simon

”I’d say two.” Simon says as he takes the cat carrier from your hands and sets it down next to the stairs. You quirk an eyebrow up and part your lips in an ‘o’ shape when you realize what’s on his mind.

”Really Riley?” You ask as you loop your arms around his neck and he chuckles as your expression.

”I’ve always wanted to bend you over a countertop.” He purrs as he tugs his mask down and plants a kiss on your neck which sends shivers down your spine.

”Is that so?” You ask as he backs you up against it after closing the front door. He hoists you up on top of it with a ‘mhm’ before he captures your lips in a kiss and his hands settle on your hips.

You grasp at the edge of the counter, moans being punched out of you with each thrust of his hips. The sound of skin on skin echoes in the house and mixes with his groans. Simon’s fingers dig a little harder into your hips, enjoying the sight of how your fat squishes up between his fingers. “You’re so fuckin’ stunning.” And all you can respond with is a moan as his fat cock abuses the tip of your cervix. “I’m gonna retire.” He babbles and his words hardly register in your mind as you begin to clench down on him as a sign you’re on the precipice of an orgasm. He loops a hand around and rubs mean circles around your clit which sends you falling off the edge.

He swears as your cunt clenches down on him like a vice and he spills himself in you all while he keeps rubbing at your clit. You lay there panting, trying to gather your senses as you blink away the tears of overstimulation once his hand falls away. You gasp and gulp down the air, “Simon?”

”Fuck I said that out loud didn’t I?”

You can’t help but giggle and shake your head. “You mean it?”

”Yeah, I mean it. I’m gonna look into retiring, I can’t be a soldier forever.” He rests his sweaty forehead against your back as he speaks.

”I love you so much Simon Riley.”

His hand reaches out and loops through yours, the matching rings on your fingers glinting in the light. “I love you too.”

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x you #simon riley x reader #mw2 smut #ghost smut #ghost cod #ghost x reader smut #simon x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley call of duty #simon riley smut #simon riley x you #simon riley x y/n #simon riley cod

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bahablastplz · 2 days

Text

Cosmic Love: Chan x Reader x Felix

A night at the club turns into a lot more than you anticipated, all thanks to a stupid text that you don't even remember sending. The next day, Chan and Felix invite you over for dinner. That's all it is, right? Content: Smut, minor angst, fluff Warnings: Use of petnames 'love,' and 'babygirl,' threesome, fingering, oral (f! and m! receiving), p in v sex, lots of praise, spanking (barely), humiliation/second hand embarrassment WC: 4700

It starts like this:

Chan texts you the morning after you go to the club. Of course, you’re hungover out of your mind, but that’s to be expected. On Saturday morning, or afternoon you suppose, you roll out of bed with a loud groan, a pulsing headache making its way behind your eyes.

You notice that your makeup has been removed and you’re now sporting clothes much comfier than your dress and heels that were suffocating you last night at the club. Your phone is also plugged in, and you have been notorious for waking up with a dead phone the morning after waking up from a night out.

You have half the mind to wonder, how the hell were you cognizant enough last night to do all of this? You certainly don’t remember it. It all makes sense when you check your notifications, screen a little too bright for your liking, and see that Chan had texted you an hour ago.

Channie: Hey babygirl I don’t know if you remember, but Felix and I brought you home last night~ You were pretty fucked up haha If you’re feeling up to it, you want to join us for dinner tonight at my place? Me you and Lix Hope you’re feeling okay this morning. Let us know if you need anything, yeah?

You groan. Of course Chan and Felix brought you home last night, that makes so much more sense. Chan has always been a natural caretaker, and if he was at the club last night and you tried to go home with some random guy or even take an Uber, he surely would have become overprotective and offered to take you home himself.

Your heart pangs when you read the text again. Babygirl. The pet name makes it easy to remember the major crush you’ve been harboring for him for forever. Him and Felix both, honestly. You really really hope you didn’t say anything embarrassing last night that you can’t remember. That would be just your luck, honestly. Taking a deep breath, you make a note to take some Advil as you text him back.

Y/N: Thanks so much I’ll be there! Can’t wait

He texts you back almost instantly:

Channie: Sick We’re super excited

A red flag should have raised over the fact that, though him and Felix were your closest friends, they almost never invited you over to their place. They almost always come over to yours when you hang out, and hangouts usually happen more organically. You brush the thought aside, chalking it up to Chan’s protective nature and need to make sure you’re okay after what was likely a rough night out.

That’s all it is, right?

You’re only giddy because of this stupid crush on your friends you can’t quite push away. There’s not anything more going on and there’s no lines to read between. You repeat this like a mantra as you get ready tonight, putting on just a little bit of makeup (for no reason in particular!!!), and repeat it once more as you knock on Chan’s door, bottle of wine in hand.

He opens the door with a large smile, all teeth, that makes your heart beat a little faster. When you hand him the bottle of wine you’re met with a hearty laugh. “You sure you didn’t have enough of this last night?” he teases. You shove his chest lightly, giving him a devilish grin.

“What if I brought it for you?” You quip back.

“I think we were imagining a type of fun that didn’t involve alcohol.” You give him a smile at his words, brows furrowing for a second before brushing off his words. He probably just means they intend to stay sober tonight. You’ve had plenty of nights that were fun that didn’t involve alcohol, so that’s all he meant by his words! Shrugging, you put the wine in the fridge instead of cracking it open, taking his advice to save the drink for another day.

Dinner is amazing. Chan made it with Felix’s observation, as according to Chan the other shouldn’t be allowed in the kitchen ever again. You laugh as he dives into several stories of baking incidents gone wrong, including a time that Felix and Seungmin ended up burning everything they made. You defend your friend, telling Chan that Felix ‘does make killer brownies,’ which the other can’t argue with. It’s decided that Felix should do most of his cooking alone, as anytime he cooks with anybody else it ends up in a minor disaster. Felix looks thoroughly flushed and embarrassed by the end of your conversation so the two of you relent on your teasing.

You decide on a movie. It’s not even really that entertaining and you’re barely paying attention if you’re being honest. It’s some movie you’d seen a hundred times before. You find your place between Chan and Felix, your body squished between your two friends. You nuzzle your head into Chan’s shoulder and prop your legs up onto Felix. You’re comfortable, very much so, though you tense for a second when you feel Felix’s hand rest on your thigh. You can also feel Chan’s breath on your neck, and you suddenly feel hot. Very hot.

You hope they can’t feel how warm to the touch you’ve become, and at such a simple action at that. Are you really that pathetic? God, your crush on them has gotten out of hand, you think, but when Felix’s hand raises further up your thigh and starts rubbing teasing circles you’re not so sure this is all in your head anymore. Chan has always been touchy with you and Felix moreso, but this is just a little bit out of character for them. You’re worried to speak up for a second, scared that your words would make Felix retract his hand. When he looks up at you with an inquisitorial gaze, however, you can’t help the words that spill from your mouth. “Lix–”

You’re not prepared for the words that come from the man behind you.

“Tell me, Y/N,” Chan says lowly. “Do you want me to fuck you nice and hard?” He punctuates his words and your body physically tenses. Your world has come to a full stop.

“What?”

“Do you want me to–”

“I… I heard you,” you interrupt. “I’m just… I’m not quite sure what you mean.” You feel afraid to look up at Chan from behind you, and you certainly don’t look at Felix; though his hand has stilled, it still rests firmly on your thigh.

“I don’t know if you remember this,” Chan says. His demeanor has changed, and you’re met with a chuckle and a deep breath. He seems very shy compared to the man just seconds ago speaking into your ear. “Last night when you were at the club, you texted me and Lix in a group chat.”

Fuck.

That makes so much more sense, you think. No way would you have gotten that fucked up without doing something you would regret. You reach for your phone but a hand rests on top of yours, stilling your movement.

“No, it’s okay,” he says in response to your panic. “I already have it pulled up. I was thinking I could read it to you.”

“Chan, I’m sorry, I’m sure I didn’t–”

He shushes you. For some reason sparks shoot up your spine at the action. You purse your lips shut, an action that implies your silence and you wait for him to continue.

“Last night you were dancing with us,” he starts. “You were drunk out of your mind. I think you knew that already. But you texted Lix and I, and we could just tell you had enough to drink so we offered to take you home. But while we were in the car,” he laughs lightly. You don’t feel like laughing back, “While we were in the car, you texted us. It wasn’t meant for us, but you told us some things that you wanted us to, um, do to you.”

“That’s not the worst part,” Felix provides unhelpfully. You glare at the man and he smiles sweetly. “Chris’ phone was connected to bluetooth and it read your texts out loud in the car.”

You groan. Thank God you were drunk enough last night to not remember that because you’re not sure you can even relive the memory. In fact, even now you wish for the world to split open and swallow you whole.

“Emmaaaaa,” Chan starts, reading your texts out loud in a voice that is obviously meant to resemble your own. You realize now that the text was meant for your best friend, the one that you use to hopelessly rant to about your strong unrequited crush for the two boys in question.

“God they’re so finee I want Channie and Lixie so bad fr I just want them to ruin me You know I’ve never been fucked right but I want Chan to just fuck me nice and hard ughhshh I know you’re so tired of hearing me talk about this But he’s so perfect I just know he could fuck me up sooo good And Felix? I just want him to whisper filthy things in my ears With his perfect voice He looks like such an angel I just want to see what he’s really like, if he’ll fuck me soft or nice and hard like Channie I need them both to ruin me!!!! You don’t understand If I don’t get someone’s cock in my mouth–”

“Oh my god that’s enough,” you interrupt. You’re not sure you can listen to another second of past-you embarrassing yourself, and you tell him as much when you shoot out of his grasp and turn around to look at him. He has a sly fucking grin on his mouth and you can’t help but feel like you’re the butt of a joke you didn’t ask to be a part of. “I… I can’t listen to you embarrass me anymore. I’m so sorry about what I said and I really didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Hell, you know I don’t even remember it, and I know that really doesn’t excuse it but I hope you know I never wanted to ruin our friendship. I know you guys don’t feel the same way so if you want, I can go and–”

Chan puts his hands around your shoulders, halting your movements when you try to stand.

“Woah woah woah, babygirl,” he says, trying to interrupt your sad attempt at salvaging your relationship. “It’s not what you think, actually. You could never ruin your friendship with us, okay?” You feel tears prick at your eyes, truly humiliated with how the night has progressed. Even now, Chan is here trying to be nice to you so you won’t feel bad about what happened which is somehow even more humiliating.

“Did you really mean what you said?” Felix says, finally.

“Can I even take it back now?” you say, laughing sardonically. “You know, drunk actions are sober thoughts, or whatever they say? I’m so sorry, again. Like I said, if you want me to leave I can.” Your eyes flit between Felix and Chan, gauging for a reaction, any sense that they may be uncomfortable with your actions. You’re surprised to find none.

“If you really meant it,” Chan says, inhaling through his teeth and clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth, “Then we kind of had a proposal for you.”

“What kind of proposal?” you ask suspiciously.

“The kind where maybe we have sex? All three of us,” he suggests.

What.

What?

“What!?” Your brain supplies the only word it can think of. This is a joke, right? Your feelings that have been unrequited for so long are being reciprocated this casually? You stare blankly at the two men who are waiting for some sort of response.

“I… I’m not sure if I can,” you answer finally. Though everything in your body is telling you yes yes yes, the arousal already pooling in between your legs, your brain finally seems to be the one in the forefront making the decisions. “I can’t do that, have ‘just sex’ with you. Either of you. And maybe I’m about to make a fool of myself even more tonight, but I have to admit that my feelings for you both run a lot deeper than just… sexual.” You let out a heavy sigh when you finally admit the truth. “I’m scared that I won’t be able to detach my emotions from it all, and I really don’t want to ruin what we have going on.”

You’re met with silence and you open your eyes but don’t look at either of them, instead opting to look at the floor. Did Chan get a new carpet? It looks really nice–

“I don’t think it would be ‘just sex,’ babygirl.” Chan and that goddamned pet name that makes your heart flutter. “We’ve, uh, both liked you for a very long time. And we want this to go further, if you’re interested of course.”

For the second time in one night, you feel as if the world has tilted on its axis. Maybe it has, because you feel a little bit dizzier now and your heart beats a little bit faster than it did just seconds ago.

“Are you sure?” you ask, worrying your lip between your teeth. Felix takes his thumb and pulls your lip out from between your teeth, his thumb lingering for a second before pushing into your mouth. Your eyes close and your tongue swirls around the appendage.

“Do you want this, love?” The deep timbre of his voice sends shivers down your spine and your eyes open, meeting his gaze. For a second, it feels as if nothing but you and Felix exist in this entire world, and you ponder his words for a second. If they really mean it and they have both liked you for a while now, you don’t have to worry about separating feelings from sex. You ponder what this means for your relationships going forward for a second but the pulsing need between your legs and the way your breath hitches when his thumb pushes further into your mouth tells you all you need to know. You want this. You nod your head and know it’s the right choice when you’re met with a reassuring smile.

“If you’re sure, then we’re sure,” Chan says from beside you. You feel his fingers on your leg, veiny hands rubbing small circles on the expanse of your thigh. When he grips the plush of your thigh hard you can’t help the gasp that comes from your mouth, and Felix’s thumb releases from your mouth, wet with your saliva. You feel his hand come to rest on your face as he caresses you softly, brushing a stray hair away from your face as he leans in to kiss you.

You breathe into the kiss but let him take the lead, soft and plush lips delicate against your own. When his tongue barely brushes your bottom lip you’re already opening your mouth for him eagerly, letting his tongue come into contact with yours. The kiss is passionate but almost too romantic for what you’re about to let him do to you. When you moan into the kiss he deepens it, hands pulling your face even closer to his own.

You note the movement on the couch next to you and Chan taps your shoulder. When you turn your head to look at him he’s crashing his lips into yours in a bruising kiss, messy and desperate and it catches you off guard but you return his advances eagerly, lips and tongue moving expertly against one anothers.

Felix’s hand comes and snakes around your waist, stopping your kiss just long enough to lift your shirt over your head. His warm breath hits your neck and it’s all you can focus on besides Chan’s wet tongue against yours, but then Felix’s fingers rub your nipples over the fabric of your bra and you’re keening backwards into his touch, running away while simultaneously trying to get more at the same time.

When Chan finally breaks the kiss it’s with a groan and a long string of saliva connects you, wet and dirty. He sits back and admires the work that Felix is doing, having you come completely undone for him with just his fingers against your still clothed breasts. It’s Chan that reaches and unclasps your bra, leaving you utterly exposed in front of the two men in front of you and he wastes no time before joining Felix in his ministrations.

The teasing becomes too much, tongue and teeth and pinching over your abused breasts, and at this point you’re not sure how much more squeezing of your thighs together you can do before it comes to much.

“Please,” you breathe, and you’re not even quite sure what you’re asking for.

“Please what, babygirl?” Chan coos at you, words laced with a teasing lilt. You reach forward and grab his hand and it’s like your breath stops when you place his hand right between your legs where you need him the most. “Want me to touch you?” He asks. His breathing is heavy and you admire his attempt at trying to keep his composure.

“Yes, please,” you nod, eyes never leaving his. Not even when his hand cups your clothed pussy and you buck up into him with a cry. Felix shifts from behind you and pulls your back into his chest as Chan reaches down to pull down your shorts with one swift motion.

You’re completely bare for them now, and you have little time to dwell on this fact before Felix grabs your legs and spreads them open, hooking them over his own. His hands rest on your thighs, holding you into place and giving Chan access to your sopping core.

“God, babygirl you’re soaked,” Chan notes, two fingers swiping in between your folds. You can hear it, the wetness pooled between your legs, but when he leans his face forward and meets his tongue with your clit you can’t help the surprise that creeps from your throat.

He’s relentless, his tongue flicking and circling your clit mercilessly. Your legs shake and try to close but are held open by Felix’s own.

You look up at the man behind you with teary eyes and open mouth, thinking about asking him to give you mercy but the expression on his face tells you all you need to know. He’s enjoying this just as much as Chan is.

“Does that feel good?” he asks into your ear.

“Yes, oh my god,” you tell him as his lips come down to meet yours in a short peck. They ultimately land on your neck, nipping at the junction between your neck and ear.

“Tell me how good,” he instructs. “Tell me how good he’s making you feel.”

“So good, Felix, oh,” you moan. Two of Chan’s fingers thrust into you, in motion with the way that his tongue abuses your clit and it’s already too much. “God, Felix, he’s making me feel so good. He’s… He’s eating me out so good, his tongue feels…oh my–” you know you’re babbling but you can’t help the moan that interrupts your words. Felix shushes you, and you think his hands are going to find place in your hair to soothe you but instead they make way to your breasts, still sensitive from just minutes prior.

His thumb and pointer finger pinch your nipples between his fingers, tugging and twisting them. Your back arches at his touch and your skin prickles at his low voice in your ear.

“You’re doing so, so good for us, love. Fuck, you’re being so good letting Channie eat your pussy like that,” he says. One hand comes to grab the flesh at your hip, kneading it as he continues to tease your pebbled nipple between his fingers. “Do you like being good for us?”

“Yes, fuck, fuck, I like being good for you,” you cry out. “Love it so much, oh my god–” and as Chan’s fingers curl up inside of you, you find your orgasm being ripped out of you with no warning. You’re cumming hard around his fingers, pulsing tightly as he lets you ride out your high on his face. Behind you Felix takes to setting a slow pace in rubbing his hands up and down your body, grounding you with his touch as he whispers praises in your ears.

When you finally open your eyes again, you truly feel like you have woken up in a different dimension.

“Holy fuck–” you rasp, noting when Felix wipes a tear from your eyes you hadn’t realized you had shed.

“Do you think you can take us, babygirl?” Chan asks as he pulls his fingers from your center. He reaches across your body to offer his soaking fingers to Felix, who eagerly takes them in his mouth for the chance to taste you. You don’t miss the way he moans around Chan’s fingers.

“Yes,” you say softly. “Want you both.”

Felix reaches down and kisses you, much more comfortable this time with the way that he allows himself to be rougher with you, pushing his tongue into your mouth with a boldness that was lacking earlier. When you pull apart you notice the large hands on your waist that aren’t his and you’re being flipped around by Chan before you can process it. Your ass is up in the air and you’re on all fours now, squeaking when Chan lands a quick hit to your ass and kneads the flesh.

When you tilt your head up to look at Felix you notice him pulling his pants and boxers down past his thighs, letting his cock spring free and resting at your face. He taps it against your cheek and he looks down at you, silently checking to make sure you’re okay. Looking up at him with bright wide eyes you blink, asking him for permission as you open your mouth wide for him.

He pushes in with a groan, letting his cock rest on your tongue for a second. You suckle on his tip and let your tongue swirl around his head, watching how reactive he is with amusement. Even though you haven’t fully started sucking him off yet he is breathy, eyes dark in the way he looks at you and strokes your hair.

He pushes his length further into your mouth and you groan, taking him fully. He sets the pace, slow and languid, pulling his cock fully out of your mouth before shoving it back in with expertise.

You barely register the hands behind you that grab your ass until you feel Chan’s tip prodding at your entrance, barely pushing inside you. You let out a shaky breath around Felix and Chan takes that as a sign to push into you fully.

The stretch is welcoming. Your jaw goes slack as you take a moment to process the protrusion, clenching tightly around him as he stills. Felix uses your mouth now, setting the rhythm for the man behind you as well. Relaxing, you let yourself be used by both of the men. You feel Chan’s thighs smack the back of yours, wet and messy and relentless. This causes you to jerk forward, pushing you back and forth onto Felix’s cock. Chan’s hands press into your hips, desperate and harsh and sure to leave bruises in its wake.

“God, love, your mouth,” Felix moans. His hand in your hair is soft in its caresses, contradictory from the way his hips snap into your face ruthlessly. “You’re doing so fucking good for us, baby. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? For Chan to fuck you nice and hard, yeah? For me to whisper filthy things in your ear?”

You do what you can to nod your head, though it’s pathetic with the way your mouth is full of him. You know you look utterly debauched, absolutely used from the two men you’ve found yourself in between. The mascara you applied before is running down your face along with tears of pleasure, and you find yourself continuously blinking them away to look up at Felix. Your hands find place on the bed beside you, fingers curling into the sheets. You’re close, incredibly so, and you know it’s not much longer until you come over the edge.

Felix lets out a low groan and you feel his cock twitch in your mouth. With a sharp grasp on your hair he spills into your mouth, right down your throat in hot spurts. You swallow around him thickly and he pulls out, wiping a bit of spit off of your mouth with his thumb.

You fall forward into Felix’s lap, arching your back in order to give Chan full access to your dripping hole. He takes full advantage of it, fucking into you with reckless abandon. Now that your mouth is free, you have full opportunity to speak–though, the only thing that comes out of your mouth now are loud moans and broken, choked sobs.

“Chan, fuck, oh my, I’m gonna cum, fuck I’m gonna come–” you babble.

“Sweet girl, is he fucking you stupid?” Felix asks, wrapping his arms around you and making you look into his eyes. When you meet his gaze you nod your head sporadically.

Chan grunts from behind you, his hips starting to stutter. “Fuck, Lix. I’m close,” he warns. “Touch her pretty clit for me, make her cum for us.” Felix does as instructed, snaking his hand down to where Chan pushes in and out between your bodies. “So good, love. Cum for us,” he says into your ear.

His fingers barely brush your clit when you’re cumming hard around Chan’s cock, squeezing around his length hard. He rocks his hips into yours, helping you ride out your release before he pulls out and cums all over your ass. You’re whining and clutching onto Felix, though you don’t realize it; his hand runs small circles onto your back. When he looks down at you it’s as if you hung the stars, gaze so full of adoration that your heart batters against your chest in response loud enough that he very well might hear it.

Somewhere behind you, Chan leaves and then returns with something to clean you up. You only know this when you feel the soft material on your back and you let out a grunt of appreciation. Chan sits next to you now, spooning you from the side where you lay across Felix’s body.

“Are you okay?” Chan speaks softly.

You scoff. “I just fucked the two people I’ve been in love with for years. You think I’m not okay?”

“Love. You love us?” Felix asks.

You laugh. You can’t help it, because how the fuck do you keep on embarrasing yourself like this? It’s as if they can read your mind, because before you can backtrack or word-vomit they’re already speaking.

“I don’t know if I made this clear,” Chan starts. “But my feelings for you, they’re strong. I love you too. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Same here, love. We’ve wanted this for forever. If you’ll let us have you, we want you to be ours.” He whispers a soft ‘I love you’ into your hair and you find yourself overcome with emotion.

The movie is still playing on the TV. It makes you laugh when you realize something.

“Did you both seriously invite me over for dinner just so you could seduce me?”

“Hey hey!” Chan laughs, tickling your side for a moment. “You’re the one that begged for us to ruin you, babygirl. Did you get what you wanted?”

“I don’t know,” you say, pretending to be in thought. “I’m not feeling super ruined at the moment.”

“That can be arranged.”

*** Last installment of the threesome series <3 Thank you everyone for reading. If you want to check out the other three chapters, you can find them in my masterlist.

Taglist: @lolareadsimagines @elizalabs3 @chvn-max

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