#And it took me a while to realize I deserved to be there

[melminli]

Pink Pony Club

summary - you weren't expecting much from your evening in a shitty bar, but then you saw a pretty woman sitting next to you.

pairing: cho hyun-ju x fem. reader

word count: 1.2k

contains: wlw, angst w/ comfort, fluff, a bit transphobia, pre squid game au

a/n: hyun-ju was my fav this season and i literally love her so much - she deserves the world and more😔💕

the request.

You looked bored at your drink while you caressed its round surface with your index finger. Your friends had finally managed to drag you to one of their favorite bars and, you didn't really enjoy being here, as you had expected since it was pretty, well - straight.

You were fine with it at first, when you all sat down at a table and just talked and laughed together. However, after a while a group of men sat down at your table - with everyone's permission, of course, but you still weren't the biggest fan of that decision. The only reason you didn't mind was that your friends seemed to be having a genuinely good time with the guys and that they weren't too bad. You still excused yourself from the table after a while, because one of them wouldn't stop subtly flirting with you even when did not hide your lack of interest. Sitting lonely at the bar counter wasn't too bad, you guessed.

I'll just finish my drink and then leave. You thought to yourself, still bored, and glanced subtly at the woman next to you after noticing how she seemed to be moving around quite nervously for a while. “Hey, are you alright?” you whispered to her in a soft voice after you moved closer to her side.

She returned your gaze slightly surprised and seemed to try to make herself even smaller after your attention was focused on her. “Ah, yes everything is fine. there is nothing to worry about…”

A few guys a little further away from you suddenly started to cackle ugly after she finished talking and you didn't miss how the woman next to you turned her eyes back to the counter - obviously feeling uncomfortable by what they were saying.

“Did you hear that voice? It's even deeper than yours!” he said to his friend, who only agreed with a shocked look on his face as he pointed his hand in your direction. “Come on man, that's not fair! Have you even seen how rugged that dude is? I mean you do realize that's not a real - you know…”

You took an annoyed breath as you looked across the room and bit your tongue to keep you from spitting in their hideous faces. Though, it was pretty hard to restrain yourself since you really wanted to. "Assholes.” you just uttered while staring at their heads with a hateful look, imagining them exploding.

“Just ignore them…” said the woman next to you with a gentle voice after noticing your reaction. “What they say doesn't bother me anyway.”

And even though she said that you knew it did because it always did. You returned your attention back to her and introduced yourself to her after taking the last sip of your drink. “And what's your name, pretty?”

She seemed to be caught off guard a little when she heard you say that. “Oh, ehm…” she stumbled a little over her words. “It's ehm Hyun-ju. My name is Hyun-ju.”

You smiled. “Pretty like you. It suits you.” you complimented her and noticed how the weird guys from the corner were still watching you. “Hey, do you want to get out of here?” you asked and were glad when she nodded. “Well, come with me, I know a good spot,” you told her and took her hand in yours.

You gently pulled her off the chair with you and led her out of the stuffy bar, feeling like you could breathe again when your nose met the fresh air. “I was really close to beating those guys up,” you told her as you walked hand in hand with her. Hyun-ju giggled lightly, as if it was hard for her to imagine you doing something like that. You looked at her in disbelief. “What, you don't believe me? I'm totally serious, really!”

She tried to hide her smile, but barely managed it. “No, I believe you.” she replied, but you weren't really convinced by her answer. You just hummed when you finally noticed the store. “Look there! I hope you're hungry, because this place makes the best japchea.” you told her happily while holding the door open for her because a long time had passed since you last went to this little restaurant.

Luckily, there weren't many people here at this time of day, so you managed to get a good seat for two. “Sorry, I didn't even ask if you wanted to eat japchea. They also have lots of other things if you want, my treat.” you winked at her and Hyun-ju noticed how you cuddled your hands against your cheeks, as if they were still warm from the alcohol.

“Thank you, but japchea is fine. I will trust your recommendation,” she replied shyly and watched as you shouted your order with two fingers in the air to the chef, who gave you an all-clear with his thumb. “They don't have a waiter here, so…” you explained, automatically putting your hand back on hers without really noticing.

Well, you didn't until Hyun-ju's eyes turned to it and it was only then that you realized you were probably being a little too handsy. “Oh, I'm sorry about that.” you quickly apologized when you quickly pulled your hand back. “I really didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable or anything, you're probably not even into other women?” you let the question hang in the air, while you simultaneously cursed yourself for even asking that.

Hyun-ju blinked slightly in surprise while she played nervously with her hair. You knew at that moment that you had fucked up and prevented yourself from showing your disappointment. Unknown to you, she was thinking about something entirely else right now. So she was flirting with me the whole time? I didn't even realize, how embarrassing. “Are…are you?” she asked tensely, almost slapping her hand over her face at her stupid question. Of course she is, she just said it.

You laughed lightly with one eyebrow raised. “Do I like women? Hell yeah.” you just said, finding it a little funny how she acted right now. cute.

Hyun-ju was used to attracting the attention of girls before starting her transition. She even had a few relationships with them and liked it, but dating was one of the many things that became more than just difficult for her after she officially came out. “I'm a trans woman,” she finally said, even though she knew that you knew.

You just leaned forward with a grin. She hadn't turned you down, that's all you cared about. “I know,” you said, watching how she shyly avoided your gaze while crossing her arms in front of her. “You don't have to hide. I meant it when i said that you're very pretty.”

Hyun-ju slowly met your gaze and this time it was her who initiated physical contact with you. She held your hand softly. “I think you're really pretty too,” she said, and at that moment, you were both pretty glad that you went to that shitty bar today, even if you'd never go there again.

[elryuse]

HERE WITH ME

YUNJIN X MALE READER

TAGS : LOVING SEX, INTIMATE, IDOL GIRLFRIEND YUNJIN, LOVEY DOVEY

WORDS : 3,9K

This is another Commission for My Friend @dav1233555 from Tumblr. Hope you liked it.

Y/n sat quietly in his apartment, his mind racing with thoughts of Yunjin. He could feel the weight of her exhaustion, the toll her recent comeback preparations had taken on her. The rehearsals, the long hours, the pressure to maintain her position as a member of the famous K-pop group Lesserafim—it was all too much for her, and Y/n couldn’t bear to see the spark in her eyes dimming.

Yunjin had always been a bright light in his life, full of energy, laughter, and kindness. He knew that she gave everything to her fans, but Y/n also knew how much she needed rest, how much she needed to feel appreciated and loved—not for the idol she was, but for the person she truly was.

So, Y/n had a plan. He knew just the thing to make her feel special, to give her a moment of peace amidst the chaos. It wasn’t grand or flashy—no expensive restaurants or extravagant surprises. Just something simple, something meaningful. He was determined to make her feel loved.

The day of the date arrived. Yunjin had spent hours rehearsing and preparing for her next stage performance. She was exhausted, but her commitment never wavered. Y/n, however, had prepared a quiet evening for her, one where she could forget the world for a while. He quietly waited for her to finish practice, his heart racing in anticipation.

When Yunjin finally stepped into the car, her tired smile warmed Y/n’s heart. He could tell she was running on empty, but she was always so gracious, never showing how deeply the exhaustion was affecting her. As he drove, Y/n kept the conversation light, joking and teasing her about small things to keep her distracted.

"Where are we going?" Yunjin asked, her curiosity piqued as she noticed they were driving in the opposite direction of her usual routes.

"You'll see," Y/n replied, a playful smile tugging at his lips. "I promise you'll love it."

The car eventually stopped in front of a modest, cozy restaurant—a place that had always been her favorite. It wasn’t a fancy, high-end spot with glittering chandeliers or paparazzi flashing their cameras. It was a small, tucked-away gem, where the staff knew her name and the food was always comforting. It was where Yunjin first introduced Y/n to the world of spicy Korean stews and sizzling rice cakes, and it was here that they had shared many quiet evenings together before the fame and pressure of her career had taken over.

Yunjin blinked in surprise as Y/n led her inside, her eyes widening as she recognized the place. She was quiet for a moment, taking in the familiar sights and smells. "You… remembered?" she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Y/n smiled warmly, leading her to their usual corner table. "I remember everything about you, Yunjin."

As they sat down and ordered their favorite dishes, Yunjin’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears. She had been so focused on her career, so wrapped up in the whirlwind of promotions and performances, that she had forgotten how much she needed moments like this—simple, quiet moments with someone who cared for her unconditionally.

Once the food arrived, Yunjin didn’t hesitate. She reached across the table and took Y/n’s hand, squeezing it gently. "Thank you," she said, her voice shaky. "I didn’t realize how much I needed this."

Y/n smiled, his heart swelling with love. "You deserve this and so much more, Yunjin."

She looked down at their hands, her thumb tracing the back of his. Her emotions were overwhelming, the love she felt for him too much to contain. Without thinking, she leaned forward and pressed her lips softly to his. It was a tender kiss, filled with gratitude, affection, and the deepest appreciation she had ever felt. The kiss was slow, almost hesitant at first, but as she pulled away, Yunjin’s eyes were filled with nothing but adoration.

"You’re perfect," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "I feel so… loved."

Y/n smiled, his thumb brushing her cheek. "I’m glad you feel that way. You’re everything to me, Yunjin. Don’t ever forget that."

After finishing their meal, the two of them made their way back to their apartment, the night still and peaceful. Yunjin couldn’t stop smiling, her exhaustion forgotten as she wrapped her arms around Y/n, holding him close.

"Thank you," she said again, her voice full of emotion. "Thank you for being such a wonderful boyfriend. For being so thoughtful, so loving."

Y/n laughed softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "It’s nothing, really. Just doing what I can to make you happy."

As they entered their apartment, Yunjin leaned against him, still holding onto his hand. "I don’t know what I did to deserve someone like you, Y/n, but I’m so thankful. You make everything feel so much easier."

Y/n kissed her forehead once more, his heart full. "You deserve every bit of love and happiness. You’re my everything."

In that moment, they knew that no matter how hectic the world got, no matter how demanding Yunjin’s career became, they had each other. And that, above all else, was all they needed. After they eat and enjoyed their meal, Y/n brought her back home, where the two rested, cuddling and enjoying each other's company. Yunjin desperately needed to rest since, she'll be having another crucial practice wth the group.

"Y/n, I’ve missed you so much," Yunjin whispered, her voice trembling with exhaustion and emotion. Her lips brushed his ear as she clung to him, her body warm against his in the dimly lit backstage room. The faint hum of the crowd outside was a distant echo, drowned out by the sound of their breathing.

"I missed you too," Y/n murmured, his hands sliding up her sides, feeling the curve of her waist beneath the glittering stage outfit she still wore. "You were incredible tonight. Everyone could see how hard you worked."

She pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "So hard," she admitted with a shaky laugh. "Months of practice, and I think my body might actually give out on me now." Her smile softened, and she leaned in again, her lips tenderly grazing his. "But seeing you here… it’s worth every ache."

The kiss that followed was slow, almost reverent. Yunjin’s lips pressed against his with a quiet intensity, her fingers tangling in his hair as if anchoring herself to him. When she finally pulled away, her cheeks were flushed, and her breaths came in soft, uneven gasps. "I love you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

The day had started like any other—early. Yunjin had been up before dawn, her alarm buzzing insistently until she silenced it with a groggy hand. The comeback preparations were relentless, and sleep had become a luxury rather than a necessity. But today was different. Today was the day.

Her group’s comeback performance was scheduled for the evening, and the air backstage buzzed with nervous energy. Makeup artists darted around, stylists adjusted last-minute details, and her fellow members practiced their lines under their breath. Yunjin sat quietly in front of the mirror, staring at her reflection. She looked polished, flawless even, but her eyes betrayed her exhaustion.

That’s when he walked in.

Y/n had surprised her, showing up unannounced with a small gift in hand—a single red rose wrapped delicately in tissue paper. "For luck," he had said, handing it to her with a smile that made her heart skip a beat.

"You didn’t have to," she had replied, but her grin gave her away. She tucked the flower into her vanity mirror frame, its vibrant color standing out against the chaos of the dressing room.

He stayed with her while she prepared, offering quiet encouragement whenever their eyes met in the mirror. When it was time for her to go on stage, he squeezed her hand. "You’re going to kill it," he said firmly. "I’ll be watching from the side."

And she did. Her performance was electric, every move precise, every note perfect. She poured everything she had into those few minutes on stage—months of grueling practice condensed into a single, shining moment.

Now, backstage, the adrenaline was fading, leaving her drained but exhilarated. She clung to Y/n, her body leaning heavily against his. "Take me home," she murmured, her voice muffled against his shoulder.

He kissed the top of her head. "Let’s get you out of here."

The ride back to their apartment was quiet, Yunjin curled up against him in the backseat of the car. Her eyelids drooped, but she fought to stay awake, her fingers intertwined with his. When they finally stepped inside their apartment, she let out a sigh of relief, kicking off her heels and sinking into the couch.

Y/n followed, sitting beside her and gently massaging her shoulders. "Long day," he said softly.

"The longest," she agreed, tilting her head to rest against his hand. "But you made it better. You always do."

Their eyes met, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, slowly, Yunjin shifted closer, her hands finding his. She traced the back of his hand with her thumb, her touch light but deliberate. "You’re perfect," she whispered. "I feel so… loved."

His thumb brushed her cheek, his gaze steady. "You are loved. Don’t ever forget that."

She leaned in then, her lips pressing softly to his. It was a gentle kiss, filled with gratitude and something deeper, something that words couldn’t quite capture. When she pulled away, her eyes shone with affection. "Thank you for being you."

Y/n chuckled, his fingers threading through her hair. "Just doing my job."

Her smile widened, and she stood, tugging him up with her. "Come on," she said, leading him toward the bedroom. "I want to show you how much I appreciate you."

Inside the room, she turned to face him, her fingers deftly undoing the buttons of her stage outfit. Each one came undone with deliberate slowness, her eyes never leaving his. The fabric slipped from her shoulders, pooling at her feet, revealing the smooth curves of her body.

Y/n’s breath hitched, his eyes darkening as he watched her. "Yunjin…"

"Shh," she murmured, closing the distance between them. Her hands slid up his chest, pushing his jacket off before undoing his shirt. "Tonight’s about us," she whispered, her lips brushing his jaw. "No schedules, no rehearsals. Just you and me."

Her touch was unhurried, teasing, as she led him to the bed. She pushed him down gently, her fingers trailing down his chest as she straddled him. "You take care of me all the time," she said, her voice low and sultry. "Let me take care of you tonight."

Her hands moved lower, and he groaned softly, his hips lifting instinctively. "Yunjin…"

"Patience," she teased, her lips curving into a smirk. She leaned down, her breath warm against his ear. "I want to make this last."

Yunjin’s smirk deepened as she leaned back, her hands still grazing Y/n’s chest. Her fingers traced lazy circles over his skin, the touch light enough to make him shiver but not quite enough to satisfy the ache building within him. She was in control now, and she was going to make sure he felt every second of it.

“You’ve been so patient with me,” she murmured, her voice soft yet laced with a teasing edge. “Through all my practices, all my comebacks, all my stress… you’ve always been there.” Her lips brushed against his collarbone, her breath hot against his skin. “Tonight, I want to return the favor.”

She shifted off him, standing at the foot of the bed. His eyes followed her every move, dark with desire, as she slowly began to unbutton her blouse. The fabric parted inch by inch, revealing the smooth curve of her shoulders, the dip of her collarbones, the lace of her bra peeking through. Every movement was deliberate, calculated to draw out the tension between them.

Y/n’s hands gripped the sheets, knuckles white as he resisted the urge to reach for her. “Yunjin…” he said, his voice rough, strained. “You’re killing me.”

She chuckled softly, a sound that sent a jolt of heat straight to his core. “Good,” she replied, letting the blouse slip from her shoulders and pool on the floor. Her hands moved to the waistband of her skirt, undoing the clasp with agonizing slowness. The fabric slid down her legs, revealing toned thighs and the soft curve of her hips. She stepped out of it gracefully, leaving her in nothing but her lingerie.

Standing before him, she was a vision—confident, radiant, and utterly captivating. Her gaze locked with his as she reached behind her back, unhooking her bra with practiced ease. The straps slipped down her arms, and she let it fall, baring herself fully to him. Y/n’s breath hitched, his body reacting instinctively as he drank in the sight of her.

But she wasn’t done yet.

Her fingers hooked into the sides of her panties, and she bent slightly at the waist, drawing out the moment even further. The fabric inched down her legs, revealing more and more until they joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor. She straightened, completely bare now, and Y/n’s resolve shattered.

“Yunjin,” he said again, this time more urgent, his voice thick with need. He sat up, reaching for her, but she stepped back, shaking her head with a playful smile.

“Ah-ah,” she chided, wagging a finger at him. “I’m not finished yet.”

She turned away from him, her movements fluid and hypnotic as she swayed her hips. Her hands trailed up her sides, brushing over her breasts before tangling in her hair. She glanced over her shoulder, catching his eye as she bit her lower lip. The look sent a bolt of electricity through him, and he groaned, frustration mingling with pure, unadulterated lust.

Yunjin climbed back onto the bed, crawling toward him with feline grace. Her knees settled on either side of his hips, her body hovering just above his. She leaned down, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered, “Tell me what you want, Y/n.”

His hands found her waist, gripping her tightly as if afraid she might disappear. “You,” he breathed, his voice hoarse. “Always you.”

She smiled, pleased with his answer, and pressed a kiss to his neck. Her teeth grazed his skin, making him shudder as she worked her way down his chest. Her hands followed suit, exploring every inch of him, tracing the lines of his muscles, lingering in places that made him gasp.

When she reached the waistband of his pants, she paused, looking up at him through her lashes. “Still so patient,” she teased, her fingers dipping beneath the fabric. She tugged them down slowly, her touch feather-light as she exposed him fully.

Her hand wrapped around him, and Y/n’s head fell back against the pillow, a low moan escaping his lips. Her grip was firm but not tight, her strokes slow and deliberate, designed to drive him to the brink without letting him fall over. Every time he thought he couldn’t take anymore, she pulled back, leaving him desperate and aching.

“Yunjin…” he begged, his voice breaking. “Please…”

She smiled, leaning down to brush her lips against his. “What do you want me to do?” she asked, her tone innocent despite the wicked gleam in her eyes.

He groaned, his hips lifting instinctively toward her. “You know what I want.”

She laughed softly, the sound like music to his ears. “I want to hear you say it.”

He hesitated for only a moment before surrendering to her demand. “I want you,” he admitted, his voice raw with need. “All of you.”

Her smile widened, and she finally relented, positioning herself above him. She lowered herself slowly, inch by torturous inch, until she was fully seated. His hands gripped her hips, guiding her movements as she began to ride him, their bodies moving together in perfect harmony.

The room filled with the sounds of their breathing, their soft moans and gasps, the rhythmic creak of the bed. Yunjin’s head tilted back, her hair cascading down her back as she lost herself in the sensation. Her pace quickened, each thrust bringing them closer to the edge.

“Y/n,” she gasped, her nails digging into his chest. “I’m close…”

He growled, flipping her onto her back without breaking their connection. His thrusts became deeper, more urgent, as he chased his own release. Their eyes met, and in that moment, everything else faded away—there was only them, only this.

“Come with me,” he urged, his voice rough with emotion.

She nodded, unable to form words as pleasure overtook her. Her body tightened around him, and he followed her over the edge, their cries mingling as they clung to each other.

They lay there afterward, tangled together, their breaths gradually slowing. Yunjin rested her head on his chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his skin. “I love you,” she whispered, her voice soft but full of meaning.

Y/n pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his heart swelling with affection. “I love you too,” he replied, his voice equally tender.

For a while, they simply held each other, unwilling to break the spell woven around them. But as the first rays of dawn began to filter through the curtains, Yunjin stirred, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she looked up at him. “Think you can keep up with me for round two?”

Yunjin’s mischievous glint lingered in her eyes, and Y/n felt a shiver run down his spine. He knew that look—it was the same one she had given him backstage after her performance, the one that promised something electric. Her fingers trailed down his chest, light as feathers but with an intent that made his breath hitch. She shifted closer, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, “Round two… let’s make it unforgettable.”

Her words were like a spark to dry kindling. Y/n groaned, his hands immediately finding her waist, pulling her onto his lap. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he muttered, but there was no real complaint in his voice. How could there be when she looked at him like that—like he was the only thing that mattered in her world?

Yunjin laughed softly, her hips grinding against him in slow, deliberate circles. “Promise?” she purred, her voice dripping with teasing sweetness. Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently as she leaned in to kiss him. It wasn’t like the tender kisses they’d shared earlier. This one was hungry, demanding, and utterly intoxicating.

He responded in kind, his hands sliding down to grip her thighs, lifting her slightly so he could adjust beneath her. The way she moved against him was maddening, each roll of her hips sending sparks through his body. She broke the kiss, pressing her forehead to his as she guided his hands upward, positioning them on her breasts. “Touch me,” she breathed, and who was he to deny her?

His thumbs brushed over her nipples, already hardened from the intensity of their moment. She gasped, arching into his touch, her nails digging into his shoulders. “Just like that…” she murmured, her voice trembling with need. Her lips found his neck, kissing and biting lightly as she continued to rock against him, the friction between them building to an unbearable heat.

“Yunjin,” he groaned, his voice rough with desire. “You’re driving me crazy.”

She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, her eyes dark with want. “Good,” she said, her tone dangerously playful. She slid off his lap, standing before him with a smirk that made his stomach tighten. Slowly, deliberately, she began to peel off what little clothing she still wore, her movements fluid and hypnotic. Each piece fell to the floor with a soft rustle, until she stood before him completely bare, her skin glowing in the dim light of their bedroom.

Y/n couldn’t look away. She was stunning—every curve, every inch of her seemed designed to drive him wild. She stepped closer, climbing back onto the bed and straddling him once more. Her hands pressed against his chest, pushing him back until he was lying flat beneath her. She leaned down, her lips brushing his as she whispered, “Your turn.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. With quick, eager movements, he shed his own clothes, tossing them aside without care. When he was bare, she smiled, satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. “Perfect,” she murmured, her hands roaming over his chest and down his abdomen, stopping just shy of where he desperately wanted her to touch.

The teasing was unbearable, but he loved every second of it. She was in control, and he was more than willing to let her have it. But then she shifted, positioning herself above him, and he couldn’t hold back any longer. His hands gripped her hips, guiding her down until she sheathed him completely. They both moaned in unison, the sensation overwhelming.

“Fuck,” Y/n hissed, his head falling back against the pillows as she began to move. Her pace was agonizingly slow at first, each rise and fall of her hips drawing out the pleasure until it bordered on pain. But then she sped up, her rhythm becoming erratic as she lost herself in the feeling.

Her hands braced against his chest for support, her nails leaving faint marks as she rode him hard. “Y/n,” she gasped, her voice breaking as she tightened around him. “I’m so close—”

He groaned, his hands moving to her waist to help guide her movements. “Let go, baby,” he urged, his voice strained. “I’ve got you.”

And she did. Her body went rigid, a guttural cry tearing from her throat as she came undone. The sight of her—her head thrown back, her lips parted in ecstasy—was almost too much for him. He followed her over the edge, his release hitting him like a tidal wave as he spilled deep inside her. “Yunjin,” he choked out, her name a prayer on his lips.

For a moment, they simply clung to each other, their breaths ragged and hearts pounding. Then she collapsed against his chest, her body trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm. “That was… incredible,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Y/n wrapped his arms around her, holding her close as his breathing slowly evened out. “You’re incredible,” he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

She smiled, nuzzling into his chest. “I’m the lucky one,” she said softly. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Y/n. Everything.”

They lay there for a while, content to simply be together. But as the minutes passed, Yunjin stirred, her hand tracing idle patterns on his skin. “Thank you,” she said suddenly, her voice filled with emotion. “For always being there for me, for supporting me… for loving me.”

Y/n tilted her chin up, meeting her gaze. “There’s no one else I’d rather be with,” he said sincerely. “You’re my everything, Yunjin.”

She kissed him then, slow and sweet, pouring all her love and gratitude into the gesture. When she pulled away, she smiled, her eyes heavy with exhaustion but still shining with happiness. “I think… we should sleep now,” she said, her voice tinged with laughter.

He chuckled, nodding in agreement. “Yeah, we probably should.”

But as she settled against him, her head resting on his chest and her arm draped over his waist, Y/n couldn’t help but smile. Even asleep, she was beautiful—his idol, his girlfriend, his everything. And as he closed his eyes, he realized he wouldn’t have it any other way.

The End

[loucifersbitch]

Fifth of All

Late one night, Tommy receives a text from Howie.

> buck in hospital. might not make it <

And that's the whole message. He doesn't elaborate beyond that or pick up when Tommy calls. So Tommy grabs his jacket and keys and sprints to his truck, hoping it's the same hospital as always.

He flies through the bay doors, not really remembering the drive, but he'll accept any tickets as long as he's here in time.

The nurse behind the desk is on the phone, but when she notices the slightly wild look in Tommy's eyes, she puts the call on hold long enough to direct him to Evan's room.

He tries not to run, but he can't deny that he jogs down one hallway, then the next two, before he comes to a stop outside the closed door.

It hits him then. He could lose Buck. He could lose Evan. Howie had warned him, said he might not make it.

Tommy feels sick.

He raises a fist to knock, but before he makes contact, the door swings open, a burst of noise and laughter hitting Tommy. Howie almost walks right into him before stumbling back, looking perplexed.

"Tommy? What are you doing here? What...?" he trails off.

Tommy looks around the hospital room and sees nearly everyone he hasn't spoken to since the breakup. Maddie's right behind Howie, Hen is in a chair off to one side, and Eddie is next to Bobby on the other. They're all clearly having a fun time, their laughter only fading when they notice Tommy and confusion takes over. It's not the sorrowful mourning Tommy had been expecting.

On the bed, Evan sits with his leg in an air cast, one arm in a sling, and various scrapes and cuts that Tommy can see on his face and arms. He's not exactly near death.

"'Buck in hospital. Might not make it.' Really, Howie?" he asks, staring down at wide, worried eyes.

"'Might not -" Howie scoffs, realization softening his features. "Tommy, I meant I might not make it to the karaoke bar tomorrow night. Gotta take care of the unlucky man-baby in the hospital bed over there."

"I'm not a 'man-baby,' Chim," Evan says, rolling his eyes. "I can take care of myself."

"Yeah," Bobby interrupts, "took care of yourself so well that you fell off a ladder today."

"I slipped!"

"You fell on a glass coffee table," Eddie says.

"Where you dislocated your shoulder and sprained your ankle and got a concussion," Hen adds.

"I'm fine," he insists. "Just need someone to drive me home when I'm released, and I can take care of the rest from there."

Tommy doesn't roll his eyes at Evan's petulant tone, but it's a near thing.

"I can help."

Six sets of eyes turn to him.

"We couldn't ask you to do that, Tommy," Maddie says softly.

There's a crinkle between her eyebrows that makes her look like she's trying to solve some puzzle. And in this case, the puzzle is Tommy.

"You're not asking," he answers just as softly. Then he asks everyone, "Can Evan and I talk for a few minutes?"

They all glance at Evan like they're waiting for his permission.

"It's fine, guys. Go get some coffee or something."

They all file out, Tommy standing out of the way as much as he can while everyone pats his shoulder or shakes his hand or — smacks him upside the head.

"I deserve that," he says, rubbing the sting where Hen's hand had connected with his skull.

"And more," she says seriously. "If you break him again, I swear to God I -"

"Okay, let's go," Eddie says, shoving her down the hall and away from striking range of Tommy. "We can save the threats for the next time he screws up. I'll help you take him down," he tells her with a smirk.

Tommy knows it's a joke, but it's also not a joke. He doesn't want to screw this up again either.

He steps into the room, closing the door behind himself. He stands near the foot of the bed, unsure if he'll be welcome any closer. Evan simply stares at him, waiting.

"So first of all, I'm sorry. Let's get that out of the way. And second of all," he takes one step closer, "I'm blocking Howie's number."

Evan snorts, but doesn't say anything. Tommy takes another step.

"Third of all, I'd really like to take care of you while you recover. If you'll let me."

"You don't need to do that."

"I know. I want to."

"I don't want you to do this because you feel obligated or like you owe me or whatever," Evan says, a little sad.

Tommy takes one final step that places him next to Evan's uninjured side.

"I have a lot of vacation time saved up. I'd like to spend it with you," he shrugs.

Evan looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn't. Instead, he nods, accepting Tommy's help.

"Fourth of all, I want you to stay at my house." He holds up a hand before Evan can protest. "You don't need to be worrying about stairs or trying to sleep on your couch once the shoulder heals. Plus, my kitchen is better."

"Okay, fine," Evan concedes. "What's fifth of all?"

"Fifth of all," he says, finally sitting in the chair at Evan's bedside, "please don't ever die."

That surprises a laugh out of Evan.

"What? That's not something I can promise."

"Then at least make sure I die first."

"Tommy," Evan says, concerned, "you know I can't promise any of that. What's going on?"

"I -" he clears his throat when his voice breaks, "I lost you once. And I know I owe you an explanation for everything. But today I thought I might lose you for good, and — I can't do it again. I can't take the thought of losing you forever."

"Tommy -"

"I love you."

Evan's mouth snaps shut.

"And I don't expect you to say it back - now or ever - but I need you to know that one more person out there loves you. So please, at least try not to die while I'm still alive, okay?"

It takes a moment for Evan's expression to shift from shock to understanding.

"Okay, I can try."

"Good. That's - that's good. Thanks."

Evan holds out his hand, wiggling his fingers until Tommy laces his own through. He can feel the adrenaline crash hitting him.

"So does this mean you want to try again?" Evan asks.

"If you'll give me another chance, I'd like to try keeping you. And we can call this a trial run for living together. Although I don't want to move too fast for you."

"If anything, I think I moved too fast for you," Evan smiles. "Maybe this time instead of moving at my pace or your pace, we can move at our pace."

"Have I ever told you how much I love the way your brain works?"

Evan squeezes his hand.

"Once or twice I think."

"Is that all? That's not nearly enough."

It's easy to fall back into this thing with Evan. They talk until the 118 crew and Maddie return, and then they all talk some more. Tommy takes his fair share of gentle ribbing, but with Evan's hand in his own, it's not so bad.

The next morning, Tommy gets to take Evan home. They've gone over all of the discharge forms and orders from the doctor, and they pick up two prescriptions from the pharmacy on their way.

As Tommy helps Evan get settled in the recliner, Evan says, "I love you, too, y'know."

Tommy barely falters where he's fluffing the pillow against Evan's back.

"You really are on a lot of painkillers."

"Tommy," Evan says seriously, the hand of his good arm clutching Tommy's wrist before he can pull away, "I love you. I never stopped. I don't know if I ever could."

It's the simplest thing to lean down and press his lips to Evan's. It's less simple to allow himself to accept what Evan said. Not because he doesn't believe Evan means it, but because he doesn't know if he'll ever deserve it.

"What do you want to eat? I think we'll order in, so pick whatever. Thai? Chinese? Sushi? There's that new Ethiopian place two streets over."

"Delivery is so expensive, Tommy."

"I'm on vacation," he shrugs. "And maybe I wanna splurge on some food for you."

"Well, first of all -"

"Don't start."

[ofbatsandballads]

Hi Rae. Who gave you permission to snap my heart in two at midnight? No, really, this has me going insane so have my ranting under the cut:

He's not normal. Not someone you should be happy to see. […] But you are– everytime he drags his weary body to your window– you're happy. You smile, welcome him inside like he has a place there.

The way I’m already screaming “because he does have a place there!” before we’ve even hit the end. Something about Jason not being able to accept love not because other people are liars or insincere but because he can’t comprehend why anyone would love him is so heartbreakingly in character.

It's not like he can offer the same back or return the favors you so freely give. He wants to– at least he thinks he does– he just gets stuck when it comes to what to do with you.

Reciprocity—tit for tat, an eye for an eye—being so ingrained in his perception of the world and of himself that he can’t realize he doesn’t have to return the favor, that he can just accept the kindness for what it is, makes me want to cry. Thanks.

shocked to stillness each time your hands don't bring a wave of hurt to his skin.

Stray dog coded Jason who doesn’t know what to do when touch doesn’t hurt is so dear to me. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: your characterization of him is golden.

He adores you. He won't admit it to anyone, not even to himself most of the time. But he does.

Jason who loves so deeply, so completely that it could destroy him. Jason who has spent both of his lives just trying to stay above water, running from anything that could harm him. Jason who was killed because he loved so fiercely. Just…him finding himself loving someone that much again and sort of bluescreening on what that means for him.

There is no happy ending when all he can offer is fleeting comforts and one word answers. He doesn't deserve your patience, your endless willingness to understand and wait for him to figure himself out.

The absolute overpowering emotion of needing to drill it into his head with love and kindness and care that there is a happy ending with all of that actually. And that he does deserve good things and patience and love. I just know loving him would be so frustrating sometimes but that each time it would just make you want to stick around more.

If he knew how, he'd ask if you were really okay with who he is, what he does, how he acts. Your eagerness to make him feel like he does fit into any place in your life makes him wonder if it's all just a mask. If you're just waiting for him to be at his worst to reveal that it's all a lie– that he's truly and devastatingly unwanted.

So this whole paragraph took me out but that last line destroyed me. The phrase “truly and devastatingly unwanted” is going to live rent free in my head for a while now.

it's just that the store was out and he was bleeding too heavily through his suit to stop at anywhere else.

I recently read a piece of Jason meta that said that he would accept any and all harm or mistreatment just to get the companionship and love he craves and this really speaks to that because why are you picking up ice cream when you’re bleeding out??? Oh, it’s because he thinks he’s unworthy of basic human decency if he has nothing to offer.

You're just too good. Everything Jason isn't. He feels like he's dragging you down with him when you offer to keep emergency weapons for him hidden in your apartment. He's definitely staining everything you are with his greedy hands when you start keeping extra first aid kits in your closet.

Clawing at the walls while screaming “they do it because they love you!!!” I love reading this from the perspective of his partner because it’s just sitting here listening to the internal monologue of man that is confidently incorrect. Your description of him being an unreliable narrator is spot on.

And when you clean out a drawer in your dresser for him to keep clothes in, when you stock your cupboards with all his preferred foods, fill your shelves with his favorite books, and play the songs he loves to hum along to, he selfishly lets himself believe you might want this forever too. You do.

One of my favorite things about how you write Jason is that he always, without fail, breaks at the end just a little bit. The sustained love and care and kindness always manages to get the tiniest foothold in his soul, like a flower growing through a crack in concrete. Even when he thinks he’s being selfish or delusional or blindly hopeful. It’s so true to what loving someone like him would be like—slow and gradual and hard fought, but resolute and unflinching.

So yeah, in short I love this with my entire being and I will be sending you the bill for my therapy (please never stop writing).

If He Could

Jason is an unreliable narrator ~1k words

Jason's no good for you. He's too brash, too rough, too easily pulled away to defend the streets of Gotham. He's a liability in your life, a dark stain in the otherwise perfect fabric of your reality. He's all the worst of shadowed alleys and tortured corners of decaying apartments.

He's quick to pull a weapon, even quicker to throw a punch. He doesn't quite remember how to make his smile look natural, how to stand without his shoulders tense and ready to dodge whatever comes his way. He's not normal. Not someone you should be happy to see.

But you are– everytime he drags his weary body to your window– you're happy. You smile, welcome him inside like he has a place there.

And he doesn't know what to do with it. Doesn't know how he should react to your bright eyes and soft touches and fond words. It's not like he can offer the same back or return the favors you so freely give. He wants to– at least he thinks he does– he just gets stuck when it comes to what to do with you.

He knows he shouldn't tense up at your reassuring pats to his arms– but he freezes, shocked to stillness each time your hands don't bring a wave of hurt to his skin. He knows he shouldn't be so quiet when you ramble about your day, but he can't find the words to describe just how much he does care about every mundane fact you share with him.

And oh, does he care. Too much even. Cares in a way that scares him off the grid for days at a time, only to sheepishly find his way back to your fire escape with a tub of melting ice cream or cooling coffee and a half-baked excuse on his tongue.

He adores you. He won't admit it to anyone, not even to himself most of the time. But he does. It's you who he wants to come back to when his feet ache and his eyes strain to make out words and figures. It's you who makes him feel not so heavy when the sun starts to rise over the tired, crumbling buildings he knows better than his own skin.

He has a portion of his heart and mind set aside just for you. But Jason can't tell you that. The more he relents to you (because he can never say no when you ask), the more he threatens to ruin you. He's a slow rot, a plague that sets into the very marrow of your bones.

But you don't see it. He doesn't want you to, but you should. You should understand that by carving out a place for him besides you, you are going to destroy yourself from the inside out.

There is no happy ending when all he can offer is fleeting comforts and one word answers. He doesn't deserve your patience, your endless willingness to understand and wait for him to figure himself out.

It's not fair to you– to either of you. But he always ends up back in your living room, always ends up with his hands curling into fists as you graciously take whatever food or trinket he's brought to try and win your continued affections.

He secretly believes he must be the most selfish person in the world when he leans into your warm hugs, when he passes out on your couch after your semi-regular movie nights. (He tries not to linger on what it means when he sleeps better on your old, worn furniture than his own bed)

It's cruel of him to lead you on like this. It's cruel of him to set himself up for heartbreak. You'll learn that he's not worth your time soon enough. But, for now, he can't help but bask in the way you offer to stitch the tears in his clothes, the way you so excitedly ask him to try every new recipe you've made.

If he knew how, he'd ask if you were really okay with who he is, what he does, how he acts. Your eagerness to make him feel like he does fit into any place in your life makes him wonder if it's all just a mask. If you're just waiting for him to be at his worst to reveal that it's all a lie– that he's truly and devastatingly unwanted.

Those words still haven't come from either of your lips– don't come– even when he messes up and brings you the wrong flavor of ice cream. (It's not that he forget what you liked– it's just that the store was out and he was bleeding too heavily through his suit to stop at anywhere else)

The words don't even come when he doesn't tell you why he disappeared for over a month this time. (Someone got too close to his identity– to you. He had to track down everyone involved before he could even think of resting or seeing you again)

Jason wants to have the right words, wants to do the right thing, and make you laugh and watch your eyes light up because of something he did. He wants to hug you back in a way that makes you feel safe and needed and wanted above all else. He wants to. He just doesn't deserve to give you that, even if he knew how to do it.

You're just too good. Everything Jason isn't. He feels like he's dragging you down with him when you offer to keep emergency weapons for him hidden in your apartment. He's definitely staining everything you are with his greedy hands when you start keeping extra first aid kits in your closet.

But for the life of him, he can't stop. Can't stop his familiar trek to your windowsill. Can't stop craving the hugs you offer, the conversations you share.

He wants this forever. He wants to keep this– you– whatever this is, in between his fingers and never let go. (He could if you'd just let him) You would.

And when you clean out a drawer in your dresser for him to keep clothes in, when you stock your cupboards with all his preferred foods, fill your shelves with his favorite books, and play the songs he loves to hum along to, he selfishly lets himself believe you might want this forever too. You do.

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Ok hear me out…Drunk Karaoke, with any girls *ahem M16 ahem*, where their s/o gets a little too tipsy and starts singing to them when s/o’s favourite song comes on

I’m sorry I’ve been playing payday2 so much and have unironically been singing this banger while doing chores -

I will give you my all, pretty baby, I'll come whenever you call for me, baby, yeah

I will give you the best of me

The best of me, The best of me

(H:SR) Fugue and Serval's S/O getting drunk and singing Karaoke

Alternative Titles: Like a Butterfly/TONIGHT

You know, I was actually listening to a song that made me think of Fugue, and this gives me the perfect excuse. Girl deserves to laugh anyway with what she's been through. Fugue gets the all star treatment with a short fic since this particular brainworm has taken hold of me for the last few days for her specifically. Meanwhile, I'll be twisting the ask a little and having Serval be the lead singer, but you'll see the reason for that. Content: Yakuza Karaoke Jumpscares, Funny for Fugue, Feels for Serval Word Count for Fugue's Part: 1.4k

Fugue and S/O took a while to reconnect, considering all that had happened. It was not a smooth transition, and to imply otherwise would be a bold-faced lie.

But through some perseverance from both parties, things had gotten to some sense of normalcy again. Quiet moments of getting to drink tea with S/O, watching the people stroll by got her to remember in flashes of what she loves.

And more importantly, who she loves as well. Though, tonight was a bit different. Instead of tea, S/O opted to drink something a bit more alcholic.

And for some odd reason, alarms began ringing in Fugue's head, but she couldn't quite place why. Instead of intervening, she decided to let S/O drink and find out for herself why this premonition came to her.

Only to realize that even in her current state, her past self was warning her: For the love of god, do NOT LET S/O DRINK.

A warning that came too late, she feared.

(S/O) HIC! "Ah! Now THAT hits the spot!"

Fugue ears slightly recoiled at their volume, a foreboding sense of deja vu washing over her.

(Fugue) "I-I see...How often did we go drinking together, out of curiousity?"

S/O turned to face their lover, slightly off balance and red in the face as they frowned, struggling to remember.

(S/O) "Hmmmmm....Iunno. We just drank some tea and stuff. You never let me drink, usually."

(Fugue) I think I'm beginning to remember why.

Fugue was only lost in her thoughts for a moment longer before S/O smiled at her, causing to become slightly flustered under their attention.

(Fugue) "S/O?"

(S/O) "You're so beautiful..."

The way they had said it sounded like it took every fiber of their being to say it correctly, a fact that made Fugue giggle, her own affection barely being contained by her smile.

(Fugue) "Always the charmer, I see.~"

Fugue finishes the rest of her tea before moving over to help S/O up, effortlessly dragging them to stand as one arm was looped around her neck.

...Strange. She can't help but feel like this used to be harder to do. Oh well, this is probably the one of the few things she can't complain that's different now.

Before she can even take a single step, she immediately gets startled by S/O who suddenly stands upright on their own.

(S/O) "I WANT TO SING WITH YOU!"

(Fugue) "...W-Wha-?"

They grab her shoulders gently, yet firm enough that causes her to freeze in place as her tail and ears shoot up in surprise.

(S/O) hic! "We should sing the night away with some music!"

(Fugue) "Karaoke? Well, I suppose there are a few bars here that host-"

(S/O) "GREAT, LET'S GO!"

(Fugue) "W-WAH?!"

Getting dragged along to one of the nearby bars in the Loufou, S/O rented a room to themselves, with S/O excitedly sitting down and taking a peek through the song list.

Fugue meanwhile felt like she was suddenly in over her head. She knew that she had a nice voice, but enough to sing?

Regardless of what kind of singing voice she possessed, S/O was not going to let her dwell on it.

(S/O) "Okay, you can take the lead and I'll be your backup vocals!"

(Fugue) "You want me to be the lead singer? I think you should-"

(S/O) "NAH!"

S/O flopped their head onto her lap, making her jump slightly.

(S/O) "I'm...a little gone right now...Besides, this song I wanna hear your voice, it's my favorite!"

Fugue took the song list from S/O and examined the title.

(Fugue) "Like a Butterfly?"

She tried scrounging whatever scrap of memory was in her head, and nothing came up, though the name didn't exactly stir anything either. As if sensing her thoughts, S/O grabbed the list back and put it on the Karaoke Machine.

(S/O) "I...didn't really tell you about this song. It's a bit of a guilty pleasure, to be honest!"

That at least made her feel a little better, fearing that she was forgetting yet another important memory, and instead just something-

...Wait, why was S/O embarrassed to show this to her?

(S/O) "I always sing the rap parts by myself, but now I have you to sing the lady's part!"

Drunk rapping? Oh boy.

(Fugue) "Well...I'll give it my best shot...!"

(S/O) "Great, we have all night!"

Well, at least this night would be something to remember, for better or worse.

[Song: Like a Butterfly]

Fugue swayed from side to side as the beat of the song kicked in, meanwhile S/O was bobbing their head violently, grabbing their microphone and shouting with their entire heart as their part came first.

(S/O) "BE REBORN! CLIMB OUT OF HELL, BORN AGAIN! LET'S FLY HIGH LIKE A BUTTERFLY!"

Fugue smiled and grabbed her own microphone, singing timidly in comparison to S/O's manic energy.

(Fugue) "It's drowning in its greed, the wicked trap was sprung, Tangled in the threads of its deeds!"

From the lyrics alone, Fugue could tell that she would like this song as well.

(S/O) "TANGLED IN ITS CRIMES!"

Fugue tapped her foot as the song got faster, being infected by S/O's energy, her eyes on them the entire time as both of them smiled, her voice growing louder as she sang her next part.

(Fugue) "Like fate scoops up a fish, struggling in a net Its brittle wings are torn by the tears as it trembles in cold sweat!" (S/O) "YOU TORE YOUR WINGS NOW CRY!"

S/O was clapping to the rhythm, getting Fugue more into the feel and just having fun at this point, neither of them particularly caring if they were great. While Fugue's voice was bewitching, S/O's voice came crashing like a fingernail to chalkboard.

(Fugue) "The spider comes, a thirst in its eyes-" (S/O) "A BUTTERFLY WITH NO WINGS IS A MOTH IN THE FLAME! JUST A RAT ON THE FLOOR WITH ANOTHER NAME!"

Subconsciously, Fugue could tell why S/O sang this alone as the rapping was ridiculous, but she could not deny that this was really fun to sing along to with another person, lover or otherwise.

(Fugue) "The venomous fangs sink into the soul-" (S/O) "THIS WORLD IS DEAD, NO LIGHT LEFT TO FIND! IT'S TOO LATE-"

Fugue joined S/O in standing up, both of them swaying to the beat, though S/O's was far more aggressive as they sang their parts like they were rapping on stage, something that made her almost break down laughing.

(Fugue) "Too late now, to mourn it's punctured wings, to take to the sky!" (S/O) "TAKE TO THE SKY!"

With any former hesitation gone, Fugue smiled as she just enjoyed the rest of the song with her lover enthusiastically cheering her on by remaining on backup vocals.

If only it could be, just one more time (TO THE BITTER END IN OVERDRIVE!) Engrave the beat, flap your wings 'til you feel you are complete (FLY, HIGH!) Oh you tragic butterfly Despairing, craving it, that singular last ray of light still shining down on bitter wings (BE REBORN, CLIMB OUT OF HELL BORN AGAIN! LET'S FLY HIGH LIKE A BUTTERFLY! YOU'VE DREAMED LONG OF THIS DAY, DREAM AGAIN!) So fly high again (AND FLY HIGH LIKE A BUTTERFLY!)

Like a butterfly (TO THE BITTER END OVERDRIVE,BURNING OUT IN AN ENDLESS DRIVE!) Soaring in the sky like a butterfly (TO THE BITTER END OVERDRIVE, BURNING OUT IN AN ENDLESS DRIVE- OH YEAAAAAAAAAH!)

Fugue couldn't hold back her laughter anymore, doubly so when S/O finished off the song.

(S/O) "FLY LIKE A BEAUTIFUL BUTTERFLY, FLY LIKE A BEAUTIFUL BUTTERFLY!"

Finally catching her breath, Fugue sat back down, still laughing as S/O cheered, flopping down next to her and struggling to catch theirs.

(S/O) "Like the song?"

(Fugue) "Hm, not my usual style admittedly but...I do resonate with the lyrics."

(S/O) "Hm...? Why's that?"

...Oh right, they were still drunk. As if their "singing" wasn't reminder enough. But, honestly just something as simple as singing a dumb song was enough to lighten her spirit, and though it didn't call any particular memory to mind, it was something like this that reminded why 'Tingyun' fell in love with S/O in the first place.

Though, she figured she'd better take the song's advice and start focusing on new memories, rather than any old one for now.

(Fugue) "Well, what other songs do you have for us?"

Seeing their eyes glimmer at that, S/O began rushing through the song list for another one, all the while Fugue's smile grew even bigger.

(S/O) "SERVAAAAAAL!"

Serval was nearly glomped by S/O, causing her to laugh and set her drink far away from the edge of the table.

(Serval) "Oof, hey! Think ya had enough?"

From their breath and flushed face, that answer was most definitely a-

(S/O) "Heh, nope!"

S/O rested their head on her shoulder, almost threatening to yank her off.

(S/O) "I want to sing a song with you!"

(Serval) "Hm, is that right?"

After a few hiccups and almost losing their balance, they nodded aggressively.

As funny as it would be to have their drunk ass sing some rock and roll...She had a different idea in mind.

(Serval) "I'll cut you a better deal, you get to hear a song I've been working on by myself! An exclusive sneak peek!"

S/O's eyes glowed and they stumbled onto a nearby chair.

(S/O) "Y-Yeah! I wanna hear it!"

Though Serval was smiling, there was a hint of sadness in it.

That hint being big enough for S/O to catch onto it, even when alcohol was scrambling their senses.

(S/O) "...Babe, something wrong?"

Serval laughed at the petname and shook her head, uncharacteristically becoming shy as her finger tapped the table.

(Serval) "Not really just...This song isn't my usual kinda style, ya know? Don't wanna bore you to death with it."

(S/O) "Nothing you could share to me could ever be boring! I...just might pass out from the alcohol is all."

Serval rolled her eyes.

(Serval) "Gee, that makes me feel better."

(S/O) "Just shut up and grab your guitar already!"

Serval took a deep breath and grabbed her guitar and hooked up her phone to play the other instrumental parts she had done herself, looking at S/O, and then to the ceiling and closing her eyes.

(Serval) "I've kept this one hidden for a while, thought it might be a bit too personal but...Eh, what the heck. This one goes out to...a friend now gone."

S/O's smile grew more somber at that, having an inkling of who she was talking about.

[Song: Tonight -restart from this night-]

Serval's pick began strumming along the strings of her guitar, as she began singing, her tone growing much more heartfelt.

(Serval) "Back in the day, I thought I was strong, that I was the one who could right every wrong, Years roll on by, time does what it does, so hard to hold on to the people we love."

Serval's foot was tapping in rhythm, her eyes catching a glance at S/O, their hand doing the same. Smiling softly at that, she continued her song.

(Serval) "I've lost count of the days, And though I never stop thinking of you, We have gone our separate ways-"

Serval's mind rushed back with memories, where S/O was sitting, Cocolia was there, hanging off every word she was singing with a bright smile.

And that made Serval forget entirely about her mini stage-fright, singing as if there was no audience at all and simply speaking from the heart now.

So, tonight, let's start again From this night, rewrite the way it ends You and I would laugh And sing all night like we'd always meant

Part of her wondered if the Cocolia she knew would poke fun at her, thinking this song was a bit too sappy for what Serval usually did.

Would this song have even moved the Supreme Guardian at all?

Maybe. Serval would never know.

So, tonight, you'll find me there The nights we shared in places drinks would flow And the sun never rose And life meant living the life we chose

If I could relive the moment we drifted apart I'd right every wrong for you Whatever life asks from me, I will do Just to see you smile and waste a night with you

Serval closed out the song with a final strum, letting the instrumentals finish it out.

After opening her eyes again, she saw S/O with tears welling in their eyes, rubbing them aggressively with their sleeves.

The sight got her to laugh a little, despite the fact a part of her felt like tearing up as well.

(S/O) "That...song is beautiful! Why don't you play that?!"

(Serval) "Hah...maybe someday, but like I said, I'm still working out some little tidbits here and there on it."

(S/O) "Then...Then I can sing it instead!"

That had Serval suddenly burst into laughter, nearly dropping her guitar.

(Serval) "Maybe when I can't smell the drink you had all the way from here, I'll consider it!"

Serval shook her head and sat next to S/O, wiping away the tear on their cheek with her thumb.

(Serval) "How 'bout a different song huh? I can play it for ya, and you can scream like an idiot!"

(S/O) "Hey!"

Smiling at their pout, S/O was doing a good job of lifting her spirits already. Thanks to them, and many others, she wouldn't stay in the past.

...But, she'd be lying if she said she wouldn't want her best friend back.

Maybe for S/O, and the Cocolia she knew, she'd play that song for a real audience someday.

...But not tonight.

[kezdispenser]

Breaking Character pt11/?

Summary: You are the new cast member of 'The Boys' and you play Butcher's cousin and Soldier Boy's new love interest 'Solene'. You're introduced to the cast by the director at a dinner and you're seated next to Karl and Jensen to "bond".

Pairing: Jensen x reader

Warnings: SMUT, language, fluff, 18+, KINKS

The living room was alive with laughter as the cast huddled around the coffee table, snacks strewn everywhere, and a heated game of Pictionary underway. Jack was furiously scribbling on the notepad, his tongue sticking out in concentration, while Erin and Antony shouted wildly incorrect guesses.

“Is it...a car?” Erin yelled.

Jack groaned. “Does this look like a car?!”

“Maybe a horse?” Antony guessed, squinting at the mess of lines on the paper.

“It’s obviously a toaster,” Karl said with a straight face, making the rest of us dissolve into giggles.

Jensen sat beside me on the couch, his arm slung comfortably around my shoulders. He was terrible at hiding his amusement, his chest rumbling with soft laughter. I leaned into him, feeling that warm, easy comfort that only he could provide.

“You’re not even trying to help,” he teased, nudging me gently.

“Because this is too much fun to watch,” I replied, grinning up at him.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered with a smirk, pressing a kiss to my temple.

The moment felt perfect. The room was filled with the kind of joy that made everything else fade away—the drama, the stress, all of it.

But then my mind wandered, unbidden, to a conversation Jensen and I had just days ago.

-

“I’m done, Jensen,” I had said, pacing the length of our hotel room.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching me with a calm that only made my frustration grow. “Done with what?”

“My manager,” I snapped, spinning to face him. “I’m done with the constant criticism, the pressure, the...the bullshit.”

He stood and walked over to me, his hands resting gently on my shoulders. “You don’t have to put up with that, Y/N.”

“I know,” I said, my voice softening. “That’s why I’m firing him.”

Jensen’s lips quirked into a small, proud smile. “About damn time.”

“I just...” I hesitated, glancing down. “What if it backfires? What if—”

“No.” His voice was firm, cutting through my doubts. “You’re not doing anything wrong. If someone in your corner isn’t supporting you, they don’t deserve to be there. Period.”

I exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of his words settle over me. “You make it sound so simple.”

“Because it is,” he said, cupping my face in his hands. “You deserve better, and if firing that asshole is what it takes, then do it. I’ll be here no matter what.”

-

“Earth to Y/N!” Erin’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

“Huh?” I blinked, realizing everyone was staring at me.

“It’s your turn!” she said, holding out the notepad and pen.

Jensen chuckled, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “Good luck, sweetheart.”

I groaned but took the pen, determined to draw something only slightly better than Jack’s unrecognizable toaster—or horse, or whatever it was.

The night carried on in the same playful, lighthearted spirit, the memory of my decision to fire my manager leaving me with a quiet sense of empowerment. For the first time in a long time, I felt free.

The house was still and quiet as we stepped inside, the only sound the faint click of the door locking behind us. Jensen turned to look at me, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He tossed his keys onto the counter, his movements unhurried but deliberate.

“Feels weird without the kids here, huh?” I said, kicking off my shoes and letting out a long sigh as I sank onto the couch.

“A little,” he admitted, his voice low and easy, “but I’m not complaining.”

He crossed the room toward me, his strides purposeful. His eyes had that familiar gleam, the one that always made my heart race. When he reached me, he crouched in front of the couch, his hands resting on my knees.

“You’re too far away,” he murmured, his voice tinged with mischief.

“I’m right here,” I replied, trying to keep my tone steady, but his touch had me unraveling already.

“Not close enough,” he countered, slipping his hands under mine and tugging me gently forward until I was perched on the edge of the couch, our faces just inches apart.

He kissed me then, slow and deep, one hand sliding to the back of my neck while the other rested on my thigh. There was nothing hurried about it—just the deliberate, intoxicating way he always made me feel like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, his breath warm against my skin. “You’re incredible, you know that?”

I laughed softly, my hands curling into the front of his shirt. “You’ve mentioned it a few times.”

“I don’t say it enough,” he said, his tone turning serious as his fingers traced idle patterns on my leg. “You’re everything to me.”

The intensity in his words had my chest tightening, my throat threatening to close up with the weight of emotion.

“Jensen…” I started, but his name barely made it past my lips before his hands began to wander.

Jensen leaned back, his arm draped casually over the back of the couch, but his eyes were anything but casual. They were filled with a mix of desire and mischief as he watched you, his gaze lingering on your chest.

“You know,” he said, a playful smirk tugging at his lips, “I’ve always had a thing for… well, let’s just say I appreciate a good pair.”

You raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile forming on your lips. “Is that so? What do you appreciate about them?”

He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low, sultry tone. “Everything. The way they look, the way they feel… and the way they drive me absolutely wild.”

You felt a rush of heat at his words, your heart racing. “Maybe I should give you a better view then,” you suggested, your voice playful yet inviting.

Jensen’s eyes darkened with desire as you slowly lifted your shirt, revealing your bare skin. His breath hitched, and you could see the hunger in his gaze as he took in the sight of you.

“Damn,” he breathed, his voice thick with lust. “You’re stunning.”

He shifted closer, his hands finding your waist, fingers brushing against your skin as he pulled you toward him. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, and it sent shivers down your spine.

“Can I?” he asked, his eyes flicking to your chest, a mix of eagerness and respect in his gaze.

“Please,” you whispered, your heart racing with anticipation.

With a swift motion, he leaned down, his mouth capturing one of your breasts. His tongue swirled around your nipple, and a moan escaped your lips as pleasure coursed through you. Jensen’s hands roamed, squeezing and kneading your other breast, his touch firm yet gentle.

“God, you’re perfect,” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and tantalizing.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as he lavished attention on you. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you in this moment of pure bliss.

“Jensen,” you gasped, the sensation overwhelming. “I need more.”

He looked up at you, his eyes dark with lust. “You got it, babe.”

With that, he shifted, positioning you so that you were lying back against the couch, your body arching toward him. He took a moment to admire you, his gaze filled with hunger. Then, he leaned down, his mouth finding yours in a passionate kiss, igniting a fire within you that you never wanted to extinguish.

As he kissed you, his hands continued to explore, tracing the curves of your body, his fingers brushing against your breasts, teasing and tantalizing. You could feel the heat pooling in your core, and you wanted nothing more than to feel him closer.

“Jensen,” you breathed, your voice a mix of urgency and desire. “I want you.”

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. “Are you sure?”

You nodded, your heart racing. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

With a wicked grin, he leaned back down, his mouth capturing your breast once more, his tongue flicking and teasing as he lost himself in the moment. You could feel the heat building between you, the world outside forgotten as you surrendered to the pleasure he was giving you.

Jensen’s mouth moved with a fervor that sent waves of pleasure coursing through you. He lavished attention on your breasts, his tongue swirling and teasing, while his hands explored the curves of your body. You could feel the heat pooling in your core, a desperate need building within you.

“Jensen,” you gasped, arching your back as he took your nipple into his mouth, sucking gently. “I need you… please.”

He pulled back, his eyes dark with desire, a smirk playing on his lips. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “You’re driving me insane.”

With that, he shifted his position, kneeling on the couch beside you. He took a moment to admire you, his gaze roaming over your body, drinking in every curve. You felt exposed yet empowered under his scrutiny, the heat of his gaze igniting a fire within you.

“Let me show you just how much I appreciate you,” he said, his voice thick with lust.

He leaned down, his mouth trailing kisses down your stomach, his hands gripping your thighs as he pushed them apart. You gasped, your breath hitching in your throat as he settled between your legs, his eyes locking onto yours.

“Jensen,” you breathed, your heart racing with anticipation.

He didn’t respond with words; instead, he leaned in, his mouth finding the sensitive skin between your thighs. A moan escaped your lips as his tongue flicked against you, teasing and exploring. The sensation was electric, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

“God, you taste amazing,” he murmured against you, his breath hot against your skin.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, urging him closer as he continued to work his magic. He was relentless, his tongue swirling and teasing, driving you closer to the edge. You could feel the heat building, the pressure mounting as he expertly brought you closer and closer to the brink.

“Jensen, I’m so close,” you gasped, your body trembling with need.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark and filled with desire. “I want to feel you come for me,” he said, his voice low and sultry.

With renewed vigor, he focused on your clit, his tongue flicking and teasing in a way that sent you spiraling over the edge. You cried out, your body arching as waves of pleasure washed over you, leaving you breathless and trembling.

As you came down from your high, Jensen crawled back up your body, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips, and it only fueled the fire within you.

“Now, it’s my turn,” he said, his voice thick with desire as he reached for the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head to reveal his chiseled chest. You couldn’t help but admire him, your hands roaming over his body, feeling the hard muscles beneath your fingertips.

He leaned down, capturing your lips once more, his hands gripping your waist as he positioned himself between your legs. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the tension building as he pressed against you.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice low and filled with need.

You nodded, your heart racing with anticipation. “Yes, Jensen. I want you.”

With a primal growl, he pushed inside you, filling you completely. A moan escaped your lips as you felt him stretch you, the sensation overwhelming. He paused for a moment, letting you adjust to his size, his eyes locked onto yours.

“God, you feel incredible,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

He began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, but the urgency quickly built as he lost himself in the moment. You could feel every inch of him, the heat and intensity building with each thrust.

“Jensen,” you gasped, your nails digging into his back as he picked up the pace. “Harder… please.”

He obliged, his thrusts becoming more frantic, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. You could feel the heat pooling in your core once more, the pressure building as he drove you closer to the edge.

“Let go for me,” he urged, his breath hot against your ear. “I want to feel you come around me.”

With a final thrust, you felt the wave of pleasure crash over you, your body trembling as you cried out his name. Jensen followed closely behind, his thrusts becoming erratic as he found his release, filling you completely.

As you both came down from your highs, he collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, the afterglow wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

“Damn,” he said, satisfied.

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

A/N: Hey you guys, I'm back, I hope you guys had fun during the holidays, idk if I'm back to posting regularly but I can try.

@justwhisperingfantasies @impala67rollingthroughtown @deansimpalababy @jackles010378 @winchester @barnes70stark @nancymcl @oceean @spnaquakindgdom @ladysparkles78 @sexyvixen7 @spxideyver @stoneyggirl2 @star-yawnznn @quietgirll75 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

[nightingale-ghost-writer]

Maybe [Soap x Fem!OC]

Summary: Soap finds a kindred spirit during a trying time

Author’s Notes: This is a little of a long intro, feel free to skip it! I’ve been reading fanfiction for years, and I’ve started dozens of fics. This is the first one I’ve ever finished. (11.8K words!!!) It started off with me wanting Soap to get some medical care for his unaddressed injuries after Alone, and just exploded from there. I wanted to really highlight the bond he and Ghost formed, and then I wanted to give him love (because he deserves it!). I know it’s a bit sparse on the Price and Gaz side of things, but I feel like their bonds with Soap are sort of assumed going into this game. This game, to me, is about Soap learning that sometimes the right thing to do isn’t always so obvious, and Ghost learning to work with a team, thanks to Soap. I loved this campaign dearly, so I have a lot of dialogue carried over from scenes I really wanted to set. That being said, I changed some stuff to better incorporate my OC, Daniela. Writing reader-insert fics is a skill I just do not possess. If you’re reading, I hope you enjoy it!

And to my dear @uselsshuman, who is the furthest thing from useless, thank you so much for your encouragement to write this. Your writing and support really inspired me to get this done. This one’s for you. ❤

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or events from Modern Warfare

Warnings: language, canon-typical violence, suggestive content

Soap tucked himself behind a door, braced his back against the wall, and did his level best to breathe as silently as possible. He could hear the Shadows’ footsteps and radio chatter nearby.

He pulled back the hammer on the desert eagle he’d found in the café safe and held his breath. He didn’t want to get into a gunfight, not here. Not with them. He had decent cover, but his arm throbbed where a bullet was lodged, his ribs stung where his plates had kept him from another, his whole body ached from his jumps and falls in the city, and he was almost certain he’d damaged something in his left hip the day before. 

That particular injury came from running along cliff faces to escape the cartel, which was bad enough. Adding the Shadows to that? That was terrible.

As the footsteps faded, Soap let out a slow, low breath and slumped to the ground. He let his eyes drift shut, just for a moment, taking stock of his ability to get across the plaza to the church. To Ghost. As if he knew that he was being thought about, Ghost’s voice crackled through the comms.

“Soap?“ he asked softly.

“Ghost,” whispered Soap.

“You alright?”

Soap opened his eyes and took a deep breath, peeked around the door, and answered “Think I found a way through, LT.”

“Shadows are everywhere. I’ll hold ‘em off until we RV in front of the church and secure a vehicle for exfil.”

“Roger that.” Soap crept up through the shop, taking care to stay low and move quietly.

“Give ‘em hell, Johnny. We’re almost there,” rumbled Ghost. After a moment’s pause, he added “Listen, I picked up an ally. Should help us get out of here a little easier. You’ve just got to us and we’ll get to a vehicle.”

Soap’s eyes narrowed. Ally? In Mexico? Only two people came to mind, and they were both “detained”.

“Is it Price?” he asked after a moment’s thought.

“No, one of Alejandro's Vaqueros. Wasn’t on base when Graves moved in. Showed up, realized something was wrong. We found each other killing Shadows, decided to team up.”

Soap chanced raising his head to peer out of the shop window. Seeing no Shadows, he moved for the door. “And you trust ‘im?”

“Enough, at least for now.”

“Copy that, LT. I’m on my way.”

He wiggled the door handle, but of course, nothing could be so easy. It was locked. So he pulled out the last of his makeshift pry tools, braced it in the door jamb, and pulled.

Lots of things happened all at once, then.

The door swung open. Soap yelled “Fuck!” while the Shadow said “what the- GET DOWN!”, and hit Soap with the butt of his rifle. The Shadow called his position, Soap heard “kill him!”, and then the Shadow dropped to the ground. Soap scrambled back, pressing the heel of his hand into his eye and groaning. His vision swam and his ears rang and he couldn’t get his bearings. Two more Shadows, running for the building, dropped to the sharp report of silenced sniper fire.

“Holy hell. Ghost, was that you?” Soap asked.

“Who else?” snapped Ghost’s rough voice. “Now go!”

He scrambled to his feet. And ran.

He ran as fast as his bruised body would let him, ducking behind cars and spraying with an SMG he’d picked up. He heard gunfire coming from ahead of him and cursed, grabbing for his radio.

“Ghost, how copy?”

“Johnny, got company in the church and they are not here for forgiveness. Get to the steps, we’ll be there!”

In the last few meters, Soap saw Ghost come careening out of the church doors, followed closely by a much smaller figure dressed all in black. They both turned to shoot at their followers as Soap and Ghost called out to each other. Ghost vaulted over the wrought iron fence, followed by their ally, and the three ran back the way Soap had come.

“We need a vehicle. On me!” Ghost barked. “Stay sharp. They know we’re here and they know it’s us. They’ll send more.”

Minutes that felt like hours later, after a brief firefight, the three piled into a pickup, panting and on high alert. 

“Alright, Johnny! You made it.”

“We made it, LT.” 

After ramming two Shadows with their stolen pickup, and nearly losing Ghost to another, they peeled off down an alley. Soap sagged against the seat, closing his eyes again. His heart and head were pounding.

“How’s that arm, Johnny?” asked Ghost.

Soap raised his head. “I’ll live,” he answered. He shivered violently, once, and Ghost cast a concerned glance in his direction.

“You sure it’s not infected?”

“Of course I’m not sure,” snapped Soap. Softening his voice, he added “But I think it’s just the cold. Between the tunnels and the rain, LT? Feels like I’m back home.”

Ghost nodded slowly. For a long moment, the two just basked in each others’ presence, grateful to have made it back together. Then, Ghost said “Daniela, would you take a look at the Sergeant’s arm? Can’t have him dying on us.”

Soap’s head snapped around to lock eyes with the ally he’d forgotten. Later, he’d remember this moment as an indication of his quickly deteriorating state. In the moment, though, he couldn’t wrap his head around anything but the woman in front of him.

Sometime between their getting into the truck and down the street, the black balaclava and hood had come off. The woman staring back at him had light olive skin and a mass of shiny black curls plastered to her head by rain. A thin, jagged, silvery scar ran from her cheekbone to her jaw, and her full lips were pursed in a barely-there smile. Soap thought he saw scarred flesh at the collar of her jacket. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from hers. They were the bluest blue he’d ever seen- dark like the ocean, clear like the sky on a cloudless night, and as sharp as glass. Familiar, somehow.

He hadn’t necessarily had expectations of how this ally would look, but this was as far from expectation as possible. He had pictured a man, but even the fact that she was a woman wasn’t most shocking of all. It was her beauty.

He flinched when her hand landed lightly on his right shoulder, pulling gently.

“No, we can’t,” she said. Her voice was soft, musical, lightly accented. The lilt of just those three words had Soap’s head spinning for, at least he thought, completely different reasons than it had been spinning earlier. He adjusted his body so that rather than leaning with his left arm over the seat, his right arm hung over. The woman looked straight to the wound, gently prodding the flesh around the bullet wound, and Soap bit his tongue to keep from hissing in pain.

“Does that hurt?” she asked.

Soap tried to be nonchalant. He shrugged and said “Not so much.”

Ghost snorted. Soap didn’t blame him. The words sounded strained even to his own ears. And based on the older man’s jokes about not watching the cartel’s videos of his death “more than once”, this seemed like just the kind of thing he might find amusing. The thought made Soap smirk. The woman rolled her eyes, setting them on his again.

“What’s your name, hen?”

“I am Daniela. You are Soap, yes?” Soap nodded. Daniela nodded as well, focusing back on his arm. “Your Ghost, he told you that I am with Los Vaqueros?”

Soap and Ghost exchanged a look at “your Ghost”. Now Soap really was smirking, and he imagined that Ghost was grimacing under his mask.

“Aye, that he did,” he replied. He watched as Daniela unzipped her tactical vest and tore a strip of fabric from the bottom of her shirt. She began winding it around his bicep, grimacing slightly at the wheeze of pain he couldn’t hold back.

“Well we have a safehouse. We’ll get there, stock up, get you patched up a little better, and come up with a plan.” After carefully tying a knot in the makeshift bandage, she raised her eyes to Soap’s again. “It’s the best I can do right now.”

“I appreciate it,” he replied. He held her gaze for a moment before turning to face Ghost. “Alright, Ghost?”

Ghost glanced at him again. Even behind the mask, Soap could see his expression soften. “Alright, Johnny. You did well back there.” Soap grinned, and could tell by the crinkling around his eyes that Ghost was grinning, too.

“All thanks to you, LT.”

The rest of the ride was filled with soft chatter about Alejandro, Los Vaqueros, Graves, and the safehouse… and Soap trying, and failing, not to feel Daniela’s burning stare on the back of his neck.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Soap thought he was done for when Ghost shouted for him not to move. His feet had just touched the safehouse floor and Ghost was perched in the window. Before Soap even had time to react, a throwing knife flew past his head, embedding itself in the column just a meter away. Then he recognized Rodolfo’s voice. 

“Quién está ahí?”

“Rodolfo!”

Rodolfo rounded the corner. “Soap, Ghost! You’re alive!” Soap could see the moment Daniela mounted the window. Rodolfo’s face crumbled, his whole body seeming to sag with relief. “Daniela!”

“Rodolfo!” She leapt from the windowsill, surging forward to wrap her arms around Rodolfo’s waist. His own arms came around her shoulders and the two rocked back and forth, holding each other, speaking in rapid-fire Spanish that Soap had no hope of understanding. Rodolfo kissed the side of Daniela’s head, holding her to him tightly. Soap looked away. His eyes met Ghost’s and the two shared a slight shrug.

While Rodolfo and Daniela chattered away, Ghost stepped toward Soap.

“Daniela should be able to fix up that arm,” he said. “She’s not a formally trained medic, but she has lots of field training and experience. She told me she’s been patching up Los Vaqueros for years.”

“Aye. How’d you say you found her? Fighting Shadows?”

Ghost looked her way, nodding. “Just a few minutes before I got you on comms, I heard a scuffle. Thought it might be you, so I went in to assist. Lo and behold, I find that one slicing up a Shadow. ‘Nother pair showed up, though, and one got her in a choke-hold. Would’ve carried her off to who knows where if I hadn’t shown up.”

Soap nodded slowly. He didn’t need any more explanation. He knew the implications of what Ghost was saying and it made his blood boil.

Ghost shrugged. “She trusted me enough since I’d just saved her life, and I trusted her enough since she was fighting them and didn’t raise her gun at me. Plus, I think she’s as dedicated to the cause as Alejandro and Rodolfo.”

“Why’s that?” asked Soap. But before Ghost could answer, Rodolfo cut in.

“Where were you guys?”

“On the run,” answered Ghost.

“I was on the run,” corrected Soap. “Ghost waited for me.”

Rodolfo nodded. “Of course, no?”

Dread sank in Soap’s stomach. “No-” he began. But Ghost cut him off.

“Yes,” he said firmly, locking eyes with Soap again. “We’re a team. All of us.”

That stunned Soap into silence. He’d known they’d bonded trying to escape Las Almas with their lives, but for all of his teasing about Ghost taking a shine to him, he hadn’t actually believed that Ghost would say the same thing.

He was touched.

Maybe even more touched by the fact that the legendary lone-wolf Ghost considered him part of his team. It was likely the highest compliment he would ever get from him.

So while Rodolfo and Ghost started in on their plan to get into the prison, Soap settled down against the safehouse wall with an MRE from Alejandro’s supplies. The adrenaline shot he’d managed to get his hands on in Las Almas was waning, and he could feel every sore muscle, the bullet in his arm, and his likely sprained hip sharply. He tried to tune in to the conversation, but his attention was immediately lost when Daniela approached him with a med kit.

She grinned a bit wryly at him. “Mind if I take a better look at that arm?” Soap nodded and braced himself to stand, but Daniela jumped forward, holding out a hand. “No, don’t get up,” she said. Soap settled back to the ground as she crouched by him, reaching for her makeshift bandage from earlier.

Soap studied her as she worked. Her hair had dried and now sat at least a few centimeters higher on her head, tight ringlets falling to her shoulders. Her eyebrows furrowed just a bit as she carefully removed the bloodied fabric. Her movements were calculated, washing the wound and looking at it closely.

“How did you join Los Vaqueros?” Soap asked. For a moment, Daniela didn’t acknowledge him. Then she raised her gaze to his.

Instead of answering his question, she said “I need to get the bullet out. It’s going to hurt. Think you can handle it?”

Soap nodded once, sharply. Her gaze softened. “I don’t have any painkillers. This isn’t going to be some… little pain. It’s going to hurt a lot.”

Soap cocked a wry grin back at her. “Just so long as my screaming doesn’t bother you,” he teased. A wicked spark lit in her eyes at that.

“It won’t bother me. Maybe I’d like to hear you scream.”

Soap’s jaw dropped. It was exactly the type of thing he’d say, but having it said to him was dumbfounding. Who was this woman?

Her smile only grew as she watched him try to compose himself. He was grateful when her gaze dropped back to the task at hand, sterilizing a pair of forceps. He was sure his face was flaming red.

“Los Vaqueros saved my life when I was sixteen,” she said softly. “My village leader refused the cartel’s demands, so El Sin Nombre set to burning the village down. I was one of three survivors.” That explained Ghost’s certainty of her dedication.

She moved to his right side, between his leg and outstretched arm, and gripped his bicep below the bullet wound.

“My whole family died that day.”

She set the forceps at the wound’s entry. Soap took a deep breath.

“I have burns all over my body from our house burning down.” That explained the scarring at her neck.

Soap lurched forward, gasping, when she dug the forceps in. The pain was so blinding that he nearly missed Daniela cursing softly in Spanish before sitting on his right leg, leaning her body against his to keep him from moving. Nearly missed. But didn’t. 

“Lo ciento,” she whispered, sparing him a concerned glance. He grit his teeth and leaned his head back against the wall, chest heaving as he took deep breaths through his nose. 

“I’m sorry,” he gritted out. “I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you.”

Daniela shrugged. “Alejandro pulled me out of that fire,” she continued. Her tone was light, but seemed forced. Soap wasn’t sure whether it was her attempt to calm him or to pretend her story didn’t bother her.

He felt the moment that the forceps grasped the bullet. Took a deep breath. Steeled himself. Nothing prepared him for the feeling. He’d been shot before, multiple times. Bullet removal wasn’t a walk in the park, but he hadn’t realized just how much the painkillers mattered.

Soap was not proud of the whimper he let out when Daniela yanked the bullet out in one clean motion. She dropped the forceps onto a medical tray and lightly patted his cheek before inspecting the wound closely, muttering about infection and pointedly not meeting his gaze. She poured antiseptic over the wound and reached for a bottle of pills. 

“Here, take these. Antibiotics,” she said. After watching Soap swallow the pills, she picked a needle and thread up out of the med kit and continued. “Rodolfo threw a wet blanket over me. They put ointment on my burns and fed me. They offered me a home. They taught me to fight. They’ve been my family ever since.” 

Soap felt a pang of kinship at her words. He flinched slightly when the needle pierced his skin, but the pain died to a dull burn as Daniela kept stitching.

“Now that, I do understand,” he said. 

“You have no family?”

“No. Just the 141.”

After a few more strokes, she tied off the thread and laid a hand on his chest.

“They are my brothers. We must get Alejandro back.”

Soap reached up to cover her hand, belatedly hoping she wouldn’t be able to feel his heart pounding when she met his gaze. “We will, hermana.”

The smile she gave him was small, but her eyes were warm. It lasted for a brief moment before she arched an eyebrow. 

“Hermana?” She leaned forward until her mouth brushed Soap’s ear and he was sure that she could feel his heartbeat stutter. “I certainly hope not.”

With that, she picked up her medical kit and sauntered away, leaving Soap to stare after her in shock.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Getting into the prison compound was easy enough. 

“Trash bin on your right, time to take out the trash.”

“Shut up, Soap, fucking hell.”

A giggle from Daniela.

“Shoot him.”

“No, got something else in mind.”

“Fucking beautiful, sir!”

Impressed mumbling from Rodolfo.

“Cut and paste him, Ghost.”

Soap and Ghost’s banter amused Daniela to no end, even though Soap was sure he’d never been so anxious in his life. Having Ghost’s life almost solely in his hands was a responsibility he never wanted to feel again. But working with Rodolfo again helped to ease his mind.

Nearly being killed by Alejandro was less than ideal, but made worth it to watch him reunite with Rodolfo and Daniela.

“Alejandro! Al- it’s me, hermano!”

“Coronel, relájese somos nosotros!”

“Soap, Rudy, Ghost! Daniela!”

“Didn’t think we’d leave you, did ya?”

“What took you so long, pendejos?”

Getting out wasn’t quite as easy. 

“Exfil vehicles are set. Ghost planted charges to help us get out.”

“With Johnny’s help.”

“Eh, I can’t call Soap ‘Johnny’.”

“Don’t. Only Ghost can pull that off.”

“Aww, really? Only your Ghost? What about me?”

“Yes, Johnny, what about Daniela?”

“Can it, LT.”

But between Los Vaqueros and the 141, they made it. Soap couldn’t put into words how much relief he felt upon seeing Gaz and hearing the old man’s voice. After being hoisted to the top, he and Daniela ended up shoulder to shoulder, her covering him while he detonated the Shadows vehicles.

“Have you been with the 141 long?” she shouted over the sounds of gunfire.

“The 141 hasn’t been around all that long,” he shouted back. “But yeah, I’ve been with ‘em since the start.” He raised his rifle, picking off three snipers with three shots.

Daniela raised an impressed eyebrow. “I can see why!”

Soap grinned wide, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye as he raised the detonator. “Would you be impressed if I told you I rigged the explosives for these things, too?”

Daniela returned his grin full force. “I would be.”

Soap’s grin only widened before he pressed the button, eyes locked with Daniela’s. He lowered his voice and said “Ka-freaking-boom, baby.” She’d giggled when he said it earlier, and as the APC exploded, she let out another delighted squeal.

“Handsome and clever? This is a good combination, Johnny,” she said. Soap was grateful that shooting was such second nature to him because in that moment, all coherent thoughts ceased to exist. When he managed to look back to Daniela, she was smiling slyly. She picked off a sniper from across the yard and Soap shook his head. Witty, intelligent, beautiful, and a good shot. 

When the door to their right crashed open, Soap threw himself in front of Daniela to cover her as they each shot one of the men inside. Ghost barked at Soap about weapons, and he came back to the wall with a grenade launcher. He released several grenades before the last of Alejandro’s men mounted the wall top, and then made sure that Daniela went down the other side before him.

When he stumbled getting to their transport out, he chalked it up to battle fatigue, which he told both Ghost and Daniela when they asked whether he was okay. Neither looked convinced, but neither questioned him. They did sit on either side of him for the ride back to the safehouse, though.

Daniela leaned close to him. “How do you feel?” she asked.

“Never better,” he lied. His whole body throbbed in varying levels of discomfort and pain. At least his head had stopped throbbing. Daniela leveled her gaze at him, and he returned a wide grin. She rolled her eyes and dropped it. Instead, she said “Thank you for covering me. You didn’t have to do that.”

Soap’s grin softened. “I know,” he said.

Back at the safe house, lively music played softly in the garage as Los Vaqueros cleaned weapons, loaded vehicles, and fed themselves. Soap felt slightly out of place, like he and the rest of the 141 were walking into someone’s home. Everyone either had something to say or shook hands with Daniela and Rodolfo as they passed, and they both smiled warmly at their friends.

Soap and Ghost made their way to an unoccupied pair of cots in the corner, observing their newfound comrades. Price had disappeared with Alejandro to formulate a plan, ordering the two to sleep. But exhausted as he was, Soap wasn’t sure he’d be able to.

He couldn’t get comfortable. No matter which way he turned, something ached or stung. He tried relaxing his muscles. He tried breathing deeply. He tried counting sheep. 

Every time he closed his eyes, he could see the fire and the blood from the streets of Las Almas. He could hear the screaming and the pleading and the gunfire. He tried covering his eyes, and his ears. Eventually, he rolled to his side, facing Ghost. He was startled to meet the Lieutenant’s eyes. 

“Simon?” Soap asked softly. 

“Johnny,” said Ghost, equally as softly. 

Soap chewed his lip. “Do you ever forget?”

Ghost held his stare, unflinching. “No. You don’t.” Soap hadn’t realized before, but Ghost’s eyes were bloodshot. He looked tired. He’d learned quickly that he slept infrequently, and for short periods of time. It made a lot more sense, now. Ghost rolled over, huffing out a soft breath. “But eventually, you’ll learn to sleep anyway.”

Soap stared at his back, wondering if he would. Wondering if Ghost ever had. He didn’t know how long he stared at his teammate, but it felt like hours later that someone sat gently on the end of his cot. He flew up, grabbing for the bowie knife he kept in his tactical vest. 

Daniela raised her hands, offering a tired smile. “Mind if I take a look at that arm?”

“Sure.” Soap swung his legs off of the cot, resting his hands on the edge. Daniela turned toward him, reaching out and carefully pulling off the dressing she’d applied that early morning. 

“How does it feel? Any sharp pains or itching? Any dizziness, fever?” As soon as she said fever, Soap realized he’d been sweating more than usual. He’d absolutely been feeling dizzy since that harrowing night on the run, but it seemed to have died down throughout the day. And now that he actually paid attention long enough, it was quite itchy.

“No,” he lied. Once again, those ocean eyes seemed to pierce his very soul, challenging him. She knew. But she didn’t say anything, simply reached into the med kit for the same bottle of antibiotics and handed him two. Soap took them gratefully. The team couldn’t afford to be without him, and Ghost would surely order him to stay back if he thought the Sergeant was at all compromised.

Again, she washed the wound with antiseptic, then applied a fresh coat of salve before covering it with a fresh bandage.

“Why are you awake, anyway?” she asked suddenly. Soap’s head snapped up, eyes flying to hers. She looked nearly as exhausted as Ghost, all bloodshot eyes and frazzled hair and sagging shoulders. Still gorgeous.

Soap shrugged uncomfortably. “Couldn’t sleep. What about you?”

She shrugged back, offering a small smile. “Couldn’t sleep either. It makes sense, though. You’ve been through a lot the last few days.” The last few days? When Soap cocked an eyebrow at her, she fidgeted a bit. “I, uh… I was there in the cartel house. When Valeria interrogated you.”

Several things clicked into place for Soap very suddenly. Alejandro had taken him to the elevator once he got into the cartel house, and another guard had escorted him out and down to the basement. Small, with ocean-blue eyes. Then at the oil rig, Alejandro had sent one man with Soap and Graves to the ship. Dani.

“You’re strong for your size,” said Soap in awe. Daniela had shoved him repeatedly through the hallway, even tapping the side of his face with the butt of her gun when he had begun to look over his shoulder.

She smiled wryly. “Sorry about that. We had to make it real, and we couldn’t risk any more comms than we had.”

“No, no, it’s okay. You did good,” said Soap. “Why can’t you sleep?”

Daniela shifted again. “I don’t do so well the night before big missions. I usually bunk next to Alelandro or Rodolfo, but they’re both… occupied. So, I came over here instead. To you.”

Soap’s heart melted. He was so drawn to this woman, and to know that she felt even a fraction of that bond made his heart swell with gratitude. “You can bunk with us,” he said quickly. Then, glancing around, he realized that there didn’t seem to be any available cots. “Take my cot. I can sleep in a chair.”

Daniela’s face had washed with relief when he spoke, but some tension returned as she looked down at her hands. “Don’t be silly,” she mumbled. “I’m not putting you out of your cot after the week you’ve had.”

“Well then, you’ll just have to share it with me,” teased Soap. He held his breath when Daniela’s head snapped up. He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to say anything so bold, but he’d taken it and run with it. “There’s plenty of space for both of us.”

“If I sleep on top of you, maybe,” snorted Daniela. Soap wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Daniela giggled.

Soap softened his voice, speaking more seriously. “I really don’t mind sharing.”

She contemplated for a moment, sighed, and then rolled her eyes. “Fine. Just don’t complain if I crush you.”

Now it was Soap’s turn to snort. He lay down carefully, his back to Ghost’s cot, and raised his right arm. Daniela lay down beside him, turning onto her side and tucking herself under his chin. A perfect fit. Soap gently let his arm come down over her waist, laying his hand on the cot rail.

“This okay?” he whispered. She nodded. Soap nodded, too. His heart was pounding. He hadn’t been close to someone like this in… well, a long time.

The 141 was his whole life. There was always work to be done, and without a family to go home to, there was no real reason to take leave. On the rare occasion he did, he just ended up in his home town in Scotland. He’d flirt, constantly, but he seldom brought anyone home. He longed for something deeper, and sex alone could never fill that void. Plus, no one wanted to commit to someone who could be gone for months at a time.

But this? To be close to someone? This was filling the void just fine. Soap had to fight the urge to pull her further back against him as her breathing evened out, her body naturally leaning more on his own. As he dozed, he was proud of himself for staying still. He drifted in and out of sleep, dreaming empty dreams and feeling her shift against him.

As he finally woke up the next morning, he felt his hip aching fiercely. He started to shift to take some pressure off of it, and froze. Slowly opening his eyes, he saw Daniela’s wild hair. He groggily remembered that they’d shared a cot the night before. All of his pride at his self-control dissolved instantly when he realized that his arm was around her waist, holding her tightly to his chest. She must have turned over in her sleep, because her leg was thrown over his hip, pulling their bodies flush together. 

He could already feel a problem, and this was not the time or place. He had to get out of this cot without waking her up. He shifted back, then froze as Daniela’s hand ran up to the back of his head to tangle her fingers in his mohawk. Her eyelids fluttered, her fingers pulled lightly at his hair, and her leg tightened around his hips. Soap’s eyes fluttered shut as he swallowed a groan. Fuck. When he opened his eyes again, she was smiling at him sleepily.

“That’s the best sleep I’ve gotten in months,” she whispered. Soap nodded, desperately trying to get his body under control before she woke up any more. To his dismay, she nuzzled closer to him, nose rubbing under his jaw and hips shifting back and forth for a moment. Her eyes snapped open, eyebrows arching. “Feels like you slept pretty well, too, eh big boy?” Hells bells, this woman. Soap barely suppressed a full body shudder as she beamed at him.

“I didn’t, I’m not, I-” he stuttered. But Daniela placed her fingers over his lips, silencing him. Her eyes were full of mirth.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,” she teased. Then she languidly stretched, pressing against him as much as humanly possible before climbing out of the cot and sashaying away, tossing a wicked grin over her shoulder at him. Soap turned to Ghost’s cot, which was blessedly empty, and then pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, still fighting for his body to cooperate. Hells fucking bells.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Alejandro called his men, all sound stopped. The place became a real base in that moment. Los Vaqueros and the 141 gathered around a makeshift operations table, listening intently as Price spoke.

“This is a fight against our own. We are not 141 and Los Vaqueros on this. We’re a team. Ghost team.”

Soap’s eyebrows shot up when the Captain dumped out a bucket of masks, then his eyes snapped up to Ghost. Ghost was staring at him, and Soap was almost certain he was steeling himself. Their silent conversation lasted only a moment before Ghost reached up, pulling off his mask, pausing before reaching for one from the table. Price reached a hand up to his shoulder.

“Good to see you again, Simon,” he said.

Soap carefully schooled his features in an attempt to soothe Ghost’s nerves, but he felt a distinct surge of pride in being one of the few to be allowed to know the Lieutenant. As the older man adjusted the mask over his face, the two shared another weighted look. Soap quirked up one corner of his mouth, shaking his head. Quite the opposite, indeed.

Alejandro laid out the plan to get into the Los Vaqueros facility. “We’ll infiltrate the base with two Ghost teams. Team one is Captain Price, Gaz, me, and one pilot. Team two is Ghost, Soap, Rudy, Dani, and Los Vaqueros.”

Ghost and Soap looked to each other and nodded. Then Soap turned to Daniela, raising an eyebrow. He mouthed “Dani?” 

She smirked, mouthing back “Johnny?”

Soap grinned. He looked to Ghost, who was shaking his head. But his eyes were crinkled with mirth.

“While Gaz and me locate and secure Valeria, Ghost team 2 will find Graves… and kill him.”

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ghost team 2 fought their way through the base to the HQ building, then fought their way through that. Soap and Ghost moved together like they’d fought together for years, and Daniela and Rodolfo effortlessly slotted themselves into their dynamic. Between the three of them, no Shadows made it more than a few steps into the open.

Watching Price’s helo go down had Soap’s stomach sinking. “Steamin’ hell!” Soap shouted. He and Ghost shared a heavy look while Daniela and Rodolfo cursed softly. Rodolfo quickly recovered, clambering up the wall with Soap’s help. Daniela followed after, lightly stepping into Soap’s linked hands before joining Rodolfo in straddling the wall. The two of them pulled Soap up quickly, who turned to Ghost.

“Ghost, you comin’?” he asked.

“No. Price and the pilot need help. You three finish this.”

Soap’s head whipped back and forth between Ghost and the other side of the wall until he saw something that made his stomach drop even more. “Look!” he shouted.

“That’s not ours!” shouted Rodolfo.

“Holy shite. Graves brought a fuckin’ tank!” growled Soap, dropping to the ground. He glanced at Rodolfo and Daniela. “You ready for this?”

“Hell yeah!” answered Rodolfo. Daniela nodded curtly. Soap motioned for the three to split up.

“Looks like the hunters are getting hunted now, huh?” came Graves’ sneering voice. “Ain’t that a kick in the ass?”

“Can’t wait to bake this bastard,” grumbled Soap. He, Daniela, and Rodolfo had run into different buildings. Rodolfo tried to call out C4 stashes, Daniela threw grenades as she could, and Soap gestured for both of them to stay down and inside. Then he ran for his life.

“You and your mexicano friends fucked with the wrong hombre, MacTavish!” yelled Graves.

“Come on out and let’s talk about it,” quipped Soap. Daniela snorted, and despite the severity of the situation, Soap found himself smiling.

Graves seemed altogether less pleased. “You think this is a fucking game out here? You wanna play war? Let’s play some fucking war, chicos! One of you dipshits needs to die last. Who’s it gonna be?”

“Go fuck yourself, Graves.” Soap threw a brick of C4 straight into the tank’s path, silently congratulating himself when it blew.

“You got a healthy disrespect for authority, Soap. I like that about you!”

“You’re Shepherd’s lap dog. You get paid to break the rules.”

“There’s only two rules here, boys. Walk away… or win. Guess which one I choose?” Soap vaulted through a window. It wasn’t high, but the landing still made his hip throb in protest. He grunted softly. “Shoulda gone home when you had the chance, Soap- you and that asshole with the mask, hiding behind that uniform.”

Soap’s temper instantly flared. “You wore that uniform,” he ground out. He was crouched by another C4 stash, trying to judge Graves’ location.

“That uniform was a limitation!” shouted Graves. “I shed that skin!”

“Like a fuckin’ snake,” Soap hissed.

“Like a fuckin’ soldier, son.”

“You had to make your own little army ‘cause you couldn’t hack it in the real one.” This time, Soap managed to stick the side of the tank with C4 as it passed. He ran, detonated, and silently cheered again when he heard the second explosion.

Soap managed to tune out most of the rest of what Graves said, until he turned his attention to Rodolfo. His Spanish wasn’t great, but he picked up the general idea that Graves was saying the 141 were no friends to Los Vaqueros.

“Oye, pendejo!” Daniela’s voice suddenly cut through the radio. Most of what she said was lost to Soap, but she sounded furious. He picked out the words “friends”, “assholes like you”, “good people”, and “brothers”, and “death”. Hermanos hasta la muerte.

Graves must have understood more than Soap, because his driving became erratic and he shouted back to Daniela in what Soap did recognize as poorly pronounced Spanish. 

Her distraction gave him enough time to sneak up behind the tank and lay one last brick of C4 between the tank’s body and tread. But just as he started to back off, the gun began to swing in his direction. Soap braced himself to run, and then froze. 

“Graves!” Daniela shouted. She had leapt up to stand in the window of the building directly ahead of Soap. As the tank's gun swung back in her direction, Soap scrambled to his feet, racing forward. 

“Pinche tu madre,” she sneered. 

Soap could hear the tank’s gun spinning up.

“No!” He shouted. Daniela’s head snapped in his direction. Her face fell when they locked stares, eyes flashing with anxiety. She took half a step toward him, but Soap launched himself through the window. In one smooth motion, he wrapped his arm around Daniela’s waist, yanked her against himself, and pulled them to the ground. He landed hard on his shoulder as he heard the tank fire and rolled her under him as fast as he could, tucking his head against hers and shielding them both with his arms. The building crumbled under the impact, sheetrock and dust raining down on them. Several chunks of sheetrock landed across Soap’s back. That’ll be a few new bruises.

As it began to settle, Soap raised his head just enough to look down at Daniela. They were nose to nose when she opened her eyes, hands coming up to run over his covered head. 

“Y’alright?” Soap whispered. She nodded frantically. 

“You?” He nodded. As he shifted his shoulders, bits of rubble fell off and cracked against the ground. He winced. 

He looked up and around. Graves’ tank was rotating, looking for them. He glanced to the stairs, then looked back down at Daniela. 

“Hold onto me,” he whispered. Daniela cocked an eyebrow, but wrapped her arms around his neck. Soap grabbed one of her legs behind the knee, wrapping it around his waist, and she smirked before wrapping her other leg around his back as well. As serious as the situation was, their position wasn’t lost on Soap. Twice in one day? He swallowed hard. C’mon, MacTavish.

As quickly as he dared, he crawled for the stairwell. He could see Graves’ tank through the doorway on the opposite wall, facing away. In the last meter, he leapt to his feet and ran up several steps, stopping midway to lean against the wall. Daniela slid down his body, resting her hands on his chest. Soap shivered. They were both panting slightly. Her eyes shone as she looked up at him. 

“Gracías, guapo,” she said softly. Then her hand snapped up to her earpiece. She started down for a moment, then looked back up at Soap. “Rodolfo moved to Los Vaqueros private channel. He says there should be an RPG downstairs,” she said. 

Soap nodded, clicking through channels until he could hear Rudy’s voice. “I’ll get it,” he said.

Daniela grabbed his arm as he moved, stopping him in his tracks. “Be careful,” she said. He nodded, clasping her arm. 

“I will.”

He crept down the stairs, peeking around the wall to where he’d last seen Graves’ tank. It wasn’t there. Staying low, he rounded the corner, eyes searching frantically for the RPG.

“Check under the counter, hermano,” whispered Rodolfo. When Soap glanced up, he could barely see the other man peeking around a doorframe across the yard. He crept to the bar counter, slid open the door as quietly as possible, and grabbed the RPG inside.

“Siiick,” said Soap, raising the RPG to his shoulder. With his back to the wall, he slowly made his way to an opening, searching for Graves. Not seeing him, he stayed. And breathed. And waited.

He could hear the thing driving around outside, searching for him or the others. He just hoped they were well hidden.

His radio crackled. “He’s heading your way, Soap,” said Daniela quietly.

“Rog’,” he replied. “Stay down.”

Carefully, he crouched and turned, ready to fire as soon as the tank came into view. He didn’t have to wait long. With a deep breath, he stood, pulled the trigger, and dove behind the cabinet again. The explosion from the tank seemed to rock the very ground. He realized that he’d never detonated the last brick of C4. Double trouble, then.

Slowly, Soap stood and leaned around the corner. Graves’ tank was a ball of fire, smoke and flames billowing into the sky. He heard Daniela step down the stairs, then felt her small hand on his shoulder blade. Rudy peeked around the corner of a doorway, looking around before stepping outside. Soap and Daniela did the same, cautiously walking forward.

“You did it, Soap,” said Rodolfo softly.

“You two and me, hermano,” said Soap.

“Brought a gun to a tank fight.”

Soap chuckled, smiling under his mask. “Yeah we did!” He reached for his radio, clicking back to the main channel. “Soap to Ghost- I’m with Rudy. Graves is KIA. How’s Price?”“Angry. Lost a good cigar in the crash. Pilot’s okay, too. Out.”

Rodolfo relayed the message to Alejandro. They all took a moment to breathe. And then they moved out to meet Ghost Team 1.

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Soap’s head was spinning. They had all known Valeria was a wildcard, but he didn’t think any of them had expected her to drop the bomb of information that a missile was in Chicago. Not even Alejandro. Price handed her off to Los Vaqueros almost immediately, the threat in his voice clear. Soap wasn’t surprised, and he didn’t expect to ever see her alive again.

He was surprised when he had to lift Daniela up and out of the container after she lunged for Valeria. He dragged her out kicking and screaming in Spanish, all curses and threats. Rudy followed them out first, trying to calm her down, but there was nothing for it. The other woman was single-handedly responsible for the deaths of all of her family and friends. Soap couldn’t fault her rage.

Gaz came out next, raising his eyebrows at Soap in a silent question. Soap nodded, affirming that he was alright. Daniela had stopped thrashing, but her chest still rose and fell quickly against his arms. He’d had to lean back against the wall, lifting her feet off the ground to keep her from beelining to the container. Now she stood, back against his chest, hands gripping his tactical harness where it crossed his thighs.

“I won’t pretend to know what you’re feeling,” Gaz began softly. He paced slowly back and forth in front of them. “But I do know that she’s not worth throwing your life away.”

“She stole my life!” hissed Daniela. “She took my family. She took everything from me! And now she’s doing it all again! More people will lose their lives, lose their families, if she isn’t stopped!”

“But she gave you a purpose,” said Gaz firmly. He’d stopped pacing, staring directly at Daniela now. “You’ll never let that happen to anyone ever again. We are going to stop her. And I know it’s not the same thing, but she gave you a family, too. Hell, she gave you two families. You, Alejandro, Rodolfo? Los Vaqueros? You’ll always have a family with the 141, now.”

Soap squeezed her just a bit tighter at that, his own silent affirmation. After a moment, Daniela’s hands released his harness and lay flat against his legs. She seemed to sag back against him. Her voice shook slightly when she spoke.

“Gracias, hermano.”

Gaz simply nodded before returning to the container. For several minutes, Soap and Daniela said nothing. Then, very softly, she said “You can let me go.”

“Aye? You won’t kick me in the shins and run off to kill her anyway?”

Daniela snorted at that. “No.” With one final squeeze, Soap let her go. As he did, Alejandro came storming out of the container, followed closely by Rodolfo. He moved straight for Daniela, gripping her shoulders.

“We’re going to be hunted men, Dani,” he said. “I’m not letting her get away with this. Rodolfo and I will handle her, and we’ll handle the cartel. But you…” He looked up at Soap, then back at Daniela. He pointed to Soap with one finger. “You need to go with them. I don’t want you to be a part of this.”

“Alejandro, no, soy-”

“No,” he growled. He tilted his head back to look at the ceiling, and Soap realized when he looked at Daniela again that he was tearing up. He lowered his head to her level, staring at her intently. “What did I tell you the night we found you?”

Rodolfo had turned his head away, shoulders stiff. Soap couldn’t see her face, but he could hear in her voice that Daniela was tearing up, too. “You told me you would always protect me,” she whimpered.

Alejandro shook her gently. “This is me protecting you, hermana.” He pointed to Soap. “That man will protect you with his life. You told me so yourself. Rodolfo told me.” He glanced back to Soap, who nodded, stunned. “And I can see it when I look at him, and the way he looks at you. You have to go with them. You have to get that missile, and you have to stay out of Mexico until this dies down. And then you know we’ll welcome you back with open arms.”

Rodolfo turned, reaching out a hand to hold Daniela’s. “This has always been our fight, mijá,” he whispered. “It doesn’t have to be yours. And I know you chose it, but this time… just let us do this for you. Sabes que te amamos.”

Price and Gaz had come out of the container again, Price holding Valeria. They both nodded to Soap, who nodded to Daniela when she looked over to him. Her gaze dropped, and then she looked back to her men.

“Yo sé que tú,” she whispered.

Alejandro moved to Soap while Rodolfo hugged Daniela.

“Go. You have work to do,” he said. Then he pulled Soap closer, and softly said “Take care of her.”“You know I will,” whispered Soap. He backed toward their plane. “Keep fighting the good fight, hermano!” he called.“To the bitter end, my brother!” said Alejandro.

“Good luck, amigos,” said Rodolfo.

Price shoved Valeria into the backseat of Alejandro and Rodolfo’s vehicle while Soap, Ghost, and Daniela moved to board the aircraft Gaz had already started up.

“Ghost!” called Alejandro. Ghost turned back, cocking his head slightly. “No te pierdas, hermano!”

Whatever Ghost said back, Soap didn’t understand. But Daniela smiled, blowing a kiss with two fingers that Alejandro caught out of midair and held to his heart. Then they turned, boarded the plane, and were away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Soap had long since abandoned his fear of heights. Walking down a 60-story building didn’t make him nervous, but the hostage situation did. Ghost’s calm helped him keep his cool, though, and soon enough, Daniela was getting hostages out of the building while Soap and Price moved on Hassan. They cleared entire floors of the building in record times.

“And that’s why they call him Soap,” mumbled Ghost. Daniela’s answering giggle warmed Soap’s heart. Upon hearing this, Ghost added “Did you know he’s the youngest one of us? Got in with the SAS at sixteen.”

“Sixteen? Soap, you get more and more impressive the more I learn about you!”

Soap’s face flamed.

Despite the hostages, the mission was going smoothly. Too smoothly. Then, Laswell announced that Hassan had the controls. Ghost confirmed visual on floor 46, and back out they went.

“Soap, we find those controls, it’s up to you to disarm that missile.”

“Copy that… done it once before.”

The RPG could have ruined the whole plan, but Soap and Price were both lucky that it missed them. They moved into the building as quickly as possible, clearing yet another room in record time with Ghost’s sniper support.

When Gaz called that they had the target cornered, Soap and Price raced in his direction. Then came Laswell saying that the missile was launching. Everyone was speaking at once.

“No, no, no!” screamed Price. 

“Fecking hell,” growled Soap.

“Watcher, where’s the target?” yelled Price.

“Unknown, we’re working on it.”

“Copy. We’re going for Hassan. This way Sergeant!” he yelled to Soap. Then, “Gaz, where’s Hassan?”

Price and Soap were rounding the corner when Gaz answered. “End of the hall! Hassan’s holed up behind those doors.”

Price’s response was furious. “Let’s clear this out and bag him, then.”

When they got the snake cam under the door, the whole thing went to shit. 

The door blew. Soap and Price flew back and Gaz collapsed like a bag of rocks. Soap’s ears were ringing, he was bleeding, and he could hardly breathe. Only Gaz’s quick recovery saved his life. He was dragged into cover before Price took a bullet and Gaz went back for him, too.

Everything after was a blur. One moment, Soap was leaping down a falling elevator shaft. The next, he was running from the man he stole the laptop from. Then hiding. Then detonating the missile with Laswell’s help. Then, running for his life, again. 

“Nicely done, Johnny. Now for the hard part,” said Ghost.

“That was the fuckin’ hard part, LT.”

“Let’s find out. You need to stay alive, take out the guards, and kill Hassan.”

Soap looked around frantically. “I just need a weapon,” he said.

“Make one,” Ghost replied. He sounded so nonchalant. It made Soap huff out a laugh.

“Aye. Like old times, huh LT?”

Ghost’s voice was fond when he said “Seems like yesterday.”

Soap replied with equal fondness. “It was yesterday.”

He hid. He ran. With Ghost’s help, he fashioned some makeshift weapons. Then he ran headlong into Hassan. Before he could react, his world went dark.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Soap came to, he was being dragged by his foot. At first, he wasn’t sure where he was. Then he recognized the office he’d been chasing Hassan through.

Hassan. It was Hassan dragging him along.

Sluggishly, his mind went through his team. Ghost. Overwatch. Price. Holed up trying to recover. Gaz. Unknown. Daniela.

Daniela.

Alejandro had sent her with him and he didn’t even know where she was, whether she was safe. His heart twinged painfully. He didn’t have time to think, though. Hassan was yelling about fire and thinking they could stop him. Soap couldn’t focus on it.

Ghost.

“Ghost,” he whispered into his throat mic.

“Soap!”

“Watch… the window,” he managed.

Something exploded.

Hassan dragged him to his feet. Still going on about invading, not attacking.

He thrust Soap in front of him, pushing him toward the window. Soap desperately tried to keep his footing.

“Soap,” said Ghost. Soap vaguely recognized panic in his voice. “Soap, I see him, but I can’t-”

“Take the shot, LT,” mumbled Soap.

“What was that? What are you saying?” Hassan had him by his vest now, shaking him violently. 

“Soap, I can’t get a clear-”

“Take. The shot.” Soap’s jaw was clenched. It took all of his power to hold onto Hassan’s wrists enough not to fall back. Hassan was still pushing forward, shouting, and Soap was fighting a losing battle. Hassan was going to push him out of the window.

And he couldn’t stop it.

“I’m sorry,” said Ghost.

Then, just as Soap’s heels touched the ledge, searing pain shot through his chest. He lurched forward with the impact, falling into Hassan.

Hassan’s eyes were wide. Soap thought he saw blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His rattled brain couldn’t make sense of it as they both fell to the ground.

“Johnny, MOVE!” roared Ghost. With the last of his energy, Soap shoved as hard as he could, rolling off of Hassan’s body. Another piercing shot rang out and Hassan’s head cracked backward against the ground. 

Soap blinked at Hassan’s body. Ghost was shouting for him through his earpiece. Suddenly, the pieces clicked into place.

“You shot me,” he said dumbly to Ghost.

“Oh thank God,” muttered Ghost. He could hear Daniela shrieking in the background, too.

“You saved me,” he said. The whole room seemed colorful and soft. Spinning. Like a carousel.

Soap smiled, head lolling down.

He could vaguely hear Ghost and Daniela and Gaz yelling, but he was too tired to listen. Just a wee nap. That’s all I need.

Footsteps pounded nearby. With great effort, Soap turned his head. It didn’t hold where he wanted it to, just flopped onto the ground on the other side. He watched a small black pair of boots race across the floor toward him.

“No no no no, hijo de puta. Por favor, Dios, no.” Suddenly, Soap’s head and shoulders were being lifted. Then he was dragged back against something soft. He looked up. Daniela was running her hands over his head, his chest, clawing at his tactical vest. “Por favor, Dios, no,” she repeated. Her voice shook as badly as her hands and tears streamed down her face.

“Hey,” Soap said. He grinned up at her. “Whassa matter? Why’re you crying?”

He reached a hand up to her, wiping her cheek with his thumb. He couldn’t keep it raised and it flopped back to his side.

“John Soap MacTavish, you’d better not die on me,” she muttered. She had gotten his vest loose and was pulling his shirt up roughly. 

“Hey, bonnie, at least buy me dinner first,” he slurred. He chuckled. It was silly. It was all so silly. He could hear Ghost yelling faintly, but he wasn’t sure why. Daniela was leaning heavily on his chest, and he wasn’t sure about that either.

Suddenly, he felt as though he’d been sat out in snow for a good few hours. “Hey, are you cold?” he asked Daniela.

“Hey,” Daniela said sharply. She gripped his chin between her fingers. “Look at me.”

Clarity hit Soap like a ton of bricks. He’d been shot. He was bleeding. Cold from shock. That’s why Daniela was crying and Ghost was yelling. He’d been knocked out. Likely had a concussion. He looked up at her solemnly, grabbing her wrist with his hand. Don’t die on me, she’d said. He was dying.

They’d talked quite a bit over their few days together. Talked about their hopes and dreams, and how those fit into their dangerous lives. Talked about their dedication to their teams, their values, their futures. Talked about growing up, their families, how they’d gotten there. 

She’d asked him if he’d ever been in love.

He’d said he hadn’t. But he wasn’t so sure that was true, any more.

When he’d asked her, she’d said “maybe” with a sly smile his direction, all twinkling eyes and rosy cheeks.

He blinked, hard. He wanted to know what that meant.

“What did you mean… when you said maybe?” he panted out.

For a moment, Daniela just blinked at him. Then her eyes softened, tears slipping down her cheeks as she understood his question. “I meant I might be,” she whispered. “I’m not quite sure yet. You’ll have to give me some time to figure it out.”

Soap hummed, eyes drifting shut. “I’m pretty sure,” he breathed. Daniela gasped, but he reached up to touch her cheek before she could say anything. “You,” he began, voice a whisper. “You are the most… the most beautiful, intelligent, amazing woman that… that I’ve ever-”

Daniela didn’t let him finish. Her lips were on his before he knew it. He was kissing her before even registering that she’d leaned down. Her lips were soft, just like he’d imagined. She tasted like strawberries and mint and salt. Tears. She kissed him desperately, and he kissed her desperately back. His hand slid back to tangle in her curls. So unbelievably soft.  He could hardly move his head, but she tilted her own to deepen the kiss. She ran her tongue along the seam of his lips and he moaned, low in his chest. He weakly tried to pull her closer. No point hiding it now. Besides, if he was going to die, what better way to go? More footsteps pounded in the door. He could vaguely make out Gaz and Price’s voices.

And then, above them all, nearly a full octave up in his panic, Ghost. “Johnny!”

Daniela’s teeth lightly grazed his lip. Soap sighed, then everything went black.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Soap woke to a gentle beeping. His head and mouth felt like they were stuffed with cotton. His body felt like one big bruise, but with shards of glass sprinkled throughout it. He couldn’t open his eyes. There was light pressure against his right hip.

He breathed deeply. Ouch.

Slowly, his eyes cracked open. The room was dark, but moonlight streamed in through a window out of the corner of his eye. He could see that the ceiling was bright white.

“Johnny?”

Slowly, he turned his head toward the familiar voice. As he did, Ghost rose to his feet from his chair, taking two quick steps to the bedside.

Soap opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Ghost scrambled to pour a cup of water, then gently helped Soap lift his head to drink. As he did, Soap realized what the pressure on his hip was. Daniela.

Her head lay at the junction of his torso and legs, black curls shining in the moonlight. The bags under her eyes were nearly as dark as Ghost’s grease paint. Her right hand gripped his thigh, and her left hand held his. She didn’t stir.

Soap swallowed several times. “What happened?” he finally asked.

Ghost’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Do you want the short or long story?” he asked. His voice sounded exhausted.

“How about the short one, for now?”

“I shot you,” said Ghost. For a moment, Soap thought he wouldn’t elaborate. Then, Ghost looked up to meet his eyes. “I shot you, Johnny. Because you told me to. Because you’re the best of us, and you’re clever.”

Soap nodded, eyes drifting shut, not processing Ghost’s words.

“You’re lucky I’m such a good shot,” Ghost added, grumbling.

Soap chuckled softly, wincing as he did. “That I am,” he said. “Hassan?”

“I shot him, too. Twice, actually.”

“Through me the first time, eh LT?”

Ghost looked unamused. But when Soap grinned at him, his eyes softened. “That’s right, Johnny.”

“Perfect shot, LT.”“You called it, Sargeant.”

“The best of us, huh LT?”

“Can it, Sergeant.”

For a moment, the two shared a companionable silence. Then, Ghost spoke so softly that Soap thought he may have imagined it. “I almost didn’t take it.”

“The shot? Why not?”

“There was no shot. He had you directly in front of him, and he would have thrown you out that window before I had time to move.”

“You still got him, LT. I’ll call that a win.”“We got him, Johnny.”

“I’m starting to think you really have taken a shine to me, Simon.”

Ghost hung his head before looking back up. “Maybe I have.” He turned, picking up his chair, and sat it right by the bed as quietly as he could. “That one has, for sure.” He nodded to Daniela.

Soap looked down at her. “How long have you both been here?”

“Since you got here,” Ghost mumbled. Soap’s head snapped back to him.

“And when was that?”

Ghost shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Four days, give or take.” Soap stared at him. Finally, he threw up his hands. “You, Sergeant, should have died.”

He lifted one gloved hand, ticking off fingers as he spoke. “You have a field-treated gunshot wound to your right arm, which was in fact infected. Thank your lucky stars that Daniela saw through your idiocy.” That explained a lot of little things he’d missed. Like a passenger in a getaway vehicle. “A bruised bone in your hip. Three cracked ribs. A grade four concussion. Multiple hairline fractures in your legs. And a shredded left pec from a 50 caliber bullet. Might I add that last one only missed your heart by centimeters?”

Soap snorted. “Well, that explains a lot about how I feel. Hell, how I’ve been feeling.”

Ghost just shook his head. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Thought we lost ya. Again.”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy, LT.”

“Good,” grumbled Ghost. He looked toward Daniela. “I had to pry her off of you,” he said softly. 

Soap looked down at her again. She looked younger than before, peaceful in her slumber. But he could see the exhaustion plainly on her face. “Yeah?” he asked. 

“Mhmm,” murmured Ghost. “Could hardly get her across the hall to shower.”

Soap let his eyes drift shut, exhaustion washing over him all over again. “Where are we, anyway?”

“Amsterdam. Laswell has friends here. We’re in a private hospital.”

“Price? And Gaz?”

“They’re trying to find a lead on Shepherd.”

Soap nodded sleepily, relieved that their squad was still intact. “She kissed me,” he murmured. 

“Doctors say she saved your life with that.”

Soap hummed, cracking one eye open to peer at Ghost. He shrugged. 

“Something about the adrenaline helping to push off the shock.”

Soap hummed again, letting his eyes slide shut.

“Sleep, Johnny.”

He did. 

When he woke again, sunlight was streaming through the window. He shifted slightly, and felt Daniela spring up when he did. 

When he opened his eyes, she was staring at him anxiously. 

“Good morning, beautiful,” Soap murmured. 

Tears sprang instantly to her eyes. She squeezed his thigh, standing and reaching her hand up to cup his face.

“Oh, Johnny,” she whispered.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry,” he said. He reached up a hand to hold hers against his cheek. “I’m right here.”

She shifted a leg up onto the bed, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his.

“I thought I’d lost you.”

“I’m right here,” he whispered again. “Ghost said you saved my life.”

She made a strangled sound, half laugh and half sob. “I couldn’t let you go like that.”

Soap shifted his hand to her face, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Well,” he said. “If you remember, I was a bit out of my mind.” He tilted her chin up gently, whispering “Care to give me another taste of those lifesaving powers of yours?”

Daniela lunged forward, sealing her lips to his. Soap eyes slid shut as he grinned, pulling her closer. Her mouth opened against his, and he ran his tongue against hers. When she whimpered into his mouth, the primal need to have her close overcame him. He leaned up as far as he could, cursing the sling on his left shoulder, chasing her mouth. His hand moved to the back of her neck, holding her against him. She straddled him carefully, elbows coming to rest above his shoulders. 

Her whole body shuddered when his hand came to rest on her hip.

His eyes snapped open. “I’m sorry-”

“No,” she cut him off, panting. She reached one hand up, threading her fingers through his mohawk. “There’s no reason.” Soap groaned when her nails lightly scratched his scalp.

“Woman, the things I would do to you if I wasn’t stuck in this bed…”

She shuddered again before she leaned down and kissed the place that his jaw and neck met. His whole body involuntarily arched off the bed, hand moving from her hip to the small of her back to pull her against him. She gasped at the contact. However light she was, her weight on his hip hurt. But he was too far gone to care. He leaned up again, gently sucking her lip between his as she sighed into his mouth.

His mind was clouded with the desire for intimacy with her. He wanted all of her. First in their single shared night, and now in their kiss, Soap saw waking up to her every morning, cooking together, trips to the stormy Scottish coast and the sunny Caribbean. He’d been drawn to her from the moment he saw her, and he knew from the way she looked at him that she’d been drawn to him just as much. He’d tried so hard to remain professional. To keep distance. To be a gentleman. To pretend he hadn’t fallen in love with her the moment he heard her speak.

Then she’d slept in his cot and he’d had to know what it was like to have her in his arms. Having tasted her once, there was no going back to professional and distant. Having tasted her twice? She owned him. There was no pretending, now.

His train of thought was interrupted by a sharp cough from the doorway. Daniela sprang up, scrambling off the bed with one hand covering her mouth. Soap’s head whipped toward the door. Ghost was there, finding something very interesting to look at in the ceiling, along with a pretty nurse who was smiling widely.

“Glad to see you’re feeling better, Sergeant,” she quipped. Soap grinned wryly first at her, then at Daniela. “My name’s Cat, I’m a friend of Kate’s. Mind if I take a look at you?”

Soap nodded, Daniela sat herself in the corner, and Ghost continued to pay close attention to the ceiling and walls. Soap narrowed his eyes, watching the Lieutenant closely. 

Cat turned to Daniela and Ghost. “Would you two-”

“They can stay,” Soap cut her off. Cat turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. He smiled. “Nothing they haven’t seen already.” When she helped him sit up and lift his gown off, Soap got his first real look at the damage. At Los Vaqueros safe house, and then later at their base, he’d been too rushed and too tired to really look at himself.

Purple bruises so dark they nearly looked black covered his ribs. Just above his boxers, he could see more bruising on his hip that was nearly green now. Scrapes and cuts covered his knees, his arms, his sides. The bullet wound in his right arm was healing nicely, but the skin around it was still pink and tender. He was grateful that his chest was wrapped tightly so he couldn’t see the damage from Ghost’s sniper.

Soap looked away.

“So Cat,” he asked. “How did you meet Laswell?”

“Oh, she and I met probably fifteen years ago. She was still on the field, back then. I was still in training, working in a field hospital. I patched her and John up after a rough mission. I guess she decided she liked me, because as soon as I graduated, she snapped me right up.” She turned to Ghost, who had finally looked her way, and smiled. “Good thing, too. I’ve fixed this one up more times than I can count, and Kate tells me he won’t let anyone else touch him.”

Ghost looked away again so quickly that he missed Soap’s gleeful expression. “Oh, is that so?” teased Soap. Ghost shot him a warning glare. Something to ask about later.

“I trust her,” muttered Ghost.

Cat beamed at him. She looked back to Soap, smiling conspiratorially. “Quite the compliment, eh?”

“That it is,” he answered smugly. Ghost held his stare, unamused. Soap looked back toward Daniela, eyes softening. She smiled back at him, looking tired but content. Cat was wrapping up her check, talking about physical therapy and taking it easy. Soap couldn’t wait to have a moment with Daniela again.

“Alright, well I’ll be back tonight to check in with you again. Simon, would you walk me out?” Soap’s eyes shot back to Ghost at that, but Ghost refused to meet his gaze. Definitely something to ask about later.

When Cat and Ghost had gone, Daniela came back to Soap’s side, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed. She gently took his left hand, careful not to lift it or otherwise disturb the bandages.

“Take all the time you need,” Soap said softly. Daniela lifted her eyes from their joined hands, cocking her head. He held her gaze. “You said I’d have to give you some time to figure it out. Take all the time you need.” Now it was Soap’s turn to look down at their hands. He grinned, lopsided. “I’ll be here.”

Daniela reached out, lifting his chin with her fingertips. Her dark eyes watered slightly around the edges. “I’m pretty sure,” she whispered.

“Oh, now that sounds familiar,” chuckled Soap. He leaned toward her, eyes flitting down to her lips. “C’mere, you.”

Their first kiss had been desperate. Their second quickly turned heated. This one was soft, slow, gentle. Exploratory and sweet. Soap stroked her cheek, looking up at her from under hooded eyes. “Tell me you feel it, too,” he whispered.

Daniela nodded, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his. “I feel it.”

“Yeah? Not just ‘maybe’?”

Daniela smiled wide, smacking his shoulder lightly. Soap laughed, loud and full, and immediately regretted it. Wincing, he smiled back at her. 

He was anxious to hear from Price and Gaz, and nervous about what would happen when Alejandro and Rodolfo called Daniela back. They’d have to go after Shepherd, and she might have to go back to Mexico. Maybe nothing would ever truly have a chance to start with them. Maybe they’d die. But maybe not. Maybe everything would be alright.

[morganas-pendragons]

Jealousy Is Unbecoming | Celebrimbor

I got denied from my choice grad school AND I am sick. Here you go, have another fic! I have been out of it for a while. Hopefully I can start my OC fic soon.

***

“Celebrimbor? Why have you been avoiding me?” You call teasingly.

“I haven’t been doing anything of the sort. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Okay, then why don’t I go ask Márdan then?” You call over your shoulder, turning back towards the main doors of the forge. You are not very far in to courting. You however, are not naive, and have been around him long enough to know when he’s hiding something.

“You may do whatever you like.” Celebrimbor grumbled. “Márdan certainly won’t have any answers for you.”

Oh. That’s what’s what the problem is. He’s jealous of you spending time with the other Ellon that you’ve come to know from the Gwaith-I-Mírdain.

You cross the room to come stand in front of him, teasing fingers curling around his wrist. “I have a question that only you can answer. Would you like to hear it?”

He looked down at his wrist where your fingers touched him, then back up at you, bewildered. “What?” He asked.

You lean inward to whisper lowly in his ear. “How long was it going to take for you to admit you are jealous?”

Celebrimbor’s eyes widen as his cheeks redden. “What are you-I am not!”

“Márdan has been helping me with education about the forge. Things I need to know if I want to be able to craft with you and beside you.” You hummed softly and laced your fingers together. ‘’Besides, I think I’ve made one thing abundantly clear by now.”

“I am not just some young buck that I am so easily made jealous by another,” He muttered, face red.

“I don’t want some young buck.” You argued. You lean forward, ever so slowly, and touch your foreheads together. “I want you. You don’t have to worry about my eyes ever wandering to anyone else. Especially that young Ellon. He has nowhere the strength you do.” Always teasing, always gentle.

Celebrimbor stared at you, thoughts and insecurities and what ifs whirling around in his mind. After a few moments, he seemed to have calmed his thoughts and sighed. “I have been unfair to you.” He said.

“How?”

You took his hands and pressed them to your face, earnest eyes not once parting from his own.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed that I have a tendency to be…. Temperamental at times.”

“Only towards the ones you care about. It’s usually me as I’ve seen so far, but..” Realization crossed your face. “Oh. Is there a specific reason why it’s usually directed at me?”

Celebrimbor sighed and ran a hand through his hair, which at this point has become a tad disheveled. “You do not deserve it - These moods that come over me. Forgive the irrational fears of an old elf. I saw intent where there was none.”

“Celebrimbor,” You shake your head and stepped closer so you could lean into him, head resting in the crook of his neck. “Your age is of no concern to me. Do you wish to know what it was that drew me to you, and not to any of the other Gwaíth when you brought me into your care?”

“Please.”

His voice is hoarser than he’d care to admit.

“Your kindness,” You said. “Your gentleness, your capacity to love a stranger. I wasn’t drawn to Celebrimbor, Lord of Eregion and greatest of the Elven Smiths. I was drawn to you. You,” She rested her hand against his chest. “Are all I want.”

He lets you stay there nestled against him for a long moment before he pulled away to cradle your face in his hands, unshed tears glistening in his eyes. “I do not deserve you,” Before you can protest, he continued. “Valar take me, but I do not know what I did to deserve one as precious as you are.”

They’ll find out later that you were prophesied over for him, saved for him by Nienna herself. That will come. Right now you have this.

“You saved me,” You whispered. “That was enough. Do you believe me now that there is nothing to worry about?” She twisted your head to kiss Celebrimbor’s jaw. “Or do you need me to-“ And then his cheek. “Convinced you further?”

Celebrimbor took one of your hands into his and kissed the back of it, maintaining eye contact with you for the entire time. There is a playful glint to his eyes now, as if the demons have been chased away for the time being. “I might be interested in hearing more,” He murmured. “Perhaps over dinner?”

“In the gardens?” Your hair swept over your shoulder as you beamed at him. “That is our favorite spot in the city.”

“Wherever you wish it, my dear.”

[bookloover35]

A Song for Sanji x fem reader.

The Baratie was alive with its usual cacophony of clinking glasses, bursts of laughter, and the sizzling sounds of the kitchen. It was a place of chaos and comfort, a haven for weary travelers and hungry pirates. But tonight, something was different. Tonight, the Baratie hummed with anticipation, the kind that only came when you took the stage.

You were the singer. Not just any singer, but the voice of the Baratie, the one who could hush even the rowdiest of patrons with a single note. Your voice was as much a part of the restaurant's charm as the food, and for someone like Sanji, it was the sweetest thing he'd ever heard.

He wasn't one to get distracted while working, but the moment you stepped onto the makeshift stage, guitar in hand and confidence in your stride, everything else faded into the background.

The First Song

You began with a slow, sultry tune that wrapped around the room like smoke, your voice smooth and magnetic. The crowd quieted, entranced, and Sanji, standing behind the bar with a dish towel slung over his shoulder, leaned forward, completely captivated.

"Focus, Sanji!" Zeff barked, tossing a ladle in his direction.

Sanji dodged it easily, his eyes never leaving you. "I am focused," he muttered under his breath, though his mind was far from the plates and pans in the kitchen.

When the song ended, the crowd erupted in applause. You gave a modest bow, your eyes scanning the room until they found his. Sanji's heart skipped a beat when you smiled at him—a small, private smile meant just for him.

After the Show

Later that night, when the crowd had thinned and the Baratie was settling into its quieter hours, you found Sanji in the corner of the kitchen, carefully plating a dish.

"You always watch me like that," you teased, leaning against the doorway.

Sanji looked up, startled but delighted. "Can you blame me? Your voice could stop wars, love."

You laughed, walking over to him. "And what about you? Every meal you make tastes like peace itself. I'd say we're even."

He smirked, wiping his hands on his apron before pulling you gently by the hand. "Even? Hardly. I cook, but you... you bring the soul to this place."

You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks warmed at his words. "You're too much sometimes, you know that?"

"Never too much for you," he replied smoothly, his voice dropping into that soft, honeyed tone that always made your heart flutter.

Late-Night Serenade

The two of you ended up on the deck, the night sky stretching endlessly above you. Sanji had brought out a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses, insisting that you deserved something special after your performance.

"I'm serious," he said, watching as you plucked at the strings of your guitar, playing a quiet tune. "You're incredible. I don't think you even realize how much you mean to everyone here."

You smiled, tilting your head to look at him. "And you don't realize how much you mean to me, Sanji."

His breath hitched, and for a moment, the ever-confident chef was at a loss for words.

"Would you like a song?" you asked, breaking the silence.

"For me?" His voice was softer now, almost vulnerable.

You nodded, adjusting your grip on the guitar. "For you."

The melody you played was tender, the lyrics intimate—a love song written in secret during stolen moments. As you sang, Sanji's expression shifted from surprise to wonder, and by the time the song ended, his gaze was filled with something deeper than admiration.

"Did you... write that for me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, suddenly shy. "I guess you could say you're my muse."

Sanji reached for your hand, bringing it to his lips. "And you, my love, are my everything."

The night stretched on, the two of you lost in each other's company, your voices and laughter mingling with the quiet sounds of the sea. In a world as chaotic as theirs, these moments of peace were rare, but they were all the more precious for it.

[lumaconstante]

First kiss [ Ominis Gaunt x Muggle!READER]

Summary: Ominis Gaunt shares a tender moment with the Muggle girl he’s been visiting in secret. One quiet evening, while dancing together in her kitchen, he takes a leap of courage and experiences his first kiss.

Warnings: Fluffy, sweet, first kiss, Ominis being soft and vulnerable.

The night was quiet, and the kitchen in her house was bathed in a soft, golden light. Ominis stood by the counter, his fingers tracing the edges of the granite while he listened to her fiddling with the old record player on the table nearby. He had promised himself this would be a brief visit, but, as always, leaving wasn’t as easy as it seemed.

— There! — you exclaimed cheerfully as the music started to play, filling the room with a gentle and captivating melody.

Ominis tilted his head, listening intently.

— What song is this? — he asked, a small smile playing on his lips.

— It’s one of my mother’s favorites — you replied. — I like listening to it when I want to relax.

You stepped closer, holding out your hand to him.

— Dance with me?

Ominis let out a soft laugh, hesitant.

— Me? Dance? I think you’re underestimating my… minor coordination issue.

— Oh, stop it — you said, taking his hand. — I’ll guide you.

He let you lead him, the warmth of your hand sending a comforting sensation through him. Soon, his feet were moving in time with the slow rhythm of the music. At first, he was tense, as though afraid of stepping on your toes or doing something wrong. But as you laughed and encouraged him, he began to relax.

— See? It’s not so hard.

— Maybe because you’re guiding me so well — he admitted, a genuine smile on his face.

The two of you moved slowly around the kitchen, the sounds of the music and your laughter filling the space. Ominis could catch the faint scent of dish soap mixed with the subtle fragrance of your perfume.

— Do you realize how different this is from anything I’ve ever experienced? — he asked softly.

— Different how?

— In my family… happiness isn’t exactly encouraged. Moments like this… they’re rare. — His voice carried a hint of melancholy, but there was gratitude there, too. — Thank you for giving me this.

You stopped moving but kept your hands intertwined with his.

— Ominis… you deserve to be happy.

He felt his heart race, the closeness between you making the air feel almost tangible. Your fingers still held his, but now, he could sense that you were even closer.

It was in that moment that he gathered his courage.

Without overthinking, Ominis took a small step forward, leaning slightly toward the sound of your breath. His heart pounded, but when his lips finally met yours, everything seemed to fall into place.

The kiss was sweet, shy, and full of unspoken emotions. There was no urgency, just a genuine connection, as if the entire world had disappeared and only this moment remained.

When you pulled apart, he let out a soft, nervous laugh.

— I… I hope that was… appropriate.

You smiled, gently touching his face.

— It was perfect.

He didn’t need to see you to know you were smiling. He could hear it in your voice, feel it in every word, every gesture. And for the first time in a long time, Ominis Gaunt allowed himself to believe that he could be loved.

[lavellansvh3nan]

A Letter From Inquisitor Lavellan to Dorian Pavus

//OOC//: Hello again! These letters won’t leave my brain so I’m churning them out while the muse is there. Enjoy!

My friend,

I can practically see you brooding, you know. Which is your right and your past-time, by my count.

I won’t sit here and try to make excuses for my choices, there are no good ones anyway. I want you to know that no matter what, I never meant to hurt you. But that doesn’t make you less angry with me.

Perhaps I’ve caught you in a more benevolent mood, willing to hear me out. If Bull is near you when you read this letter, remind him that he owes me one. Or more likely you’ll crumple up this letter, probably set it on fire, and only spare a thought for me when you’re telling embellished stories around a gorgeous dining table. Either way, you are owed an explanation.

I remember when you told me of your intentions to try and change Tevinter. I was so proud of you, because I knew if anyone could make change in their home, it was you. The idea of watching my friend leave, knowing that it would be unlikely we’d see each other more than a handful of times among the years, was difficult to swallow. Especially after all you did to bring me back to life when Solas left.

You can say his name, you know. He isn’t going to appear around a corner and lunge at you. I’ve made him promise not to.

What you did for me in the months following his departure is a debt I’ll never be able to repay. I’ve known the love of a mother, a father, a lover, and a friend, but perhaps yours exceeds all of them. For yours is a loyalty, a steadfastness, a patience, that only comes with knowing someone completely and choosing to be with them in their dark moments.

Bathing me when I was covered in paint. Filling the endless silence of my despair with your constant prattle, being with me every single day I didn’t know what to do or how to move forward, it is a love I had never experienced or will ever experience again. It is unique to you.

When I finally came back to myself all those months later, realized you’d put your plans on hold for me, I was appalled. I assured you I would be fine and you finally went on your way. To start the life I knew you deserved. And look at all you’ve done! Minrathos and the Shadow Dragons would be nothing without your leadership.

I’ve spent the last eight years wondering what I would ever do if the chance came to see Solas again. In those first years, I was angry. And then I was lost, for a long time, though I think you were the only one who truly saw it.

Being the Inquisitor gave me purpose. I knew Thedas needed me. I wanted to help in whatever way I could, especially considering we’d inadvertently unleashed Solas on the world. And then there was the waiting, wondering when he’d strike. If he really intended to take us all down with him.

Over the years, I’ve spoken to so many about whether or not I believe Solas capable of tearing down the Veil. You, Bull, half the Inquisition, really. Most everyone agreed that Solas needed to be stopped by any means necessary. That he was a monster.

What was your poetic phrase? “A madman with the moral superiority of a guilty noble.”

Varric was the only one who believed Solas could be swayed. Told me that really, all Solas wanted was a reason not to go through with his plan. After what happened when Solas took my arm, I didn’t want to believe him. It was too painful to hope.

But then the reports came in, bit by bit from Varric. Noted from Solas, personal journals. Like he was leaving clues for us to find. As if his pride refused to relent but Solas, my vhenan, wanted us to stop him.

It wasn’t until I spoke with Rook, actually, that I knew for certain that if I saw him again, when I saw him again, things weren’t through between us.

Call it soulmates. Call it a connection through space and time. Or, call me a fool, as you already have. All are probably correct. But I’ve know since the moment I met Solas that something tied me to him. When I saw him again, I didn’t see the Dread Wolf. I saw my vhenan, beaten and broken and tired. Drowning in his regrets, a slave to what he thought was his journey to redemption. And in that moment, I swore Varric was standing there right beside me, telling me that the one thing that would sway Solas was love. And he was right.

Especially after his final encounter with Mythal (That is another letter entirely. One I know you’re dying to read, so if nothing else, allow me to indulge you in my next response)

To be perfectly clear— I do not love him more than you. I could love no one more than you. No matter where I go, I’ll be with you. Just as you told me when you returned to Tevinter. But it is different. Just as you have Iron Bull, and we both know logic has no place in your relationship with him.

*the last sentence is a crossed out line, still legible, as though Lavellan is teasing Dorian*

Now, this isn’t goodbye. This isn’t even see you later. Solas has assured me I can enter and leave the Fade whenever I choose. Thanks to Rook, there are plenty of Eluvians available for me to come and visit. If you’ll have me. I understand you plan to pout, to hate me for a few weeks, as is your right. Don’t brood too long, however. I know you’re chomping at the bit to know all that’s transpired.

Just know, I’ll never be far from you.

With love, always,

Elliana

[talesofwhimsy]

"As we hang up the map on the motel wall Count up the places that we've left behind, add the distances between them all All the bridges that someone's burned down for us All the chances that we burned all by ourselves

Makes us wonder what we were thinking then 'Cause we will never see Ireland again"

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Hello Stranger. Whom I have never met.

 [First] Prev <–-> Next

[zillychu]

I feel like what the world needs aren't messages like "do your best and all your dreams will come true!" but rather "no matter your success, you can still be happy!"

we need more media telling us it's okay to fail. that most of us fail. that trying your best and not succeeding doesn't mean you effort was wasted. that you don't need to always try your best for everything. do what you can, when you can, and realize that no matter how things turn out, you can still find a way to be happy day to day. dreams come and go, it's okay to miss your catch and watch them pass by or change into something else entirely.

life is always full of opportunities to be happy!

[constarlations]

been playing emerald for the first time on and off as of late and RSE Brendan is so different from ORAS Brendan it’s funny like you’re NOT my son who is this bratty kid 😭

[memento-morri-writes]

Once again, the only writing I have to offer is dnd-related, and once again, it's also both angsty and whump-y. This is expanding on a scene that got glossed over in a session MONTHS ago, but uh, anyways, here you go:

tw for references to serious physical injury

He felt rather than saw Sigmar shake his head. “I should never have left you. If I’d known she’d bring Deadringer into this… I shouldn’t have let you go off to fight someone like him without me.” Once again, Rook was surprised at the weight of the emotion in his mentor’s voice. He wanted to say It’s not your fault. Or maybe, I would have done it anyway, but his mouth wouldn’t cooperate. So instead he just rested his head on Sigmar’s shoulder. The damp chill that had come over him on the way here was getting stronger and he leaned into Sigmar’s warmth. “‘S cold,” he mumbled. Sigmar picked up the pace a bit, a worried edge creeping into his voice. “Come on, come on. Just a little further.” Rook’s eyes were heavy, and his awareness of the world was fading. He heard a door open, was dimly aware of a brightly lit, white-painted room, of being laid down on a bed. He could hear people talking urgently, unfamiliar voices joining Sigmar’s. His muddled mind only caught fragments of their words. “Concussion … Severe blood loss … Not enough…”  Multiple sets of hands touched his skin, and the familiar warmth of healing magic (when had being healed become familiar again?, he wondered dimly) flooded his body.