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bloody-peach · 13 days

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Snake Eyes (Helluva Boss: Striker x F!Reader smut fic)

(gif edit by me)

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Now Playing: E.V.O.L. by Marina and the Diamonds, FutureSex / LoveSounds by Justin Timberlake [headphones recommended]

Goodie Bag: flirting, rough sex, vaginal sex, anal sex, oral sex (m receiving), deepthroating, masturbation (f), cursing, dirty talk, striptease, vaginal fingering, creampie [let me know if I missed anything].

A/N: Who doesn't wanna fuck Striker? Like, come on. When he pinned Blitzø to the wall in his debut episode, I wanted to be in Blitzø's place so bad. So I decided to make a fic. It's pretty short, but it's still good, trust me. Also, im using the Norman Reedus voiced Striker for this even though this takes place after Season 2, because I prefer Norman's voice. Enjoy!!

Taglist: @omniuravity @pinkhimecat @moths-and-mantids @neonvehk @fatgumsurpremacy-remastered and all Striker simps!

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Your life wasn’t the best at the moment. Your bitter ex put a bounty on your head for no reason, and this forced you to be on the run. You were currently in the Wrath ring, trying to outrun this bounty hunter that’s been on your ass for a while. It wasn’t fair that he was riding on a horse, but you were able to keep a good distance from him. Unfortunately, you didn’t know that he had a lasso on him. You gagged when the lasso wrapped around your neck tight, pulling you back and knocking you onto your ass. You tried to pull the rope off of you, but it was on tight. During your struggle, he walked up to you, looking down with a smirk on his face. His tail flicked in a flourish, making the same sound as a rattlesnake’s tail. “Gotta admit, you can run pretty fast. But not fast enough.” a rough male voice said. “I haven’t lost a catch in my entire life, and I ain’t starting today.” He pulled the lasso up and got you on your knees. You had a good look at him and recognized him immediately. This was Striker, the ruthless bounty hunter who hunted down and almost killed Prince Stolas. You were aware of his track record of bounty hunting, and you knew you were just another paycheck. ‘Fuck, he’s hot,’ you thought to yourself.

He eyed you up and down and said, “Hey, you’re a cute one. Not a bad body on you, either. Maybe I’ll have some fun with ya before I turn ya in.” You weren’t sure how, but this man just flipped your switch and you decided to flirt with him. When he loosened the lasso so you could speak, you smirked and looked at him with flirtatious eyes, saying, “Oh? Have I caught the eye of the famous bounty hunter, Striker?” Striker’s eyes narrowed, momentarily taken aback by your smirk. His grin remained plastered on his face, however, as he leaned in further, his breath brushing your cheek. “Famous, eh?” He repeated, drawing out the word. “Maybe I am, maybe I ain’t,” he chuckled softly, running a hand through his snowy hair. “But there ain’t no doubt that I’m the best around these parts.” He paused, looking you up and down with a predatory gleam in his golden eyes. “And now that I got ya, well...you got a few options.”

“Option one, sweetheart,” He began, gesturing to the lasso around your neck. “We could keep things simple and quick. I turn you in, you’re executed, and I pocket that hefty bounty on your cute little head. Easy peasy lemon squeezy, right?” He winked, a mischievous smile tugging on his lips. “Or option two, we have ourselves a bit of fun, see how much you enjoy it..or how much I do. And then I decide whether you’re worth keeping around or not. Sound good?” You liked where this was going, so you smile and say, “Personally, I like option two better, wouldn’t you agree? Maybe if we hit it off, we can fake my death and split the bounty. I got quite a bounty on me, so if we split it, we’d be richer than even those Goetias.” Striker’s eyes widened as he smiled, clearly surprised at your words. “Ya reckon? Now there’s an idea,” he said, running a finger along your jawline. “Well, alright. Let’s give ol’ option two a go, see how it feels. But understand something, sweetheart, if I feel like you’re lyin’, tryin’ to trick me, I ain’t above changin’ my mind and sendin’ you straight to yer maker.” As he helped you stand up, Striker adjusted his hat and walked closer to you, looming over you. “Now, don’t think you can run off, darlin. That ain’t an option.” He smirked, his voice low and seductive. “I’m in control here, always. Otherwise, we ain’t got no game here.” You were getting turned on so much the more this went, so you smiled and said, “Well, that’s good, because it wouldn’t be any fun if I was the one in control.” A sinister grin spread across Striker’s face, his eyes flickering with excitement. “That’s more like it,” he growled, grabbing your arm and throwing you onto his horse. Once he got on, he made you wrap your arms around his waist, saying, “Hold on tight now.” With that, you two were off.

It was sunset when he stopped at a hotel and got you two a room. Once he brought you in the room, he pinned you to a wall and gazed down your body, lingering on your chest, before locking back on your eyes. “I bet you taste real sweet, don’t cha?” He murmured, his finger tracing a slow circle on your throat. “Between those legs of yours, you prolly taste like heaven.” He grabbed you and pulled you close to him, his body pressing against yours, the hard lines of muscle evident beneath his clothes. You blushed, but felt so turned on as you said, “Well..only one way to find out.” Striker grinned, his grip tightening on your waist as he pressed his groin against yours. “Oh, I’m gonna,” he growled, his hand sliding down your body and undoing your pants. “Real soon, darlin’. Real soon.” He leaned in, his mouth brushing against your ear as he whispered, “But first, I wanna watch you squirm, feel your body shake with pleasure before I taste every inch of ya.” He broke away, stepping back and fixing his coat. “Strip for me,” He said, his voice deep and commanding. “Slow and sexy, darlin’. Don’t forget, I’m in control here.” He lit a fresh cigar, puffing on it as he watched you undress, his eyes never leaving your body.

You nodded and you started to strip nice and slowly, giving him a bit of a show with a little strip tease. Striker’s eyes widened, his nostrils flaring as he took in the sight before him. Your slow, erotic dance had rendered him speechless, but not for long. He swallowed hard, his fingers drumming on his belt. Soon, you were completely nude, your arousal evident as he noticed your juices dripping down your thigh. “Damn, girl,” He muttered, his voice shaky. “Look at ya, drippin’ an’ ready for me.” He slowly approached, putting his cigar out and throwing it out as he reached for you. He wrapped an arm around you, his hand groping your ass as his other hand brushed against your wet flesh, a low chuckle escaping him. “So fuckin’ beautiful,” he praised, his hand running along the curve of your hips. You let out a series of moans as he started to rub your pussy, his fingers skillfully playing with your folds and clit. Striker couldn’t help but chuckle as he felt how wet and responsive your pussy was beneath his fingers. “Just wait til I’m inside of ya,” he breathed into your ear, his words coming out heavy. “Ain’t nothin’ like havin’ you clench around me, feeling every throb and twitch.” He slid one finger inside you, feeling your walls contract around him. “Fuck, you’re tight.” He pushed in another finger, his cock straining painfully within his pants. “I’m gon’ fuck you so hard, baby. Make you scream my name when I reach that sweet spot.” His hand started moving faster, thrusting in and out of you, rubbing your clit with his thumb. “Feel that, darlin’? Imagine it bein’ me -- my cock poundin’ into ya, fillin’ you up.” Just the thought of his cock stretching your pussy out made you even wetter and made you moan more as he continued fingering you. “Fuck, baby,” Striker swore, his arousal threatening to burst through his jeans. “You ain’t no liar, are ya?” He chuckled darkly. “Your pussy’s so damn greedy for me, already wanting more.” He took his fingers out, watching as they glistened with your essence. You watched as he licked his fingers clean, a sinister look in his eyes when he looked at you, saying, “I was right. Your pussy do taste like heaven.” He cupped your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Tell me, darlin’, do ya wanna feel me inside of you? Then get on your knees and beg for it.” He demanded, his voice thick with lust. “If I’m gonna take ya, you best beg for it properly.”

You nodded and got on your knees, looking up at him and putting on your best puppy-dog eyes as you said, “Please, Daddy..I want your hard cock..give it to me..I need it so badly..please fuck me...I’ll do anything you want..” Striker’s eyes darkened with hunger, his heart pounding in his chest. “That’s my girl,” he praised, reaching for his belt buckle. Unbuckling it, he let his jeans drop, revealing his thick erection standing tall and proud. He smirked, holding his cock and aiming it at your mouth. “Anything I want, huh?” He mused, running a hand through his hair. “Well, since ya asked so nicely, I’ll start easy. Take my cock in yer mouth and suck it like a good girl,” he commanded, his eyes never leaving your face. “Prove how much ya want it.”

You nodded and gently grabbed his cock, stroking it and licking up the shaft. You then kissed the tip of his cock and slid his cock into your mouth, sucking on it as you moaned. Striker hissed, his hand fisting in your hair as you took him into your mouth. “Goddamn, that’s good,” he groaned, his hips jerking involuntarily. “You got some skills with that tongue, that’s for sure.” He tugged your hair, guiding your movements. “Swallow me down, deep throat me,” he grunted, his pace picking up. “Make me feel that warm, wet throat around my dick.” His breathing grew ragged, his hips bucking hard. “Don’t stop, keep going. Show me how much ya need this cock.” You did as he said and took more of his cock in your mouth, feeling it go down your throat and slightly gagging until you were able to relax your throat, making things much easier. Soon, you were able to deepthroat him to the point of your lips touching his hilt. Striker’s eyes rolled back as he tilted his head back, his fingers digging into your scalp. “Fuck, yeah..” he moaned. “Take it all, darlin’, show me how much you love it.” His thrusts became more aggressive, his body trembling. “Keep goin’, make me lose myself in your mouth.” You sucked even more, making sure your tongue massaged his shaft. You reached towards your pussy and you started to touch yourself as you sucked him off, clearly turned on from the experience as your juices dripped onto the hardwood floor. Striker’s eyes narrowed, his breaths coming out harsh and uneven. “You’re gonna make me cum like this, aren’t ya?” He growled, his grip tightening on your hair. “I fucking love a woman who knows what she wants.” He pulled out, his cock glistening with saliva. “But I’m in control here, remember? So, enough of that,” He said hoarsely, grabbing your arm and throwing you onto the bed, soon pushing you down and hovering over you. “Time to get that pretty pussy stretched wide.”

He put his hands on your hips, his eyes locked on your dripping pussy. “Spread your legs wider for me, baby,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Cause I’mma ride ya so hard, mark my words..” You spread your legs wider, your pussy twitching with anticipation. Striker grinned, his eyes gleaming with danger. “Perfect,” he murmured, positioning himself between your legs. “Now, tell me if you want me to be gentle or rough.” He teased, his tip brushing against your entrance. “Your choice, darlin’.” His eyes bore into yours, waiting patiently for your decision. “Remember, you asked for this. Now choose wisely.” You smirked and wrapped your arms around his neck, saying, “That depends, sexy. How do you want it? You’re the one in charge here. I’m just here to take it like a good girl.” Striker’s grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Damn right you are, darlin’. I’m in control.” He growled, thrusting into you forcefully. “But don’t worry, I’ll give ya a taste of both.” He began with a steady rhythm, his hips grinding against yours. “Like that, huh?” He sighed, his voice tinted with satisfaction. “Worried you wouldn’t be able to handle me, but look at ya takin’ it like a champ.” As he pistoned in and out of you, his pace increased. You were tight, so fucking tight around him. You just lost it as his size stretched you out so good, moaning as he kept thrusting, “Ohhh fuck..yeah..!” Striker’s eyes heated up, his thrusting becoming even wilder. “You love it, eh?” He snarled, gripping your hips tightly. “Takes a real man to stretch ya out like this, don’t it?” He leaned down, whispering in your ear. “But I ain’t done with ya yet.” His grip tightened as he pulled out of you. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard now, got it?” Without waiting for an answer, he slammed into you again, his thrusts erratic and violent. “Like that? Wanna see how far you can take it?” He snarled, his pace unrelenting. “Show me how much you can take!”

Your pleasure had reached its peak, crying out in pure ecstasy, “Ahh..! Ohhh..S..Striker..! Yes..! Harder..! Deeper..!” Striker roared, his thrusts becoming even more savage. “Fuck yeah, that’s it,” he gritted out, his breathing labored. “Ya like that, huh?” He reached down, rubbing your clit roughly. “Don’t hold back, darlin’,” he ordered, his pace not slowing. “Let me hear you scream.” His cock slid in and out of you like lightning, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. “Goddamn, I’m gonna paint your walls with my cum,” he promised, his eyes blazing. “Can’t wait to hear ya scream my name.” “Y-Yes..! Please...fill me up...make me yours...ohh fuck..!” You moved your hips to match his thrusts, intensifying the pleasure for both of you. “Ohhh fuck, your cock feels so good, baby..!” Striker growled, feeling you meet his thrusts. “That’s it, darlin’,” he encouraged, his pace increasing. “Fuck, I ain’t gonna last much longer.” He grabbed the back of your head, pulling you into a passionate kiss. You kissed him back, moaning in his mouth as your tongues did an erotic dance. Striker broke the kiss and looked you in the eye. “Tell me what you want, Y/N,” he demanded, his voice raw with desire. “Do ya want me to fill ya up?” His thrusts became more desperate, his hips slamming into yours with all his might. “Tell me what you need, baby girl.” “I..I need you to fill me...fuck me in all of my holes...fill me up full of your cum until I can’t take any more..use me..break me..!” you cried out. Striker’s eyes flashed, his entire being focused on satisfying your request. “Goddamn, that’s what I’m talkin’ about!” he snarled, his thrusts becoming even more brutal. It’s not too long until he came deep inside you, filling your pussy up to the brim. “Gah, fuck..” he groaned. He quickly pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach, wiping his cockhead on your ass before aligning it with your back door. “Ready for another round, darlin’?” He asked, his voice thick with lust.

With a swift motion, he plunged into your ass, making you gasp. “I’mma fill every hole ya got,” he promised, his thrusts frantic. “Feel every inch of my cock inside ya.” His cock slid in and out of you, fucking you mercilessly. “How’s that, huh?” He panted, his grip tightening on your hips. “Need me to go faster, slower?” You gripped tightly on the bedsheet, your teeth gnashing down on the fabric as you lost your mind even further, moaning as he fucked your ass so good, “Ohh yeah...more..fuck me more...don’t stop..” Striker smiled cruelly, his thrusts becoming even harder. “Atta girl,” he praised. “I ain’t gonna stop until you drain every bit of cum from my cock.” He slapped your ass, hearing you whimper. “Scream for me, Y/N,” he commanded, leaning down to bite your neck. “Let everyone know who you belong to.” “S..Striker...ahh...Striker...I..I belong to you..!!” Striker smirked, biting down on your neck to make sure a mark would be left behind, a sign of ownership. “That’s my girl.” His thrusts grew frenzied, his cock stretching your ass to its limit. “So goddamn tight,” he snarled, his pace ruthless. “I’mma make sure you can’t walk tomorrow.” You soon could feel the knot in your belly starting to wind up and soon, you moan out, cumming hard. Finally, he came inside you again, his orgasm shaking his entire body. He kept thrusting into you, elongating both of your orgasms.

“There ya go, baby,” he chuckled, collapsing beside you. “I hope I filled you up good.” You crawled up to him and laid your head on his chest. “Oh, you did so much more than fill me up, baby...” you said, your voice slightly slurred. Striker chuckled, wrapping an arm around you. “Glad to be of service, sweetheart,” he said, his breath still slightly ragged. “Guess ya liked it rough, huh?” He put his hand on top of your head and nuzzled you, his heartbeat slowly returning to normal. “Don’t worry, darlin’,” he whispered, running a hand through your hair. “Next time, I’m gonna be gentler.” He watched you snuggle into him, making him smirk. “Unless you beg for more, of course,” he teased, his eyes twinkling. “But for now, let’s figure out how to pull the wool over that bastard’s eyes and how we’re gonna split that bounty.”

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#helluva boss #helluva boss striker #helluva boss fanfiction #striker x y/n #striker x reader #striker x you #helluva #helluva striker #helluva boss smut #helluva smut

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sunflowersandsapphires · 7 months

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Fall Drabbles, Day 7

prompt: flannel

pairing: Frank Castle x fem!reader

summary: Frank loves that you wear his clothes but would rather you stay warm when you're not feeling well.

warnings: swearing, brief non-graphic descriptions of illness, fluff

a/n: I keep warning for swearing but I don't even think these all have swearing lol. Anyways, another one in the Lumberjack!Frank AU!

w/c: <1k

Treading up the hill through the snow, Frank hefted the pile of freshly split logs to the top of the existing stack, except for the handful he carried under his arm and into the cabin. Kicking off his boots, he carefully placed two new logs into the dying fire, stirring the embers before replacing the screen as quietly as he could.

The house was dark, quiet—lacking the life that you usually brought to it. That was what he expected tonight, though. He'd been out later than usual, a cacophony of nightmares and intrusive thoughts plaguing his mind as he hacked into tree after tree. Combined with the fact that you were feeling under the weather, he was glad to come home to a silent house and a diminishing fire rather than an exhausted, yet awake, girlfriend.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he plopped down on the sofa, snatching his current read from the end table as he sat. As he made his way through a few chapters, the growing heat from the flames pushed the chill from his aging bones. Shifting onto his side, a soft padding caught his attention. You shuffled out from his bedroom, rubbing your eyes with a yawn.

“Hiya, sleepyhead.” Frank murmured, catching you as you collapsed into his lap. “How're ya feelin'?“

Giving a half-hearted shrug, you nestled in against him. ”Little better.“ Your poor voice was scratchy and quiet as a mouse. He was overcome with the urge to whisk you back into the bedroom and bundle you up tightly—especially when he registered that your outfit was only a flannel shirt.

”Hmm, ya don't sound too good. Ain't ya chilly, sweetheart?“ He wrapped his arms around you, rubbing one hand over your exposed thigh in an attempt to warm you up.

Nodding against his neck, you shuddered. Frowning, Frank pressed a kiss to your head. “Why don't we get ya somethin' better to wear? Ya look adorable in my shirt, doll, but it ain't the warmest choice.”

Making a mournful noise of protest, you wrapped the soft fabric tightly around yourself. “I like it. It's soft, like you.”

Frank chuckled at the unique description of himself, hand still stroking your bare leg. “A'right, let's get ya some pants, at least.”

Gently setting you on your feet, Frank's heart swelled with a protective affection when you shyly took his hand as he led you to the bedroom. You looked so small in his massive shirt, arms completely dwarfed by the plaid sleeves

Finding his softest pair of sweats, he held them up. “How 'bout these?”

At your sleepy yet affirmative nod, he gestured for you to sit before slipping the pants over your legs. Tying the string tightly to prevent the oversized fabric from falling down, Frank perched next to you, holding you upright as a coughing fit bent you at the waist.

“Christ, doll, you ok?” In lieu of a response, you sighed roughly and let him put an arm around your sagging shoulders. “Why don't I make ya somethin’ hot to drink before we both get some rest?”

“Yes please.” You whispered, hoarsely. Kissing your cheek tenderly, Frank stood up and made for the door—only to be pulled back by your weak grip.

“Can I come?” Your voice cracked around the request and he winced as his own throat ached in sympathy.

“If you want to, darlin’,” He nodded, grasping your waist to help you off the bed.

Once in the kitchen, Frank got to work. Grabbing a lemon, some honey, and a bottle of whiskey from the pantry, he pulled you flush against him as the water started to boil—tucking your unusually warm head under his chin and drawing circles over your back.

Grimacing at the shrill whistle from the teapot, you withdrew from his comforting embrace, giving an insincere smile when he showed you the silly mug he’d set aside.

Frank made quick work of the task at hand, whipping up the hot toddy with ease and passing it to you. “Careful, darlin’, it’s hot.”

Nodding blearily, you gratefully accepted the mug, pulling it to your flannel-covered chest with a small sigh of relief. “Thank you.” You murmured, blowing on the liquid before taking a few small sips. Humming appreciatively, you closed your eyes.

“Anytime, babydoll.”

#frank castle #the punisher #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle imagine #frank castle x female reader #the punisher x reader #the punisher imagine #punisher #nmcu #the punisher netflix #my writing #fc #fall prompts 2023

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inspiredrawaw · 4 months

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The Eclipse team!

Myrvin McGrove a star mage apprentice and next in line for fox protector of the local forest.

Jaxie Richard a knight in training who also works really hard to have a social life

Lemon “Lemy” Blixt a lemon orchard farmer who is very tired and is the life that gives you lemons

Charlotte Richard, a sneaky rogue of the land and also Jaxie’s sister!!! Family dinners are a bit tense

And now things I’ve changed for the design and whyyyyyy and how it fits in the storrryyyyyyyyyyyyy

First off! I had no desire to draw these characters for a while which told me that I needed to change some things to make them exciting to draw again.

Now originally this story was set in a modern world and the characters were placed into a fantasy world. I apparently don’t like modern settings for my stories so full on fantasy we go! I’m also a SUCKER for fantasy give me full control of the world to sandbox in

Because of this some designs were changed.

I changed Myrvins deer mask to fox because I feel like it’s a better insight into this guys character and there is a fox constellation! I also already have a deer character in my other story Opal Reapers and I didn’t want repeats

And due to my experiences with (hopefully temporary) vision loss I wanted to change a bit on how Myrvins vision loss worked. Such as having a short white ID cane that’s great to help with depth perception and having his mask cover 1 eye to make things easier for him. I did change his scar to be more star shape and his cape to look like that of a fox!

Now Jaxie, jaxie has been the one name from when these guys were septic ego OCs that kept the name so I also switched it and put an x in there. X marks the spot for Myrvins affection apparently and also probleeeemmmsss. He needs a break! 👏👏👏 went for more knight armor but kept some elements from his previous design such as ginger hair and his double lit candle tattoo. And the red hoodie that is his STAPLE

LEMY!!!!!! I love Lemy. So I never shared this character but they were suppose to be a guide for Myrvin in the original fantasy world. But now they don’t need that and I still wanted a reference to the original title dealing with orchard. But we already got our red character so yellow it was! Our sour lemon lantern orchard farmer. I designed her hat to look like a straw hat but still be part of her head design I am so happy with it. Also gives scarecrow vibes

AND CHARLOTTE!!!!!!!!! GOD SHES FINALLY BEEN GIVEN TRAITS DEAR STARS. So originally went from being Jaxies brother, to goth sister named Charlie, to now Charlotte problem was that I didn’t know what role she played in the story. She’s a lesbian mess with a knife I love her. She’s a rose both pretty and will slice ya. Big dramatic anime villain vibes for someone who is not a villain. Both Charlotte and Jaxie are trans because I think it’s funny to think that they were told to share as kids and shared everything including their gender and never asked for it back.

The story is still gonna revolve around the Solar and lunar Eclipses drama and poor communication skills and take up Myrvin and Jaxie as there champions as celestial entities DO. Which I shall design….. eventually

ANYWAY if you made it down here thanks for reading let me know what you think.

#please click on the image for high quality #I LOVE CHARACTER DESIGN #art #my art #artist on tumblr #character design #Starry Orchard #Myrvin #jaxie #Lemy #Charlotte #oc

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gaybananabread · 4 months

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Congrats on the milestone!! Definitely an exciting one. For the event could I request lemon, dragon fruit, banana with MHA lee Denki and either ler Bakugou or Kirishima (or both lol)?

Fruit(s): Lemons, Dragon Fruit, Bananas

Why choose? I love writing these two as a tag-team, and Kaminari is one of my favorite lees for MHA. Might as well end off the Fruit Shop on the fandom that got me into this whole community! Once again, thank everyone for requesting and participating in the event; I hope you Enjoy!

Lee: Denki

Lers: Bakugou, Kirishima

Summary: Denki swipes one of Kirishima’s favorite hoodies, which just so happens to be Bakugou’s best blanket. To “avenge” the red head and get the jacket back, Baku uses a special method of persuasion on the electric hero. Kiri decides to help, playing a good cop role.

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don’t like that, scroll away!!

Denki ran for his life, ducking over furniture and dancing around other students. He got a few shouts and petty insults, but none of them mattered. If he stopped for just a second, he’d be toast…

A few feet behind him, a certain fiery blonde surged forwards, letting off a few small explosions to hear Denki squeak. That dork was so dead when he caught up with him…

The crimson red hoodie was, in Denki’s opinion, the softest clothing article in the entire dorm complex. It was just heavy enough, and the plush lining on the inside was perfect for cuddles. Sure, it was Kirishima’s favorite piece of Crimson Riot merch he had, but the guy could share.

Sneaking out of the room, Denki hid the hoodie in a place only he would know. He’d return it…eventually.

Right as he relocked Kiri’s door, he backed into something firm and warm. If that wasn’t hint enough, a low, rumbly growl left the man’s mouth. Oh shit…

“You better have a damn good explanation for this, dunce face.” A small whimper escaped the electric blonde when Bakugo touched his shoulder. Without a word, he took off, running frantically to escape his peer. He couldn’t stay ahead forever, but he had to try.

Denki pushed past another student; one he was hoping he wouldn’t run into. Kirishima was about to ask what was wrong when he saw Bakugou on his friend’s tail. Much more surprising, the boy was doing it with something akin to a smile on his face. Whatever was going on, Denki deserved it.

Before he could slip away, Kiri grabbed his shoulder, spinning the other student around. Denki was sent reeling, falling right into the arms of a very strong, very mischievous-looking blonde. Shit.

“Uh…h-hey, Bakugou. Can I…can you let me go? Ehe…”

Bakugou just chuckled, grabbing the other blonde and tossing him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Denki kicked and squirmed, punching the taller teen’s shoulder. “Lemme go, you brute! I’m innocent!” A lie, but could you blame him for trying?

The explosion user barked out a rough laugh and continued to carry his classmate like a fussy child.. “Bull shit! No way you’re innocent after running like that. Now hold still, ya brat!”

Kirishima trailed behind the two, following them into his room. Baku slammed the other blonde down on Kiri’s camo sheets. Denki let out a small “oof” as he landed, trying to squirm away. In seconds, though, he was pinned, his arms gathered above his head and his thighs straddled by an almost forgotten redhead.

“Okay, give it up, dude. Where’s my hoodie?” Kiri cracked his knuckles, smirking down at the bratty student. Denki giggled, but didn’t say anything. His lips were metaphorically sealed. Emphasis on metaphorically. “W-whahat hoodie?”

Above him, Bakugou rolled his eyes. “Save it, dunce face. Tell us where the damn hoodie is. Now.” He gathered both of Denki’s hands in one of his, using the other to wiggle his fingers menacingly.

Even though he knew it was coming, the Pikachu-esque boy’s eyes went wide. He knew he was gonna get it, but the wiggling fingers made him more nervous than any spoken threat.

“I dohon’t know! A-ask Mina, shehe loves Crihimson Riot!” Denki honestly had no idea if that was true, but he had to try something. The looks he received, though, told him he had fucked up.

“Oh really? I thought you didn’t know what hoodie was taken, Kami. Care to explain now?” Still giggling, he shook his head, knowing what would happen next. Not wanting to disappoint, Kiri dug in, squeezing and poking his belly and sides.

He giggled like a child, the sound bubbly and bright. The boy tried to kick or twist away, but with Kiri on his thighs and Baku holding up his arms, he wasn’t going anywhere. “G-guhuhuys! Nohot thihihis!”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, though the red head chuckled. “This is only gonna get worse for ya, man. Might as well spill now while you can breathe.” Denki just shook his head, staying stubbornly persistent.

The other blonde grew impatient, deciding he’d waited long enough. “Little shit isn’t spilling if you baby him. Gotta be rough with his ass.” Using his free hand, Bakugou dug into one of Denki’s underarms, squeezing and drilling wildly.

“Grk- BAHAHAHA! BAHAKUGOHOHOU!” Denki arched his back at the intense sensation, his eyes squeezing shut. He had expected some tickling, but damn! Angry boy was getting mean with it.

Kirishima shook his head, looking like a frustrated mother. “Seriously, Bakubro? How’s he gonna talk if you’re torturing him?” Still, he didn’t back off, gently running his fingers up and down the length of his midsection.

“Q-QUIHIT FIHIHIGHTING! YOUHU SOHOHOUND LIHIKE MY GRAHANDPAHARENTS!” Both ticklers’ eyes darted down to him, one amused and one ready for murder. Deciding to be a minor devil’s advocate, Kiri teased his violent partner. “I mean, he’s not wrong, bro. You wanna bake some cookies after this?”

Bakugou growled, deciding to get him back for that one later. Right then, he had a different nuisance to destroy. “Just shut up and get his fuckin’ knees already. If he can yap, he can laugh harder.”

“WAHAHAIT! NOHO, PLEHEASE NOHOT THEHERE!” He kicked twice as hard, struggling to do anything besides laugh and beg. “Sorry, dude. You should’ve spilled.”

Without another warning, Kiri turned around, digging into the backs of Denki’s knees. The boy shrieked, tossing his head back and cackling at the torment of his worst spot. “NAHAHAHA! YOUHUHU- *snort* PLEHEHEASE!”

The other blonde chuckled evilly, running his short nails up and down Denki’s forearms, trailing a path from his elbow to his armpit over and over again. It was all the shorter boy could do not to lose his mind, snort after shriek after snort ripping from his throat.

Finally, after about two minutes of the intense tickling, Denki caved; he couldn’t take it anymore. “OHOHOKAHAHAY! IHI’LL SPIHIHIHIL! *snort* NAHAHAHO MOHOHORE!” Small tears of mirth gathered in the corners of his eyes, one sliding down the side of his face.

Kirishima immediately stopped, recognizing the desperation in his voice; he’d never hurt his friends intentionally. Baku scoffed, still not releasing Denki’s arms. “There ya go, fuckin’ brat. Now spill it.”

Giggling off some of the leftover sensations, he tried to recover. “Hohoholy shihit…thahat was- youhu guys are ahahawful!”

Bakugou squeezed his side, making the blonde shriek in surprise. “Ohokay, okay! Ihit’s in my cohomic cubby! Noho mohohore!”

While the aggressive boy would have been more than happy to continue, Kirishima put a hand on his. “That’s good, Bakubro. Let him breathe, I’m happy.” Rolling his eyes, Baku climbed off his sparky peer, sauntering off to who-knows-where. Kiri would talk with him later.

Kirishima looked back down at his giggly friend with a fond smile. He ruffled Denki’s hair, though it was already messy enough. He had one piece of advice that might save the guy from another total wrecking.

“Next time, Kami? Watch what’cha steal around Bakubro~”

#kasey's fruit shop #mha tickle #lee!denki #ler!bakugou #ler!kirishima #ticklish!denki #sfw tickling community #tickle fic #tickle #fruit shop event #my hero academia tickle #ticklish!kaminari #lee!kaminari #mha #mha denki #mha kaminari #mha bakugou #mha kirishima

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gadriezmannsgirl · 9 months

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hi i hope your doing amazing !!! could i request one with pedri were the reader has a stutter and he helps her go through a day we’re she can barley talk without stuttering? i have a stutter and it’s pretty hard sometimes and it would mean a lot if u could do it but if not that’s totally okay !! stay hydrated and healthy physically and mentally!!!<3

Hi dear! Hope everything's going well with you too, hope you like this, pls let me know✨

Stutter Problems -P.G8

Summary: When your stutter gets too much, your boyfriend is there for you.

You remember when you met Pedro and his brother when they came into your family's bakery, slowly they made themselves loyal customers and eventually you developed a friendship with both González brothers.

You couldn't believe it when the youngest of the two brothers asked you out in a date, you thought it was a friendly date but eventually got surprised when he confessed his liking towards you.

And it was shocking to you... He could have millions of girls, pretty girls; maybe prettier than what you could ever be, more confident, with money, with the greatest body ever and mostly girls who didn't have the same little problem as you did. Stutter.

But he didn't gave up, you liked him too and eventually you gave in into him pushing your fear aside.

In the first months of dating him you were expecting in any moment an outburst from him saying how he couldn't handle your stutter and leave you like you pasts boyfriends have done.

None of that happened, in fact, it was quite the opposite. He helped you with it.

It wasn't that bad, you could say 20 words and only stutter in 2 of them and mostly since you have been taking care of it since little with the help of your family and now your boyfriend and his family but when you got nervous, stressed out or angry, your stuttering intensified.

But today, wasn't at your side. Ever since you woke up and struggled with a little "Good morning" you knew today was going to be awful for you and your problem.

A lot of persons in your class made fun of you but you tried to ignore them, you were glad your three best friends mocked them too and went that ahead to judge their size and mock them for it as they grew embarrassed for it.

You had a presentation and almost made a fool of yourself, thank god, that class understood your problem and they had patience with you.

When you were walking at noon from the bakery to your home a woman asked you for a direction and when you stuttered five times in a row to give the name of the street she smiled at you and left you there with the words on your mouth.

On top of that, when you made it back home, you saw in your phone a professor decided to do a pop quiz and you lost fifteen minutes of it.

You were at the verge of tears when you heard the door being open and you heard your boyfriend's voice.

"Bonita, ya llegué" (I'm home)

"Li-li-li" You sighed "Living ro-room" You covered your face with your hands and soon felt a kiss being given to your temple and one of Pedro's hands on your shoulder rubbing lovingly

"Hola"

"Hola" You said back still covering your face.

You heard his breathing and then you felt his hands pulling yours from your face "What's up?"

"Stuttering is wha-wha-wha-what's up" You groaned at the end of your sentence throwing your head back

"Is today one of those days?" He asked carefully his thumb caressing the back of your hand softly

"I ju-just fe-feel like the wo-world's against me"

"If the world's against you then it's against me too" You smile softly

"Cheesy"

"How was class?"

"A-awful. I stuttered like I've ne-ne-never do-do-done it in my who-whole life"

"You feel stressed?"

"I just hate the-the fa-fact I have thi-this thin-thin- Fuck!" You groan once more letting this time a few tears go down your face, you pulled your hands out of Pedro's hold but he pushed yours down and cleaned your tears.

"Let's calm down, okay? How about I make you some tea? Your favorite, uh? Lemon with honey?" You nodded crying "We can cuddle after that and maybe order some chinese food... It's your favorite and I bet you haven't eaten anything"

"I brought some ca-ca-cachitos from the ba-bakery"

"Gracias bonita, we can also eat them later if you want" You nod "But how do some lumpias with sweet and sour sauce sound?"

"Go-good"

"We can watch some of Moana, I know you like to sing along to You're Welcome" You smile nodding

"It's a really go-good a-and catchy song"

"It is" Pedro smiled "Is this saved?" He pointed to the work on your laptop

"It's done actually" You smiled to yourself

You made the first sentence of the day without stuttering.

"Well, then I guess we can do this" He turned off your laptop and put it to charge "I'll be right back" He left towards the kitchen but you wanted to hold him, so after a few seconds he left, you stood up and went to him.

"¿Me extrañaste?" (missed me?) You hummed hugging yourself to his torso and burying your face into his chest

"Lo siento si estoy siendo muy necia" (Sorry if I'm being too clingy)

"Nunca lo eres, bonita" (You are never)

You waited a few more minutes in silence just enjoying his hold on you as he waited for the water to boil and texted in his phone.

"Hold me this?" He asked giving you his phone and grabbing your mug of tea

"Wha-what do you ne-need to-AH!" He picked you up making your legs go around his waist "¡PEDRO GONZÁLEZ!"

"That's me" He smirked when the doorbell rang, he set you on the couch and gave you the control "Set Moana up, I'll be right back"

"How much food did you asked for?" You asked watching him come back

"I asked three services of lumpia, two for you, one for me and some rice for us" He said shrugging his shoulders

"¡Amor!"

"Tú, tranquila. Let's relax" (You, calm) "Everything for mi niña bonita" You blushed as he got comfortable behind you so you could rest your back on his chest

"Anything I can do to pay for your calm services back?" He smiled

"Love me, take care of me and sing You're welcome at the top of your lungs"

"My stutter-" He cut you off

"We'll sing it and done! Your stuttering only makes me love you more"

°°° °°° °°° °°°

Taglist: @gaviypedrisbride @stuckinaf4nfiction @elijahslover @azzpenswrld @http-isabela

#M. is writing #pedro gonzález #pedri gonzález #pedri #pedri x reader #pedri gonzález x reader #pedri gonzalez fluff #pedri gonzalez imagine

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mayfieldss · 1 year

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Tired - Tangerine

Summary: Working jobs is hard, and sometimes you get a little tired, so much so that you fall asleep...on Tangerine's shoulder.

Warnings: language (of course) British slang, mentions of blood/violence.

You'd been fighting the urge to close your eyes for the past hour. Your body had been begging you for a rest from the constant rushing about and chasing of targets for the entirety of the day, but you hadn't let yourself give in. That was until you sat down, of course, this being your first mistake.

For now, you were in the clear, sat beside your best friend Tangerine, with his brother Lemon across from you. It was a funny situation, to say the least. The three of you were covered in sweat and splatters of blood that could have belonged to at least five different people, you included. You'd covered the stains on your clothing with the jackets you'd left in your seats, the three of you throwing them on despite the heat in the train car. It was risky closing your eyes for more than a blinks worth of time, and you had told yourself you wouldn't do it, but you'd hardly slept in days, and the gentle rock of the train you sat upon was more than relaxing.

You were comfortable and deprived of one of your favourite things; sleep. It was as if fate had brought you to this seat, warmth enveloping you and coaxing your eyes shut. You swore to yourself it would only be for a minute or two, nothing more nothing less. But, in your life, things had a habit of not going to plan

When Tangerine first felt the weight on his shoulder, he jumped in fright. He wasn't one to get startled easily, but the thump of your head coming to rest on him was sudden and more unexpected than he thought. He'd known you were tired, watching you yawn and lean against things for support throughout the day as you worked. He hadn't mentioned it or suggested the idea of sleep to you however, knowing that getting the job done was the only way it would be safe to rest. But now, with you leaning against him, deep in much needed slumber, Tangerine didn't care much for the danger. Quite frankly, if anyone dared to wake you now whilst you were so peaceful, Tangerine was sure he would put a bullet through their brain.

"Aww, you lot are cute, aren't ya?" Lemon snickers across from him, and if he wasn't at risk of waking you with the movement, Tangerine might have just slapped his brother right then and there.

"Shut your bloody gob" The death glare he sends his brother speaks a thousand threats, but Lemon doesn't seem to care, smirk growing ever wider.

"I know you're just melting inside over this."

Tangerine tries to ignore the fact that his brothers teasing holds truth. He does enjoy the feeling of you this close and so at ease with him. He just doesn't say it.

"Fuck off."

"You know," Lemon continues, "I'm sure they'll kiss ya if you ask nicely." He winks, as if the action will bring extra inspiration to his brother. It doesn't.

"You are being a right fucking twat at the minute, and if Y/N wasn't out to it, I would be beating ya clean off your seat."

Lemon laughs but says no more, though he does continue to smile. He knows how much Tangerine cares for you, even if he refuses to admit it himself.

You stir just slightly, shifting in your seat, and Tangerine freezes, all muscles tense as he tries not to wake you. He's holding his breath sitting so still as to keep you comfortable when you move again, placing your hand on his forearm in your sleep. For a moment Tangerine thinks you're awake, but even Lemon is frozen, dead quiet across from him, as if they were playing statues. You're still resting peacefully and Tangerine eyes your hand on his arm, assessing how he could move it. He decides though, that he doesn't want to. He quite likes the feel of you holding onto him, like a child to a toy. He feels needed, wanted most of all, just by one simple touch. Even so, he wouldn't dare say it out loud, that would end in nothing but endless teasing from his brother and distance from you.

"We should get going in a sec mate" Lemon is back to smiling when Tangerine looks up and he realises that he has been staring at your hand on his arm for a matter of minutes. He supposes that says all that it needs to. He hadn't had to confess to the feeling of enjoying your touch, because he had already given himself away.

"Give 'em a few more minutes."

Lemon raises a brow, glancing over the back of his seat. "We best get moving, now."

Tangerine knows his brother is right, it's far too dangerous to stay seated, but he had been comfortable for the first time in months for the few minutes he had you resting beside him.

"Okay," Tangerine in turn, looks over the back of his own seat before nodding, "Go to the last car, we'll be right there in a second."

Lemon stands slowly, pulling his jacket closer to his body before heading toward the back of the train, looking back once to nod at his brother, still beside you.

Once he's gone, Tangerine takes a breath and shakes you awake with a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"Bout' time we got moving darling." He watches you blink rapidly, trying to bring your eyes to proper focus, before you realise the reality of where you are.

"How long was I out?"

Tangerine smiles, "Few minutes at best." He's lying of course. It's been more like ten minutes, damn near fifteen, but he doesn't want to startle you. You notice then, your hand on his arm, and you lift it quickly away as if embarrassed.

"Sorry, I um—" You bring a hand to your cheek, the one that had been firmly pressed to his bicep only a minute before, and you put the pieces together. Tangerine can practically see the cogs turning in your mind. "I am so sorry."

Tangerine only shrugs, adjusting the collar of his shirt "You're lucky you're gorgeous, woulda killed Lemon had he done the same." He smiles at you, your mouth slightly agape as he speaks. "You needed the bloody rest, s ‘all good."

Standing, he allows himself a stretch before offering you a hand. "Right then, better get going." You stand, shaky on your feet, whether from sleep or the compliment Tangerine had sent your way, you don't know.

"Where's Lemon?" You're moving through the cars of the train, Tangerine in front of you, though you can't help but notice he hasn't let go of your hand.

"He went ahead, we're in a little bit of a rush."

"I slept longer than a few minutes, didn't I?" You're frowning and Tangerine turns his head just slightly so he can see you in peripheral as you walk.

"I told ya, it's all good. I might put professional pillow on my resume when we get back though."

"Look, I'm really sorry about that, I didn't think-" Tangerine stops you with a short laugh before you can get too far with apologies.

"Trust me darling, ya didn't bother me at all."

You make it to the final car just as the words leave his lips, Tangerine letting go of your hand as you slip inside. Lemon is waiting, arms folded across his chest in annoyance at just how long it took you two to make it.

"Clock's ticking you lot, get a bloody move on."

You do as you're told, partly because you're still so stunned by everything that just went down. It was nothing in comparison to the violent and bloody scenes you'd witnessed and taken part in over the years, but somehow the affection Tangerine had shown you shook you up more than most of those things.

Lemon slips past you in the small car, going to stand beside his brother. His brows are raised, question in his eyes. "You are so smitten for em aren't ya?" He wiggles his brows some more, whispering the words into his brother ear.

"You betta fucking watch it, before I slam ya head through the damned wall." Tangerine seems deadly serious, practically growling the words, but Lemon isn't intimidated in the slightest. He knows what a softie his brother can be, especially when it comes to you. It'll take years for him to get his brother to admit said fact aloud, and another few months before he can force Tangerine to confess said feelings to you. But for now, he settles for the fact his brothers’ heart is opening up piece by piece, and he's happy to watch the rest unfold.

AN: @hiya-its-amber I know I said I was going to sleep last night but bestie I lied, I stayed up till 3AM writing this.

GENERAL TAGLIST; @heliads @candywh0r3 @caplanreads

BULLET TRAIN TAGLIST;

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brotherblaze · 6 months

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JAILBAIT (redux) —simon 'ghost' riley

▹ simon 'ghost' riley/gn!reader

▹ part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

▹ synopsis: The patrons of the bar they frequent are usually familiar, but you're a new face. You step in, ask for Ghost and - there's something almost intimate between you, in the way you move around each other.

▹ cw: n/a

▹ wc: 3,8k

▹ note: This is an edited & polished version of what I wrote last year. Also on ao3

There's a bar at the edge of the town the base is situated by.

The faces in the bar are somewhat familiar; if not soldiers from the base that greet them with a nod every time they pass in the hallways, then just the same old faces day in and day out. There are a few locals, too, like the nice lady that runs a small pizza kiosk not far from the base — it offers a discount to the troops stationed in the area and their in-house ice cream is to die for. In the far corner of the room, a young woman who Soap recognizes — she’d asked for help moving her shitty ex-boyfriend’s things out of her house a few weeks back, and a handful of men had happily agreed.

They're regulars; their presence is predictable and familiar.

Yours isn't.

Soap catches sight of you just as you step inside and pause at the door, angling your small suitcase out of the way of the other patrons. He follows the direction of your gaze as it jumps from person to person. A group of college-aged women at the pool table are being entertained by a few men and their shoddy excuse for teaching pool. You’re about their age, if he makes an estimated guess. You look away and Soap does, too, at the middle-aged man sitting on one of the barstools, the bartender pouring from a bottle of amber liquid. Your gaze shifts again.

Ah, you’re looking for someone, Soap realizes. He extinguishes the idea of introducing himself with an offer to buy you a drink.

He sees you turn and approach the small group of young men closest to you, all sitting at the table next to Soap’s. You’re all sultry eyes and curled, glittering lips when you stop in front of them and you have their attention instantly.

“Do y’all know the one who religiously wears the black balaclava?”

A groupie? Soap thinks. Ghost with a groupie; now that’s an image.

There are a few nods from the group and your smile widens impossibly, eyes shining. (Soap finds himself calling you pretty in his head.) “Is he comin’ tonight?”

Groupie, Soap decides in his head.

One of the men, baby fat still clinging to his face, speaks up, “I can show you a much better time.” He winks, flashing what Soap thinks is supposed to be an attractive smile. It comes off looking more like a grimace. The man’s friends holler and whistle — one of them even pats him on the back.

A long moment passes where you simply stare at them, the smile slowly fading from your face. Finally, you settle on an expression like you’d bit into a lemon.

“I like my seats blond and shaven; rugburn’s a bitch.”

Soap nearly chokes on his own spit and he takes a swig of his beer to wash down the cough that wants to escape. He places his fist in front of his mouth and swallows a few times to not give himself away. He doesn’t need anyone thinking he spends his evenings spying on people at the bar because he has no life of his own.

When he looks back, the group of men are laughing at their friend’s expense, throwing barbed jabs at him and his pick-up skills. Soap rolls his eyes and begins to consider leaving when he spots new motion at the door. He raises his hand to wave Price and Ghost over and points you out at the bar when they’ve sat down.

You’ve found a free seat right at the bar counter, idly tapping your fingers against the smooth wooden countertop.

“Bonnie at the bar was asking for ya.”

Ghost’s eyes snap to the bar just as you turn around in the swiveling chair and your eyes meet and your grin grows wide. You pat the bar countertop and turn towards the bartender and hold up two fingers.

Ghost doesn’t even seem to take time to consider joining you, but stands immediately, doesn’t even grace Soap and Price with a bye, and strides up to where you’re sitting.

“Go get ‘em, Romeo,” Soap mutters under his breath.

Ghost stops next to you just as the bartender places two shot glasses on the counter and tips a bottle of clear liquid into them.

He leans against the bar, right next to you, so close your elbows might be brushing and you turn your head to greet him with a bright smile. You offer the empty barstool next to you and Ghost accepts. He settles into the creaky chair and you slide one glass over to him.

You're bold, Soap will give you that; he watches you place a hand on the Lieutenant's thigh, leaning in close to whisper something into his ear, glittering lips curled into a grin. When you draw back after a few moments, Ghost is looking at you intently, razor-sharp focus on you.

There are a few moments of silence and then Ghost’s shoulders sag, slight tremors rocking his frame and oh, Soap realizes, he’s laughing. It’s not a foreign sight, but it is rare. You’re grinning, as if you’re asking if whatever you said — a joke, probably — was any good. Ghost nods.

You down the shot in front of you all at once and lightning fast — like a snake unhinging its jaw to swallow prey whole. Then, you point to Ghost's glass, which he pushes towards you. It's gone as quickly as its companion. Ghost's hand strays to your face, to the corner of your mouth, thumb sliding along the width of your lower lip to bring the drop of vodka that escaped into your mouth. You place a kiss against the pad of his thumb.

Soap feels like he's looking at something intimate. He looks away.

Sometimes they bring girls to a motel for a good time, that's just how it is. It’s not the best kind of conduct but hey, everybody gets lonely.

And yet, annoyance seeps into his tone when he speaks. "People really dig the balaclava, huh?"

Price breathes a chuckle under his breath and mutters something about not wanting to know.

Soap nearly does a double take when he sees you slip into Ghost’s quarters in the morning. Which is uncanny, if not dangerous — they usually keep their hookups strictly off base. One, because their cots are possibly the biggest companion and/or sex deterrents, and two, because it’s prohibited.

He’s frozen in his steps for a moment, and then the door opens again and you emerge with a mug — Ghost’s mug — in one hand, a colorful lanyard around your neck. A black t-shirt hangs off your frame, too large to be your own, tucked into the waistband of your shorts. Small bruises litter your thighs.

Your eyes meet his and you smile and approach.

“Could you tell me where John Price is?”

Soap snaps to attention, pushes the obvious implications of your appearance to the back of his mind, and nods.

“I can take you to where he’s supposed to be,” he offers and you break out into a smile.

“Please. And thank you.”

He motions for you to follow and you fall into step with him, neither of you feeling particularly chatty. That’s fine; Soap doesn’t have to be in the know, but he supposes he’d thought he and Simon have made it to being friends. Then again, Ghost is a private person.

A few short minutes of walking at a reasonably slow pace, Soap points to the door of a room where Price should be meeting with someone in a few minutes. You thank him with a smile and Soap pulls the door open for good measure — if you are someone Ghost knows he should at least be nice.

You pause in the doorway, tired eyes raking over the room as you hold the mug to your lips. There’s a small crowd in the room, all standing, killing time by doing absolutely nothing, if you had to guess. All eyes are suddenly on you and your smile falls into a frown. The lights are too bright. Price isn’t here yet.

One of the rookies from yesterday, now with a clean-shaven face, whistles loudly to get your attention. He's wearing a toothy grin and makes a show out of rubbing his palm against his chin. "Saved you a seat right here. Should be fine,” his eyes flicker to Soap and his grin broadens, “y’know, barracks bunny and all."

More whistles, probably from the same group as last night. Someone howls a laugh like a hyena. Someone else leers at you and Soap minutely adjusts his stance to shield you with his body.

"No, I like my men lookin' tired, borderline deceased from not sleeping. Those dark circles really do it for me, y’know? Also,” you grimace and click your tongue, “better not tell the big guy about the barracks bunny thing.”

“Who’s a barracks bunny?”

The room falls silent all at once.

He's told you he's a different man on the field, you know this, but there's a strange chill sinking into your bones when you hear Simon's voice and the hair on the back of your neck rises on its ends. This is Ghost, no doubt about it, this is the thing he keeps out of your home, your life, your time spent with him. You don't turn to look at him, just step to the side to fully fall into Soap’s shadow and allow Ghost entrance into the room.

He stops and turns to look at you and you take a breath in, hold it for a few short moments, and release.

“Me, apparently. If a barracks bunny is the same thing as a volleyball bunny.”

“It is.” He jerks his head to the side. “Which one?”

You purse your lips and let your eyes slide from him, unfocusing. “They all look the same,” you admit. There’s a hot flush of shame when you look at him again because shit, you could’ve at least glanced at the nametag on the man’s chest. Your ears begin ringing and you feel compelled to look away from him again.

Soap speaks up, says something you can’t quite catch over the aggressive ringing in your ears, and Ghost turns away. His footsteps are heavy as he approaches the group huddled together, now falling apart at the seams as they inch away from each other. The one in the very back of the group gets left out in the open and Ghost stops in front of him, posture stiff, arms at his sides.

His voice is clear and sharp, and it cuts straight through the ringing in your ears, right into you, and bounces around in your brain like a pinball hitting the obstacles in the machine.

"Repeat yourself."

"Sir, I—"

"If you said it to Jailbait, you'll say it to my face."

The man stammers. He’s pressing his palms against his cargo pants, hands trembling. Maybe his whole body is, too. You drop your gaze into the mug of cocoa in your hand and deliberate whether you should finish it. It looks cold.

"Speak up, soldier!"

You almost jump at the volume of his voice, the tone has you on high alert, like prey in front of a predator, staring into the eyes of certain death. Your spine straightens; your throat feels tight. You think you see the man’s eyes shining with tears. There is movement behind you and a hand rests between your shoulder blades — you nearly shoot out of your skin and another hand deftly snatches the mug before you can spill it or drop it, or both.

"I see you've met Jailbait."

Price steps past you, the mug still in hand, calm as can be. Your eyes jump from Ghost to Price, back to Ghost, and to the rookie for good measure. He's definitely going to cry about this later tonight. Maybe you should, too; for the morale.

"Jailbait," Price nods towards the door, “wait outside with Ghost, I’ll walk you to where you need to be in a minute.” You nod, slowly, like you’re trapped in a pit of molasses and maybe it’s just because it’s too early and you haven’t taken your medication yet or maybe you’re actively beginning to dissociate. Soap shuffles around you, careful to keep some semblance of personal space between your bodies as he angles himself out of your way to give you a clear shot for the door.

“Uh, yeah,” you mutter and turn, frigid like a wooden puppet on a string, to take the chance at escape.

“Did you need something, Soap?” Price asks. Soap shakes his head.

“Just…” he jerks his head towards you, “Jailbait,” he tries the name out and Price’s eyebrows jump and Soap is acutely aware of Ghost hovering in the corner of his eye, “asked if I knew where to find you.”

Price studies him for a moment, one that feels like it stretches on and on, then nods. “Thank you,” he says finally. Soap nods once and backs out of the room.

You and Ghost are hovering by the door and now Soap really is curious. He stops a few feet from you and turns to glance at the room but the door is slammed in his face.

You hear a “Didn’t you muppets see the fucking lanyard?” before the door closes. There’s a small window on said door to allow you a peek into the room. Price seems exhausted and you wince when you think of the bumpy cot you slept on; if it has your neck in seventeen different knots that probably require a professional masseuse, you wonder how he’s even surviving on it at his age.

Even if he is as tired as the dark circles under his eyes make him out to be, he doesn’t show it.

“Hey,” you begin, to neither Ghost nor Soap in particular, “what’s he telling ‘em?” On the other side of the glass, Price notices you staring and when you raise a hand to wave, he draws the blinds. You click your tongue in annoyance and turn away.

"Rule one: don't touch Jailbait, rule two: don't say stupid shit to Jailbait." Ghost's voice is rough, broad arms crossed over his chest, fingers digging into his own flesh. There’s many a small, crescent-shaped scars on his body. His shoulders are tense — his jaw, too, if experience is anything to go on — and you want to reach out, run your fingers down the long, jagged scar on his jawline, and remind him not to grit his teeth so hard.

Too many eyes.

Simon, hidden under the layer of skull-printed balaclava.

So, you settle for a smartass remark.

"This is your fault, by the way,” you say, jabbing a manicured finger into his chest, “you not only told me I couldn’t use my own name, but you also wouldn’t let me call myself Ghost Rider, which, arguably, would've been so much funnier. And clear…er."

Some of the tension eases from his body, shoulders hunching forward slightly and then back again as if he’s rolling out a kink. Even then, he’s wound tight, like a toy whose spring is about to give. You flex your fingers, fighting the urge to just reach out and touch him, to run your fingers through his hair and tug at the strands.

More settling, then.

“Hey, Si, can I paint your nails? Pretty please?”

He’s silent for a long moment, eyeing you. Simon Riley, you’ve learned, is not particularly emotive — but then again, being outwardly emotive isn’t very high up on your priority list, either. He can be emotive, between the few moments it takes him to take in his surroundings first thing in the morning, and when he slows down to enjoy the food on his plate or the hot shower you drag him under. Other than that, he can be blank, expression smoothed over into a guarded neutral.

Finally, Ghost sinks into a nearby office chair with a low sigh. He leans back, legs parted, and pats his thigh. Dark eyes bore into yours and oh, there’s that chill again. It strikes up your spine like lightning and buries itself in your shoulders, in your collarbones. There’s a hollowness in your throat.

You roll your shoulders to shake it off and close the distance between you to sit so you’re shoulder-to-shoulder, legs thrown across his other thigh. His hand rests on your bare leg, fingers digging into the flesh, slotting over old bruises and bites.

"Should I file this under jealousy or possessiveness? Because neither one is a particularly… attractive look. What’s next: telling me I can’t wear a nice dress because it’s ‘too revealing’?”

“Wear whatever the fuck you want; I can fight,” he says and his prize is your smile, bright and wide as you rummage in his hoodie pocket for the black nail polish you’d slipped in there earlier. You give it a good shake once you find it, the metal ball clinking against the glass around it.

"Language," you gently reprimand as you take the hand he offers.

"I’m sorry, darling." He gives your thigh a gentle squeeze. You crack the nail polish open, hand the bottle to him, and begin your pampering on the down-low activity.

Silence settles over you, the chatter in the background a pleasant filler noise.

You don’t notice Soap staring at you, slack-jawed.

Ghost does.

“Yes, Soap?”

His voice is rough and you glance up for a moment, then back to your project.

“You two… know each other.” He motions between you and Ghost as if he’s having trouble processing what’s right in front of him. You hum an affirmative, careful not to get any of the black polish on his fingers as you coat Ghost’s nails.

“He’s my sugar daddy.”

Ghost exhales a sigh that sounds suspiciously like a laugh and you feel the corners of your lips curl up. A quick glance at him from the corner of your eye confirms it; the way the corners of his eyes crinkle means he’s smiling. One of his more rare, full smiles you have the privilege to see.

“Yeah, I pay for your expensive-ass fancy university degree." He gives your thigh a gentle squeeze.

"My second Bachelor's degree," you emphasize, holding up two fingers. "Oh, I got an offer, by the way — private firm. Pay’s a bit…” you shake your hand in a so-so motion, “iffy, considering the workload they’re trying to dump on me.”

“You’re greedy.”

“Hey, living is expensive. And maybe I want to pay for my own expensive-ass fancy university degree, ever think about that, hm? Anyway, I said I’d take a few days to think about it.” You turn to Soap again. “Yeah, he pays for my school. For now.” Back to Ghost, and you grin. “How’d you feel about being a sugar baby?”

Ghost huffs. His fingers begin massaging lazy circles against the bare flesh of your thigh.

“And what would I be doing all day long, then?”

“You can dig holes in the backyard or whatever it is men do.”

It’s not a no, you think.

Ghost sighs.

It’s not a no.

“Yes, MacTavish, we know each other,” Ghost finally says.

"Yeah, MacTavish, we're friends, that's all—he talks about you a lot, by the way, says you're like… besties."

Ghost gives your thigh a harsh squeeze and you almost yelp from the sudden force of his grip. "You're a pain in my ass, you know that?"

Friends don’t act like that. Friends don’t pay for an entire Bachelor’s degree worth of university fees. Friends don’t imply a relationship wherein the receiver of said Bachelor’s degree performs sexual favors.

At least not any friends he’s ever had.

But the other thing…

"You… ‘besties’?" Soap asks, a finger pointed at himself.

"Man, for military men, y'all are gullible as hell." You chuckle to yourself and continue your quest of hopefully making black nail polish a permanent staple in Simon's life. It’s simply one more of those things you think look good on him and he’s willing to accept your little dress-up games. (No, he doesn’t wear rings when he’s not on a job solely because you can’t keep your eyes off his hands when he does; absolutely not.) "But I do have a Bachelor's in comp-sci, and now I'm working on a Bachelor's in English 'cause maybe I want to go into the translating field one day. And Si is, for now, paying for roughly half of my tuition. Price called me over for a favor. And he does, sometimes, talk about you."

"You look really young for a second degree,” Soap blurts.

A chill settles deep into his bones when he meets Ghost’s dark gaze. He finds himself wishing for a time machine to spontaneously appear right here and now. With or without a future version of himself to shake some sense into him.

If a look could kill, Ghost would be shoveling Soap’s body towards the Earth's core right now.

Your sharp guffaw cuts into him and shakes the metal image of Ghost repeatedly stabbing him with a tactical shovel. When he tears his eyes away from his Lieutenant’s, he sees you hiding your smile behind the hand that had been holding Ghost’s.

“Simon didn’t believe — for, what, a year? — that I was 21 when we met.” You raise a brow at Ghost. “Literally it took some American asshole working at a bar and cutting my ID into pieces for him to believe me; asshole said it was ‘obviously fake’ — fuck you, dude, do you know how expensive it is to order that thing to an embassy? Very. Point is, Simon said my high school graduation photo looked like it was from middle school; believe me, I’m used to people saying I look like a really tall 12-year-old”

Ghost grumbles something under his breath and looks away. You'd pry more if you were in a cruel mood. Maybe you will pry more later.

“Jailbait!”

You lean to the side until you catch sight of Price in Soap’s shadow. He jerks his head in the opposite direction and you hastily cap the nail polish and slide it back into Ghost’s hoodie pocket. Before you slide off his lap, you pause, place your hands onto his balaclava-covered cheeks, and press a chaste kiss on the tip of his nose.

“Got your pocket knife?” he asks.

“Yes.”

“Call me when you’re done; I’ll come pick you up.”

“Okay.”

A second kiss, this one to where the corner of his mouth should be, and then you stand, spare Soap a little goodbye wave, and bound over to Price.

There’s a pep in your step as Price leads you wherever it is you’re supposed to be. They fall into silence once you’re out of sight and Soap abruptly feels like a fish out of water. What does one even say about this? He doesn’t know but it would feel a lot more awkward to not say anything.

“They’re nice,” he says because he doesn’t know what else to say. Ghost grunts. “Congrats, Lt., you deserve someone who makes you happy.”

#call of duty #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley fanfiction #cod x you #cod x reader #ghost fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction

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zweetpea · 6 months

Text

Happy Birthday My Love

Happy birthday L

ao3 version: here

It was the best day of the year. That is to say it was Halloween, and more importantly your husband L’s birthday.

I know right? You snatched the greatest detective in the world? Obviously, you’re beautiful. Anyway enough about you!

————

You met him in a cafe in NYC when he was 23 and you were 21. You were reading a Sherlock novel, he ordered 14 big cookies, 2 strawberry slices shortcakes, Jasmine tea with a bowl of sugar cubes, and a banana split. He sat right by your table and you looked over with concern.

“��are you okay?”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m concerned for your health. You can’t seriously eat all of that in one sitting.”

“Why can’t I?”

“Because that’s not a proper lunch.” You say as you lift up your drink.

“Of course not. This is my pre lunch snack to get my brain stimulated.” At his statement you spit out your drink in surprising.

“What are you, diabetic? How can someone eat so much and yet be so skinny.”

“I find that you can burn calories by using your brain.”

“Okay Einstein. Just don’t drop dead anytime soon. I’m just here on vacation, I don’t need the police suspecting me to be the serial killer going around.”

“Why would they think that? You’re just a tourist.”

“I don’t find most police to be very bright or effective. Private Investigators do more work in a week than any beat cop could do in their entire life.”

The strange man was silent for a second, so you assumed that the conversation was over. However you weren’t expecting him to hold out a cookie for you. “Take it. Movie theater popcorn isn’t that good.”

“The hell?”

“Your tickets. Jaws, 1:15. I assume that your waiting for someone. You only got a drink and during lunch hour most people buy food.”

“Oh really? When do you have lunch, if this is your snack?”

“Same time as your movie. The only difference between then will be I’ll be dinning on fine quality food and you’ll be having stale popcorn and processed butter.” You look away. “Did I strike a nerve.”

“No offense but you’re a stranger. I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to spill my guts and whole life story to you.”

“Yet you asked me if I was okay.”

“Yeah, I’ve never seen anyone eat so many sweets. Is it a crime to be concerned?”

“No. Just think of this as me repaying the generosity.”

“My Fiancé and I came out here to meet his parents.”

“You’re a little young to be getting married.”

“Uh, thanks? I don’t think it’s that weird, I’m 21. It’s not like I’m 12 being married off to some foreign diplomat.”

“Let me give you some advice. He either gave you the ring to get you to shit up or because he wants an unpaid maid.”

“Excuse me?”

“21 men don’t typically give up on hooking up with bimbo’s in short leather skirts. I’m 76%- no, 78% certain that he’s going to cheat on you by years end if he’s not already cheating. And judging by the way you smile sadly at your ring and scrunch your hands around your tickets I think you know that too.”

“What would you do if you were me?”

“Dump him and go out with the skinny diabetic across from you, clearly.” He responded sarcastically.

“Ha, you’re so funny.” You replied back with the same tone, rolling your eyes.

“You should at least tell him what you want. If he’s not willing to negotiate, leave him.”

“What I want, huh? I want to go see Jaws, would any diabetic Einsteins be interested in movie theater candy?”

“Okay that jokes run its course. No I’m not interested in that chewy soulless garbage.”

“Could I bribe you with another slice of cake?”

“I thought that you were worried about my health? Also this is highly improper.”

“Making a new friend?”

“Chatting up a man when you’re engaged.”

“It’s not like I’m asking you out, I just don’t want to go to my movie alone. When life gives you lemons, ya know?”

“Cake and cookies. You eat some too okay. I’m Yuuji.” You shook him hand and replied back with your own name.

——

“Okay, why do you like this movie?”

“It’s a classic! Sure they probably should’ve just poisoned the stupid thing. Sometimes the right answer is the most obvious one.” You two smiled as you walked out of the theater.

He stopped dead in his tracks. “Sometimes the answer is the most obvious one. I gotta go, here…” he scribbled down something on his ticket and handed it to you. “Nice to meet you, friend.” He trotted off down the street. You looked down at his ticket and saw he gave you his number.

“Huh, not bad Emo boy.”

————

“My love, wake up. I made you breakfast.” You say as you kiss his neck.

“Let me sleep in on my birthday.” He groaned. “Don’t temp me to give in with that sultry voice. You know I can’t say no to you when you do that.”

“Not true. It’s only 82.79% affective. As evident of now.”

“I stayed up late for weeks to perfect your favorite pancakes for you.”

“How’d I get so lucky to have a wife like you?”

“Good question, better question though is how did I manage to impress the world’s 3 greatest detectives?”

“By being intoxicating.” He replied smoothly.

“Okay Casanova, eat up before you food gets cold.” He smirked, grabbed you by your waist and pulled you into bed with him. Then he trailed kisses from your collar bone up to your jaw and finally planted a long deep loving kiss on your lips. “L!”

“How can you be mad at me when I have the sweetest treat right here in my arms?”

“I love you, L.”

“I love you too.”

BONUS:

L: Mmh, these buttercream cheese and strawberry pancakes are delicious. Thank you my wife.

You: A perfect meal for my perfect husband. Mwah!

You Two kiss!

#l x reader #l lawliet #l lawliet x reader #L fluff #L Lawliet fluff

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cyberjam · 1 year

Text

TANGERINE AS YOUR SIGNIFICANT OTHER !!

there's a lack of tangerine fics on here so i decided to take things into my own hands !

warnings - slight nsfw

word count - 2.3k~

song: sparks - coldplay ୧

NOT PROOF READ !! >_<

tan - 🍊 | lem - 🍋 | you - 🍓

main masterlist

- THE CRUSHING STAGE -

- when tangerine first met you he never would've thought that the two of you would become such important aspects in each other's lives.

- he thought he would probably see you once in his entire life, but the universe had different plans.

- you'd start running into each other way more than expected.

- he was honestly a little annoyed with how much he kept seeing you.

- " ya' stalking me, love?" - 🍊

- you rolled your eyes and bit back with a snarky remark. thus creating your frenemies relationship.

- everytime you ran into each other he'd say something backhanded and you'd reply right back with unexplainable quickness.

- these interactions lasted for approximately 10-30secs, sometimes a minute if you were lucky.

- well, it was no different when you ran into him and lemon after leaving a bar.

- you greeted and complimented lemon since it was your first time meeting him and then went on to give tangerine the usual teasing remark.

- it didn't sit right with him.

- he was jealous annoyed.

- he didn't even understand why he was jealous because the two of you never really built a relationship outside of being assholes to each other whenever you crossed paths.

- throughout the day lemon noticed how his brother was more annoyingly grumpy than usual and ended up asking him about his foul mood.

- tangerine keeps his mouth shut, but lemon sooner or later finds out it was because of what had happened between the three of you earlier that day. (he's very good at reading people)

- lemon calls him out for it.

- " Don' even know 'er, but it's clear you like the bird. Stop bullshitting and just ask 'er out." - 🍋

- tangerine doesn't ask you out, he doesn't even speak to you.

- he avoids you like the plague for weeks.

- he didn't want to have feelings for you. you weren't a terrible person by any means but he couldn't possibly have time for a love life with his profession.

- lemon noticed how tangerine was a little thrown off of his rhythm and figured it was about the situation between you two.

- he ended up giving tangerine annoyingly good advice and told him that life isn't just pain and death and how it wouldn't hurt to step into the dating world if he was interested in someone.

- love is a human emotion after all.

- tangerine contemplated his situation.

- you were on his mind too often for his liking and it was starting to drive him mad.

- tangerine nearly dying in a mission was what it took for him to finally approach his feelings.

- that mission shifted his thinking a bit and made him realize that his time was truly limited and he didn't want to waste it without even trying to court you.

- so, the next time you two ran into each other he asked you out.

- "seriously? i don't see you for nearly 3 months and all of a sudden you wanna go out for drinks?" - 🍓

- "yeah..." - 🍊

- You accept his invitation because you missed him terribly and was pretty heartbroken when you stopped running into him.

- the night is of course pure bliss.

- you two have drinks, you laugh together, theres a lot of smiling, and light flirtatious touches from both parties.

- he'll tell a joke and you'll laugh, resting your hand on his bicep, while his hand is resting just above your knee, softly caressing it.

- once he drops you off at your apartment complex he tries to kiss you goodbye.

- you reject his affection because he kept you waiting for so long and you wanted to make him work for it.

- he was feigning for you at that point.

- he loves a small challenge. and your affection was something he would fight to win over.

- three/four dates went by before you let him kiss you.

- he didn't hold back.

- you were squished between your apartment door and his body. he held the back of your neck and gripped your waist with such vigor.

- you honestly would've had him right there if he asked.

- you two made out at your door for a few minutes before he broke away with a smirk and dazed expression.

- he wiped away your messy lipstick from the bottom of your lip and you didn't hesitate to return the favor.

- " til' next time, yeah?" he'd quietly murmur before tilting your chin and leaning in, placing a gentle peck on your lips.

- "til' next time." you'd whisper even though he was long gone and in the elevator.

- THE DATING STAGE -

- man spoils the shit out of you.

- if you thought his stealing habit was bad before, it's gotten 10x worse now that he's with you.

- you don't encourage it at all and you even scold him for it but he just can't help himself.

- whenever he sees something that even remotely reminds him of you, he's taking it and slipping it into his pockets.

- sooner or later you get overwhelmed with the load of expensive/flashy items he's giving you and eventually ask him to tone it down.

- he'd definitely be a little hurt because gift-giving is his main love language. but he wouldn't want to cause you any discomfort whatsoever, so he tones it down.

- you and lemon are the cutest duo.

- you indulge in his thomas the tank engine brain rot and listen to him talk about it for hours on end.

- on days you're both bored he'd make you binge thomas the tank engine with him since tangerine won't engage in such "childish shit."

- it's always a good time tho, he loves adding in his own commentary and insulting diesel whenever he appears on screen.

- you gave him a few thomas the tank engine glass figurines and gave him new stickers for his birthday and he was really happy about it. he nearly cried :').

- he appreciated your gift A TON. that was also the first time he gave you a bear hug.^^ (your feet literally weren't touching the ground for a good 15 seconds.)

- tangerine gets kinda annoyed by the relationship you two have but he's even more endeared by it.

- he's glad that the two most important people in his life like each other and can bond over something, even if it feels like they're slowly melting his brain with how much they talk about it.

- the two days before he leaves for his jobs are always the saddest.

- his job is really dangerous and there's never a 100% guarantee that he'll return so the two of you spend your time under each other for those remaining days.

- cuddling, kissing, fucking (and a little crying from you because you worry about him.)

- once you two started to get really serious and planned on moving in together, he had told you about his job and what he (and lemon) did for business.

- he wanted to make sure you were completely in with the relationship like he was.

- you were annoyed and pretty upset when you found out because of how long he kept it from you but you understood and your feelings towards him didn't change a single bit.

- he was pretty relieved when you told him you still loved him and wanted to be with him no matter what he did for work.

- living together is pure bliss really.

- baths and showers together are pretty frequent, most of the time not even sexual.

- he doesn't even mind doing face masks with you, you don't have to convince or beg him to do it.

- he will frequently pay for spa days for you.

- usually including a mani-pedi (he loves french tips), facial, wax, massage, etc... he loves to pamper his s/o.

- he usually arranges those spa days when he's away at work so you don't think about him too much.

- you get worried like any s/o would when he goes away. but his small texts throughout the mission (that are sometimes accompanied with a blurry pic of his fancy pointed shoes or lemon doing something in the background) relieved you until he came back.

- his missions can either be a quick two days or a long 2 months. he has a unpredictable schedule.

- the days he comes back, lemon doesn't even bother being in the same house as you two. he drops tan off and books a hotel for two days.

- you might be asking why and the reason is because you two are all over each other as soon as he gets back.

- i mean you two fuck so loud and do not hold back your moans/groans/screams.

- you'd think someone was watching a football game or getting murdered.

- tangerine can either be in the candlelit dinner, soak in the tub together, and then slow passionate sex after mood or the fuck you in whichever room you're in once he finds you mood. (you two have done it everywhere except lemons room, mainly out of respect for him)

- oh god, DO NOT WEAR LINGERE ON HIS DAY BACK. (for your safety and for his sanity)

- he will actually rip it to shreds without a care and will ravage you.

- he will not hold back if he's been gone for too long and that can lead to very exhausting mornings and aching body parts.

- honestly sex between you two only happens before and after missions. his sex drive isn't that high.

- i feel like he doesn't like to makeout that much. he feels like he's being teased and would rather just get straight into it. but if you love to kiss, he'll indulge in your desires.

- he definitely has a oral fixation.

- he loves going down on you and loves when you go down on him. both options are equally enjoyable to him.

- this might be a bit controversial but i feel like he doesn't really like to be called daddy.

- i think he'd prefer to be called sir, his name, or just the usual pet names you give him.

- he's okay with certain kinks but he strays far away from anything that can cause you any physical pain or will make you cry.

- he only inflicts pain on people when he's working or because some asshole got on his last nerve.

- he'd never bring that type of stuff home and do it to you.

- he isn't really into degrading either. he'd rather praise/tease you.

- he'd degrade you if you wanted him to but he won't really enjoy it as much as you would 😭 (sorry for the people with pain/degrading kinks)

- prefers to be a power top (and usually is) but he enjoys when the roles are reversed and you take control every now and then.

- he's honestly a very passionate lover, and not just in the bedroom.

- he's sweet and is always very soft with you. and only you.

- you rarely ever get into arguments because his patience with you increases by 1000.

- if he makes you cry he'd drop the entire argument in seconds and apologize.

"m' sorry for raising my voice, love. i know you don' like me yelling like that." - 🍊

- if he ever gets annoyed by you or is just in a really shitty mood, he'll keep some distance between the two of you to avoid snapping on you.

- you two definitely still tease each other, but his sly remarks are much lighter in tone from before, and he never really means any harm behind his words.

- he'll go from "I'LL BASH YA' FUCKIN' FACE IN, YOU PRICK!🤬." until you call him and then he's like "yes, darling i'll stop by the cafe you like on the way home🥰."

- he's very loud and low-tempered around others but he's so soft-spoken and calm around you.

- people who have ran into him would be surprised by the 180° his personality takes when he's with you.

- he definitely leans more into affection around you. i think he used to be awfully touch-starved before you two started dating :(

- tangerine is a very good-looking man, so women are throwing themselves at him any chance they get.

- he never gives them the time of day unless he's on a mission and needs something from them.

- say there's a lady at this fancy event who's constantly bugging him and trying to feel him up.

- he'd indulge in her flirting for a while if he sees something of worth. like a pretty necklace that he thinks will look good around your neck and not hers.

- and before you know it he has her necklace and is on his way home to add to your already impressive jewelry collection. (he has taken more than the same piece of jewelry twice.)

- he'll slap anyone's hand away if they try for a simple handshake or hug. but if you were to open your arms up to him, he'd lose himself in your embrace without any hesitation.

- your nicknames for him would be tan, love, meanie, babe, dove, and possibly more.

- his nicknames for you would be darling, your name but shorter or your middle name (if you have one), love, gorgeous, and very very rarely calls you this next one, it's only when he's in the extra soft mood-

- but sometimes he'll call you muffin.

- you swore up and down you'd never let your s/o call you cringy ass names like lovey-dovey boo-boo bear but you absolutely crumble whenever he calls you muffin. and he knows the affect that nickname has on you.

- the first time he called you it is when he was trying to calm you down from a panic attack.

- the club you were at got ransacked and shot up, lemon and tangerine were able to protect you from any harms way and all three of you left unscathed.

- you were still very shaken up from the event because you've never experienced anything like it.

- tangerine held the sides of your face and stared deeply into your eyes with a empathetic look in his eyes.

- he'd console you in the softest voice he could manage.

- 'y'alright muffin? it's over now, you don' 'ave to be scared, you're safe.' - 🍊

- ' i wouldn't let anyone hurt you, alright? not when you're with me.' - 🍊

- he reacts the same way when you call him pumpkin. he'll act like he hates it but he adores it sm.

- you're definitely the baker and he's the cook.

- lemon loves living w/ the two of you because he eats good at least 4/7 days of the week(if you guys don't order takeout or have leftovers.)

- cooking or baking together is usually the most intimate activity you two do. it always puts him in the domestic mood.

- he enjoys being around you, even if you two aren't interacting in any way. he's just content with being in your presence.

- sometimes he will overthink and have doubts about the relationship you two have.

- he really feels like he doesn't deserve you. he's a cold-hearted murder and you simply weren't. you two were complete opposites in almost every aspect.

- he wonders how he got such a warm-hearted and gentle person to be in love with him.

- he doesn't want you to leave him but at the same time he'd completely understand if you did. he's a huge asshole to mainly everybody and is a murder for gods sake.

- you love him way too much to ever leave him tho.

- you're always really quick to shoot down those terrible thoughts and reassure him.

- you always know when he's thinking of stuff like that because his usual annoyed frown is different from his sad frown.

- tangerine is truly grateful for you and appreciates the things you do for him.

- he loves you and you love him.

- lemon is more than happy for his brother but god, he feels queasy around you two sometimes.

whewwww, 🤧 i had a few more ideas but i felt like this one was getting too long.

hopefully you enjoyed it!! <3

#tangerine x reader #bullet train tangerine x reader #tangerine fluff #bullet train headcanons #bullet train fanfic #bullet train imagine #bullet train x reader #tangerine bullet train #tangerine fanfic #tangerine fic #tangerine headcanons #tangerine imagine #tangerine x y/n #tangerine x you

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ladybirdswritings · 7 months

Text

BEAUTY AND THE HYBRID - Klaus Mikaelson Fanfiction

summary: the slip of burlap rope brings an unsuspecting girl into the arms of a vicious, bloodthirsty creature.

warnings: mentions of ab*se, stockholm syndrome, captivity, dea*h, and violence.

next chapter <3 | a03 | edits | tag list

four

“C’mon sugarpea, wake up now. Wake up.”

The light is blinding but I’m tucked away, cozy in darkness with no pain… only the sound of my mother’s warm voice.

“Apple darlin’, Birdie… c’mon now Apple, Birdie’s callin’ for ya.”

I startle awake with a gasp, the remnants of my mother’s words reminding me that the tucked away darkness is far from a loving dream. I’m not home on the scratchy, deflated air mattress. I’m not waking up to the radio purring and Joel snoring. No.

No.

No no no no no no no.

They got me, they fucking got me.

Fear clutches at me like a snake starved, suffocating me, breaking all my bones and rendering them to be useless, shaky things.

Trembling as I sit up, my fingertips are purpled. Funnily, the last thing I remember is my continuous fall on the pavement. That’s only because, all I can think about is Birdie— and how she’s not here beside me.

All that surrounds me is cold, gray brick walls. A pathetic mattress on the floor, a chain round my wrist, the other three for my remaining limbs left untethered. There’s a sink in the corner, and a toilet. Only close enough for me to crawl to. The chain is heavy.

There’s a window, it seems closer to the ceiling above than me. I take in my surroundings with dread swimming in my chest.

I’m hostage.

Chained up by a psychopath that my sister stabbed, my sister. My body chills, he must’ve killed her by now— otherwise she’d be here… that or, or worse.

I hug my knees to my chest and cannot stop the sobs from suffocating me. They’re harsh, because with each cry— my body begins to ache again.

I choke upon my air and upon my tears, my hands clutching desperately at my midsection where there is bandage wrapped tightly around.

I have to get up.

I am certain it looks pathetic, I let out a cry as I make it to my feet. My ankle hisses in pain, nearly bringing me right back down to the cement once more… but one thought of Birdie and I manage.

I limp, slowly, but my palms- bandaged too, fall on each edge of the ceramic sink. I am hunched over, breaths labored and a mere chore to breathe. I manage eventually, lifting my head up to see my reflection in the small, round mirror.

My god…

A bandage is wrapped tight round my head, my eyes are red and bruised, they are dark. I look more pallid than usual, and my lips are parched and split in two. There’s a nasty slice on my alabaster cheek, falling from the arch of my brow… it’s held together with two thin bandages.

My fingertips are curious, grazing the fresh wounds but regretting it soon after. I wince in pain, like lemon and salt rubbed in wound.

The faucet is squeaky and old, but it works. The water is cold and welcome— I use my free hand to cup some in my palm and devour it.

I am so thirsty.

The droplets are licked from my lip with my eager tongue, and I can only stand for a moment longer before feeling dizzy once more. I stumble to the mattress, bumping a small tray and gasping when I hear a clatter of metal as I do.

Hmm.

Tired gaze floats to the sound, it’s a syringe— full but unused. At least, I only hope it’s unused. I’m curious.

I gather it in my fingertips and examine the faded marker scribbled upon it.

HYDRAMORPHINE (ADRENALINE)

Christ.

Did they shoot me with this? No wonder I’m not knocked out still. I prick my fingertip with the needle, falling back on the mattress and twirling it between my fingers.

I can feel the warmth plaguing my eyes before I can stop it, flooding my view of the window at the height of the ceiling. So far away.

What have I done?

Trying to sniffle back the tears does nothing but make them fall harder, gentle sobs now.

All I wanted was to give Birdie and Joel a better life. Warm beds and plentiful meals and medicine and all the things they could ever desire. Like mom did.

Look where trying to be mom got me.

Almost dead, ironically.

I fear Birdie is facing that fate, and it chills me. Thinking about her, if she is alive— I know she’s so scared. It’s all my fault.

I close my eyes tight, imagining what she’d be doing if she were here right now with me.

“Apple, get the fuck up. We’re gettin’ the fuck out of here.”

I let out what can only be described as half of a weak laugh and half of a strong sob at that thought, I know her so well it is as if her voice is programmed permanently within my head.

“Oh god…” I breathe, clawing at the ache in my chest tight and praying for it to dissipate.

My mother’s words echo.

“Birdie’s callin’ for ya…”

Brave Birdie. Scared, alone…

I can’t let that happen.

My eyes fall down to the needle in my hands, an idea blossoms at the sight.

I may be very stupid, but I’d rather take my chances with a mysterious drug than sit here like wounded prey ready to be slaughtered.

I’m gonna take it.

Adrenaline is what I need. I’ll die here, weak and exhausted otherwise.

There’s no instruction, just a painful looking needle. My wrist aches as I bend it forward, it’s most definitely fractured or worse— the same wrist bound by chain.

“Okay apple, okay…” I whisper, allowing my breaths to become meaningful and with thought.

“One… two…”

I don’t allow three to come before slamming the needle down into my skin, puncturing it immediately and blossoming my very being back to life, back to a mode of survival.

Woah.

My heart speeds, faster than it ever has. Pounding rapidly against my chest like a caged animal ready to run free. The world erupts in color, and everything is melted in to tunnel vision.

The throbbing in my head goes quiet.

I need to get out of here.

I need to find Birdie.

The pain dissipates, I feel nothing but urgency and determination coursing through my bones. My breaths are heavy and quick, and I can hear them within my own ears- they are loud.

I’m on my feet, the pain in my ankle and wrist only a buzz of pins and needles now.

Searching, seeking.

The sink.

If I can climb upon the sink, I can throw the chain around the window lock and climb.

I slide the cotton socks from my feet with my free hand and hastily make my way over to the sink, climbing atop the ceramic and executing my plan to perfection. I don’t take the time to celebrate.

Tunnel vision.

The climb makes me cry out, my wrist betraying me thrice but regardless? I make it.

I think of Birdie each time I slip.

Another lock from the inside, I only hope clicking this one won’t cause me regret. I push the window upwards and a spring holds it there— the cool breeze is familiar but it’s not the breeze of Mystic Falls, I am certain. This breeze is more lively, less dull.

It kisses my mangled cheeks hello, pulling me closer. I tremble now as I glance down. The fall isn’t necessarily close but… it’s manageable. It has to be. For Birdie.

“Okay… okay.”

Time slows, a deep breath in and I take a moment to listen to the owl crying in the distance. As if he warns me to go back inside. I can’t.

I have to do this.

I pull up and drop the excess of the chain down to the grass below, I cannot think about this jump. If I do? I’ll coward. So I don’t.

I only allow one deep breath more before I leap.

A gasp becomes me, then? The snap of metal chain by the force of the fall. More dreadfully, a pop.

“Agh! Fuuuuuck!”

My ankle, surely dislocated now.

The adrenaline, coursing.

I have to put it back.

My hands are weak, my cries loud- but once again? I don’t think, just push.

The pain shoots upwards, and I bite down on the skin of my shoulder to muffle my indication of it.

It feels off, but it will have to do.

Tunnel vision. Birdie.

I don’t know where I’m going, only that I’m going far. My leg drags itself behind me as I rush in a pathetic limp.

A parking lot, lit by iridescent streetlights.

I cry out as I near it, the pain beginning to feel louder than the tunnel vision— regardless? I make it there.

My head snaps around in all directions, searching for something, anything.

“Please god.”

A blue car, lonely in the corner, but it’s not the car itself I see. It’s the glistening metal atop it. Glorious in its stagnant state.

Keys.

I rush forward, trying not to allow my thorned ankle to slow me. It doesn’t— because I keep thinking of Birdie. Of my mom’s voice, the diner, all of it.

My hands tremble, the hope flooding my senses as I reach the car and grab my exit from atop it.

I try and fit the key inside but my body, it’s betraying me again. Shaking, viciously. I’m in a cloth nightgown, skin bare and bandaged and adrenaline coursing through me. It’s cold here, ice cold. I can see my own breaths.

I can’t do it. I try to breathe, but my next attempt lands the keys on the pavement.

“Oh, fuck.” I mutter, exasperated, carefully kneeling to gather them. The cool metal meets my fingertips, and I sigh. I’ll just try again.

“Hello love.”

I know that voice.

My body renders itself frozen, and when I turn… there he stands.

The fallen angel.

His hair is messy, as if it has been tousled with. His suit is unbuttoned and wrinkled, polar opposite of my captor, and his collar and stubble is stained red.

His lips and teeth, they’re red too. He must’ve been in a nasty brawl with someone. They clearly got a good jab at him.

He towers over me, a smile or— smirk on his lips and an expression I can’t pinpoint swimming in his eyes. Amusement? It can’t be.

I don’t give myself time to think about it, I simply relax.

He’s here, it’s another stroke of luck. The kind man from the diner who saved me from falling on my ass, he’s somehow here.

“Oh thank god!” I cry, stumbling to my feet— the movement is too quick and brings me forward. The maple and bourbon floods my senses soon as my nose grazes his collar, I grip it tightly between my palms.

I don’t want to let go.

I look up at him, the warmth of his hand splayed against my back to stable me and keep me close to the heat of him is welcome. Like a hug after all of this madness. His golden eyes gaze down at me, that smirk still present.

My tears flood, voice guttural.

“Please, please you have to help me! They’re crazy, they’re monsters. T-they took my sister and they chained me up in this horrible room! Please!” I cry, not even recognizing the sound of my own voice. It’s desperate, pleading.

“Aww, shh shh shh.” He soothes, the honey in his voice erupting goosebumps upon my neck. His free hand moves to stroke my hair back, pressing my head against his chest. It is bare, shirt unbuttoned around it— golden hair peeks from it, he’s soft. He’s safe.

My tears soak his skin, lips trembling against it,

“Please… please you have to help me. I need to find her. I need help….” I whisper, clutching the fabric of his suit tighter in my fingers.

“Yes I know, sweetheart. Tell me now, what did these big bad monsters look like? Hmm?” His hand still strokes my head.

Images of jet black hair and decapitated waitresses flood my memory.

“He- he was tall! And had raven hair so dark it looked like the night… he was cruel and vicious and had horrible, soulless eyes. He— he…”

El… they called him “El! … t-that’s what he goes by I think.”

“El?” He tries.

“Yes, El.” I confirm. I know it, I remember.

“Hmm. My my sweetheart, what a horrible evening you’ve had. El… that wouldn’t be short for Elijah would it?”

…

How—?

Time stops for a moment, my breaths shaky but quiet. I gulp, my heart slowing.

It can’t be.

I am cautious, slow and shaky as I tilt my head downward, pressing my ear against his chest. He keeps stroking my head.

There’s no heartbeat.

The memory of gray veins and sharp fangs ready to sink into me in the van constrict me.

A monster.

I chill again, but not because of the air, rather because of my suspicion. Slowly, daringly I lift my chin up to face him. He’s smirking down at me… he IS amused.

“H-how do you know that?”

He laughs.

Oh god.

Him. It’s him. He took me.

My face drops, I know he sees it.

Oh god…

“No… no- no this can’t be happening.”

Even though I speak to myself, he listens. He responds.

“I’m afraid it is love. You know I’m quite impressed you managed to make that jump. If only you’d been faster with those pesky keys, hmm?”

I release him immediately, stumbling backward till my back meets the car. I am trembling, again.

My fingertips raise to cover my eyes.

“Mm mm, no— no!” I sob.

“Oh at ease my darling, at least you’re alive. Lucky lucky you, don’t know if we can say the same for your sister though.”

I gasp, his mocking words confirming all of my horrified suspicions. My arms wrap round my midsection, clutching tightly at it as I try to breathe again.

“I don’t know just how vicious Elijah can be these days, I do know that your dear sibling did get a nice jab at him. That won’t make him too happy.”

He steps forward, and all of the sudden I feel trapped by the car instead of saved by it. I move my face away from him, he is an unwelcome presence now. His fingers chase me. Stroking the bandage that has lifted from my cheek.

“Look at you, sweet girl. How delicate, how stupid you are.”

His thumb swipes softly at my tears as he shushes me and it is now that all I can smell on him is blood and it is putrid. It’s not his own.

Birdie.

I push him away from me and stand taller.

“No- no where the FUCK is she?”

I regret my outburst immediately once his thumb and index meet my chin, pinching it between them. It’s immediate.

“If you’ve got any brain at all in that beautiful head of yours— you’ll never speak to me like that again. Do you understand me?”

His voice is a loud, commanding and horrifying sound.

He shakes my chin when I don’t answer, and a glance at the bloody man before me swells my vision with tears again.

He works with the devil that took my sister.

I’m reluctant, but I have to answer. If I’m dead, any chance of saving Birdie is no chance at all.

“Yes.” I spit through clenched teeth.

He accepts it, I know this because he releases my chin.

“Good then. If you only behave, things will be much easier. Come on love, back to your room you go.”

No. No no no no no.

“Please, no please don’t make me go back in there.”

It’s empty and caged and lonely. It’s horrible. It’s missing Birdie.

I’m a fool for thinking he will listen, but I’m only human after all. Unlike this vicious creature before me.

The man shakes his head at me, he looks exasperated. As if I have somehow worn his patience thin by just standing before him. Warm palms press against my cheeks.

“Oh sweetheart… as amusing as this all is to me, and as fun as it has been to play with you— I’ve got many of things to attend to. You know, evil and horrible big bad monster duties. No more of this, you’re to return with me to your room with no quarrel or cry.”

I see his pupils expand as he speaks, it startles me. It’s inhuman, unnatural. He’s monstrous. Yet for some reason— I cannot refuse his words or fight him anymore. I’m exhausted.

I am to return to my room with him with no quarrel or cry.

I do just that.

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ultralightpoe · 1 year

Text

Pearl, Peach and Pomegranate - Tangerine

Authors Note: I am working on requests rn but I had to write this because it’s been stuck in my head all dayyyyyy -- Let me know if you want more of this little family?

Description: The Three times Tangerine meets the loves of his life

Warnings: birth giving

Word Count: 1730

If you like Taylor Swift and my writng then look at my writing event I have HERE! I think you will really enjoy it!

Enjoy!

Pearl

You were having a good day, this much Tan knew.

He had been watching you for days, sitting in the back booth of a pub near a mission he had taken, with his brother. They still had two more weeks of work and Tan was just fine with spending every second he could sitting right here…..watching you.

“You should go talk to her.” Lemon offers, playing the straw of his lemonade, smiling a bit when Tan shakes his head. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

“She could hear me, mate.” Tangerine snaps, his face thrown in an incredulous look as if the thought was the worst thing he had ever heard. His rings glint in the light as he grabs the empty glass in front of him and breathes out.

“Well you need another drink.”

“She seems busy.” Lemon laughs at this, gesturing to where you were polishing glasses with no one bothering you. “Okay okay. Fine.”

Risking one last glance at his brother before sitting up and scooting out of the booth, taking three easy strides across the bar until his hands touch the wooden bartop that separates you from him. You don’t notice him at first, which he is affronted and glad for, and he took a second to watch you a bit closer.

You were pretty from a distance but at this angle you were absolutely stunning, from your hair to your outfit all the way to the pearl dangly earrings you wore in your ear.

“Oh hey! Sorry, what can I get for ya?” You smile and he swears he feels his heart stop. It takes him a minute to clear his throat and come up with a good response, a heat traveling his skin.

“How about your number?” Smooth. Bloody smooth.

“Or maybe you can start with my name?” You laugh, reaching a hand out to him. “I’m Y/n.”

“Tangerine.” He responds, reaching to shake your hand and there is a zap when your skin hits his.

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realize we were using code names.” You tease, shaking your head.

“Get a grip, pearl. Catch on.” He laughs, sitting on the stool to stare at you.

“Pearl?”

“Yeah, my lil’ pearl.”

—---------------------

Peach

“How ya doin’ love?” Tangerine asks, decked out in protective hospital scrubs, leaning down to kiss your forehead as you grunted in pain for the hundredth time.

You were covered in sweat, tears sliding down your cheeks, and his hand had lost feeling 10 minutes ago due to your tight grip but Tan had never been so in love with you. Which was astounding considering he worshiped the ground you walked on. The pearl wedding ring you wore began digging into his hand as you yelled out while the doctors began trying to do breathing exercises with you and you tried to keep your cool, you really did. But the second the sweet short nurse started handing you another ice chip you lost it a bit. “Get the fuck OUT OF MY SPACE WITH YOUR UNMELTED WATER!”

A laugh crawls up Tans throat that is quickly diminished when he sees the nurse give you a dirty look, a protective anger washes over him and he reaches a hand over to snatch the cup from her. “I can handle this, yeah? Why don’t ya’ go hover over another pregnant lady?”

His eyebrows are pinched together and when he leans forward to give her his best ‘fuck around and find out’ look the gold chain he always wears pops out of the scrubs and flashes. You hum, coming down from a contraction and your hold on his right hand softens the slightest bit.

The nurse, apparently not as stupid as he thought, backs out and removes herself from the room. The second the door closes he turns to you and leans his head in, allowing you to smell the peppermint he loved so much. “Say the word Pearl, and I’ll go handle her.”

“Easy there tiger.” You laugh, letting go of his hand to reach up and hold the back of his shirt and draw him in. “No death on our baby's day.”

So he listened, and he is thankful he was here for this because 2 hours later you were holding a small bundle in your arms as Tan paced the room anxiously. The doctors had left to check all the test results to make sure the baby was okay leaving you three alone in the room.

The purple bundle (Lemon had insisted purple was a lucky color for babies and made a blanket himself) was so silent and terrifying that Tan had to stay on the other side of the room.

He, for the first time in his fucking life, felt so vile. Like he would taint the air his daughter breathed, his pure precious daughter.

“Would you stop pacing and come hold her?” You ask, a soft look on your face.

“I…..Pearl I can’t-” He chokes up, body tightening and eyes welling with tears. “I don’t wanna hurt her.”

“My arms are so tired, please?” It was a lie, but he didn’t need to know that, but you knew the only way he’d get over his fear is if he thought you were in pain. Within moments he was across the room, hands shaking as he slowly picked her up into his arms and sat in the chair beside your bed.

Tangerine had been on countless missions where he had to keep himself contained in order not to get caught, and yet never once in his life had he ever sat so still. He couldn’t risk hurting the……

And that’s when he sees her, looking down on the sweetest face he has ever seen, peacefully sleeping. Tears began flowing from his eyes and you laughed lightly as you watched, crying yourself.

“How do we feel about the name Peach?” You finally ask after a moment of crying and Tangerine could do nothing else but nod. Because at that moment he knew he would tear out his own heart for his little girl, his sweet baby Peach.

—------------------

Pomegranate

He was still covered in blood by the time the plane landed, Lemon panting by his side as they raced through the airport with tons of people turning to stare at them. If this was any other day he would have changed into a fresh suit and tried to hide the proof of what he had just done.

But he had no time to fuck around today.

You had told him you had a feeling something was gonna happen before he left, and the both of you assumed that feeling revolved around him getting hurt on the mission, so he had promised to stay safe and kissed you passionately before he bent down to kiss Peach’s head and left.

Little did he know that your feeling would end up meaning you would go into labor 8 days early and he would miss the birth of his second daughter.

“Lemon, hurry THE FUCK UP!” He barks when they reach the parking lot, rushing to the cars in the back and both finding the first one that was unlocked and throwing their stuff in the back.

Lemon sets his bag down lightly, shaking his head when Tangerine chucks his own on top. “Be careful, yeah? I got that gift for Peach in there.”

Lemon had taken his job as godfather very seriously and now every place they went he collected an ornament for your daughter so she could hang it on her little pine in the backyard.

“Yeah yeah. Your Peach’s favorite blah blah blah. Shut the fuck up mate.” Tan snaps, hopping in the drivers seat and hotwiring the car. “I got her a barbie.”

“She likes G.I. Joes.”

“Well France didn’t have any fucking- you know what? I don’t have to explain myself to you because the barbie I got was cool. Yeah? So fucking awesome. Wearin’ scrubs and everything so why don’t ya piss off?”

Lemon shakes his head, obviously amused and holds on tight as his brother tears through the streets like a wild man. By the time they actually make it to the house the car is nearly out of gas and definitely burnt through the oil.

The second he has it parked he is rushing out, racing up the front steps and opening the front door.

Peach squeals in excitement, dropping the two figurines she had been playing with, and jumping across the room to dive into his arms.

“There she is! My plump little Peach!” Tan sighs, wrapping his arms around her tightly and pulling her in. Every worry seemed to vanish when you or your daughter hugged him and for that he was eternally grateful. “Where is ma?”

“Upstairs!” She smiles, pulling out of his hug much to his chagrin and dragging him up the stairs to the nursery he had set up a month before he left.

The door is silent when he cracks it open, but his daughter stomps across the room calling for you. You smile, sitting up in the rocking chair when you see them both, and fix the bundle you were holding so he could get a better look.

He never wanted to meet his second child covered in blood, and he was embarrassed at the fact that this is how his new baby would meet him at all. Not that it mattered considering she wouldn’t actually recognize colors or remember this when she grows up.

You hand her off, kissing the top of the blanket before moving to pick up Peach so she didn’t feel left out. Tangerine tries to catch his breath as the baby blinks at him, waking up and looking straight at him.

“She’s looking at me.” He says, heart beating out of his chest. Suddenly the baby smiles and coos and he feels like throwing up in excitement.

“She must recognize your voice.” You smile, bringing Peach closer to see.

“What did you name her?”

“Well I figured we had a tradition to uphold and since I was craving Pomegranate seeds for 9 months it seemed fitting to name her…”

“Pomegranate.” He smiles, a laugh escaping him. “Oh she’s gonna grow up hatin’ us for that one. I love it.”

“Hey papa?”

“Yeah Peach?”

“What is all over you?”

“Uhm…..paint?”

(If you like Taylor Swift and my writing take a look at my writing event for April HERE! I think you will really like it! Let me know if you want more of Tangerine and his two daughters!)

#tangerine #tangerine angst #tangerine smut #tangerine x reader #tangerine bullet train smut #tangerine imagine #tangerine bullet train #tangerine bullet train x reader #tangerine bullet train angst #tangerine bullet train imagine #bullet train #bullet train x reader #bullet train imagine

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straight4joekeery · 1 year

Text

Eddie: What? I'm not aggressive!

Steve: Last Tuesday, you wacked me with a pair of crocs and stole my chocolate chips?

Eddie: Survival of the fittest, bitch.

~~~~~~~~~

Eddie: That’s the longest worm I’ve ever seen.

Steve: That’s a snake.

~~~~~~~~~

Steve: State your name, rank, and intention.

Eddie: Eddie, Eddie, fun.

~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie: I can’t believe all these people are wearing black. black is supposed to be my thing, they’re all just posers.

Steve: Eddie, for the last time, we’re at a funeral.

~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie: Which is correct, seven and five IS thirteen, or seven and five ARE thirteen?

Steve: Neither.

Steve: Because it's twelve.

~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie: I need you to come meet me, and I need you to come alone.

Steve: And I need you to be less vague and weird.

~~~~~~~~~~

Steve: I have to say, I'm a little embarrassed for you.

Eddie: This is a sports-related injury. It makes me look cool!

Steve: Tripping over a basketball on your way to the bathroom is not cool!

~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie: Hey there Vecna, It's me, ya boi.

Steve: Eddie, NO!

~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie: I was going to suggest we do Marilyn Monroe and JFK roleplay, but I’d get way too into it.

Steve: What- how?

Eddie: You’d be like “come to bed … Mr. President” and I’d be like, “I need to increase the amount of American military advisors in South Vietnam by a factor of 18.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie: Y'know, I once knew a man who said to me: “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.” He also had a pair of sideburns that would cause even Jude Law’s face to weep in forfeit. You put those lemons in a sack and beat your enemies with ‘em! And maybe if you beat ‘em hard enough the bag will split open and lemon juice will spray into their eyes, causing intense burning pains as you crush them into a citrus-y pulp!

Steve: Wait, wait, wait, wait. Their heads or the lemons?

Eddie: Whatever caves first!

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tassodelmiele · 9 days

Text

Noisy little mess

Hi sweetie ⁓

I'm actually surprised someone appreciated my little attempt.

I'm jiggling happily, even though you can't see.

Also, I'm unexpectedly enjoying writing in english, so as long as whatever I'm goddamn studying will let me, I'll keep on with this experiment.

I hope you like it!

Also forgive me again for any mistakes, english has too many consonants that are not pronounced and I mess up every time

DISCLAIMERS: no smut (sowwy) just some recollection of dirty moments, GhostxReader and Soap and Gaz 'cause finally they're throw into this mess, arguing (again), the gnome-nickname thing, blame shifting (again), how-not-to-do-training, ignoring doctor's advices, insubordination and yells ('cause me too i yell like an eagle when i'm angry), mask covering embarrassment

..................................................

Second part here:

................................................

And you do. You ask. And you shouldn't have.

«Of fucking course we noticed. It was like ye were constantly overwhelmed by…i don't know what, i've not a degree in women's hormones»

Johnny sips his morning coffee with nonchalance, while Gaz nods, sitting in front of the two of you.

You're almost gonna faint.

«And…and why the hell none have told me-»

«Oh, sure lassie, and how do ye think ye would have taken the news? "Hey dall, you know that ye're almost dripping from your panties?"»

Gaz throws a towel at him, but he agrees with another nod.

«Speak as you eat> he scolds him, then he turns at you: <he's right, though. You've acted weird the whole two last days. Why are you asking?»

You bury your head in your hands, swallowing breakfast as it is dry sand in your throat.

«…nevermind. I'm just sorry at this point»

«There's no use lassie, we know ye» Soap's arm surrounds you, squeezing away a little bit of the anguish. «And ye'r not the only girl at the base, ya know? It happens»

«Seriously?»

«'F course»

«…my god. So now you know the period calendar of every female being at the base?»

«Kinda»

«…mh»

«Is he bothering you?»

You look at Gaz. He seems concerned and curious, and you don't really want him to be none of that. You don't know what to answer anyway, and reply arrives with ten seconds of delay:

«…he?»

«Ghost»

You shiver instinctively. And you know for sure that Johnny has felt you, but you shake your head like hell, pretending vigorously that you don't even know what Gaz's talking about.

«Why?»

«We've seen him around you a lot. And he could be demanding when someone's not giving his best at training. And…»

«…ye'r clearly not doing it» Soap ends the sentence with a teasing smile.

You answer with a pout, flexing your muscles.

«That's totally untrue. I'm always at my best»

«Raise your levels than, since i think he's ready to squeeze you like a lemon today»

It seems like Gaz 's talking really philosophically this morning. You raise an eyebrow at him, then follow his gaze behind you.

And you gulp, seeing a big, dark figure walking toward the table.

You swallow an oatmeal crumb, risking choking on yourself. Then a firm, strong grip holds your shoulder, making your bones crack like they're made out of crackers.

Ghost's voice hits you like a truck.

«I was wondering what could've made you late for the training». He glares at you from the top. «Breakfast. Of fucking course»

You hear the light laugh of Soap and Gaz, who're apparently taking the Lt.'s threatening as a funny joke. You're not. You're shivering, swallowing hot air, lowering your eyes deeper and deeper in the oatmeal. Your heart skips a beat as he tightens his hold on you.

«You have one minute»

And you swallow a "yes sir" in a breath.

Today is not your day. Not at all.

You've already noticed it, but it is clearer now that you're in the middle of the training field, with everyone's eyes on you, while your Lt. (who's fingered you, like, two days ago) has just chosen you for fight practice.

You're sweating like hell, taking deep breaths. You're already drained, even if everything you've done till now is just tryna not to be touched by his fists; and he's trying to knock you out with way more diligence than you've thought.

You're dodging, your legs tremble at every sudden jerk you make to avoid crushing your nose on his fists, and the tactic seems to be working till he reaches your leg with a kick. You fall on your back, hitting your head on the ground like an idiot, and he's on you in a blink of an eye, squeezing your wrist in one hand and your throat in the other.

You panic.

And the tiniest of the whines break on your lips.

He squeezed harder all of a sudden, gripping your throat with full strength, gazing at you with a strange, really odd sight. Like he's annoyed, angry and aroused at the same time.

He lets you go, and you start to cough, with your throat bruised and your head and lungs hurting. You glare at him, and he does the same.

He spits out a cold: «what?» as if he's throwing an ice cubes bucket at you.

«Is not that fair» you don't fear to answer honestly, even if you're voice is being squeezed out of your lungs «fighting with a girl who's 30 cm smaller than you»

«Oh, my bad. And, out of curiosity…» he lowered his face down to you, pinning you to the ground with just his sight «what are you planning to do if you'll face an enemy my size?»

«Shot at him»

«Good one, gnome. But you're disarmed by now»

«…run, then. Hide, i dunno. There's no point in start a fight that's lost from the beginning»

And he smile. You know he's smiling, part 'cause the others rookies surrounding you are watching in total silence as they're afraid he might choose one of them to break their bones (and he might); and part 'cause he knows he's in control.

He suddenly breath, sharp like a knife: «than, run»

You stare at him.

He's joking…right?

No.

He's not.

And you understand it as he stands up in all of his height, grabbing you by the arm and lifting your weight as if it's nothing. You stumble on your feet, breath still scattered, and again he glares at you, shouting a clearer:

«Run»

Your legs move by themselves.

You find yourself running like hell throughout the training field, clearly feeling his presence behind you, and you know how goddamn fast he is. You skip through other training groups. slipping between obstacles, your eyes fixed in front of you and your lungs about to explode. You keep going for what's like an eternity, and when you think you're doing it…

a firm grip holds you by the arm. Your body is forced to stop so suddenly that your breath is broken under the pressure of an opposite force throwing you on the ground. Your spine is smashed on the field, lungs are shaking and throbbing in your ribcage and, as you turn over on your stomach to try and get up again, he just kicks you in the back, grabbing your arm and pin it behind you so tight, rotating it with a lot of strength.

Too much strength,

And you yell like an eagle, feeling the nerve in your elbow cry as it turns on itself.

«Ulnar nerve compression»

Doc is so professional in front of you two, who, on the other hand, seems like a cat and its owner at the vet after a bad fight.

Ghost is clearly embarrassed. He's trying to be professional and stern, but he can't even face your gaze, which is ice-cold. You're sitting next to him, your arm bandaged just as much as it is needed to make sure you don't move it, and you're trying to squeeze a laser beam out of your eyes and make your lieutenant into a strainer.

What in the actual fuck

«Do not move it for a day. It is better for you to make it rest, otherwise you can make other damages. And» doctor gaze at Ghost under his little round glasses «please, be more careful with the training»

It seems like he would like to add something (it's the third time in a month Ghost nearly breaks someone's body part just for training), but the doctor just sighs. He let you two get out of the infirmary, and as soon as you're alone in the corridor Ghost collect his breath to shout a not so convinced:

«…i'm sorry»

But this time you're ready.

«No. No, you're not»

«I am»

«You're just amused»

He stops, looking at you while you walk away in all of your 165 cm of glory and stillness. Then he reaches you again, not daring to touch any part of your body since he's already done enough damage.

«What does that even mean?»

«It means that you enjoy being able to crush whoever you want with bare hands»

«Like 's something the others don't enjoy»

«Not in that way». You raise your bandaged arm, hissing a painful breath. «We were training! Why couldn't we just do it normally?»

«Fight practice is normal, gnome»

«Not like that! My elbow had turned fucking purple!»

«You could've just run faster»

You stop. Your face jerks toward him, glaring at his goddamn mask like you're gonna spit fire from your mouth, and you have to look like a crazy owl since he doesn't seem to be frightened.

«Look» you start, restraining yourself from yelling «I'm not the best soldier, but I've never had problems with any of my superiors, i do my work and i don't act like a pussy. But I'm human. Ok? H-u-m-a-n»

«Seems like you know your limits»

«Of course i do, that's why-»

«You could've just told me to stop»

«Why me?!» you suddenly hiss through your teeth, looking desperately at the man who seems to enjoy your incoming aneurysm. «We…we used to eat the same breakfast, laughing with your team, speaking about cats in the morning…why have you started to play this goddamn game with me?? What has changed in two days?»

«You»

He breathes the answer like it is obvious, and your brain glitch for a second.

«…what?»

«You've changed»

«Are you joking with me? What-how would i…»

Then you start connecting dots. Your gaze meets him again, piercing his mask.

«…is it because of that night? Is it still because of my goddamn moaning?»

And you know he's embarrassed.

You know it, since he doesn't know where to put his hands, and how to look properly at you. He rushes to speak again, choking the sudden loss of words in a stern: «I've already explained: it's your behavior»

«Seriously? You can't go forward? Did it seriously hit you that bad?»

«Don't» and he gives back the piercing-sight «play with me, gnome. Watch your fucking mouth»

«I've literally done nothing»

«You breath»

You raise your eyebrows, charge your voice and blow your cheeks: «oh, i'm so sorry if i function like a human being!»

«Is how you do it, you stupid little-»

«Oh no, don't you dare try to-»

«To what?»

«To put the blame on me!»

«Well i can't do that much 'bout it!»

Voices are lowering a little too much outside the infirmary. You stop your feet, turn again at him and stare at his glare with arms crossed, ready to scold your superior (even if it is the most stupid thing to do)...

but you shut.

He's a few steps away from you, eyes down on the floor and head a little titled. Your jaw dropped a little.

«…are you flustered?»

You can clearly see his brain snapping at light fast. And you know well how better it is for you to shut, pretend nothing happened and go away on your feet (till you've got functioning legs), but you can't do much about how fast your mouth opens, and your voice starts to come dangerously out in a whispered:

«Am i really turning you on?»

....................................................

#fanfiction #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty #cod fanfic #ghost x you #Yes i write something about Simon Riley getting flustered #But there are no evidences we can cover everything in mud #Also i didn't realize till now that Johnny Soap McTavish drinks coffee in the morning #Not like the other english whatever who inject tea in their veins #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #I'm having so much fun writing arguments #Too much dialogues #I'm sorry #No i'm not #Do men really care about menstruations?#part 3

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