#I think? the rest of her long time enemies is already dead?

[kentopedia]

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ SAFEGUARD — dazai, chuuya, akutagawa

summary . . . they save you after you've been injured and captured by an enemy.

contents . . . sfw, f!reader (chuuya & dazai) and gn!reader (akutagawa), violence / blood, threats, injuries, hurt/comfort, angst, established relationship, and it's pmboss!dazai bc i can't help myself — 3.5k total

notes . . . i got this request so long ago lol. not my best work, but i have been in the worst writing slump ever and just wanted to finish something. i've also never written for akutagawa before so pls be nice <3

𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 . . .

there are very few times that chuuya feels he’s been outsmarted. he knows he’s not the mastermind of the port mafia, but he certainly isn’t a fool. when it comes to you and your well-being, though, his mind short-circuits, half of his intelligence draining away while his emotions take hold. 

your relationship isn’t a secret to anyone in the port mafia, which means that it isn’t a secret to your enemies either. and while most people know it’s hard to land a finger on chuuya directly, his pretty little girlfriend doesn’t have the power of a god nestled inside of her.

the rage sparks through him, growing fiercely into the blaze of a forest fire, until all he can think of is getting you home safely. he thinks of your sweet smile as he rips the door of the enemies’ base off the hinges, crushing it into a million pieces with the force of gravity. 

the men are quick to react, but chuuya hurtles the crushed door towards them, knocking three of them to their feet. another group charges at him, but their guns do little against his skill. after years of fighting some of the strongest ability users, simple criminal organizations are as easy to step over like ants. 

chuuya kills them all — except for one.

the man’s knees are wobbling, hand shaking around the gun as he realizes that these will be his final moments. there is fear in his eyes, brown ones that rest wide open, and chuuya almost hesitates. his remorse doesn’t last long, though, before he’s wrapping a hand around the man’s throat, thrusting him backwards. 

“where is she?” chuuya asks, voice sharp and commanding. 

he can feel the man swallowing. 

chuuya knows that backup is probably on the way, but it won’t matter whether they show up or not. he’ll crush the rest of his enemies just as he’s crushed the last twenty men. the poor soul in his leather hold seems to know that as well. 

“i-i’ll take you to her,” he rasps, dropping his gun to claw at chuuya’s hand. 

he drops him, lets him take a few heaving breaths and coughs, before he’s kicking at him, forcing him back to his feet.

the young man takes him up the elevator, weaves him through a hallway as chuuya leaves a scattering of bodies in his wake, not hesitating to kill a single man that gets in his way. there is nothing that can keep him from you. 

how fiercely and loyally he loves you — it drives him to near insanity. 

finally, with blood coating his face and his clothes, the young man enters a room, locked with a code, revealing you. 

chuuya’s rage is almost as blinding as his corruption, as he gazes at the sight of you. bloodied and bruised, tied up in a chair, so visibly harmed. his hands clench into fists. “get the fuck away from her,” he says to the man who seems to be monitoring you.

“what are you doing in here?” the men left in the room panic, but they don’t have time to react before chuuya throws them back at the wall, so quickly, with so much force, that their spines snap. they hit it with a sharp crack, skulls shattering against the plaster, the wall crushing beneath the weight of them. 

limply, they fall to the floor. 

chuuya rushes over to you. 

the young man that led him here disappears, but chuuya isn’t worried about him. he’s a coward; he’ll likely flee from the country and never look back. the men that truly hurt you are already dead, and he’ll burn this building to the ground once he’s gotten you away from it. 

“hey,” chuuya says, cradling your cheeks gently, trying to coax you back awake. he’s not sure if it’s exhaustion, blood loss, or the obvious head trauma that caused you to pass out in the first place. but you’re still breathing, so he counts that as a blessing. 

“hey,” he whispers again, kissing your forehead, like it will heal all your ailments. “wake up, baby. we gotta get you out of here, okay?” 

it takes you a few seconds to come to, eyes glazed over and shell-shocked as you blink at him. “chuuya?” you say; your voice is so hoarse it makes chuuya want to keel over and vomit. “is it really you?” 

guilt gnaws at him, almost crushing, at the fact that thirty-six hours passed, and you’re delirious enough not to recognize him. you probably haven’t eaten, either. 

he should’ve been there. no one should’ve ever had the chance to hurt you, yet…

“it’s me, i’m here,” he says, kissing your lips, your temple, brushing your hair away from your face. the strands are sticky with blood. “shit,” chuuya nearly shouts, pulling a knife from his pocket, sawing through the thick ropes around you as quickly as he can. “i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry.” 

he can’t get you free fast enough, and you smile at him, drowsy, your eyes fluttering shut once more. “it’s okay, chuuya,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder. “you’re here now.” 

“you have to stay awake,” he says desperately, realizing your head is still bleeding. he doesn’t know how hurt you are. chuuya’s no expert when it comes to medicine, but he’s smart enough to know that internal injuries could be even worse than the external ones. 

“stay awake for me, okay, honey? i’ll get you back to the boss and we’ll find you a doctor. you’ll be just fine.” 

“okay, chuuya,” you hum, weakly gripping his back. seconds of silence pass before you mutter, “i just want to go home.” 

"i know." his heart pulls, and he almost lets out a cracked sob. but he refrains, knowing that there is plenty of time to drown in his sorrows later. 

finally, he gets the ropes under, lifting you from the chair. you’re so much lighter, weaker, and it makes him sick as he carries you. “let’s get you home.” 

𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐖𝐀. . .

the call comes just as akutagawa is getting ready to head home for the evening, his tasks completed, eyes heavy with exhaustion. 

normally, he doesn’t stick around to say any goodbyes, sneaking off into the darkness of the night like a shadow, blending right in. but, something about the evening, so gloomy and drizzly with spring rain, feels off. 

with a heavy knot in his chest, so much different than an incoming fit of coughs, akutagawa heads back up to mori’s office, if perhaps to only ensure that everyone else’s jobs had been completed. he’s a lot of things, but he’s never been a slacker; and he’ll do what it takes to ensure that his position in the mafia is eternally secure.

though, he doesn’t have the opportunity to get all the way upstairs before he run into the boss, who is calm, but with an air of irritation clouding him. 

he explains the current situation to akutagawa in a clipped tone, bored — an enemy group has kidnapped you, holding you hostage. 

“how rude is it to bother a man, just as he is getting ready to go to sleep?” mori says, sighing histrionically.

but what is a minor inconvenience to mori sends an entire wave of dread through akutagawa, his entire body feeling as if it’s been dipped in ice. he can’t explain the horror that washes over him, not really, because he shouldn’t feel so panicked. it is rare for him to get worked up about the danger his subordinates find themselves in, save for his sister, of course. 

but you… you’re different. 

“can i trust you to diffuse the situation?” mori asks, impatiently glancing at his watch as if that will change anything. “i can call someone else, but they will not be so quick.” 

akutagawa doesn’t even think before he accepts the job, hating the way he sounds pathetically desperate for more details. his hands flatten the edge of his cloak, as if his ability is going to take on a mind of its own. 

he calls for a driver, calm but breathing so heavily that an aching cough rises up in him. his throat feels as if it may begin to bleed, but he swallows, glances away from the driver and gets himself under control.

there’s a ransom — bring them the money and they’ll return you, mori had told him. you’re only a lower ranking member of the mafia, and someone that makes for a pretty poor bargaining chip, so the motive is questionable. 

mori probably would’ve let you die, akutagawa knows, his teeth gritting together, so much so that a splintering sound comes from it. but the boss, in his infinite, concerning wisdom, seems to also know that his loyal dog has an soft spot for you. 

as regrettable as that may be.

akutagawa has no doubt that whoever the enemy is, they are no match for him. still, a twinge of anxiety settles in his stomach, fingers jittery as the driver, despite the decreased traffic of the hour, seems to drive impossibly slow. 

“are we not in a rush?” akutagawa snaps, leaning forward.

“apologies,” the driver, says, not daring to even look at akutagawa from the mirror. but the car speeds up, enough for akutagawa to be able to notice, at least. it cools the simmer that has already begun deep in his chest.  

even so, the car seems to go at a snails pace, minute upon minute flying by, with you in the clutches of an enemy. 

akutagawa doesn’t care who they are. he doesn’t care why, or how they captured you. he wants them dead. he’ll rip them apart, easily, and he’ll make them suffer — they’ll be alive for all of it, for every second that he peels the skin from their bones, ripping the smaller ones out of their sockets. 

what he feels for you… well, it’s too hard for him to admit to himself. he has no experience with what it means to care for another person, doesn’t even know if that’s his goal. he just knows he wants to protect you.

and he can’t do that if you’re dead.

finally, the car pulls up to an old warehouse, one at the very outskirts of the port, beyond the docks and the shipping carts. it’s tucked far back, an obvious lair for some villainous organization that doesn’t want to be found. 

akutagawa gets there, but there is nothing. he hears nothing, feels no signs of life as he trudges through the puddles left behind from the earlier rain. 

a small string of panic begins again, as he wondered if maybe the call that mori had told him was only a ruse. maybe this entire time had been a distraction, a way to lure him away. there are other skill-users in the mafia, but none quite as dangerous as him. 

though, he hears it, then. a small little sound, muffled and hoarse, full of pain. 

he ducks into another corner of a warehouse, and you’re there — bound with chains and a gag across your mouth, one of your eyes blackened with bruises, your nose bleeding. 

his heart aches. never in his life has he so quickly made his way over, used the sharp edges of his ability to shear through the chains, falling to his knees as he unbinds the cloth from your lips. 

“where are they?” he rasps, mouth opening and closing, hating the sound of his own voice. he recognizes his desperation, his anger, but the affectionate sound that clips at the end is unfamiliar, as he shakily pulls himself closer to you. 

you glance up at him, eyes glossy and wide, and though you are scared, hurt, he’s so thankful you are alive. his heart flips once, as you grasp at his cloak, the material that has the blood of so many staining the threads. 

“gone,” you say, throat chalky, words nothing more than a note against the wind. “they fled when they heard it was you coming.” 

“and left you?” he asks, jaw clenching, as he hopes that the emotions aren’t as visible on his features as he thinks they are. “were you not a ransom?” 

“no,” you swallow, hard, as if in pain. he notices bruises around your neck, the shape of fingerprints indented there. “i was bait.”

anger rises up in him like a wave, engulfing him, wholly and relentlessly. he is no stranger to that, like he is the kindness you show him, the way you look at him as if he is your protector, rather than a bringer of destruction. “i’ll go after them. where are they headed? they’ll pay, i’ll slaughter—”

“ryunosuke,” you say, reaching for him as he stands, expression pleading as he backs away. “stay.” 

he has half a mind to ignore you — the enemy escaped, after all. but your voice. your eyes… you look so small sitting there, bloodied and bruised and broken. 

“please,” you try again, near tears, and though he has never been good with obvious displays of emotion, something within him snaps at the desperation in the word. 

he nods, slowing his pace as he returns to you, lets you wrap yourself in him, cling to him. his hands fall, naturally, to your waist, somehow knowing where they belong, even if akutagawa never has a clue what he’s doing with you. 

“i’ll call hirotsu,” he says simply, before pulling out his phone, not bothering to untangle himself from you. 

𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 . . .

dazai is not a forgiving man, and will never learn to be. forgiveness is not a luxury he is often able to indulge in in his line of work, and his heart has hardened enough that until the end of time, those that are branded his enemies will remain his enemies. 

though, in his blackened heart, one soured over the course of time, you have carved out your own little space, lit it up with golden rays of light that are fiery enough to melt the stone casing of his chest. 

his only love — his only weakness. but it is a weakness that his enemies know about as well. 

dazai tries his best to keep you safe. he always has, and he knows that, sometimes, his grasp on you can be a little too tight. that the way he tries to keep you under his watchful eye can sometimes be stifling, frustrating. 

but he can’t always be there to protect you. and it is in times like these, that he regrets letting you go without a bodyguard. he regrets that he listened to your insistence that you could keep yourself safe. 

he should’ve at least told you to take a friend. 

“boss,” his subordinate says, bowing his head, his voice pleading, desperate. “i’m so sorry. your wife—”

“if anything… anything happens to her, you will be the one responsible, do you understand?” dazai says, his eyes cold as he glowers down at the man, only a few inches shorter than him, but feeling so much smaller. “i will personally see that this act does not go unpunished.” 

“of course, sir,” the man says, and he, at the very least, has the decency to sound resigned. to accept his fate and suffer the consequences, for allowing the boss’s wife to get herself into such a situation. 

and dazai means it, every last word; if he finds you in a state closer to death, anyone who put you in harm’s way will be torn apart from the inside out. he isn’t able to think of anything but bringing you home safely, his hands shaking with rage as he sends more than enough people out on a search to find you. 

with all the strings he’s able to pull as the mafia boss, it doesn’t take long to find you, for those that have bravely — or stupidly — used his wife as bait to come forward, and offer an attempt at some sort of negotiation. 

there’s little of the conversation that dazai remembers on the phone, even less that he remembers after that. the anger bubbles up in him and grabs hold of his conscience, the emotion directing his movements with a mind of its own. 

he’s already sent out every last one of his people into the field, ensuring that the organization that had the gall to threaten you is wiped off the face of the earth. deleted from every corner of the world, buildings flattened to the ground. by tomorrow, they won’t have ever existed. 

today, he doesn’t care what happens as long as he finds you alive. 

you’re held hostage by two men — so completely beaten that they’ve given up on any restraints. whatever they wanted from you, you seemed to refused to have given up, lip bleeding, eyes swelling so badly that you can’t even open them. 

dazai doesn’t hesitate before pulling the trigger on the first man, then turning to the other, shooting the hand that holds the pistol. the man recoils, shouts, and drops the weapon completely, as dazai lands another bullet to his knee, causing him to fall. 

slowly, dazai walks up, firing again to his other arm, a loud snap echoing throughout the room. the man winces, trying to crawl to the gun, one last desperate attempt to stay alive. 

he kicks the gun away, watching, as, pathetically, the expression in the enemy’s face changes — any of his remaining hope vanishes. 

“you told me she was unharmed,” dazai says, bending down, his coat flaring out behind him as he squats. 

the man coughs, gasping for air as the blood seeps out of him. “we lied.” he smiles cruelly, and though he shares the same sort of darkness as those in the port mafia, there is something even more twisted in his smile. 

dazai hums. “you the leader?” 

the man doesn’t give an answer, but the slight twitch of surprise on his face is all dazai needs. he’s no one — just a grunt whose life was put on the line to guard you. 

“didn’t think so.” dazai shoots him once, straight through the forehead, instantly killing him. but he is vindictive, angry, and the man he truly wants to destroy, the one who took you, is nowhere to be found. another bullet lands, tearing apart the flesh of his temple, then another, and one more, his skull beginning to cave in from the force of it all. 

dazai heaves, letting the gun clatter to the ground as it runs out of bullets, and then he realizes, all this time, you’ve just been watching him. the ugliest side of him — the worst side of him. 

you’re no stranger to it, of course. how can you be, when you’ve shared a life with him for years? but that doesn’t mean he wants you to see it, see how bloodthirsty he can become. 

he stumbles over to you, where you’re still sitting on the ground, your wrist in your lap, bent at an angle that he knows isn’t right. bruises are littered across your skin, and your hair is matted from the blood that pools at your temple. 

it takes every ounce of restraint he has to stay calm, a million feelings swirling under his skin. ones that he was never familiar with until he met you. 

“i’m sorry,” he says, taking your face in his hands so, so softly, worried that he’ll hurt you even more. “i’m sorry, darling. i should’ve — i should’ve been there.” dazai notices his hands are shaking and he balls them up into fists, leaning back. “fuck. fuck — i’ll kill them all, just tell me who it was. anyone who laid a finger on you. i’ll cut them down one by one.” 

“osamu,” you say, and your voice is raspy, cracking, as your unbroken arm reaches for him, squeezing his shaking hand. “i—”

you open your mouth to continue, but only tears come streaming down your cheeks, over your bloodied lips, saltiness soaking your jawline. no words don’t leave you, but a soft sob chokes itself up your throat.

“hey, hey, hey.” dazai’s voice softens, every muscle in his body relaxing as he draws you nearer to him, into his chest with a touch that’s barely there. “you’re safe. i’m here, okay? they’re not going to hurt you again, sweetheart.” 

you sniffle, barely making a sound, but he can feel the tears drop onto his clothes, soaking the material.

“can you walk? are you hurt anywhere else?” 

you hesitate for a moment before answering; he’s not sure if there’s a reason you only answer the first question. “i can walk.” 

dazai nods, and though the rage is still bubbling there, underneath the surface, there is a coolant streaming through him at the vision of you alive. the men who did this will pay the price, but he still has you — and that’s all that matters.

thank you for reading !!! ❤︎

[lucid-loves]

Reader getting kidnapped and tortured for information, when Simon and the team save the reader and take them back to base and Simon helps her recover mentally and physically, Simon swears to protect her at all costs? And they fall in love?! ❤️❤️

Thank you for waiting! 🤍

What a Time To Be Alive

Pairing: Ghost x POW!reader (fem!reader, 141!reader, callsign “Spite”)

Word Count: 13.7k, One-Shot

CW: strong language, angst, violence, scars, blood, wounds, killing, fluff, attraction, one-shot, reader POV and Ghost POV, minors DNI, EXPLICIT SMUT, P in V, passionate kisses, fingering, hickeys, mirror sex, passionate sex, gentleness, compliments, praise

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: You were caught by the enemy during a crucial mission. The 141 team had no choice but to leave you, thinking you were dead already. For a year and a half, you were held prisoner and tortured for information. When the 141 finally gets you back, Ghost volunteers to take care of you during your recovery, having felt responsible for your capture. Both of your feelings blossom into something more as you both realize how much you care about one another. 

You were dead. At least, that’s what everyone thought when they watched you get shot in the head. You didn’t blame them for leaving. You would have probably thought the same thing if it was one of them.

No, you were still alive. The metal plate that doctors put in your head after a bad car accident as a teenager saved your life. You were knocked out cold upon bullet impact, but still very much alive. Not that you were doing well, though. 

With a headache and tired eyes, you looked at your cold, stone wall marked with tally marks for the passing days. 547 days were marked, give or take. There were days where you didn’t wake up so you forgot to mark them. You didn’t wake up until some time after you were captured too. Those days weren’t marked.

Your stomach grumbled, making your body’s ache amplify all over. You couldn’t remember the last time your body didn’t hurt. What was once lean military muscle was now skin and bones. You were constantly hungry for food, a combination of you refusing to eat out of spite and being underserved overcooked rice to the point that it was just mush. 

They kept you weak. Underfed and dehydrated. It was probably a good thing they did because otherwise you would rip your warden apart with your bare hands. 

When you first came to after being captured, you had the honor to meet your warden right away. A man that was on the hit list for the 141, Bill Porakov. but made a surprise appearance at the mission. He was the one that lifted his gun just as everyone was boarding the helicopter to go home. 

It was one of the memories you still remembered so vividly. The dirt kicking up from the ground, the blades whipping around the wind, the look back you happened to give by chance before the gun went off. You saw the aim. You traced it back. And before the bullet could hit him, you had pushed Ghost hard. The last sight you saw of them was Ghost falling forward towards the chopper, the rest of the team that was already grabbing his arms to pull him in. 

You saw the brief expressions he gave you when he looked back. At first, he was annoyed, but it didn’t take long for his annoyance to morph into pure horror as the bullet meant for him hit your skull.

When you awoke, you were strapped to a chair. Your head pounded, you were in your underwear, and you were meeting your warden. 

No matter what he did, you never talked. Even when he cut your skin with knives. Even when he dislocated your jaw with a hammer. Even when he took your pinkie finger and a few of your teeth, you never talked. All you did was give a human snarl, angry firecrackers in your eyes.  

It wasn’t until the third month when he realized that nothing was going to make you talk that he switched tactics to solitary confinement. He came by every now and then to try physical torture again. Waterboarding, electric shock. 

It felt like he did it more so for fun than to fish information out of you after a certain point. 

You snapped to attention when you heard whispers down the hall. A few guards were whispering to each other. Trying to ignore the pain of your body, you attempted to eavesdrop. 

“-said to be extra careful today. Maintenance work will have the cameras down for a little bit.”

“Like anything is gonna happen. Her brain is too scrambled to do anything. You know what she did last week?”

“What?”

“She threw her food out. Managed to sling the bowl through the bars and shattered the thing. Then, she just sat in the corner. Didn’t even realize that the food she got was actually good that day. The bitch is paranoid and out of it. One too many things to that thick skull of hers.”

“Damn, really? When do think the warden is gonna let her go now that she’s fucked in the head?”

“Probably never. After that incident was reported, he just shrugged. Said she was still a prize, even starving.”

As the guards approached your cell, you pretended that you were asleep. It wasn’t hard to do since you often found yourself pretending to be asleep to avoid guard confrontation. When you heard the sound of your cell door unlocking and opening, you stirred as if just becoming awake. 

“Dinner. Don’t make me clean your mess like last week.”

You slowly got up and limped towards the silver tray, your porcelain dishware exchanged for silver since last week. 

You threw the food against the wall last week because it looked good. Too good. You did get paranoid and thought it was poisoned. A last meal. You didn’t care if it made you look crazy. In fact, you liked how they thought you went crazy. They would underestimate you, especially now that the time was right for your plan. 

On your tray was the usual mush of rice mixed together with cut deli meat. The smallest amount of protein and carbs that would make the grumbling stop, but your body still weak. 

Slowly, you ate, trying to ignore the fact that you had to eat with your fingers that were covered in sweat and dirt. They only let you take a cold shower once a month. One that only lasted thirty seconds. 

God, you hoped that today really would be the day you could start your plans of escape. 

“Prison Fight in Cell Block D! Personnel in Cell Block E and F report to Cell Block D immediately!” a strong voice announced over the speakers just as one of the guards was relocking your cell. They both sighed, but then hurried out to see what the commotion was. 

Except, they forgot to lock your door properly. You’ve gotten used to all the sounds of the prison like a pattern. The sound of your cell door locking was a familiar that never missed, until today. Waiting a few minutes, you made sure that the guards were gone and busy. If this was going to work, you had to be careful. Play your cards right.

You were lucky that you were Cell Block F’s only prisoner. 

Slowly, you pushed the door to avoid the whining creak it always gave. Slipping through, you could feel your hands shake and your head spin. Jesus, you were in bad shape. This was the most amount of moving you had done in a while. 

Carefully, you headed down the hall toward the front desk of the block. Luck really was on your side today. As you peeked through the door window, you noticed that there was no one manning the desk. All that was left was a radio, a cell phone, a transmitter, a computer, and walkie talkies on chargers. You pushed the door open, the task taking more effort than it should have, and you picked up the phone. 

Dialing the secret number you knew by heart, you prayed that it would go through. It rang several times before you reached a voicemail prompt. You nearly wept when you heard Kate’s voice asking you to leave a message. You missed her.

Your voice cracked as you tried to summon it. It’s been a long time since you’ve used it for talking. Nowadays you’ve only used it for screaming. It was hoarse and broken. It hurt to speak. “Th-This is Spite. 5286. I’ve been a prisoner all this time. I-I don’t know where. I haven’t seen the light of day. . .”

“Please, bring me home. If that can’t happen. . .”

You swallowed hard and thought about your next words carefully. “I will hold out for two weeks. If no one comes for me, then I will take my own life by taking Bill Porakov’s life. I won’t go to the other side empty handed.”

Leaving the message at that, you hung up, erased the call history, and cautiously retreated back to your cell. Crawling into your concrete slab of a bed, you curled up and closed your eyes. You felt your cheeks become wet as you now waited for someone or no one to help you. 

Just before you began to drift off. You heard sounds coming down your hallway again. Heavy footsteps that identified your visitor. The warden. 

You felt his eyes on you, sizing you up in the corner of your cell. When he attempted to unlock the door, he noticed that it was unlocked already. Instead of becoming angry at his employees, he simply began to laugh. The other guards nervously began to join in. “Unlocked door and still a stationary prisoner. Have you lost hope finally? Good. It’ll make taming you a lot easier.”

~

The 141 team was getting out of a meeting. A boring one. One that went over statistics and facts about their own work that nearly put them to sleep. They never really cared about their accomplishments or results from a numbers perspective. Besides that, all the accomplishments they made nowadays felt tasteless. Ever since you died, all of their success never felt as good as before. 

The team was quiet, walking through base together under a bright afternoon sun. Soap was the first to speak in that thick Scottish accent of his. “How about the bar tonight, lads? I could go for a drink.”

There was no answer for a moment, everyone hesitant to accept the offer. The last time they went out to the usual bar, they did have a good time. Until Ghost glanced over at what used to be your chair. He always did that when he went out to the bar. When he noticed the absence, everybody else did too. 

Ghost took your death the hardest. You gave your life to save his. It was a debt that he could never repay. Besides that, you were one of the best of them. The wittiest sense of humor, the most encouraging and supportive in and outside the battlefield. The best cook too when you were sick of the base’s cafeteria food. 

Drinking only made him forget about you for a short while, but it was always an offer he took up when he was invited out to the bar. “Sure, Johnny.”

“Count me in then too.” Gaz chimed in. Price nodded as well, the both of them having had formulated a plan for the next bar outing. Something that would hopefully bring all of them a little more closure, especially Ghost. 

They were going to propose a memorial. They held one a week after you died, yet it didn’t feel quite right. It was too formal. Too stiff. It was organized by the military. Ghost didn’t even go. They needed to organize one themselves. One that you would approve of better.

They just had to make sure Ghost would attend. A discussion that would be saved for the bar tonight.

Just before Soap could open his mouth to say something, Price spotted Kate running full speed towards them, tears streaming down her face. She was shaking and breathing so hard that it looked like she was close to a panic attack. 

“Kate?! What’s wrong? What happened?” Price already began to ask, the team ready to spring into action. 

She took a few deep breaths, working up the courage to reveal the truth that almost had her faint when she first heard it. “S-Spite. . . She’s alive. . . She’s alive!”

Ghost felt his heart drop. His blood ran contradictory temperatures. Hot and cold. His breath was stuck in his lungs. He lost color under his mask. Then, he clenched his teeth. No, this couldn’t be true. You got shot in the head. There was no way you could have survived that.

“Are you sure Kate? How do you know?” Price calmly tried to reason, not wanting to hold out for false hope either.

Laswell just nodded and opened her phone. In a single tap, your voice came out broken but alive. 

The team was frozen as they listened to your cry for help followed by your fearless determination. If they had any doubts before that it was really you, those doubts no longer existed as you said something only you would say. That you wouldn’t die empty handed. 

“Spite. . . you spiteful bastard. . .” Soap choked, not afraid to shed a tear. 

Kate put her phone back in her pocket and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “I’ll have my people trace the call back to the location.”

Price nodded before turning to his men. “Gear up! We got a soldier to save!”

As soon as the order was given, Ghost left the group to go to his room in the barracks. He had to pack. His mind was racing as he began taking a few extra socks from his dresser. He could hardly believe it. You were alive. You, the person always on his mind even after all this time had passed, was still living. 

He couldn’t imagine the shit you were going through. And he felt like it was his fault.

No matter what, he promised himself, he would bring you back home. Even if it cost him his life this time. 

~

You didn’t know how many days had passed. Porakov took you out of your solitary cell to keep in a new prison located in his office. It was a beautiful office with fresh flowers, polished furniture, and a white carpet. In your new cell, a modern door that needed keycard access locked you in the room. The room was all white except for one wall made out of bullet-proof glass for Porakov’s viewing pleasure. 

Somehow, you missed your old cell. 

As you sat in the corner of your new room, you watched Porakov through the glass. He was chatting with someone new. Someone that looked out of place with their white coat and round glasses. A doctor perhaps?

Your captor finally looked at you, making your skin crawl. He gave a malicious grin like a wolf that trapped its prey. The stranger looked at you too, a curious quirk in his brow.

They approached your door, unlocked it, and stepped inside. You kept to the corner, shrinking yourself as much as you could. “Well? What do you think? Can you do it?”

The doctor examined you further, adjusting his glasses on his face. “I think so. It’s going to take some time, though. Can you have this room ready for me within two hours with everything I need?”

“We actually have everything ready to roll out.” The warden smirked before leaning into his walkie talkie and summoning workers to bring out rolling tables of medical equipment into the room. 

You watched with steel eyes as they set the room up with all the medical equipment. A metal slab as if it came from a vet’s room took up the center. Microchips, a bonesaw, scalpels, and tweezers decorated the various trays. It took nearly no time at all to get whatever torture method Porakov planned set up. 

The doctor began to sanitize his hands. “Such diligence isn’t even demonstrated in regular hospitals.”

“This is a special day.” Your captor responded before leaving the room only to watch behind the glass. As the doctor approached, you braced yourself like a cornered wild animal. 

The doctor eased back, treating you as such. “It’s alright. I’m going to fix you up. Make you feel better. You want that, don’t you? I know you’ve been in pain for a long time.”

“Don’t fucking touch me.” You simply warned, refusing to believe a single word he said. If he was working for Porakov, that was enough of a reason not to trust him. No self-respecting doctor would even entertain the idea of working for a vile man like him. 

The doctor frowned at your disobedience. “If you fight this, it’s going to hurt way more.”

As his hand inched closer to you, you sprung forward and attempted to bite. He pulled back just in time before you could bite a finger off. He cursed and turned to the glass. “You said she was broken!”

“Seems like she still has a little fight left in her. Apologies, doctor. It’s okay if you have to be rough with her. Teach her who’s boss.” The warden simply encouraged.

With a sigh, he revealed a small gun strapped to his belt. It wasn’t a regular gun. It was a tranquilizer gun. Realizing what was about to happen, you tried to get to your feet as quickly as you could, but it was too late. Your lack of proper body care made you lose your balance. A sharp pain hit your shoulder, a dart sticking out of you. Your vision already began to haze over, your body feeling heavier than ever before. Whatever was in the tranquilizer was enough to make you ragdoll, but not enough to put you to sleep. 

They wanted you awake for this.

Your limp body was lifted onto the table, giving Porakov a clear view of the show that was about to begin. 

It felt like you were beginning to disassociate. Tears escaped as you wished that you were dead instead of being here. Being treated like a rabid animal and a personal show made you sick. Dying alone in your cell would be better than this. 

Something caught Porakov’s attention for a moment. He seemed to be yelling at someone. It looked urgent. Before he left to handle business, he told the doctor to continue his work.

The doctor simply shrugged and focused back on you. He took a scalpel and began to make an incision along the palm of your hand. You felt the chill of the blade meet your hot blood, nerves going off as if you were touching a hot stove. You hissed and groaned at the pain, refusing to give him anymore than this if you could help it. 

But then, he began to dig around under your skin using the tweezers, shredding nerves and muscles like pulling apart thread. As he pinched your nerves directly, you screamed. A bloodcurdling scream that ripped apart your vocal chords. 

Ignoring your cries, he took a microchip and settled it between your flesh. It suddenly clicked for you. He was rewiring you. Finding your nerves like hidden wires to connect to microchips that were programmed to do god knows what to your body. 

Your mind went berserk, screaming at you to get out of there. To fight back. Adrenaline fought tranquilizer for control as your hand was being ripped apart from the inside. Your heart beated within your ears as you find the energy to grab a spare scalpel from the tray and swipe it along the doctor’s neck, letting gravity and momentum carry out your attack.

You heard the sound of him choking on blood, his tools clattering to the floor as he struggled to get his bleeding under control. Rolling off the table, you hit the ground hard with your hip. The breath that was knocked out of you made your head spin. You used to take most pain like a champ. Now, everything felt like your were getting hit by a truck. 

It didn’t stop you from trying to reorientate yourself, your bleeding, open hand clutching your head. When you finally managed to stand back up, the doctor was staggering to get out of the room. Taking advantage of his state of weakness, you took the bonesaw and prepared to ruin his hand like he tried to do to yours.

The doctor stumbled onto the pristine carpet of Porakov, staining it with his blood. As you got closer with the saw, his gurgles became more strained. Begging for mercy. Adrenaline was kicking in full swing now as you became engulfed in rageful flames. You took a flower vase to your left and threw it, hitting him square in the knees. While he was knocked down, you stepped on one of his wrists.

He had no choice but to take it unless he wanted to bleed out, his other hand still holding the wound. Without remorse, you began sawing off his left hand. Within a few seconds, you didn’t even hear the strained mixture of gurgles and screams anymore. You didn’t hear anything anymore as you just sawed away, taking out your time of suffering out on someone you thought deserved to die.

By the time the hand was detached, the doctor was already long gone. Your hands were shaking and you were exhausted. Everything was still mute, the sound of your heavy breath taking over your ears. 

It was the smell of gunpowder that snapped your attention to the exit. It was an undeniable scent. Something big was going on. Perhaps you were finally getting rescued.

You took a step towards the door before stopping altogether, the door suddenly slammed open to reveal a bloody, panicked Porakov. He clutched his side that was staining his uniform in blood. The strap he usually carried was missing. 

Adrenaline came rushing back as you were presented with your chance for revenge. Your step forward brought his attention to you. His eyes widened in fear. The animal was out of her cage. 

Behind him, heavy footsteps approached. The door slammed open again, this time revealing a face that you never thought you’d get to see again. Blue eyes behind a dark skull. Your heart almost collapsed in on itself as you took him in. Even with the black paint around his eyes, you could tell that he was tired despite the rage. 

Most of his anger melted away as Ghost saw you. Dehydrated and malnourished beyond belief. Bloody and sunken in. Eyes full of a mix of emotions that he wished he could ask about.

You looked back at your warden, shaking in his boots like a coward. This pathetic man that tortured you to the point of such weakness was now silently praying for mercy. 

“Hold him down for me.” You ordered Ghost, your voice darker than the depths of the ocean. 

He didn’t think you should be exerting yourself over anything, but he couldn’t bring himself to deny your order. You needed this. He wanted to give it to you.

A bullet hit Porakov’s knee, making sure he wouldn’t struggle too much for what you were about to do. As he screamed, Ghost settled himself in his office chair, tying him down with some spare duct tape he always kept on him. 

You approached the desk, steadying yourself with your hands. Your left hand was beginning to feel numb by the second, nerves shredded like old newspaper after using both hands to work the saw. Your right hand was missing your pinkie finger. 

“I’m going to make you wish you’ve never been born.” You simply stated, taking back up the bonesaw. Ghost silently watched you bring the serrated blades down on Porakov’s fingers, amazed that your desire for revenge was enough to give your body energy. He supposed that that was one of the things he missed about you. Your unwavering determination to see something through. 

For this, you made sure to tune in in order to hear all the cries your warden had as you took all of his fingers. It was a sound you dreamed of hearing. This moment was what you’ve been waiting for. 

Yet, your heart seemed to remain empty as you watched his fingers fall to the rug. You didn’t stop until all of his fingers were gone, but it all still felt so hollow. You thought if you could get your revenge, you would get your closure. So why wasn’t this as enjoyable as you thought it would be?

Sobs filled the space when you were done. The man you resented shriveled in his seat as he wept for his lost body parts. You clenched your jaw, feeling yourself fill with a cold, angry flame. “Lock him in the cell over there.”

“Wh-What?! Y-You can’t! What about food and water?!” He began to shout, squirming in his chair as Ghost rolled him into the cell. You were lucky that he couldn’t care less about doing the military-right thing. To both of you, this was the right thing to do.

“You are going to die cold, sad, and alone in that cell. I’ll guarantee it.” You promised, watching Ghost situate him in the far corner. He noticed the medical tools scattered around along with the metal medical table. The thought of you strapped down, screaming and losing pieces of your life with each cut made him want to beat the shit out of Porakov. But, it wasn’t what you wanted for him. 

He left and closed the room before giving you space to lock it. As the both of you looked through the glass, taking one last sight of Porkav, you said your final goodbye. “Fuck you, Warden.”

Ghost followed behind as you began to leave, your adrenaline dying back down much faster than you expected. You were downright lethargic when you closed the door to the office, locking it behind you. “Break that shit. Make sure it will be locked for good.”

“Spi-”

“Now, Simon!” You snapped, not meaning to take your pain out on him. In response, he bit his tongue and followed your order. He just wished he could hear you call his name without so much hurt behind it.

As you heard him break the locking mechanism, you leaned against the wall, your vision swirling. Everything began to get hazy and dark, something pulling you into either death or sleep. You couldn’t fight it this time, your body exhausted from all the fighting you’ve spent months doing. 

Ghost turned around as soon as he heard your body hit the floor, out cold. “Spite? Y/n?!”

He took you up in his arms and felt your pulse. Slow, but alive. He didn’t know where your blood began and enemy blood ended. You were so much lighter than what he remembered too.

It should’ve been him to get caught.

Carrying you in his arms, he radioed for evac. This time, you would get on that helicopter and be taken home, safe and sound. He would make sure of it.

~

You didn’t wake up for a while. A long while. By the time you did, you were a fraction into recovering from surgeries already. They fixed up your hand as best the doctors could, they got you on IVs and nourishment. They even had a dentist come in to replace any missing teeth. 

The only thing they couldn’t fix or replace was your pinkie finger. That was something you had to live with for the rest of your life now. A constant reminder of what happened. At least you could wear certain clothes to cover up your numerous scars. It was impossible to comfortably hide a missing finger. 

Ghost never left your room. Everyone took turns visiting you, even in your unconscious state. He stayed, though, the entire time. 

He did everything for you that the nurses couldn’t. Making sure you were comfortable with blankets and pillow changes, making sure you had fresh flowers in your hospital room. He even played music he knew you liked, just in case you could somehow hear the world around you. 

Anything to make up for being the one to take his bullet, he would do.

It was a sight for sore eyes when you finally opened them and saw him. Your throat was parched and sore, but you still spoke out to get his attention from a book he was reading. “Ghost?”

“Spite.” He immediately looked up. Jesus, you could cry. In fact, you did start to cry. 

Tears began to travel down your cheeks. “I. . . I thought I’d never see you again. . .”

He took your right hand in his, a gesture that he has never done before, but not unwelcome. His hand was large, warm, and. . . perfect. “Me too, dove. We thought we lost you.”

“I did get shot in the head.” You justified, already trying to bring some easiness back with some dark humor. 

Ghost missed your humor so much. It was easy to match. “You’ll have to show me how to do that party trick.”

You gave a short snicker. “You just gotta get a metal plate installed in your head. Wouldn’t recommend it, though. Hurts like hell.”

He finally gave a laugh, the first time since he lost you. Squeezing your hand tighter, he prepared the words that he actually wanted to say for when you woke up. “You took that bullet for me. It should have been me, but you took it. I-”

You interrupted him, already knowing where this was going. “Stop. You would’ve done the same for any of us. That’s what it means to trust each other with our lives. You don’t owe me shit for it, okay?”

Before Ghost could reply, the door to your hospital room opened. Your nurse stepped in with some new IV bags and blankets. She was taken aback as she noticed that you were awake. It didn’t take long for the doctor to rush in and for Ghost to get kicked out. 

While he waited, he contacted the team to let them know that you were finally awake. They wasted no time in rushing over to see how you were doing, eager to see who they thought was dead. As soon as the doctor gave them the all clear, you were bombarded with the affection of your team. 

For a moment, it made you forget about the horrors of your capture. 

The fun was spoiled when the doctor came back into the room. The immediate question on everyone’s mind was regarding your stay.

“How long until I can get discharged?” You asked, eager to go back home without thinking too much about it. After the words left your mouth though, you realized that you probably didn’t have a home to go back to. Shit, all of your stuff was probably gone since you were declared dead. . . 

“If everything goes smoothly, we can send you out tomorrow. However, you’ll need a lot of time to recover. We’re going to recommend physical therapy, some new medications, and a therapy recommendation. What you went through is something you should process with time. Do you have anyone that could help take care of you at home?”

You became silent and bit your lip. Before you were assumed to be dead, you didn’t really get along with your family. Knowing your family, they probably rejoiced over your death before immediately going over your will. You would’ve loved to be a fly on that wall. 

And now that you were apparently still alive, you wondered how they would respond to asking for your stuff back. That was going to be something.

With no family, no home, and a list of things to do now that you were back, you began to get a headache. Just as you were about to explain the situation, though, Ghost chimed up.

“I’ll take care of her.”

Your eyes widened at the idea of Ghost being by your side for essentially twenty-four hours a day. “I already told you that you don’t owe me shit.”

He shook his head. “I’m not volunteering because of guilt.”

Now Price was the one to speak up. “It won’t have to be all on Ghost. We can take turns visiting and keeping an eye on you. Hell, we’ll take care of the hard tasks too while you recover.”

Feeling your headache become stronger triggered by new stress, you give up quickly. You were too tired to argue. “Fine.”

“Great! We’ll continue to monitor you and ensure you’ll be ready for discharge soon.”

~

You awkwardly waited in Ghost’s car as he prepared your wheelchair. Your legs were weak, but not unusable. For a brief moment, you argued with him about using a cane to help you walk. He was pretty insistent that you still took it very easy to the point that it was hard to say no.

Once he opened your car door, you got into the chair and looked up at the tall apartment complex. You wondered which floor was Ghost’s as he wheeled you in. 

“You’ll be using my room while I sleep on the pullout couch. If you need help getting around anywhere, just ask. Price and Kate will visit later to discuss some options.” He explained as if he was going through a checklist. 

“Options?”

He shrugged. “Job options. Living options.”

As he pushed you into the elevator, you began to panic. Job options? Did they intend on letting you go? Yeah, you were pretty fucked at the moment, but you just needed some time to get back in shape. You really don’t want to lose your job. Despite everything that happened, you still wanted to be part of the team. 

With each ding of the elevator indicating a passing floor, you got more and more nervous. Ghost looked down at you, noticing how hard you were gripping your seat. His eyes couldn’t help but notice your missing finger on one hand and limp strength for the other. A sting in his chest had him look away.

He wasn’t letting you live with him out of guilt, but he was still sorry that this happened to you.

The elevator doors finally opened on the highest floor, revealing a long hallway leading to only a few doors. At the farthest end of the corridor, Ghost reached the apartment. A blast of refreshing A/C hit your senses first. The further he wheeled you in, the more you began to notice more.

His whole place was tidy and organized, a fact that contradicted what you remember about him. From what you remember, the guy was a mess. His desk at work was always crowded with paperwork, empty mugs of tea, and sticky notes meant to remind him on what to do next. 

The sweet smell of pipe tobacco and vanilla spread across the environment, a few plug-in air fresheners scattered around. It made your anxiety melt as you became more familiar with the scent you used to smell everyday on Ghost. 

He parked you near his polished dining table and placed a laptop in front of you. Your old laptop. “I’m gonna get some lunch started. I figure that you want some time to see what you missed?”

You nodded and booted up the laptop with your better hand. Your hand with damaged nerves needed some therapy focus before it could be fully functional again. “Thanks, Ghost. I appreciate this.”

“Of course.” He responded as he wandered off into his kitchen. A little window viewing the dining room allowed him to monitor you while he cooked. As we figured out what to make, he stared at you from a distance.

Color was returning back to your face. You were still light, but he would put some meat back on those bones soon. There was a shine back in your eyes that brought him back to those fun nights at the bar with you. He remembered your smile, your laugh, your gaze.

He remembered how you used to talk about cooking, one of your favorite things to do, whenever he had a moment alone with you. It was one of the things that made you light up. Ghost would sit there for hours, listening to you talk about what you’ve made, what you want to make, a new technique you want to try, how you should be in charge of the mess hall.

Deciding lunch, he shifted his focus on cooking, already predicting that it wasn’t going to be half as good as your cooking.

While you heard the sound of pots and pans clanging together, your hands ached. There was a phantom knife in your hand, waiting to start chopping vegetables that didn’t exist. For a moment, you willed your hands to move like you were entering prep-mode. 

Your wrist quickly gave out within a few motions of pretend chopping. Not to mention that your left hand refused to curl your fingers in right. 

When will you be able to cook like you did again?

When will everything feel normal again?

The knock on the door snapped you out of your pity party. Ghost answered it and directed Price and Kate to you, as promised. Kate gave you a pearly smile and Price gave you a warm pat on the shoulder. 

They took their seats and then immediately dived into the grit. Ghost eavesdropped from the kitchen. “We don’t want to bullshit you, Spite. There are a lot of things that need to happen before you can return to your job. We can’t even give you desk duty until you do a few things first.”

You crossed your arms over her chest, not liking where this was going. “Like what?”

Kate passed over a manilla folder containing various paperwork sheets and tests. “First, we would need to interview you. Ask you about what happened while you were imprisoned.”

A scoff escaped your lips. “You wanna know if I opened my mouth about anything.”

“We know you didn’t and you never would. A team sent with us when we came to rescue you collected whatever evidence and intel they could get their hands on. They found recordings of your interrogations. We’re going through them now to make sure you kept certain things confidential.” Price reassured, already sensing that you were beginning to stress out.

You understood why it had to be done. It just made you sick to your stomach that your torture was being looked at solely for the purpose of checking to see if you were a good soldier. “Who’s reviewing the recordings?”

“Professionals. But they want your testimony too.” Kate vaguely elaborated, trying to move past this already.

You didn’t let up, though. Instead, you asked for something that shocked the both of them. Even Ghost who was chopping onions paused mid-cut. “Can I choose someone from the team to review them instead?”

“Why would you want that?”

“I don’t want a couple of strangers viewing something as intimate as my torture. I would rather have someone I know I can trust see those recordings.” You justified, not thinking much about the weight of that request. 

Kate and Price looked between each other, silently debating on if they should honor your request. There was a concern of conflict of interest, but then again, the 141 got a few special privileges. Price cleared his throat. “Who would you want to see the recordings?”

The obvious answer should have been Kate, but it wasn’t. In fact, you really didn’t want Kate to look at any part of your torture. You didn’t even think she could stomach it. She was capable and tough like the rest of you, but she worked more from the shadows to save her from horrendous bloodshed. 

There were only three people that you felt like could handle it. Price, Ghost, and yourself. Like hell they were going to let you see your own footage though. “Would you and Ghost mind?”

Price gave it some deep thought before nodding. “I can do it if that’s what you want. Ghost?”

Ghost wasn’t surprised that Price knew he was eavesdropping. “I’ll do it.”

Kate immediately closed that part of the conversation. “Well that’s that. Next, we have to retest you in multiple areas. Physical, mental, shooting range, the whole works. Some of the intelligence based tests can be done sooner, but the rest will have to wait until you are physically fit again.”

“That could take weeks.” You grumbled, already getting impatient with your recovery process. 

“We have time. Outside of work tasks, anything that should take priority in your personal life. Besides the basics, of course.” Price switched topics, hoping that will brighten your mood a little. 

You did like bossing them around when you had the chance. With a smirk, you began rattling off all the things you needed them to do for you. “Contact my lawyer and family. Gotta get that sorted out and hopefully get some stuff back if my folks haven’t tossed anything out yet. And if I don’t have to be the one to do it, the better. That’s probably the first major errand. Most of the other things will have to wait until the basics are done.”

“I do want my favorite brand of coffee here. Sorry, Ghost, but your coffee is shit.” You spoke a little louder, making sure that Ghost could hear you. Doing so made your throat already feel sore, but it was worth it when you got to here a chuckle back.

“Tell me how you really feel.” He smiled beneath the mask as he pushed the diced veggies into a large pot filled with chicken stock. The aroma of chicken soup was making you salivate. 

Kate and Price eased up from your humor too as they added your coffee request to their list. After a few more minutes of chatter, they said goodbye so you could enjoy lunch. It was a good thing too because you were hungry and your voice was getting sore.

Ghost finished up the simple chicken noodle soup. Carrots, onions, celery, leftover shredded chicken melded together in a stock that was sure to be nutritious yet easy on your recovering stomach. When he served you a bowl, you nearly cried at how good it looked. 

With a shaky hand, you lifted your spoon and took a taste. Before you knew it, you began to silently cry. Ghost, who returned to the table with his own bowl, began to panic at your tears. “It doesn’t taste good?”

“This is the best meal I’ve ever had.” You sobbed, recalling all of the shitty, bland food and starvation you had to deal with. To you, this simple chicken soup was heaven on earth. 

Ghost didn’t know what to say, think, or feel for a moment. He didn’t expect such high praise, even if your reasoning was something he could guess. He settled for a proud, simple response. “Thanks. Take your time.”

Silently, you ate, savoring every ounce of flavor that graced your tastebuds. The egg noodles were perfectly al dente, the carrots were tender, and the chicken pieces were easy to swallow. Miraculously, it sparked a deep hunger for more food. But, you still needed to take it easy. If you ate the portion size you did before capture now, you would lose such a delicious lunch. 

“Why did you choose me to review your footage?” Ghost suddenly asked, curiosity getting the better of him. He was content with watching you eat so gratefully, yet the memories of the conversation before lunch still haunted him.

Your hand stopped moving the spoon within the bowl. You didn’t expect him to ask something like that. Normally, he just followed orders. “I think you would handle seeing it better than others. Not gonna lie, there is probably some gnarly stuff on those tapes.”

His stomach twisted into knots at the mention. He would still do this for you, of course, but he probably wasn’t going to be as strong as you thought he was about it.

 It was your torture after all. 

~

Adjustment was going smoothly. There were some hiccups here and there, but you soon got used to Ghost taking care of you. He got used to relinquishing more control over to you as well. You quickly graduated to only needing a walking cane occasionally thanks to your dedication to physical therapy. Your hands needed more work, but at least you could get around the apartment with ease. 

When you earned your achievement of free walking, you got more bossy and impatient. It was something Ghost was able to handle it since you delivered it with humor and hard work, but he soon began to notice dips in your mood here and there. 

He has been adamant about sleeping on the couch while you took his room. Since you began walking, you have tried to change that sleeping arrangement to no avail. Everytime you looked at the couch, a brief flash of guilt went over your face. 

He would catch you looking at your hands a lot, willing them to do more than just twitch and shake. Your brow would furrow in frustration when you practiced holding different movements and weights. Occasionally, you would hiss from pain as you tried to force progress. It became routine for him to end up holding your hands to make sure you gave yourself a break. 

The other issue that was hard to resolve was your night terrors. Ghost thought his nightmares were bad, but they seemed like nothing compared to how you would scream in the middle of the night. It would always startle him awake. He would always rush to the door to calm you down. You would always tremble and cry in his arms. 

You couldn’t go back to sleep unless Ghost was with you, his arms tight around your body and holding you close to his chest. The sound of his heartbeat became a lullaby that always made you regain your breathing.

The more he took care of you, the more he began to notice things about you. He was getting closer to you than ever before as he spent time with you every day. Sure, he was looking out for you, but it didn’t feel like a chore. Having you live with him became such a natural sight to him. It was like you always belonged there. 

So it really unnerved him when he was finally called to review your footage. 

You said goodbye to him when he left for base. For the first time, you were alone. Ghost gave you strict instructions to take it easy, forbidding you from certain activities while he was gone. However, you paid no mind to his warning, eager to normalize your life even more. 

The feeling of the chef’s knife in your palm was a familiar weight that brought back so many memories. You had been wanting to get back into cooking earlier, but Ghost always scolded you and said you weren’t ready yet. 

You planned on proving him wrong by cooking dinner for tonight. Something simple and comforting. Pasta with a homemade sauce. 

Your dreams felt like they were shattering as you struggled to open the tomato can with the opener though. The strength it took made your hands ache almost immediately. Having the strength to push the weight of the blade down into the garlic was agony too. Even with a sharp knife, you were having such a hard time doing what was meant to be easy.

Only thirty minutes had passed after Ghost left when you ended up lying on the kitchen floor, crying for your hands to work again and for a life you lost. 

Meanwhile, Ghost was just arriving on base. He wondered if you were doing alright. He hoped you weren’t pushing yourself while he was gone. Damn, he should’ve asked Gaz or Soap to watch you. He didn’t want to treat you like a child, but he knew you well enough that you were probably doing something you weren’t supposed to. 

That’s how you got your call sign in the first place. 

“Lieutenant Ghost, you ready?” Price ushered him into a secured, private room. Soundproof, dark, and void of any windows. Various tapes sat on a table next to a small TV. Ghost grabbed a chair and settled in, trying to relax as much as he can. 

“Pay attention, try to stay unbiased, and keep this confidential. We can only talk about this with each other, Spite, and the investigation leaders.” Price ordered like a captain. Resolute and sharp. Despite the confidence in his voice, your captain was afraid. He didn’t want to see one of his best sergeants get tortured. 

Ghost was trying to steel himself for it too. “Yes, Captain.”

With that, Price hit play and took the small seat next to Ghost. The footage began with the first day you were captured. You were stirring unconscious, strapped to a chair, and bleeding out of the side of your head where you got shot. The scene already had Ghost simmering with rage and sorrow.

He watched as you woke up, met your warden, and then immediately took a molar from you with swift punches to the jaw. He watched you spit the blood back in his face, growl threats he could never repeat, and then have your knees shattered with a sledgehammer. 

It was clear that it hurt. That it was agony. The way your lungs gasped for air. The way you bit back your screams only to echo within your throat. The way you lost consciousness for a moment only to wake up from immense pain as they cut you. 

And yet, you didn’t say a word. You never mentioned your name. Never revealed who you were with and why. You didn’t let anything get past your locked lips.

Porakov punished your resilience with more torture. Ten minutes in and it was already getting too much for Ghost to handle. How could anyone survive this? How did you? 

His stomach turned as he watched the day you lost your pinkie finger. You were getting noticeably weaker and skinnier with each new day on the tape. Your knee was still healing. Porakov only took advantage of this as he pushed you around. 

None of his questions got answers. Not a single one. Not even when the gardening shears pinched around your delicate finger. 

Ghost almost threw up when he witnessed the final cut. You screamed, but you didn’t cry. You never did. At least, not in front of Porakov. It wasn’t until everyone left you in the cell that you let your pain turn into tears. And it absolutely broke his heart.

Feeling lightheaded, Ghost began to reach for the pause button on the TV. Price beat him to it, though. “I think that’s enough for today. Thought I could sit through what I allotted for this, but this is hard to watch. Even for me. Sorry, Lieutenant.”

After scheduling the next time to watch more footage, Ghost rushed back to his car to drive home. How could he have left you home by yourself after everything that’s been done to you?! You stayed optimistic and humorous most of the time, but there was no way you were really okay. No one would be okay if they went through what you went through.

There was still months of footage left to sift through.

Not caring about the risks of getting pulled over, Ghost sped along the highway leading back home. He began trying to call you, hoping that your new phone that the team got you was working fine. 

When you didn’t answer, he tried again, the pit in his soul becoming darker and bigger. He shouldn’t have left you home alone. 

He stopped trying after the tenth calling attempt. Instead, he focused on speeding faster. He got back to the apartment within record time. When he slammed the door open, he began looking for you.

His terror amplified as he found you on the kitchen floor, knife laying next to you and dinner prep unfinished. Your cheeks were stained with tears and your eyes were staring off into the distance. The light in your eyes was gone. Just like the day you ordered for your warden to be killed.

You didn’t remember when the panic attack started. Somewhere in the middle of your grief perhaps. It completely crippled you. Plunged you into such a horrible memory that you were desperately trying to forget. Your breath was stolen and your heart ached as if you pushed a knife into it. 

Afterwards, you dissociated. You couldn’t register the cold tiles beneath you. You couldn’t remember what you were doing in the first place. You didn’t even hear your phone go off or Ghost rushing into the house. 

Warmth stirred you back to the land of the living, Ghost’s arms wrapping tight around you. An unfamiliar sensation buried into the crook of your neck. The feeling of light stubble and shaky breaths. It was then that you realized that he had taken off his mask to bury his face into you. 

Slowly, you wrapped your sore arms around his broad shoulders. The natural, sweet scent of you just made him feel the need to hold you tighter. Closer. 

He never wanted to leave your side again. 

“Is this hug for me? Or for you?” You half-joked, returning to your usual self with a sore voice. 

His shoulders relaxed as he heard your question. Relief soon morphed into anger as he realized that you tried to do without him there. It was hard for him to keep his voice from rising. “I told you to take it easy. I thought something happened to you.”

You flinched back, not expecting to be scolded so soon. “I just thought-”

“The only thoughts you should be having is about recovering.” He pulled back from the hug, allowing you to really see his face up close. 

You had only seen his face a couple of times before your capture. You had served with the 141 for under a year, so it made sense why you didn’t get to see it often. But now that you could really get a good look, your heart skipped a beat and a blush slowly crept along your cheeks. 

His eyes were much brighter without the mask already. Flecks of black warpaint revealed blond lashes that matched his light locks. His jaw looked like it was carved from quartz and a few scars only gave character to his strong features. 

Fuck, your old, childish crush on him was beginning to resurface at the worst possible moment.

You swallowed hard and averted your gaze. The hammering of your heart made it hard to figure out what to say next. “Sorry. . .”

Ghost gave a deep sigh, raking a large hand through his hair. Seeing the guilt in your eyes made him feel like he fucked up. He shouldn’t be making you feel like this. “No, Spite. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

Not only that, but seeing your tapes followed by you not answering the phone and then looking dead on the floor had him think the worst. Though, he wasn’t ready to saddle you with that burden. You needed comfort and stability. 

Gently, he cupped your cheek, guiding your gaze back up to his. Your breath hitched as he did, his touch now feeling like electricity. “What were you trying to make?”

“Pasta. . .” 

“You really want to get back into cooking?”

At that, you gave a firm nod. It would be something that would make you feel better. Normal. Even if it was just for a moment. You really needed to create something with your hands. 

Ghost couldn’t deny you. Not when you made such a beautifully, determined expression.  

Carefully, he stood up and helped you get back on your feet. The knife on the floor was put into the sink. A new chef’s knife was placed in your hand. Before you could ask what he was doing, he positioned you in front of the cutting board, stood close behind you to the point where your back was touching his chest, and he held his hands over yours. “Let me know if you start to hurt. You can lean back on me if you need it too.”

Now your heart was really racing. The whirlwind shift of emotions made you lightheaded. How could you switch from a panic attack to feeling lovesick? How could you still have a crush on him after all this time? 

It took you a moment to relax under his touch and allow him to use your hands to cut the garlic. The heat of his chest seeped into your back as he cautiously guided the cooking process with you in the middle. When he spoke up, his voice so close to your ear, you nearly fainted. “You feeling alright?”

“Y-Yeah. . . I’m fine. Thanks, Ghost.” You stuttered out, feeling embarrassed by the proximity. 

“You know, you can call me Simon when it’s just me and you, dove.” He allowed, feeling the heat of your own body rise against his chest. He couldn’t see your face clearly, but he could tell that your ears were turning red. 

It stirred something deep within himself.

Your brain short-circuited when he gave you permission to use his real name. You had only used it when you needed him to understand your serious intentions. It wasn’t something you took lightly. Now, he wanted you to call him that more intimately. 

At first, you didn’t know if you could bring yourself to do it. You couldn’t until you realized that all of the cloves of garlic were minced perfectly, your hands still able to take a little more cooking. “Seriously. Thank you, Simon.”

His heart leapt when you used his name like he wanted. “Of course, dove. Anything for you.” 

Simon didn’t move an inch away from you until everything was ready to get tossed onto the stove. When the prep work was done, you had excused yourself to go rest, allowing him to finish dinner. 

He let you go, but he really didn’t want to. He could never let you go now. Especially not when you were definitely blushing over him. 

It wasn’t that you needed rest from cooking. You needed rest from Simon. A minute to get your heartbeat under control. This wasn’t like you. You were confident, resilient, strong, spiteful. Not gooey and bashful. 

Only Ghost could make you feel this way. 

You had a crush on him when you first met the team. It was the air of mystery that drew you to him first. His sense of humor, confidence, and intelligence that matched yours drew you in deeper. He had said that he was actually quite handsome under the mask, and you believed him during that time. 

That’s all you tried to leave it at, though. A silly little crush. Being in the presence of a strong, muscular, and confident man would make anyone feel weak in the knees. That’s what you told yourself when you were stomping out your feelings for the sake of professionalism. 

It worked too. After snuffing out that crush, you grew to be a friend to him. He trusted you more and you trusted him. There was nothing in the world that would make you trade over the friendship you had with him. With anyone on your team. It was the right thing to do at the time and it still was. 

So why the hell were you falling in love with him all over again?

~

You chalked it up to being locked up for too long. Of course your heart would begin to sway towards Ghost. He’s been taking care of you and you’ve been living with him and he’s the first man you’ve been spending time with. Now that you realize this, snuffing out your feelings again shouldn’t be so hard.

Keyword: Shouldn’t.

Ghost made it really difficult for you to maintain some space from him. You have been adamant about healing through cooking. He’s been adamant about being with you every step of the way. Holding you between his arms in case you feel faint, guiding your hands when you don't have the strength, speaking directly into your ear when he wants to talk to you. 

Everytime he came back from base, his clinginess increased tenfold. You knew that he was coming back from watching your footage. But you didn’t want to be pitied or the center of any guilt he may have. 

“How are you feeling? Are you ready for your interview, dove?” Simon hovered near his bedroom door, watching you stare at your reflection in the mirror. You have been looking a lot better after these couple of months. You gained a wealthy weight, you were getting around much better, and some of your strength returned to your muscles. 

It was still a ways to go before you could go out onto the field again, but it was a good start. Besides the night terrors that still haunted you, you were beginning to look like your old self.

At least, that’s what it looked like to him. You, on the other hand, were beginning to stress about how you looked. It felt good for your body to be getting back on the right track, yet you found imperfections. Things you had to be patient about such as your hair. 

The doctors had to cut it in order to put a new metal plate back in your head. Your hair was growing back decently fast, but not fast enough to your liking. Besides the hair, you were covered in scars that weren’t fading anytime soon. Probably never with how deep they went. 

“Dove?”

Simon snapped you out of your stupor. “H-Huh? Oh, yeah, I’m ready to go.”

“That’s not what I asked. You can talk to me about anything, you know?” Simon stepped forward, hoping to cure your sudden anxiety. 

“Sorry, just a little distracted I guess.” You brushed off. It would be embarrassing to tell him how you felt ugly right now. The last thing you wanted to do was fish for compliments too. 

Simon knew you were lying, but he dropped it. Instead, he followed you out of the apartment and drove you to the interview. On the way there, you let the radio fill the silence between the two of you.

He gripped the steering wheel tight, wondering why the hell you were so distant from him all of a sudden. The two of you were getting along great when you first arrived. Now, you were locking yourself up in his bedroom a lot more, speaking to him less, and had your head in the clouds when he was trying to talk to you. 

Did he do something wrong? Make you feel bad about something? He thought you liked him.

The car pulled up onto the base, a place you haven’t seen for a long time. Everything looked like how you remembered. Military grays, greens, and browns. Recruits jogging around. The smell of cigarette smoke in the air. It almost seemed like nothing had changed.

Price greeted you halfway to the interview and then escorted you to it. It was the same room they used to examine your footage, the tapes finally over. You sat in a seat across from a woman in a business suit. 

Price and Simon were ordered to stay out in the hall and wait. As they waited for you, Simon thought about getting back in your good graces. 

“She alright? She seemed more quiet than usual on the walk.” Price suddenly spoke up, also curious about the trouble in paradise. 

“Don’t know. She hasn’t told me anything about what’s been bothering her.” He confessed, an annoyed tone lacing with his words. 

The captain hummed in thought. “Has she taken that offer to see a therapist?”

“Nope. Only the physical therapist. You think she needs it?” 

“It wouldn’t hurt. I think it would be good for her to really unpackage everything that went down before we put a gun back in her hands. Someone that’s a professional.”

Simon gave it some thought. As much as he wanted to be the one you turned to to talk about your feelings, he agreed that you would most likely feel better talking to a professional. He wasn’t necessarily equipped to provide both comfort and trauma solving. 

Hell, he probably needs therapy too.

He figured that he would suggest the idea when the two of you return home. Let you sleep on it. 

You exited the room after about an hour. The interview took much longer than you expected, but they were thorough. No detail was to be left unspoken. It was a wonder how you managed to talk about everything that happened without breaking down. Perhaps it was because you did really want your job back. The more capable you seemed, the more likely they would give it to you.

After a quick stop visiting Gaz and Soap, Simon took you back to the apartment. You entered the space so naturally that it felt like it was your home. Simon even let you buy some decor to make the place more comfortable for you that you could take to your new apartment, whenever that would be available. 

Before Simon could invite you to sit on the couch with him for a moment to talk, you had already closed the door to the bedroom. The interview left you tired. It was still taking a while to get your voice used to talking again. 

As you crossed the space, you noticed your reflection in the mirror. You looked the same from when you left. Maybe a little bit more exhausted, but still the same, unflattering body you wished was completely back to normal already.

There was a soft knock on the door. You didn’t register it as you just sat on the floor, looking at your reflection and wondering what you could do to make yourself feel pretty again. Since you didn’t answer, Simon slowly opened the door. 

“Dove? What’s wrong?” He cautiously asked, not wanting to startle you. 

You gave a deep sigh that even he felt in his soul. “Just. . . missing the me from before.”

His shoulders felt lighter in relief. He was so glad that you were talking to him again. However, It was souring quickly now that your words were settling in. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. . . I guess. . . I thought that I was decently pretty before. I was happy with how I looked. . . I don’t really see that anymore.” You tried to explain, feeling your throat begin to choke on each word. God, you felt stupid.

Simon could hardly believe it. To him, you were still the prettiest lady he’s ever met. Your smile made his day brighter. Your hands felt warm and perfect in his. Your eyes were works of art he could stare into all day. 

He was in love with you.

“W-What?” Your face grew red, not understanding why he was staring so intensely at you. So seriously. It’s been a while since you’ve faced him this close. Did he think you were being dumb too? 

He took a seat behind you on the floor and pulled you into his lap. An arm snaked across your stomach before you could escape. His other hand guided your chin to look back into the mirror. “Take a good look at yourself again, dove. Don’t tell me that you’re not pretty anymore because it’s not true.”

Your heart was going to burst from your chest. If you stay like this with him for much longer, it would be impossible to destroy your feelings for him. “Si-”

“Your cheeks are turning pink. Are you getting embarrassed?” He tightened his hold and deepened his voice. He would do anything to make you feel attractive again. Including revealing that he was attracted to you.

As he pointed out your blush, you only reddened deeper. “T-This is because you surprised me!”

“Oh? It’s not because you like me?” He teased, not being able to help himself. Before everything, you were so confident and enthusiastic at work. He never got to see your bashful side. It was incredibly cute. 

You froze in his lap as he revealed your secret. How long has he known?! Was he just toying with you right now?! This was not how you imagined a confession going at all, not that you ever really planned on confessing. 

Turning your head to face him directly, you attempted to dig out of the hole you were in. “Simon-”

“You’re too cute.” He suddenly admitted before pressing his lips firmly against yours. He lost control as soon as he saw your expression up close within his lap. The way your brows furrowed, how your ears turned more pink by the second, how you called him by his name. 

There was no way in hell he was going to make you feel unattractive right now. 

Startled by the kiss, it took you a moment to realize what was happening. When your brain did kick back into gear, you could hardly believe it. Simon was kissing you. Not just that, but he was kissing you so deeply that it made you melt.

You couldn’t possibly fight back your feelings for him now. 

Eventually, you began kissing him back. When he felt your effort, he took that as a good sign to keep going. Your lips were so soft and warm against his. Your weight in his embrace felt perfect. His tongue swiped at your lips and then plunged into your mouth to taste even more of you.

You softly moaned into his mouth, electricity firing all along your nerves. His muscular, strong chest against your back made you feel hot all over. His tongue that aimed to taste every inch of you did just that. A sensation you haven’t felt for what felt like decades began to spread throughout your pelvis. 

His hand guided your gaze back to the mirror in front of you, your own expression making your breath hitch. Cheeks pink, lips swollen, chest rising and falling rapidly. The bottom of your shirt was a little hiked up, exposing just an inch of waist that drove Simon wild. “See, dove? You’re perfect.”

He held your chin in place, forcing you to watch as he trailed kisses along the side of your neck. His free hand slipped under your shirt, feeling skin that now matched his. You gasped and shivered as he felt you up, feeling his hand travel further up until he reached the bottom wire of your bra. The kisses mixed with tongue and teeth against your neck made you whimper in excitement.

“You’re still soft to the touch. Still warm and living. How I see you hasn’t changed. You are still the same pretty woman I grew to like so much.” He sweetly confessed into your ear as he stripped off your shirt. 

Simon liked you too? Since when? Mental questions faded away as you noticed him unsnap your bra to reveal your breasts. Your hands instinctively went to cover them up, but he caught your wrists in his hand.

“No, dove. I gotta show you just how attractive you are. Keep looking at your pretty little face in the mirror.” He playfully smirked, loving this new side of you more than he imagined. His cock was already pressing against the fabric of his pants, getting bigger by the second. 

With your wrists still held together, he began to massage your breasts. The other side of your neck was shown some love through feverish kisses, making you squirm in his lap. You could feel his growing erection pressed behind you, making your pussy tingle with need. When he pinched a nipple tight, you let a moan slip.

As he dragged his tongue along your neck, he watched the pleasure on your face through the mirror. His pants felt tighter by the second, eager to really show you just how attractive you were to him. 

Limbs felt like jelly as he continued to tease you. When your wrists felt more slack in his grip, he let go to use both hands. You sat in his lap, melted and shivering as he played with both of your nipples. “You’re so sensitive. It’s really turning me on, dove.”

You pressed your legs tighter together, feeling your wetness slowly stain your panties. Simon’s strong chest rose with his labored breath, cock now aching with pain from the restriction of his clothes. He wanted more. He wanted to see every inch of you.

He guided your legs to spread for him, making sure that your pussy would be clear as day through the mirror. You debated fighting back before things went too far, but his hands on you felt incredible. You were so turned on too, despite feeling embarrassed about how weak and bashful you looked. 

In one move, your pants and panties were gone, revealing your slick cunt for both you and Simon to see. Instinctively, you tried to close your legs. However, Simon made sure that you didn’t. He made sure you looked at the mirror too. “Take a good look, dove. So wet for me. . . So pretty. Pink. Soft. Never seen something so delicious before.”

His large fingers began to rub through your folds, spreading your wetness around easily. His eyes grew feverish as he spread you open, feeling the pulse that traveled through you. 

You gasped as he started rubbing your clip in slow, deep circles. Almost two years of abstinence made you sensitive beyond comprehension. “Ah~! Simon~!”

“That’s right, dove. Don’t stop looking at yourself.” He instructed, his voice so deep that it echoed in your head. Lightning zipped through you as he continued to tease your clit, another hand going back to your hard nipples.

God, Simon was so good at this. He was reading you like a book, noticing every flinch, every scrunch, every tremble that flashed across your face. He was getting to know all your sweet spots. Every piece of you that begged for more. 

Your hips bucked as his finger on your cunt slid down close to your entrance. Through the mirror, you saw him smirk, making your heart leap. “Patience. I’ll give my dove what she wants as long as she keeps looking at herself. Promise.”

Gently, he worked his fingers inside of you, feeling just how hot you really were getting for him. He suppressed his own shiver as he felt you tighten up, sucking his fingers in deeper. You clung on to his arms and moaned, throwing your head back against his shoulder in pure bliss.

Grabbing your chin, he made you watch yourself get fingered. “Don’t look away.”

You had no choice but to follow your instructions. Kisses peppered your neck, making sure you didn’t have the space to turn your head away again. You watched his fingers pump in and out of you, more of your natural honey drooling out of you. 

“Ahh! Mnn~!” A loud moan escaped you as you felt his fingers curl to hit that perfect, spongy spot that drove you crazy. Your reaction was instant, your pussy tightening further and tremors traveling through every nerve. Simon could feel and see it. You were getting close to an orgasm. And he really wanted you to reach it.

“That’s it. Watch yourself cum for me, dove.” He praised, moving his fingers more powerfully to make sure you wouldn’t lose that pleasurable high. 

It was beautiful watching you moan and drool and shutter in his lap. It was so sexy how you looked at the mirror with feverish eyes like you wanted more than just his fingers. He wanted to use more too. But not before you came.

Simon put more pressure on your g-spot, not caring that you were making such a huge mess all over his hand. All he wanted to do was go deeper, so deep that his palm was pressing into your throbbing clit. 

That is what made you see stars. With a scream, you were plunged into an orgasm that made you stupid. Simon smirked with pride as he held you during your climax, feeling just how tightly you clung to his fingers. He loved that blissful expression on your face while you came. Corners of your eyes brimming with tears, blush swept across your cheeks, body glowing with excitement. 

“Didn’t I tell you? Absolutely gorgeous.” He complimented, giving you soft kisses on the side of your head as you calmed down. It was still hard to breathe, your heart beating erratically from the climax and from Simon’s husky praises. When he pulled his fingers away, you whimpered from the sensitivity.

Carefully, you were removed from his lap and laid down in front of him. While you took a moment to rest, Simon grabbed a few pillows from his bed, tossed them to the floor, and then stripped. At the sight of his strong build, you swallowed some drool. 

It was strength made to be used. Muscular and soft in all the right places. His own body was covered in old scars, something that made him alluring rather than flawed. And then when your eyes traveled down to his huge, throbbing cock, you felt that familiar tingle take over again.

“Like what you see?” He teased, situating the pillows under you so you could be more comfortable. The head of his dick prodded at your folds, lubing itself up. As he slid along your folds, rubbing your sensitive, red bud, you lost your breath again.

“Simon. . .” You called out in what you hoped sounded like a warning rather than begging. God, you wanted him inside you already. You wanted to feel every inch of him fuck you like you were the most sexy woman on the planet. 

He chuckled a little, your tone a mixture of scolding and impatience. A perfect tone that made him want to fuck you hard already. But, he held back. For now at least. Instead, he turned your head to make you look at your reflection again. Slowly, he entered you, feeling your hot pussy cling to him like it was made for him.

Your expression immediately morphed as he slid his cock inside you deeper. Eyebrows scrunched, vision hazy, plump lips bitten. He was thick. Incredibly thick. You’ve never been so filled up before. It hurt a little, but pain was quickly replaced with pleasure as you got used to it.

Simon gave a satisfied sigh when finally reached the base. It was a sight to behold, your tight pussy stretched to accommodate him. It felt so good inside you. Hot. Slick. His thrusts were slow and deep, watching every reaction you had as you felt every inch of him. It only turned him on even more as he made you watch.

His hands clutching your hips to control the pace had you tremble. You loved how he was careful, yet still wanted to manhandle you. There were moments where you could see him lose his cool for a second. A shuddered breath here, a swallowed groan there. His own expressions as he fucked you deep is what really turned you on the most.

“Fuck, dove. You’re so tight~” He exhaled, picking up the pace with his thrusts. Your toes curled and your back arched as his cock hit every pleasure point within you. It was perfect how he was large and skilled enough to reach every spot you liked. And it was all thanks to how closely he paid attention to you.

His body pressed against yours as he felt the need to be closer to you. He wanted to see your pretty face up close when you cum next. He wanted to feel those beautiful tits pressed flush against his own skin. When he felt you tighten, he knew you were getting close.

You hung onto him tight, wrapping his arms around his neck and digging your nails into his back. It was incredible feeling his muscles flex with each thrust under your hands. Everything felt so good with him. You never thought you would feel pleasure like this again. 

Simon hissed as you clawed his back, a blissful sensation that only left him wanting more. He pistoned harder, hoping that your nails would leave new scars on him. “I can feel you getting close. Look into my eyes when you do.”

Moans gradually turned into screams as he fucked you as deep as he could go, his cock throbbing hard with his own desire to climax. Hearing you scream his name was turning him on more than he thought. So much so that he began calling out yours.

Hearing your own name from his lips with such a desperate tone made the wave crash down. Looking deep into his eyes, you came around him. Every part of you trembled, electricity taking over. It felt like every cell within you was screaming for him. His breath hitched as you tightened and soaked him. And god, the way you looked while cumming. . . 

He held you tight as he felt himself climax too, hot ropes adding to the heat. Your back arched as he gave a few final pumps, milking himself out in you as much as he could. It was hard to control your shutters when he enjoyed the final moments of having you. When he did pull out, it left you feeling empty, yet satisfied. 

Knowing that you were feeling weak, Simon carried you to his bed and laid you down. You were surprised when he crawled into the spot next to you and pulled you into his chest like he was holding a lover. Was that what you two were now? Lovers?

“Like I said before, you’re perfect.” Simon praised and kissed the top of your head.

You two were definitely lovers. All the doubt cleared as you listened to his heartbeat. 

[pit-and-the-pen]

When Things Come Back to Haunt You

I finally finished this request: to the anon that requested, I’m so sorry how long it took, my brain was not letting write angst.

Summary: When Azriel hurts his mate in the war, guilt eats him alive.

Wc: 2.6k

Warnings: character injury and near death.

Azriel tried his best to focus on the events unfolding around him. The last wave of Hybern soldiers were still coming down around them and all he could focus on was the fact that he could only watch as your body slipped into the crowd right out of his view. He sent a sharp tug on that golden thread and felt nothing but a solid wall. She blocked him out. His skin crawled at the thought. He wouldn’t be able to know if you were okay. He sent out another powerful blast of his siphon, taking down three hybern soldiers and ran off after you. Wave after wave kept coming. Everytime he would catch a glimpse of you, you seemed to slip off again.

Azriel knew you could handle yourself, he had trained you personally. But that didn’t stop the utter panic that was consuming him the longer you two were separated.

The bodies slowly thinned down to the few remaining stragglers and he finally was able to catch up with you. Going to shout your name as he saw your sword cleave through a line of enemy soldiers. You were surrounded on all sides, the two you took down in front of you only distracting you from the ones behind you. Azriel shouted out your name. Lost over the sounds of the commotion around them. The words get carried away in the wind.

He surges forward with Truth Teller, running through fae with no regard. He had to get to you. He could have reached forward and pushed you out of the way but all he could do was yell your name again. You were still fighting off the bodies in front of you.

He watched, almost frozen in horror, as one of the figures behind you surged to swing their own sword right into your back.

“Get down!” Azriel shouted and he could only watch in horror as you turned at the sound of his voice,a small smile graced your face before the power of his siphon blasted into you. You took the brunt of the power of his siphon to the center of your chest. You collapsed like a rag doll, legs crumpling underneath you. The scream that ripped through him left his ears ringing. He didn’t care that your would-be attacker was on the ground unmoving besides you. All the sounds of the battle faded away as he rushed to get to you. You had to be breathing. You had to be alive. He would have felt it. Felt that precious golden bond snap. Wouldn't he? But your shields were still up, still blocking him up.

He was finally able to get his arms around you. It wasn’t the triumphant reunion that he thought the two of you would get. Your face was bleeding, sliced up in the impact. Your arm was twisted at an unnatural angle. He pressed his ear to your chest. He wanted to cry with relief when he heard the tell tale beating. But it was weak. Forcing itself to beat against the force of power you had absorbed,

He scooped you up in his arms, no longer caring about the events around him. He had done his fair share. The King of Hybern was dead and the others could clean up the rest of his soldiers that kept pushing on. His mind was racing as he rushed to the only place he could think to take you. The tent that Rhys had set up was far enough away that he cursed himself. Cursed himself for not taking note of where any of the healing tents were. Even if he got you to a healers tent it was no guarantee that they would be available to help you. No amount of threatening would force a healer to help if they are already up to their elbows in injuries.

He flew you to Rhys’ tent in record time. He didn’t even process that his brother was already laid out on the floor. He could only focus on your slowing heartbeat.

“Help her.” How he could even speak at this moment was beyond him. The words didn’t register in his mind, he didn’t even realize that he shouted them. He felt your weight leave his arms and he lunged to attack the source. A strong arm wrapped around his shoulders to keep him restrained and he fought to push them off as well.

“Calm down. Az, you’re going to hurt her.” The voice of his brother, Cassian, filled his ears. He willed his mind to take in the words, His heart sank.

“I already did.” He choked on the words. He had hurt his mate. Had nearly killed you. The one person he was supposed to keep safe. He felt the hot tears sliding down his face. His body went limp as the fight drained out of him. He kept tugging on the bond, searching for any part of you that he could hold onto. Nothing. Just that same wall that blocked him out.

The healer got right to work on you. Chanting over you with their eyes closed. The light haired healer gasped quietly, muttering words to herself as she went to collect something from the numerous bags that littered the tent.

“What are you doing?” He shouted to the healer. The female flinched before taking a deep breath.

“ Either calm down or get out. I cannot heal her if you’re shouting at me everytime I move. I will kick you out of this tent.” She bit back. Azriel felt the growl leave his chest and suddenly he was being yanked outside by Cassian.

Azriel roughly shook off the touch and went to enter again. A hand on his shoulder stopped his movements.

“Azriel. Stop.”

“I can’t! I nearly killed her, Cassian. I can’t just leave her alone.”

“What happened?” Cassian all but whispered. Azriel could only shake his head like it would remove the memory from him. The look of your smile before you were thrown back. His throat felt tight, he couldn’t breathe as he replayed the scene again and again.

Cassian was shaking him lightly. As he got pulled back to the present, he felt the tremors rack through his body. His knees threatening to give out under him.

“I can’t lose her. Cas, this can’t be how I lose her.” He couldn’t stop the sobs that left him. He sunk down to his knees. Not caring about the mud that shifted under his weight. His wings drooped closer to the wet earth. Cassian swore softly from behind him before he joined him on the ground. His brothers arms wrapped around his neck and pulled his into a tight hug. Azriel felt his whole body tense before he returned the hug. Clutching to the only suppor6 Cassian could offer in this moment.

The healer worked on you for what felt like hours. Eventually the healer rushed out, pushing the flap of the tent open.

“You’re her mate right?” She spoke almost too fast for Azriel to catch the sudden question.

He could only nod.

“Then I need your blood. Right now. Come.” She pulled on his wrist. He didn’t move at first as her words sunk in but then he was tripping over himself to get to you. He didn’t know he knew but you were dying. Your skin had lost the flush look from exertion, instead you had a slight sheen of sweat sticking to your skin.

“Hand.” The healer demanded. Azriel’s body didn’t feel like his as he extended it to the healer. He didn’t even flinch as she dragged a small dagger across half of his palm. He watched as the small stream of red pooled up along the cut. The healer guided his hand to your mouth, squeezing your cheeks slightly to part your lips. He watched as a single drop pooled out of your mouth. The healer wrapped his hand quickly before dismissing him. He couldn’t move. Feet rooted to the spot as the healer pressed her ear against your chest. She cursed loudly and Azriel felt like something in his chest has cleaved him in half.

“What’s happeni-”

“Get out. Now.” She all but growled at him. And there was something in her voice that made his legs follow her orders.

Your heart had stopped. That is what he learned within the next few minutes. Twice. The healer restarted your heart twice. And twice Azriel could do nothing but stand around as he felt like it was to lose you. More of his family had joined him now. Mor was inside the tent, assisting the healer. Cassian was trying his best to distract him from the twisted mess his mind was at this moment but even through his grief, he could tell not even Cassian knew what to say to make this better. Azriel was sitting with his knees curled up to his chest as the healer came out again. His heart sank at the look on her face.

She held up a small hand to him, a silent request for him to stay still.

“She’s stable. Her body is healing slowly. But the blood did its job. She’s lucky she has you or she would be dead right now.”

Mercifully, your eyes started to blink open. A rough breath pushed through your mouth as you tried to sit up. Azriel’s hand was on your shoulder instantly, urging you to lay back down. His heart broke when he heard a small whimper of pain from you at the contact. He withdrew his hand quickly. Pulling them both onto his lap. The tent was slightly too small for him, his wings tucked in tight against his body. It was difficult to sit without touching you, both because of his desperate need to feel your skin under his hands and because of the tight space.

You looked at him and he instantly felt sick to his stomach at the pure joy across your features. The warmth he felt tinting the edge of the bond that you finally opened up.

He couldn’t sit there and stomach your love for a second longer.

“Rhys will find you a new apartment. And I can start packing your stuff the moment I leave.” Azriel forced the words out. Breaking the silence in the tent. Your eyes widened at his words.

“Why would I need a new place to live?” The rasp in your voice hit him in the face. Your words didn’t make sense to him.

“I almost killed you. You were… your heart stopped twice. All because I couldn’t protect you.”

“Az-”

“No. You will never be put in danger by me. Never again.”

He watched as your face contorted with pain as you tried to sit up. The blanket across your chest slipped a little and he saw the hint of a scar marring your skin. An angry lighting like pattern, cutting across the mark of your mating bond right above your heart. You followed his eyeline and pulled the blanket tighter around yourself.

“Don’t you want to hear what I think?”

“N-”

“I think you saved my life. I was surrounded by soldiers. If you hadn't taken out the one behind me, he was going to kill me.”

“But I al-”

“This is war Azriel. People get hurt.”

“Not by me. Not you. This isn’t up for discussion.”

——————————//——————————

Azriel had managed to keep his distance while you healed. Moving you into your old room despite your amend demands that you would sleep in your shared bedroom. It was harder to avoid you once you started to be able to get around by yourself, no longer requiring assistance from Cassian or Mor. You somehow always found your way into the room he was occupying. Never speaking, you had figured out that speaking would have him all but running out of the room. Azriel felt every single tug from your side of the bond, could practically taste the way you were begging for him to talk to you. As much as it killed him to deny you, Azriel would not allow himself to be that selfish. His skin was crawling with the urge to touch you, to kiss your soft lips and play with the loose curls of your hair. He missed the pressure of your hand intertwined with his. He was sleeping like shit, he had grown so accustomed to your presence that he no longer could sleep without you. But he also had the image of his power hitting you burned into his memory. The scar on your chest would be a reminder enough.

You would not budge on your choice to stay in your house. Despite his best efforts, Rhys would not force you to move out. His brother, his high lord, would not order you to move out even if Azriel thought he was doing it for your protection. So Azriel hid like a child. Avoiding you in your very own home. But he could never fully escape you. You were everywhere in the house, if not psychically, then in the pictures on the wall, on Azriel's favorite pillow that you had gotten him. There was not a place in the house that he could distance himself from you and it was killing him.

It took two weeks to the day from when you moved back to the house that you broke. You had walked into the small nook of a library and Azriel softly put his book down and tried to slink out of the room. His shadows had drawn close to him but you had no problem reaching your hand out and closing it around his arm. You pulled him closer to you and his shadows immediately disappeared. He stood there, watching your chest rise and fall. He couldn’t bring himself to pull out of your grasp, savoring your touch before he would be denied it again.

“Az…”

“Please don’t do this.”

“Me? You don’t do this.” You felt your anger from the last few weeks building up.

Azriels face twisted, looking so pained that you couldn’t help the hand that reached out to try to brush his cheeks. He leaned in for a second before jumping away like you had burned him. Tears formed in your eyes as he tried to slink off again.

“If you don’t love me anymore, at least have the decency to tell me instead of avoiding me.” Your voice cracked and Azriel froze. His shadows wrapped around your arms, a ghost of a touch but not the one you wanted.

“I love you so much, that’s the problem. I almost watched you die. I did watch you die. In case you forget your heart stopped two times.”

“You cannot protect me from everything.”

“But I should be able to.”

“You’re so insistent on keeping me safe but did you ever sit and think about what I want?”

Azriel’s face dropped, giving you the answer you needed.

“I love you, no matter how much you wish I didn’t. I will be here until you figure that out. You’re the love of my life, my mate. I waited three hundred years for you and if you think I’m giving that all up-“

Your words were cut off by his lips crashing against yours. For the first time since the accident, you felt his side of the bond open up and the flood of emotions almost knocked your knees out from underneath you. His hand came to rest on the small of your back and yours rested against his face. The stubble on his chin tickled underneath your fingers. The kiss was slow, a building inferno that did nothing to satisfy the fire roaring in your veins.

You both pulled away gasping, his forehead resting on yours.

“Don’t ever leave me.” He whispered so softly that you almost missed it.

“Never.” You pulled his lips back to yours and flooded the bond with all the love you could. Happy to have your mate back

[libraryraccoon]

So I got this idea of an Idia Reader who is an overlord (making some high tech prosthetic or another things that Vox himself can’t make easily) and forced to go attend an overlord meeting and imagine the panic attack he would have if Alastor or worse Valentino interacted with them.

Probably locks themselves in a their room for three months after the meeting.

Gender : GN

Pronouns : None

Message of Raccoon : I can just imagine Vox and Idia!Reader being two bestfriends that have rivalry for fun.

Info : Idia!Reader being an overlord in the Vees.

General Headcanon

You were one of the Overlords of the Vees.

But compared to the others, you didn't like the attention.

The recluse of the Vees, that's who you were.

You hated leaving your room, preferring to use your tablet to see/talk with others.

But one day, you were forced to show up at one of the Overlords meetings. Irl.

When you entered the room, all the overlords asked you who you were.

"Who are you ?" -Carmilla.

"The one who almost doxxed all of you. Idia!Reader." -you, already wanting to go back to your room.

It was the first time they saw you, like really saw you. Not through a tablet, but irl.

You sat between Rosie and Alastor, a mistake.

The two kept talking and adding you into the conversation. You wanted to die again.

They were nice and polite, yes, but you didn't like socializing. You preferred solitude and calm to having to socialize.

You regretted having taken this place instead of putting yourself next to Zestial, who is calm and silent.

"Oh ! Did you hear about what Jack did ?" -Rosie.

“No, what did he do ?”-Alastor.

"He fucked his wife's sister, then ate the said sister. His wife found him and then ate Jack." -Idia!Reader.

If there was tea, it would have been perfect.

Carmilla give you a look that can be translated as "Good luck, we're not together."

You will doxx her later as punishment for not helping you.

The meeting was pretty good, except for the moment you had to talk and socialize.

Your social anxiety suffered greatly during this meeting.

When you entered the Vees tower, you wanted to go to your room but the others Vees stopped you.

Valentino and Velvette congratulated you for coming out of your shithole room.

But you know what was the worst ? When Vox saw you, he asked why you had placed yourself next to his enemy, Alastor.

Vox gave you an hour-long lecture on why what you did was wrong.

You just wanted to stay cooped up in your room for the rest of the eternity.

But you couldn't.

Why ? Because Rosie and Alastor have come for you.

Apparently you have become their friends, without your consent.

Once a week you had to go out and spend time with Alastor and/or Rosie.

And you couldn't even run away because the two always know where to find you.

You are gossip friends. I will not accept otherwise.

You have the pass to touch Alastor. You use it to touch his ears because DEER EAR !!

You do the same with his tail, because DEER TAIL !!! (He tries to hide his tail from you)

I headcanon that you have a picture with you, Rosie and Alastor on it.

Let's pretend you were there during the meeting about the angel.

…

Carmilla paid you $3000 (or whatever the money is in hell) for not talking about her killing an angel.

You took the money before telling to Rosie and Alastor everything.

If she ever finds out, you're dead, but don't worry, it was worth it.

I headcanon that your hair (or at least a part of your hair) is made of fire, and that the Vees, Alastor and Rosie want to touch it.

Alastor and Rosie love seeing your hair changing its colors depending on your emotions, it always betrays you and they find it amusing.

Alastor using the Aromantic charm on you to see you get frustrated and see your hair changing its color is canon.

Alastor has already brought you to the Hazbin Hotel..

When I say that you said what you thought out loud and you were brutal with your words, I don't think you realize how much that was-

You were banned from the hotel by Vaggie while Alastor was just watching and laughing.

You felt hurt, betrayed by your friend.

“Oh yeah, that’s how it is now, every man for himself.”

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR FOURTEEN

in which eddie finally offers you an honesty hour. which is great, until you learn you've bit off more than you're capable of chewing. (oh, and we find out more of what happened at steve's infamous party)

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, eventual smut, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 5k+

→ a/n: there is still one more bit of the memory left for steve's party!! i broke it into three bits because otherwise it would be too long as one giant clump lol. sorry this is being posted so late... but hey! it's here! see y'all again thursday lol thank you to everyone for continuing to be so kind about this story and show it so much love

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

14:00 ────────ㅇ─────── 24:00

SIX MONTHS EARLIER 

It’s Eddie. You only know because when Nancy opens the door, she greets him loudly, letting her drunken squeal echo down the hallway and into the kitchen. 

“Munson! Finally!” her voice carries, and you fight the urge to try and move to peek through the doorway to see him, “Took you long enough!” 

Eddie's voice is too quiet for you to hear his reply. He’s not drunk, not fueled by reckless decisions and overflowing affections like most of the other friends were already. 

There’s a terrible twisting in your gut at his arrival, and you know it shows across your face when Robin looks at you apologetically. As if for a moment, they had forgotten they way you and Eddie avoided each other. As if for a moment, they had all pretended that the entire group could convene and it could be easy, and that was on them instead of you or Eddie. But it wasn’t on them. That blame could never fall on them.

It was on Eddie, you decided. He was the one who more ardently avoided you rather than vice versa. He was the one with a sharper tongue between the two of you, always snappy, always irritated with you. It was on Eddie. It should be on Eddie. 

Except, you still felt bad about the Chrissy ordeal. He may have acted as if he disliked you for no reason before, but now he was hating you with reason. You can’t blame him; you’d do the same thing.  If he ruined a date like that, stomped all over possible potential and threw it away without even considering your feelings involved, you’d be out for blood.

You sort of needed to apologize, and needed to apologize soon. 

“Eddie, my man!” Argyle calls out from the couch. It captures your attention just in time to look over and watch as Eddie enters the room, his back facing you, his shoulders slack beneath his leather jacket. 

He’s relaxed. You’re immediately sure that he doesn’t know you’re here yet. 

“Hey, man,” he greets with a gravelly voice, an edge of fatigue to it you’re familiar with. It’s the kind of tiredness that follows long weeks, as you two had spoken about that first night. For a second, you wonder if he’s still having those. And if he is, how often they happen, if he ever comes home from them and thinks about that night, if he has anyone to call when it’s late and they haunt him.

You know you don’t. Neither Steve nor Robin are ever awake that late, or at least don’t answer the phone at that time of day, and you don’t feel close enough with the rest of the group to burden them like that.

There had been a time where you would wonder if Eddie could have become that person, if the type of conversation you two had at the bar the first night could ever translate over phone lines. But that time had been early on, and was long dead. It laid in an unmarked grave with all your other ponderings of what a friendship with Eddie might look like. 

“We can keep you two apart,” Robin whispers, or at least tries to whisper. She’s loud, “He said he had work and wouldn’t make it. We… We thought he wasn’t going to come, so we invited you instead.” 

Oh. 

Oh, what a knock to your pride. Robin means nothing harmful of the words, they should be neutral and just an explanation offered to you. But your mind takes them in its grasp and runs, runs, runs. 

“We thought he wasn’t going to come, so we invited you instead.” 

You’re the backup plan. You see it now, and it sucks, but you press your lips into a cellophane smile that Robin can’t see through in her flurry to distract you with an offering of you two plus Steve having another round of drinks. You decide to take a straight shot of the nearest bottle of vodka, swallowing it down to drown your already sinking heart. You fake laugh when Steve tells bad jokes, you make up lies about your dates of the last few weeks, deciding you no longer care if you add in more details to look less pathetic. 

You’re the backup plan. So you’re sure they won’t notice when you spin a new version of yourself.

This version of you that spews from your lips has gotten lucky more times in the last month than you have in the last year. This version of you is always the one having the last say in conversations, the one leaving men on read rather than the tables being flipped as they were in reality. 

Robin says nothing, even when she notices some of the things you say not aligning with what you’d told her earlier that week.  She only side-eyes you as Steve drinks in every detail, only disrupting to suggest another shot. 

At some point, she gets too drunk to side-eye you. 

“Fuck,” Steve sighs, throwing his head back as he glances out to his living room, where Nancy, Jonathan, Argyle, and Eddie have taken to sitting in an oblong circle around on his and Robin’s furniture, “I need some fresh air. Anyone else?” 

“Me,” Robin responds so quickly, you would have made fun of her if you didn’t notice the sickly shade of green creeping up on her. 

Steve looks at you, raising an eyebrow, but you only shake your head. It makes the room threaten to spin. Maybe, just maybe, you should have slowed your roll with the vodka shots. Maybe.

“I’ll stay in here, hold down the fort,” you promise, letting your eyes fall shut before you inhale deeply through your nose, exhaling softly through parted lips. 

No way. You hadn’t drunk nearly enough tonight to excuse getting sick as Robin was seemingly about to. 

Robin and Steve leave you be as you compose yourself. You think you hear them extend the offer to everyone in the living room, but you can’t make out who agrees to go and who stays. But as you listen to all the footsteps making their way out the front door, Steve calling out that they’d be back soon, you start to become convinced you’ll open your eyes to an empty apartment. 

You open them to an empty kitchen. So far, so good.

But then a voice clears their throat from the living room, just as you pull your phone out of your pocket. You open it to find the cursed dating app still open, your messages with the bartender still staring you back in your face. The bartender you thought you’d hit it off with. The bartender that had stood you up the night before. 

Fuck him, you think bitterly as you turn to find Eddie entering the kitchen. Because of course, given your luck, Eddie was the only one who stayed back. 

“Those apps fucking suck,” Eddie notes, using the neck of his beer bottle to gesture in the general direction of your phone. 

You look between him and the lit up screen for a moment, finding half the mind to click out of the private messages, “You’ve used them in the past?” 

“Nope.”

You wait for a second, giving him the chance to elaborate. But he doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t, he’s Eddie. If he explained himself to you, that would just be too easy. 

“Okay,” you sigh, squinting at the page and past the vodka, trying to fumble your way back onto the screen that would show you eligible bachelors in your area, letting you swipe and judge them by solely looks as if they weren’t actual people on the other side of the phone. As if they weren’t more than a reservoir of attention at your fingertips. 

Maybe that had been your mistake with the bartender – you let him become a real person to you.

“Why are you even still on them? I heard you’ve been having a shit time with the guys on there – quite the opposite of what you’ve been telling Harrington tonight, might I point out.” 

It’s something in the way he says it. One moment, you’re looking down, ignoring him. The next, you can’t help but lift your head in shock. The words all felt sharpened and poised for a kill, ready for an attack you hadn’t expected so early on in the night. 

“I-” you don’t know how to defend yourself. You don’t know whether to stick by the lies you’ve told tonight, or to be concerned with who was telling Eddie about your love life, “You win some, you lose some. It’s the nature of the app.”

Eddie grins and leans on a counter across from you, “You haven’t made it sound like you’re losing at all tonight. I nearly started a drinking game with Nance where we took a swig every time you said you managed to pull another ‘fuck ‘em and leave ‘em’. Quite the body count you’ve got there, player.” 

You’re drunk. You tell yourself that’s why you take his words straight to heart – you’re drunk, and therefore, you’re sensitive. 

“You’re bluffing,” you snap, “You couldn’t hear me from all the way over there.” 

“We could.”

“No, you couldn’t.”

“Yes, we could.”

“You’re lying,” you spit finally, crossing your arms defensively. Your emotions were rising too high, too quickly, and you blame the vodka. You blame the vodka and you blame the drink Steve had made you. You blame the bartender who stood you up. And most importantly, you blame Eddie. 

“I’m lying? You’re the one who’s been telling Stevie nothing but lies tonight,” Eddie narrows his eyes at you, as if he expects you to shrink in cowardice when he stands up straight and takes several steps across the kitchen to be closer to you, “Why do you need to even lie about all that, anyways? It’s not like the truth would be any more pathetic than the act you’re putting up. Everyone strikes ou-”

“I’m pathetic?” you scoff and interrupt him, not even paying any attention to where he was going. The tips of your ears are starting to flame with a red tinge, “Just last week, you lied to the group. You were trying to avoid being where I’d be and told them you had to walk your neighbor’s dog.” 

“I did!”

“Your apartment has a strict no pet policy, Eddie.” 

He freezes up entirely, grin faltering before your eyes, “How do you know that?” 

“I didn’t, but Nancy did,” you roll your eyes at the cracks in his composure, “It’s all I had to hear about the entire night. How she wishes we could get along, how she hates when you lie to her. Thanks for that, by the way.” 

“It’s not my fuckin’ fault you go out with my friends,” Eddie grumbles, reserving himself back to his side of the kitchen. If someone came in and squinted closely, they’d find that imaginary boundary between the two of you, an invisible line that would not be crossed. Not here, not tonight. You wouldn’t touch Eddie Munson with a twelve-foot pole if you could help it. 

“And it’s not my fault that you don’t.” 

You can see his agitation spreading like wildfire across his face, in the tick of his jaw and the twitch of his eyes. You can practically see the words that linger on his tongue as he bites down on it – it is your fault. 

“Whatever. Why are you lying to Steve?” his voice goes monotonous as he crosses his arms, and the muscles strain against his shirt. His leather jacket has long been discarded, probably thrown over the back of the couch or a chair in the living room. 

You mirror him, crossing your arms, letting the screen of your phone press into your side, “I’m not lying.”

“You are. With Steve, and with me at this very moment,” his eyebrows furrow and you consider the consequences of chucking your phone at him. 

Your irritation, your own agitation, is all bubbling beneath your skin. If it wasn’t for the vodka mingling with it, you would have been squirming from the discomfort. Usually, he doesn’t get to you. Normally, his off-handed comments come with a sting that can quickly fade. 

None of the jabs are fading tonight. They only seem to linger. Because he’s right, and you hate that he’s right. 

“How the fuck do you even know how my dating life is going?” you uncross your arms, waving your hands wildly into the empty air between you and Eddie, “We aren’t exactly friends. Did Robin tell you? Did Steve tell you?” 

Eddie swallows hard, and you can watch the words wash over him, but you’re unsure of which of your drunken slurs specifically got to him. You weren’t wrong in any of your statements, you weren’t outlandish in either of your guesses. But your words have frozen him up all the same and you aren’t sure why. 

“You’re right,” when he physically melts, the deathly chill remains in his voice, “We aren’t friends. But Rob and Nance are, and Nance and me are. See where I’m going with that one?” 

It’s in the way he says it, confirms it. 

We aren’t friends.

He hisses it out as if it were a painful reminder, as if saying those words burn him eternally. He says them as if they are capable of sending ice through his veins and bones alike. 

You know why he froze now, and it’s too late. 

“Well-” you pause, unsure of how exactly to respond. You’ll be having a talk with Robin, surely. But technically, Nancy was your friend, right? Surely, she was allowed to know the drama of your love life, wasn’t she? “You say that as if Nancy and I aren't friends.” 

“Are you?” he tilts his head tauntingly, as if he knows something you don’t. 

“We… are.” 

He catches the hesitation; he runs with it. He finds the handle of the knife you’d tried to keep so hidden, and he twists as hard as he can.

“Would Nancy agree if we asked her?” he hums, as if he were seriously contemplating this, as if it were a mediocre debate rather than a question of if you had friends or not, “Do you even have her on Instagram?”

“You, her supposed best friend, don’t have her on Instagram.” 

“Because I don’t have Instagram, full stop.” 

“Instagram isn’t the normal gauge of friendship,” you defend yourself, “Some people can have thousands of followers and no friends.” 

You don’t have Nancy on Instagram. You don’t follow her, she doesn’t follow you. The most she’s acknowledged your presence on the app was tagging you in a photo on a night out once. 

“It’s not about follower count,” Eddie shrugs, “It’s about mutual followings. That’s how Hollywood dictates whether celebrity couples are still together these days, yeah? If they follow each other. If you’re friends, you’d follow each other.” 

The vodka makes you bold. Bold enough to mutter out, “Oh, fuck you,” in response to Eddie’s prodding. 

“Wait, I-” you watch an unfamiliar emotion pass over Eddie’s face, something kin to regret. But his words are already out in the air, he’s already twisted the knife in your gut fully. He’s already spilled your blood in the middle of Steve’s kitchen, with no one around to witness it. He did it for himself – he did it for his own pleasure, his own enjoyment.

He enjoys hurting you. 

“Save it,” you mutter, slowly deflating as you turn your back to him, facing the counter to grab your drink to nurse your wounds. 

If you looked close enough in the corner of the room, you would have seen the shovel you should have used to bury away your hope of a friendship with Eddie. You should have piled the dirt over the casket, should have put 6 feet of soil and earth and worms between you and that fruitless yearning. 

But you didn’t. He hadn’t taken it quite far enough yet. 

Yet. 

But then he had to cross that invisible barrier. He just had to walk across the kitchen, come up behind you, and not mind his own business. He just had to look over your shoulder just as you opened the bartender’s profile again, if for nothing else than to further hurt yourself for the night.

You were so caught up in your own disappointment, you never saw the flash of recognition that crossed Eddie’s face. Only the anger that followed.

—

HOUR FOURTEEN - 5:00 AM 

You don’t bother with putting pants back on, only Eddie’s sweatshirt. At this point, pants were just beginning to feel like a nuisance when it came to the two of you. A nicetie, as one might put it.

What were the points of niceties with him if he could never hate you? 

You have the entire five minutes he spends in the bathroom to try and compose yourself. To try and desperately ruminate through these feelings and detach them from everything that was transpiring. The emotions didn’t belong here, there weren’t twists of guilt and sorrow of loss involved for Eddie when he was fucking you. 

So why is that all you could feel right now? 

He could never hate you, but he had spent the last year doing exactly that, hadn’t he? 

“Hey,” he reappears in the entryway of the kitchen with the worst possible timing, right in the eye of the storm that had begun to cloud over your mind. He holds up a pack of cigarettes you can only assume he’d snagged from his room, “I’m, uh- I was gonna grab a smoke out on the balcony. Join me?” 

There’s something of desperation in the way he asks you. All the words are casual, but his tone is an undermining plea; please say yes, please join me, please let me in. He knows something’s wrong, and he’s not just turning a blind eye and ignoring it this time. 

You stare at the pack of Marlboro Reds for a few seconds before shrugging, “Sure.” 

It’s certainly not as enthusiastic as you’re sure he was hoping for, but he smiles at the small victory nonetheless.

The first thing you notice about his balcony, aside from the clustered furniture, is the view. You’ve never thought your city to be very charming, always looking at it from a pedestrian’s view or through the lens of a tired, crabby college student embarking on another late night. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d step foot on a higher floor of a building like Eddie’s, one just tall enough to see over the rooftops of most of the mundane buildings, one that could peer right over the skyline and show a new dawn breaking. It’s a flourish of pink, orange, and violet, each shade stealing away another breath. The sun is just barely yawning over the horizon, just finally awakening. 

God, you’re going to regret not actually sleeping during this time.

“What’s got you scowling?” Eddie mumbles the question out around a cigarette, pausing with his lighter in midair.

You turn your head, and- just like that, all the anger and confusion melts away. He’s painted in the same shades of the sunrise, in a golden light that almost seems to be emitted from him rather than the waking sun. He is all soft edges and tired eye bags, a stubble that you can imagine the itch of against your palm if you were to reach out a hand to hold his face. If you were to kiss him right now, you fear he might dissolve all over your tongue, leaving nothing but his sweetness behind to remind you it was all real. 

It’s real. Even if it doesn’t make sense with what you guys projected before tonight, even if it doesn’t align with how your lives will continue on, tonight was real. You were here, he was here, and what happened���. Simply happened. 

I could never hate you. 

You get it now. Because in this lighting, with a soft breeze tugging your hair and mind alike, you know you feel the same way about him. And you know it contradicts all you have shown him in the past. 

You could never hate him. He could never hate you. It’s unfortunate that that’s what you’d been calling it before tonight – hate. 

“It’s going to really suck,” you breathe out half a sentence. Two endings before you: letting this night go or, “Not sleeping for a full twenty four hours.” 

You don’t know how he does it, how he looks at you like he knows you had something else to say. But he gives you those eyes, and they almost elicit the truth from you. 

Almost. 

He throws his head back in laughter, and the pinks and purples and all the fights wasted are now trailing down his neck, “Yeah, it is, isn’t it?” 

He’s much better at pretending than you are. You know that now. 

“Seriously,” you turn and walk to the railing, crossing your arms against the metal grate before he joins you at your side, “I’ll probably ditch my classes on Monday. I’ll have to sleep twenty four hours straight to even the score.” 

“God, I wish I could fuck off for Monday,” Eddie groans. He’s throwing his head back again, and you can’t help but wish you could replace the golden rays with your lips. You wish your warmth could sink beneath his skin like the sun’s does. 

“You can’t?” your voice cracks with the question as he finally lights the cigarette between his lips. 

He takes a long drag, shaking his head with the exhale of smoke, “Nope. I work Mondays at the shop.”

“The shop?”

“Myo’s,” the way his lips curl around the filter of his cigarette as he fights his grin burns a hole in the middle of your chest. Burning and erupting, yearning and longing, ignored and buried, “The auto shop on Main street.” 

You know by the way he looks at you that the name should ring a bell, but considering you don’t own a car, you don’t have the slightest clue what his job is, “Oh, so you’re a mechanic?” 

“I- Yeah,” he nods slowly, “Yeah, I’m a mechanic,” he pauses and you can see that he has more to say, it just takes him a moment. He looks off the balcony, shifts his weight between his two feet, takes another drag of nicotine. When he finally gathers his thoughts, you’re patient and waiting, biting back a small smile the moment he whips his face towards you, “Have we seriously never talked about that before? I swear I’ve told you I’m a mechanic.”

“Nope, seriously. Never.”

“There’s no fuckin’ way.”

“There absolutely is a way,” you laugh, letting your head fall backwards and not catching the way his gaze falls on you. The sunrise paints you in just as beautiful of a lighting as it had him. If someone asked you, you’d say that you doubt he noticed, but he did. He noticed. He always noticed, “Usually, by now, we’d be at each other’s throats.” 

“We sort of were,” he shrugs, eyes still glued to how your collarbone peaks out from beneath his sweatshirt, “Surprised we didn’t leave more hickies.” 

The topic you’d been avoiding. The topic he seemed indifferent about. 

I could never hate you. 

You decide to put his words to the test.

“Are we going to talk about it?” you ask, looking down now and picking at flakes along the metal railing, still not noticing him noticing you, “About…. what we just did?” 

“Are you always this straight to the point?” he chuckles nervously. In your peripherals, you catch the way he leans and mirrors you, side by side on the railing. His light cigarette hung loosely between indifferent fingers. Indifference, indifference, indifference. 

If you’d just look at him, you’d see anything but indifference written across his face. 

“Only when it matters,” you reply, breathing in his secondhand smoke, “Only when it’s important.”

His pinky is within reach of yours once more, just like at the parking garage. Even after feeling the entire expanse of his bare skin against yours, you still crave more – you crave for the intimacy that comes from hooking pinkies as grown adults, from knuckles curling into each other like hinges of a door of possibility. 

You don’t see the way he swallows hard, or how he nods subtly to himself before he says, “Alright. Let’s talk about it.” 

Those words make you look at him quickly, taken back and not expecting for him to give so easily. If you had noticed him noticing you, it would have been the expected reaction; if you’d seen the way his eyes traced over the pink and orange shadows of your features, you’d know he can’t really say no to you. Not anymore. 

“Yeah?” you only ask for the confirmation because you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He won’t let it. He holds it tightly, just nodding, “Yeah. I… You deserve my honesty.” 

You deserve my honesty. 

I could never hate you. 

“I’m starting to get a bad feeling of deja vu, Eddie. We don’t have to do honesty if you don’t want to-”

“Ask me anything. Right here, right now. I’ll answer with the full truth.” 

You flashback to hours before, when he’d offered his honesty this willingly and you’d only thrown it back in his face. But right now isn’t that moment, the two of you aren’t in the heat of an argument, there isn’t an impending doom on the horizon and the weight of the night no longer rests on either of your shoulders.

You don’t care as much about why he hates you now, or what he meant by never hating you to begin with. You don’t care much about the porn magazines and you don’t care what changed that first night. 

They’re all petty details that have had too long to gather dust. 

You do care about his job, you do care to know why he chose to fix cars. You do care about if he still takes night classes, and if yes, which ones. You care to know his favorite color and you care to know how he takes his coffee in the morning. Maybe you even care to know if he has a favorite coffee shop. 

You care to know all the new petty details you’d never uncovered about him. Miniscule bits and pieces of him you crave to hold in your hands, if only just for tonight- or today, at this point. 

But you need a baseline question. Something that won’t throw him off, but really doesn’t twist around your heart as severely as the others. Something that does neither damage nor nurture to the vines and blooms still occupying your chest. 

You suddenly remember a small detail that had been revealed to you by a third party tonight, “Okay, um, well…” you ponder on phrasing, and Eddie edges ever so closer to you, “At that bar we went to tonight, the bartender – Frank – mentioned how you’d been going there for about six months.” 

Eddie pales, but he nods nonetheless. Maybe the question is more loaded than you’d anticipated. 

“I guess... I…” you continue to stumble over your words and it only leaves Eddie more time to panic, “I’m just curious why you started going? Yeah, yeah. That’s… that’s my question,” you tilt your chin up, try to be seem more confident in your question. 

Even in his panic and sudden blanching, Eddie looks ready to laugh at you as his eyebrows scrunch. Somewhere between the wrinkles, you swear you could find something like affection, “That’s your question? Why did I start going to a bar that’s conveniently close to my apartment?” 

Maybe it is a good baseline question. Maybe he was just nervous from the other possible questions you could have asked about your time spent together at the bar. 

“That’s my question,” you confirm. 

The color isn’t returning to Eddie. His hand shakes when he brings his cigarette to his lips. His breath is evidently shaky on the exhale as the smoke puffs out unevenly. 

It’s not a good baseline question. 

“I…” he won’t meet your gaze, and all your gut can do is twist, twist, twist in anticipation, “I got kicked out of my last bar I was a regular at.” 

“Got kicked out? Why?” 

It’s ripping the bandaid off the wound of honesty, and neither of you even realize it. Neither of you notice the blood of your history catching up to you. 

Eddie sighs and rolls his shoulders before looking at you, “I got into a fight.” 

Your twisted gut stills. A fight? Why is he freaking out so evidently over a fight? Does he think you’ll judge him that harshly? 

“A fight?” you echo your thoughts with a soft laugh into the morning air, “You… Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing? Jesus, did you go to jail that night? That would suck, but… Eddie, I won’t judg-”

“I didn’t go to jail,” he interrupts, “I mean, they should have called the cops on me, but they didn’t. They gave me a second option of leaving immediately, and being banned for life, effective the moment I stepped out of the building that night. I took the ban.” 

“Well,” you relax your shoulders, looking over at the rising sun, “That’s nice of them, I guess, right? I’m sure whatever mean drunk swung their fist at you deserved to get their ass handed to them-”

Eddie interrupts you with a soft utterance of your name, making you look back to his hues of gold instead of the sky’s, “I swung first.” 

Oh. Maybe that’s why he still looks so wrecked with nerves. Maybe he thinks that’s the piece you’ll judge him on – it has to be the reason you can see sweat gathering along his eyebrow, just beneath his bangs. “Then I’m sure whoever it was deserved it? I-”

“He did,” he interrupts one final time. You’re about to finally snap at you, telling him to just let you speak, to just accept that you weren’t going to judge him over some bar brawl, when he drops the final bomb of an answer. Here is the honesty, you both realize at the same time, as his words slice through you, “It was about you. I got banned because of you.” 

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taglist is now closed.

[thewertsearch]

@manorinthewoods asked: Vriska and Eridan have now killed one person each. Tavros and Feferi's respective moons have been destroyed; as such, they cannot be revived via dream selves or the moon-crypt slabs. What do you think will happen now? ~LOSS (18/5/24) @manorinthewoods asked: Welcome to Murderstuck, aka Homestuck's version of Canaan House. Who do you think's going to survive this? ~LOSS (22/5/24) Anonymous asked: tavros and feferi are D----EAD! do you think they'll stay dead? you've already stated your opinion that there are death flags like crazy all over vriska, so do you think anyone else will die? if so, who? Anonymous asked: Now that the bodies have started to hit the floor, what's your prediction for who's gonna survive to meet the humans?

I'm actually doing to do something a little different this time, and analyze the situation primarily from an author's perspective, rather than an in-universe one. I had a lot of fun doing that with yesterday's Kanaya post, so I want to try it again.

Let's enumerate the remaining trolls, in ascending order of how likely I think they are to kick the bucket (😳) during Murderstuck.

There's no chance whatsoever that Sollux will die. His Doom prophecy is fulfilled, and if he were to die a third time, it would break his long-established duality theme. Plus, he'd have predicted it, and would have been complaining about it since Hivebent. He's fine.

Death flag score: 0/10.

We just got Aradia back. She's not even involved in Murderstuck, seemingly travelling to the Furthest Ring after being resurrected, so none of the murderers can touch her anyway.

Aradia is a powerful time manipulator who can freeze even the most dangerous enemies. It would take a lot more than Eridan and Gamzee to defeat someone who can stalemate Perfect Jack, and I predict that she'll survive the rest of the Act with ease.

Plus, killing her again so soon would feel really cheap. Been there, done that.

Death flag score = 0.5/10

Karkat and Terezi are too important to die.

This doesn't always guarantee a character's survival - A Song of Ice and Fire comes to mind - but ASOIAF kind of proves my point, doesn't it? Martin can throw all the Red Weddings he likes at us, but everyone still kind of knows that the really important characters aren't going to die until their arcs are complete. If A Dream of Spring ever actually comes out, Daenerys will still be around, and you can take that to the bank.

So no, I don't think Karkat and Terezi will be going anywhere. Now that Kanaya appears to be dead, they're undeniably the most important trolls remaining, alongside Vriska. And we'll get to Vriska.

Death flag score: 1/10.

I know it's weird to predict that an already deceased character won't die, but I wrote an entire post last night about why I believe this to be the case.

tl;dr: it doesn't make narrative sense for Kanaya to stay dead.

Death flag score: 2/10.

Now, we're onto the characters who I think might actually die.

Gamzee's still alive at the end of the countdown, so he'll at least survive the next couple of hours.

Certainly, his position seems rather precarious. His stated intent to wipe out the entire Veil will make him a lot of enemies very quickly - and based on the image above, he clearly gets into some sort of trouble. That scratch almost looks like it could be the work of Jack's sword.

However, I have a hard time believing the Most Important Character In Homestuck is going to die less than halfway through Homestuck. He's been saying all sorts of cryptic nonsense lately, and he strikes me as someone whose role in the story will expand even more than it already has. Gamzee is the one character on this list we know will stay relevant for the entire comic.

I don't think he's going to achieve his murder mission, of course. I think he'll probably be 'defeated' somehow, and expelled from the Veil by the surviving trolls, only to pop up again sometime later. There's still a chance that he'll be killed - but if he is, I'm 100% sure that he'll return in some form. Gamzeesprite would be even worse than Calsprite, in my opinion.

Death flag score: 3/10.

Yes, I still believe Vriska will die - but I don't know if she'll die in Murderstuck.

Scratch positioned her as someone who will perpetuate a monumental, large-scale mistake, and I don't think there's anything she could do on the Veil that fits the bill.

However, Vriska is more imaginative than I am. She could easily pull a trick out from up her sleeve that I didn't see coming - some terrible, horrible idea that earns all of Scratch's foreshadowing in one fell swoop. Vriska is known for her Incidents, and you never know when the next one is on the horizon.

Death flag score: 4/10.

There's not a lot tying Equius and Nepeta to the Veil, is there?

They don't have strong relationships any of the remaining trolls, and even among the B-team, they've barely had any prominence since we've left Alternia. Killing one or both of them would up the stakes of Murderstuck without introducing the narrative issues that, say, a dead Karkat would cause.

Plus, if one of them dies, then the other would immediately gain an incredibly strong motivation, and become a more prominent character overnight. I already like Nepeta - but a heartbroken, vengeful Nepeta hunting Eridan down across time and space? That's a fucking arc.

They could also both die, and return to the story from another direction. It hasn't escaped my notice that almost all the 'important' trolls are Prospit Dreamers, and the two Furthest Ring explorers are Derse girls. I've been wondering for a while now if the solution to the Veil's bloated cast is to split the trolls back into the Red and Blue Teams, with the Red Team joining the kids outside the session, and the Blue Team joining Aradia in the Ring for some secondary mission. I guess that implies Tavros will be resurrected, but there do seem to be hints that that might happen.

I don't want either of these two to die, but... well, killing them would raise a lot of interesting possibilities.

Death flag score (both of them together): 6/10

Death flag score (one of them) : 7.5/10.

Eridan is screwed.

Neither the story nor the trolls can allow him to ally with Jack and lead him to the Veil, and they'll do anything they can to stop him. I don't think anyone's inclined to show him mercy, either - Kanaya and Feferi were very popular.

I don't really see any way out for him. He has no allies, he can't Hopesplode everyone at once, and he's never shown himself to be particularly resourceful. I think if there's one troll practically guaranteed to be Murderstucked, it's him.

Death flag score: 9/10.

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄 ⸻ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓

ㅤㅤjoel miller x f!reader

⌜HOW MR. MILLER STOLE CHRISTMAS MASTERLIST⌟

genre: christmas, enemies to lovers, romance, fake dating, minors dni

word count: 0.6k

chapter summary: the fireflies are dying one by one and you're desperately seeking a way out.

warnings: age gap, canon typical violence, spoilers for the season one finale

**dividers by @saradika

You smell blood. Feel it almost. The heat, the stickiness of it. Despite the clean walls and the sterile smell you know something is wrong. Something is very wrong—the fireflies are dying. One by one. Their light snuffed out, left to rot. 

You knew this would happen. After all of what you’ve done, what Marlene has done. It was wrong, and karma always hungers after those who wronged her—Killing a little girl to save the world. . . hiding it from her. . . It was the trolley problem come to life. You never could answer that question, never could decide what was deemed right and wrong in that situation. Now, it seemed like all of you had chosen wrong. And you were being punished for it. The Angel of Death sought to claim you all.

At least it’s better than getting infected. At least the bullet would be shot right between your eyebrows and you’ll be dead before you can blink. 

Your finger presses stubbornly against the trigger as you move. You still have the boldness of youth. Maybe you can escape. Maybe you can be free. You wanted out a long time ago, just scared to be out there all on your own. 

Your lips press tightly together upon seeing a body, you don’t know his name, don’t dwell on it as you jump over his corpse and head for the exit. You hear gunshots. Screams. Shouts. You smell blood—such a persistent smell—You smell fear. Death is coming for you. Your footsteps gain momentum, you feel his breath on the back of your neck and the nuzzle cold against your forehead.

Then you see him. Just as you’re turning the corner, heart beating in your throat and sweat beading out of every pore, you see him—the angel of death. 

And fuck—you know you shouldn’t think it, but the mass killer is beautiful. 

Without even thinking you drop your gun and raise your hands. The best way to survive is to expose your neck to the beast. Showing you mean no harm. You don’t kick a raging lion. 

He doesn’t seem to see it though. His eyes stare right past you. He barely blinks, blood of the fireflies coating his already dirty shirt. He cocks the gun and you know he’s ready to shoot, your eyes go wide. You don’t want to die. Not yet. Not without finding any semblance of peace or belonging. 

“Please don’t,” you blurt out. His eyes seem to focus then, dark soulless gaze flitting across your face, noticing your raised hands. “I just want to leave. She’s on the top floor, at the end of the hall—Please don’t shoot.” 

He observes you a beat longer. From the way his muscles tense you think he’s about to shoot, why wouldn’t he? What made you different from all the rest? 

You close your eyes, chest rising painfully. There’s a loud hum in your ear. Maybe it’s the rush of blood? You think about your life, of all the death surrounding you. All you remember is the outbreak. Every memory tainted with curling cordyceps ever since you were six. You remember your mother holding you by the hand and yanking your arm so hard you thought it would be ripped off the socket. Your father trying to protect you both, leading the way—You remembered the day Marlene found you, time spent with the fireflies, the excitement when the immune girl was found. . . 

The train of thought would end with a measly bullet. 

A bullet that never came. A gun that never fired. 

When you open your eyes he was gone. 

You have no idea what it was—maybe it was the fact that you were significantly younger than the other soldiers, maybe it was because you were already out through the door when he pointed a gun at you— no matter what it was you were miraculously spared from the bloodshed.

The angel of death has spared you. 

[misguidedasgardian]

Wildcats (part VIII)

VIII. A time to embrace

MASTERLIST

Summary: You negotiate Beth’s release

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Zombie apocalypse AU, living dead, zombies, guts, blood, guns, injures, cannibalism, 

+18, MINORS DNI

Notes: A tame chapter, writing slowburn is just… not what I usually do, arrange marriage is my favorite trope, that’s all I’m saying

You woke up groggy, and with a muscular ache that barely let you get up from the comfortable carpeted floor

“Hey”, you greeted the archer, who had barely changed positions

“Hey”, he greeted back. By the light… you could tell its been hours since you started your little nap, and you frowned when you realized it

“You let me sleep for hours!”, you chided gently, rubbing your forehead

“You fell through the floor!”, he said simply, “it’s fine”, you ate something you scavenge from your old “base”, as you kept watching that hospital

“Anything interesting?”, you asked

“A car jus’ came and went, and a doctor went to tha roof”

“A doctor?”

“White robes”, he muttered, you only hummed.

. . . 

You were actually a bit relieved when you saw the others pulled up, although the team wasn’t complete. Rick hugged Daryl tightly, and then he hugged you

“I thought you had been taken by the Terminus people”, he said angrily, looking at your eyes

“They’re back?”, you asked with urgency, “where…?”, fear settled in your gut

“We dealt with them already”, he said calmly. “we need a bigger place, let’s take some distance before they spot us”, he commanded, and you all got up inside the car and abandoned the office building. “Abraham took Maggie, Glenn and Tara to go with him to DC”, he explained, as you all met in a big room. “We will be meant to follow, after we get Beth”, he said. You nodded, “it's our best shot”

“You are right”, you assured him, “so… what’s the plan?”

If according to Daryl, your plan was so idiotic, you didn’t even shared it with Rick, instead, of course, he took the lead, with the help of Noah, you all hid in a warehouse and started planning the abstraction plan

“We take down those at the office, and then Daryl moves to take out this guard”, he said as his plan involved killing everyone in the hospital

“We were going to be seven, eight once we get a gun to Beth”

Who was Beth anyways? Maggie’s sister and Daryl’s partner? he was the most motivated to get her back, so you’d think she was his… girlfriend or something.

“So you’re just gonna kill everyone?”, asked Tyresse, and a discussion ensued. You also think this was a bit much, to kill them all, they were trained as cops and that made them a good rival.

Daryl grabbed RIck and took him to the side, 

“She thinks we should buy her way out with supplies”, he said quietly, “and medicine”

“She said that?”, asked Rick, with a frown on his face, Daryl looked at his friend and leader, his chosen brother

“Yeah”, he said. Rick saw the reason behind your suggestion, but he shook his head. “It’s too late now, besides, where would we find said things?”, he asked, “the city is completely sacked by now”, Daryl only let out a short growl as an acknowledgement 

You had killed people by now, four, by your counts, did they deserve to die? You had to believe they did, There was no justice system anymore, no religions, nothing, there was only you, and you enemies.

Rick didn’t want you anywhere near the operation, unknowingly to you, because of what Daryl told him, so you had a simple job, which was coming back to your safe house and grabbing everything you could use, including a car.

And it's exactly what you did, you gathered everything, cleaned the pantry and the rest of the weapons, and put it all together in a car you hijacked. 

Carol was with you, watching you intently, as Daryl was needed with Rick, he specifically requested it

“The journey to Washington it's going to be a long one”, you said, to make conversation, it would be an understatement to say Carol really made you nervous.

“Mmm yeah”, she muttered, without much thought, putting everything together, with this you had a couple of day’s worth of food.

“Do you think it’s real… the cure?”, you asked her, she looked at you, frowning

“Maybe”, she said, looking at you with her sharp blue eyes, a woman of few words. You understood her to certain points… you were a stranger, and by your counts, Rick, Daryl, Glenn and Carol went back the furthest, you are talking weeks or days even after everything went to shit, so yes, you’d understand if she was being weary of you, someone who she just met. So you tried not to take it personally. 

“You think they are going to get Beth back?”, you asked her

“I hope they do”, she said, “they will”, she said with determination

“Have her and Daryl… been together long?”, you tried, and you might as well drop a bucket filled with icy water on her, by the way she looked back at you

“You don’t know what you are talking about”, she said, with a somber tone in your voice

“You are right”, you said softly, but surprised, “I have no idea”

“They are not together!”, she said quickly, “Beth is barely eighteen!”, she said then, and you opened your mouth in an “o”

“I didn’t know, by the way Daryl talked about her… I just assumed…”, you said

“He feels responsible because she was with him when they took her, that’s all”, she said, but you didn’t know if she was trying to convince you or herself

You kept working after that, very uncomfortably.

She hated your guts

Now there weren't many personal possessions of yours left in the safehouse, you had tried to take everything with you, but still, you managed to keep some bullets, and a couple of t-shirts and jeans, so that’s that.

When you returned to the group, car loaded, the thing was done, they had taken two policemen as hostages and they were ready to make the trade

You were glad that Rick wanted to spare you from the mess, one of them had tried to escape and got killed by walkers, and Sasha had gotten a bad hit in the head.

You were preparing for the trade in the hospital. The plan was to enter through the main door and make the exchange there. Daryl, Rick, Carol, Tyresse and Sasha were ready to go with him, so was Noah

“Noah”, you called, he looked back at you, “stay here”, you commanded, forgetting yourself a bit

“I want to go”, he protested, Rick had that cray cray look in his eyes, looking back at you for explanations

“They are looking for you”, you said, “they had send men out in a real manhunt, they want you back… men had died because of it, if they see you… they will demand you stay”, you explained severely, “if they ask about you, we should say you ran away from us, that we don’t know where you are”, Rick shook his head, like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and how much sense it made

“She is right”, he said, “Noah stay here” 

“But…”

“They want you to keep working, you owe them some sort of debt” you said, he only nodded. 

“You too”, said Rick, looking at you, “stay here, if you hear gunshots…”

“Go in, guns blazing”, you completed, he looked at you quizzically, but didn’t say anything.

You stood with Noah outside, and hid in one of the tents near the entrance, in case they had prepared a surprise attack and jumped them from behind in the entrance hallway.

“It's taking too long”, you muttered, looking inside the hospital. 

You heard an engine coming, and when you looked, a huge fire truck, and descended Maggie, Glenn, Abraham, Rosita, Eugene and Tara.

You came out of your hiding place and received them

“Rick is inside, trading for Beth”, you said, Maggie squeezed your arm with a soft smile and a nod.

The doors opened at that moment, and here they came, the entire group. led by Rick Carol and Tyresse and behind them came Daryl having his arms around a pretty girl with blonde hair and big blue eyes with a big smile on her face. 

And here came all the rest.

Maggie ran to meet her, and engulfed her sister in a big hug.

They were all so happy, and relieved, and you were so happy that everything worked out

For the first time since you knew him, you saw Daryl smile, like… truly smile.

“We are going to DC”, said Rick with a pleased smile on his face, as he watched all of you together 

But the faces of the crew that was supposed to be on their way there said it all 

And they wasted no time in filling you in…

Eugene was lying, he was no scientist, there was no cure, there was nothing in Washington for you all, not that you knew of.

it was childish of you to think there ever was a way out of this.

There was none, there was only one way to stay alive… to lean into your group, to survive, whatever it takes.

The realization dawned on all of the group as you gathered in that warehouse again, luckily for the morale in general apparently there weren't many of those who believed in it in the first place, including Rick and Daryl they never believed it existed said cure in the first place.

“What are we going to do now?”, asked Sasha

You caught Daryl staring at you, he was relieved but stood stuck to Beth’s side like a guard dog, you looked back at him

“(y/n) had a plan”, said Rick pointing at you, all eyes were on you, “she knows there is an island, on lake Lanier”, he said. “close from here, if we can take it, we can be safe there, an island is where more safer”

“According to the map I found…”, you said softly, “there is only one road leading to the island, if we can close that and control it, we can take control of the island, but I don’t know many details of it.

“Noah is from a safe community in Virginia”, said Beth immediately, you looked back at her. “I was going to accompany him there, he says there are tall walls, a thick gate, good houses..”

“It’s true”, he said, nodding enthusiastically, “my family is still there, my mother and brothers”

The group seemed divided. Rick looked at you, but you only shook your head. Your plan was a dot you saw on a map and hers seemed a bit more solid, but oh the pictures you had seen in that catalog, if it was intact, it seemed like a great opportunity

There was a huge hotel, and in the other side of the island you saw small cabins with lots of privacy, you could all live there, plant your own, even get some animals, like cattle, if you get a hold on a boat you could really just just anywhere around the lake and scavenge, it was a good idea.

But you remained quiet, because what if the island was overrun? what if it was a complete bust, what if someone died because of you and your plan?

Rick saw your doubts, and nodded

“Let's get out of this city first”, he said, “let’s go get Michonne, Carl, Judith and Gabriel, and let’s go”, he offered, you all nodded, and started the journey.

Decided to let Beth live, this is supossed to be a happy fic, so...

@crazyunsexycool

[skzhua]

Episode eight.

MASTERLIST

pairing: XO, Kitty's Min Ho x Female Reader

genre: Fluff, angst, enemies-to-lovers, slow burn, coming-of-age.

word count: 3.8k

warnings: Swearing, that's it. This one is cute as hell, y'all.

summary: Transferring to KISS was the last thing you had asked for and, yet, a certain tall boy made it seem both worse and better than you expected.

note: Bold - Korean, Italic - Over the phone

a/n: So I got productive and wrote this in under a few hours only... I hope you'll enjoy this!

(let me know by filling the form in my bio if you want to be added to the taglist!)

You looked at your two friends in surprise. While Kitty was smiling widely as she held Dae's arm, the latter gave you looks of pleading. From that, it wasn't hard to get that he didn't want you to speak about the fact him and Yuri were fake. A shame, you were thinking that this would give you the chance to be free of lies.

"I'm happy for you two." you grinned and raised your coffee cup. "Long live Kitty and Dae."

"And not us?" Min Ho huffed as he sat next to you.

Us. A term with which you were still quite unfamiliar. It had only been a day since you and Min Ho started whatever that was happening. You weren't sure what you were or where it was going but you preferred it that way. Putting tags on it honestly frightened you.

"Us?" Kitty frowned. "Did I miss something?"

Min Ho put his hand on your thigh, squeezing it gently. "More or less."

Dae coughed. "Well, while you two do your thing, we'll go do ours. Kitty, let's go?"

He brought her along behind him, grabbing her purse for her in the way, and left the dorm. Q having gone to the Outdoors Club already, you and Min Ho finally had some time alone. Approaching you, he laid a quick kiss on your lips before stealing your mug.

"Dude, come on! I didn't finish it."

"You had one sip left." he said and then drank the rest of your beverage. "And now it's empty."

You shook your head in disapproval. "You're kind enough to make me coffee but evil enough to steal it away from me."

He walked to you and got you off your stool before wrapping his arms around your waist. "You'll have to admit, it kind of turns you on."

You held onto him by the neck and frowned. "Being both a gentleman and an asshole?" you asked and he nodded. "You're way too confident in yourself."

"You said I was a gentleman, I'll take it and ignore the rest." he laughed.

You exchanged a long-lasting kiss, and he positioned himself to help you up so he could hold you by the thighs. He was still kissing you as he walked to his room but the door just had to open at this exact moment. Min Ho dropped you as horror plastered on your face.

Widening his eyes, Q nearly screamed. "What is this? When?" he asked but stopped himself. "You know what? I don't want to know. I'll just grab my water bottle and let you finish your business."

He hurried to do so and slammed the door behind him. Looking back at each other, Min Ho let out an awkward chuckle.

"We can continue..."

You rolled your eyes. "Get ready, we have class in a few."

But class didn't seem so important as the days went by. Making out in the library, cute dates in Gangnam district, more kissing in his room with a disgusted Dae on the side (as if he wasn't any better with Kitty)... This thing you two had was going strong. You were hoping that he might not see it as a simple casual thing. Because you were falling, and deep. There wasn't going to have any turning back at that point.

Q packed some last minute items in his bag. At the same time, you were debating whether it was a good idea to bring cute outfits despite the fact you were going in the middle of nowhere for two days.

"Oh, that dress is dead gorgeous." Q commented as he checked up on you.

"Not this one, too revealing." you said and pushed it aside.

He took it and put it in your bag. "And that's exactly what we are aiming for."

"What? No, Q." you complained while letting him zip it all close.

"Min Ho is going to lose his mind over this."

You suddenly got shy. "Min Ho? Why would I dress for him? I don't need to do that, it's stupid."

He laughed. "You'll thank me later." He went to the kitchen and you followed him behind. "Okay, time to go. Bus leaves in twenty." he told the other couple.

Just then, Min Ho got out of his room and was bringing with him a huge ass luggage. Plus one of those luxury bags of his.

"Gosh." he mumbled to himself, struggling a little.

"Dude, the class trip is camping. In tents. In nature. For two days." Kitty told him, unimpressed.

"I know." he rolled his eyes. "That's why I packed light."

You laughed and walked up to him. "Right, you did. Let's go."

The five of you headed outside to where the bus was waiting for you. You stayed with Min Ho and he exchanged a few things about Kitty with Dae. And that made you rather uncomfortable.

"She wants to go over everything that happened with Yuri." Dae explained.

"Don't, it's a trap." Min Ho advised right away.

You shrugged. "I don't know. Honesty is always the key, don't you think so?"

Dae sent you a glare, visibly not wanting you to reveal you knew all about his fake relationship. Meanwhile, Min Ho shook his head in disapproval.

"You're right about honesty. But in this case, they say they want to know all the details to move on, but then they obsessed about them."

You let out a huff. "You really know women..."

"Is that how it is with her?" Dae asked Min Ho, nodding his head to your direction.

"Y/N?" he said before he slung his arm around your shoulders. "No, she's totally uncomplicated and chill."

You looked at him. "Really?"

He sent a smirk your way. "Really. You're quite great, actually."

Growing more embarrassed, you broke away from his grip as soon as you came closer to Yuri. She was already with her other friends but didn't seem to mind your presence. In fact, she seemed reassured.

"You've kept yourself busy this week." she said, referring to your few make-out sessions she had accidentally stumbled upon.

"And you have been moving on quite well from Dae."

Her face became serious. "Not a word, please."

The girls suddenly started to scream and Madison came closer to show you a video on her phone. There stood the famous actor Ocean Park. He was explaining how his grandmother's village had been ravaged by a flood and was thanking Madison and your school to come help them out. She squealed at the mention of her name, jumping up and down.

"He said your name!" Eunice exclaimed.

"I know! And we owe it all to Min Ho and his famous mom." she replied before running to him and giving him a hug, almost making him fall.

"Whoa..." he let out before breaking away from her.

Leaning on him, she went on to explain about how his mother had worked with Ocean Park before. Apparently, Principal Lim agreed to cancel a ski trip to go to the village instead. But you weren't listening, you could only focus on her arm that was on top of Min Ho's shoulder.

"Your mom is really good with pulling strings." Madison finished off with telling Yuri that.

"For evil, usually."

You choked out a laugh and Yuri followed. You, then, proceeded to get seated in the bus. Analyzing the places, Madison and the other girls had already took the back seats. Kitty surprisingly sat with Finnerty, leaving Dae stuck with another student. Florian and Q together, the others with their friends... That left you a two-seat spot that you could share with Min Ho. However, the image of Madison being glued to him from earlier still fresh in your memory, you hesitated.

"Hey." Yuri said. "Sit with me?"

You ended up agreeing and got yourself comfortable with your friend. So when Min Ho got on the bus, he was more than confused to see you seated with Yuri instead of keeping a spot for him next to you. He stopped where you were with a perplexed look on his face.

"What is this?"

You shot your head up as you heard his voice. "Hey. I'm sitting with Yuri if you don't mind. We'll see each other when we get there."

He seemed disappointed but acquiesced nonetheless. "It's okay."

You watched him getting to a solo seat and started to feel bad. At this point, though, who could blame you for being mad? First off, you had never brought up the subject of Madison in the last week and, second off, you were now wondering why the hell she went to hug him after telling everyone he helped her with organizing this trip.

After a while in the bus, you were growing tired more than you'd liked to be. Yuri had shared a ballad playlist with you and that only made you more sleepy. After some time, she shook you out of your daze and told you she was going to speak with Dae and that she'd switched places with the guy next to him. As she left her seat, Min Ho took the opportunity to go beside you, sending the other guy at the singular seat he was previously at. You let out a scoff at him.

"Excuse me but I believed we agreed last night that we would sit together." he justified himself.

You shrugged. "That was before I learnt you were still hooked on Miller."

He sighed. "Is it about this morning?"

"I don't know, Min Ho. You tell me." you answered, growing frustrated.

"Jealousy kind of looks good on you." he joked but you slapped him across the chest.

"I'm not jealous. I don't want to be in your collection of women, that's all."

"I have spent every second of my free time with you this last week. You would have known way sooner if I was seeing another girl at the same time."

"You hid your trip arrangements with her very well, though."

"Exactly. It was trip arrangements."

You plugged in your earphones again, not wanting to hear any more of his unclear answers. He did look at you for a bit afterwards but he ended up getting the message. That didn't stop him from taking your hand in his, and neither did it restrain you from liking it.

You arrived at the camping site soon after and joined Eunice outside. She and the others were still scrolling through social media as they wanted to see more pictures of Ocean Park. You weren't necessarily a fan, but you had to admit that the man was fine as hell.

After Professor Finnerty gathered everyone together, he asked you all about the rooming arrangements. You were taken aback when Yuri told him she'd be with Kitty. That wasn't even the best... What followed shook you even more.

"Y/N and I, sir!" Madison shouted.

Barely having any time to process what she had just said, Finnerty noted it down and she took your hand to head towards your tent. She started to talk about how excited she was and all about the whole trip, ignoring completely the elephant in the room.

"I'll take the left side and you can take the right. Does that work for you?"

"Yeah." you confirmed. "Why did you pick me?"

She hummed. "What?"

"For the room. We barely know each other."

"Ah." she smiled and invited you to sit with her. "I have noticed that I might be creating some tension between you and Min Ho. No hard feelings about him choosing you, by the way. I would've picked you too."

"Thanks..?"

She continued. "I want you to know I was only looking for a casual fling that night at his party. And he only kissed me back because he told me you went all out on him so he got sad."

You smiled in guilt. "I did, yeah."

"And the day after, I thought he was still on with the casual dating but he obviously told me off and went to you instead."

You were still in doubt. "That does not change the fact he's Min Ho. He'll go after someone else in a week at most if I'm lucky."

She exhaled. "Well, you are more than lucky, then. He wants you, I can see it. And, by the way, the trip thing was because I begged him to do so. And the hug was just friendly, I swear."

"It's fine." you let out a laugh. "I appreciate you for telling me all this. I was barely getting anything out of him when I asked."

"Men are like this." she shrugged.

You could do it for an extra hour before curfew but nothing was going to make you like cleaning up. You did enjoy having a clean personal space and cleaning a village for a good cause was good too. Still, you were not having the most fun. You and Yuri being similar on that aspect, you helped each other as one raked the branches together and one put them away in a bag.

Min Ho watched you from afar. Considering you were still not acknowledging him, he took it as in Madison told you something that put you off. That was the last thing he wanted. The night before, he called his mom to tell her about you. He wanted to know her opinion on the situation and it made him realize a lot of things. One of them being that he wanted something more with you, something real. Not a close friend he'd kiss whenever he'd want to. No. He wanted to try and date you.

"You're looking at her again." Madison snapped him out of his thoughts.

"I know."

"She's not mad at you, I told you I cleared things off with her."

He scoffed. "Explain why she is still avoiding me, then."

"From what I got, she feels like a fling to you... which she is so-"

"Not." he corrected. "She's not."

"Then, show her."

"How?"

Madison had shifted her attention elsewhere by then. A car pulled over in front of the camping site and everyone – meaning every fangirl – rushed to see what was happening, Madison being the first. Min Ho followed lazily as Ocean Park stepped out of the car, greeting his fans.

You joined out of curiosity. It wasn't like he was a nobody; you were getting to meet a celebrity. You stood next to Min Ho. Not on purpose, it was only because he was close to the front. After Madison introduced herself, Min Ho did the same but with much less enthusiasm.

"Hi. My mother, Dami, says 'hello, Mr. Park.' "

Ocean looked up dreamily. "Ah, Dami... Your mother is an incredible woman. Did she ever tell you about the time I ran into her at Sundance?" Min Ho gave him a very clueless look. "She kept me warm on a very cold night."

Min Ho was baffled. "Excuse me?"

"And who are you?" Ocean smiled at you.

"Park Y/N." you bowed.

He held his hand up. "No need to be so formal. Are you with him?" he asked, pointing at the man next to you.

"Oh, we're not-"

"She is." Min Ho cut you off while bringing you closer to his body by your waist.

Ocean nodded his head at him in acknowledgement. "You got yourself someone as beautiful as your mother." Clasping his hands together, he then addressed the crowd. "Let's take a selfie."

You pushed yourself away from Min Ho while Ocean Park and his groupies went to a spot to take photos. "What is it with you?"

You walked off to continue your task. You didn't get why he acted all possessive when, clearly, Ocean was only being polite. Nor did you get why he felt the need to keep you so close to him. It made you feel things and you hated feeling things.

An hour was added to your time before curfew as a reward to the hard work you had done all day. Yuri had briefly told you what happened so far. You felt much better now that Kitty finally knew the truth and that Yuri didn't forget to tell her that she asked you to keep it shut for her. Kitty texted you later on to tell you she forgave you and understood that it was not your place to tell. Overall, a weight had come off your shoulders.

Exhausted from the day, you didn't plan on doing much other than watch some shows you downloaded before leaving and staying in bed in your pyjamas. You were going to have the tent to yourself since Madison was going to Ocean Park's grandmother's house for dinner. You were more than okay with finally getting some time for yourself. Well, for a few minutes at least.

Min Ho: Come to my tent.

Min Ho: I've got a bit of a surprise for you.

Y/N: No. :)

Min Ho: Do you want me to beg or something?

Y/N: Maybe...

Min Ho: Please, come to my tent, my sweet puppy?

Min Ho: Get all ready too, it's a formal occasion.

Y/N: I'm in my comfy fit, so it's still a no. I'm not coming out.

Min Ho: I have strawberries dipped in chocolate.

Y/N: Coming in ten.

Most people would tell you that this was a bad idea. And usually, you'd say that it was, indeed. But, hey. Strawberries and chocolate couldn't be a better bait for you. You loved food, he knew that and he got you just how he wanted. You honestly didn't care, as long as you had something to eat in the end.

You thanked Q mentally for forcing you to bring the tight off-the-shoulders dress. You picked it to go with some golden jewellery and did some waves for your hair. Once you determined you were all good – which was more than ten minutes after you told Min Ho that you were coming – you finally left your tent.

You weren't sure how to react when you saw him in a suit, standing in the middle of the room he had decorated with candles, petals and all. On the table were the strawberries with a bottle of non-alcoholic champagne. You stepped closer, growing more confused.

"What is happening here?"

"Surprise." he said. "I was hoping this could help me for you to not be mad at me anymore."

You acquiesced slowly, still scanning the room. "I can't say that I am not impressed."

"Want some?" he offered you the treat and you happilly took them.

"I never thought I'd see you do something like this for anyone. Even less make a heart out of petals." you teased.

"Can you appreciate my effort instead of mocking me?"

You laughed. "Alright, I'm sorry. This is a very nice surprise, thank you."

"You're welcome, beautiful."

He came closer to you and wiped off the chocolate that smudged on your lips. With a single look down your lips, it was just enough to make you melt all over again and press your lips against his. He let out a gasp, startled by your move.

"I'll take it as we are good now?"

You nodded. "Yeah, we are. I'm sorry, by the way. I was overthinking things and you have the right to see anybody else because it's not like I'm your girlfriend or anything." you laughed nervously.

He bit his lip. "Actually, that's what I wanted to talk about with you."

And, of course, your little insecure self had to start thinking about all sorts of negative thoughts. Was he about to tell you this thing was over? Would he still want to be friends? Was he only playing with your heart?

"I can't believe I'm about to say this, but..."

And it was coming, you knew you were going to get your heart broken.

"... I think I want more."

And just like that, everything stopped. Your brain short-circuited as you attempted you comprehend properly what he had just said.

"You, what?" you said in a whisper.

"I think I'm ready for a real relationship and, honestly, I don't see it happen with anyone else other than you."

You said nothing, you just couldn't physically speak. So you kissed him, slowly and passionately. In all the times you kissed, this felt like the most intimate you had ever been. It wasn't physical intimacy, it was emotional. Without even noticing, teardrops came out of your eyes. Just a couple as Min Ho brushed them off with his thumb.

"Are you okay?" he asked once he pulled away from your face, but still kept his forehead to yours.

"What... Why the change of heart?"

He sighed. "You really want me to tell you how special you are, don't you?"

"I actually do, yeah." you admitted without any shame.

But the evening went on like this. There was some friendly teasing, kissing here and there, talking for what felt like hours. You wanted to stay forever there with him.

"I could kiss you forever." he said softly after lifting your chin up to make you look at him.

You held onto him even closer. "Me too." And you kissed him again. "I should really go."

He shook his head and placed a couple of pecks all over your face. "Or you could stay."

"No." you laughed. "Curfew starts in five minutes."

He pouted but still help you up on your feet from the bed. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yes, you will."

"On the bus, this time."

You sighed heavily. "Yes."

"Good. Then sleep well." he kissed you one last time for the night.

"Good night."

As soon as you got to your tent, Madison was already sleeping. You lost no time in dialing Kitty's number but she didn't answer. The next person in mind was Yuri but she did not respond either. Last person was Q who, thankfully, picked up.

"So? How was it?" he asked.

"It couldn't have been any better."

taglist: @nanaspalette | @schniti-is-in-the-house | @bakugou-katsukis-wife | @soobin-chois | @honeydewpie | @snoozeagustd | @justemalove | @n1ninunwo0 | @loislucky | @kuromomomi | @lysira340 | @lenilla15 | @upsidedownjill | @woozarts | @hy-eins | @olivetheoryx | @b1tch1macow | @dreaming-hope25 | @jiaant11 | @melsunshine | @sincerely-aaronette | @wonyofanclub | @jaehyunicecream | @zucchinimalfoy | @beeomgui | @jinxwhore28 | @mimisamisasa | @gordorio | @honeyisnotreal | @melonshifts | @itsnotino | @tyigerz | @idkhowbutifoundyou | @urmomlikeslinotoo | @emmeyli | @rodcfgh | @gayandfairycore | @suzzie63 | @purplelandsworld | @nyenye | @ilovewonyo | @vinwinxt | @tocupid | @sparkysparking101 | @yeojoongiee | @bangtanstrayz | @smugrogerina | @liviaxgc | @flyxfall | @hehet-ateez

Copyright © 2023 skzhua. All rights reserved.

[inactivewattpadauthor]

Liu Kang x Friendzoned Reader: Saving Kotal

This could be a sequel to the chapter you get friend zoned, idk ~~~~~~~~~~~~ Standing aside from the group of Outworlders, you all waited for the three to come back: Liu Kang, Kung Lao, and the one that secretly makes you spite everything, Kitana. Maybe it was a good idea you stayed back. It would've been a shame if the pettiness inside you acted on the intrusive thoughts. You kept everything down though, knowing your feelings weren't important in this matter.

Kitana was to convince Baraka to side up with her to rescue Kotal and defeat Shao Kahn, hopefully all of them weren't shredded down there. It felt awkward being around all these Outworlders too. But no worries, they all return with the allegiance of Tarkata.

Letting out a small smile you went to them. "Glad you guys are back." Glancing mostly at Lao since you were still bitter about the other two. Liu sensed your vibe, awkwardly nodding at Lao before walking off with the princess.

The hat wielder pulls close to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as you two walked closely. "So we all are going to the Kolosseum," You already were aware of the next dangerous leap. "Liu wishes for me to tell you that you don't have to go. It is very dangerous."

You scoff and push away from Lao. "So what? He couldn't tell me himself? Maybe he actually just doesn't want me to go because... of her."

Lao grimaces. "See, this is why he made me speak to you." He murmurs before clearing his throat. "No. He just thinks it wouldn't be fair for you to risk your life for something mostly for Kitana. Though the realms are at stake. But it's up to you if you wish to not participate. He understands."

"I'll go." You sigh. "And Lao," You place a hand on his shoulder. "Don't be his messenger. You're too much of a good friend for that." You walk off.

He smiles at you when you walk away and as you go completely out of sight, his face drops into a frown. "Shit."

---Time Skip To Kolosseum---

You stood far back as Kitana lead the large group to the doors of the caged battle arena. As they were forced open, you could tell any second late, Kotal would've had his head bashed in. Standing back, you could barely hear what the princess and Shao Kahn spoke of.

"-exactly like you, 'father'." That's when the battle began, Kitana striking Shao with her fan blades and everyone else getting into it. You fought smoothly, knocking any foe that approaches off their feet with easy defeat.

Turning your head, you see Liu fighting honorably as well, but it would seem he didn't hear the enemy approaching behind him, readying his sharp weapon. Without any hesitance, you rushed to that swine, heart pumping in fear he would strike him.

You deliver a strong high kick to the back of the opponent's neck, sending the heel of your shoe through, making the swine choke up on his own blood. The sound made Liu jump back and his eyes widen as you pull your heel out, watching in despise as the Shao Kahn follower collapse dead, blood seeping from the hole you caused.

"You came!" Liu looked at you with warmth. "Why?"

"I'd give my life for you." You cross your arms, looking away blankly. You said it so simply, he stands there confused. He always sort of thought you disliked him ever since he had to put you down. The champion would've understood if you resented him all the way, but he was happy you came through.

"I owe you mine's now." Liu bows gratefully to you.

You scoff and roll your eyes. He is confused to why you step towards him until you wrap your arms around him, his mind fading out as everyone else was dying in the background and the audience cheers with glee.

But he smiles and returns your embrace, resting his chin on your head.

You two hugged it out for long up until you hear a pained yell from Kotal. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ I do a little trolling in this chapter lol

[pursuitseternal]

“Possessing:” jealous, possessive Astarion in a double smut update for “Our Blood is Thicker,” featuring a first-time flashback 💞

Astarion x Cordehlia (F!OC) | E | 8.7 K possessive and first time smut

Summary: the Shadow-Cursed lands resurrect more for Cordehlia than an old enemy— more memories and griefs that Astarion can’t recall. If only there was some way to show Astarion their past… memories that kindle the same possessive desires of the past and new professions of… love in the present.

CW: angst, longing, jealousy, possessive Astarion, Kind Uncle Vibes Halsin, arrogant young Astarion, first time hand job, first time fingering, teenage sneaking for sex, inappropriate tadpole use if you squint, absolute feral rutting once the memory is done.

Previous Chapter | AO3 | Masterlist

Chapter 10: Possessing

🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️💞🗡️

Astarion could feel the rage building in his love, shuddering with tension off their leader. They all could. Waves of scarlet temper fluctuating as the Drow inside Moonrise Towers insisted on talking despite Cordehlia’s death stare… insisting on talking with Astarion. This Araj… as she introduced herself with the overconfidence of youth and privilege.

Cordehlia hated her already for both. And more.

Her companions held their breath, watching for those quick and deadly fingers of hers to reach for that shining dagger. And they all wanted to close their eyes the moment they heard the Drow, some expert in blood magic and potions, slather her attentions on The Spawn who pressed at Cordehlia’s side. “I’ve always dreamed of being bitten…”

“Uh oh,” Wyll bemoaned under his breath, taking the opportunity to grab at the she-elf’s elbow and whisper in her pointed ear while the Drow was busy making all her intentions known to Astarion. “Have care, for as much as you would like to run the monster throgh, it would not make things easy for us. Unless you wish to face Ketheric from the inside of a cell…”

“Or dead,” Gale added in her other ear.

Cordehlia gave a single, unwilling nod, rolling her shoulders and crossing her arms. Just as the expert in all things sanguine returned her dark eyes on the rest of them. “Can’t you talk some sense into your charge?”

Cordehlia’s fiery eyebrows raised slowly at that. “My charge?” she spoke between pressed lips. A wave of rebuke held back barely by their need to remain inconspicuous. “My vampire is his own being, he can choose who he bites, who he fucks, whom he loves, who he kills…”

“I’m sure he truly believes that,” the Drow laughed. Disparaging.

“Want a demonstration?” Cordehlia added quickly, a single corner of her mouth turning towards a smile.

“It’s alright, darling,” Astarion turned to meet her stare, caught somewhere between aroused and intimidated himself as it turned to lock those narrowed, hungry, enraged eyes on him.

“Oh, oh I see,” Araj gave a disparaging laugh. “You think he’s yours. All yours. I promise, I’ll leave your lover’s lower regions untouched, I only want a bite. In exchange, I’ll give you a potion so great, you’ll never find another like it in the realms…”

“I’ll thank you to never mention my lower regions again,” Astarion hissed.

“And he said no to you,” Cordehlia snapped, closing one step between her enemy and her beloved. “You can keep clear of us, Drow, of me, my companions, and my vampire. What need do we have of watered down power like blood potions when we have the blessing of the Absolute. I wonder why they keep you here at all.”

That made everyone behind her stiffen, every set of eyes scanning for enemies. Just in case.

But Araj laughed. “Fine, linger in your ignorance with your lover. Savor it while your bodies still haven’t burst into a mess of tentacles. See how romantic your nights of coupling are then… True Soul…”

Three sets of hands pressed against Cordehlia’s back then, but only one pulled her into his arm, tugging her along and back into the halls of Moonrise Towers. “Gods,” Astarion scolded her gently right into her ear as they paused on the outer walls of the tower, “your jealousy nearly got us all killed.”

Was he… angry?

She snapped her neck, turning to scowl right into his face. But that raging expression melted the moment she looked into his. He was so soft, so adoring, head tilted slightly as those crimson eyes widened and brushed over her face.

Until they rested on her lips, pursed tightly.

“That pleases you?” she managed to rasp as her tempers cooled.

“To hear you might just risk bringing the whole army of the Absolute down on us because some other female is pining for me to take a bite?” he smirked wickedly, completely possessive and naughty as his eyes looked to her neck. “And they say romance is dead, darling…”

Just as his palm cupped her cheek, tilting her face so close to his, her warm breath filled his undead lungs and coated his tongue with her taste… Gale cleared his throat.

Loudly. Distracting. Intentionally.

“Need I remind everyone that we stand literally on the precipice of the Absolute’s power? That Ketheric Thorm and his army are literally everywhere…”

“And all you two want to do is fuck,” Karlach burst in with a laugh. “I mean, it’s not a bad plan, it’s just not a plan to take down our enemies, soldier.”

Cordehlia rolled her eyes, gripping the back of his neck in her gauntleted hands. Unable to deny herself just a quick kiss, even at the heart of their enemy’s domain. “Fine,” she sighed. “We find the secret to bringing down this… General, but if anyone comes to try to take any of you from me,” she tapped a finger on Astarion’s perfect, aquiline nose, “especially you… they will find it very hard to think with a dagger buried in their skull.”

“Again, such poetry, such romance,” her vampire purred, his arms struggling to release her. Not that he wanted to either.

They made their way back inside the Tower, and thoughts swirled in Cordehlia’s head, the haze of memories beginning to pierce through that constant blanket of lust Astarion seemed to draw about her at all times.

“Right,” she huffed under her breath. “Let’s go find this imposter who calls himself the General….”

“Imposter?” a deep voice rumbled quietly as Halsin turned around. “How do you mean?”

Cordehlia stopped, the others continuing a few paces ahead. “Ketheric is dead, weren’t you there? Did you not fight in vain glory for his defeat alongside Harpers and Druids and Elves? Did you not see the countless souls sacrificed to put that monster in a tomb?”

“I did,” his pale green eyes scanned her face with all the wisdom and insight three-hundred years lends. “You speak as one who knows of such things yourself, young one.”

Cordehlia’s mouth shut tight. Locking her lips in silence, keeping whatever it was that simmered behind her silver eyes within her.

“I may have joined your band to help break this curse that darkens the land, but make no mistake,” he paused before turning to follow, “I will help do whatever is necessary. But to do so, I need to know more than I can read on your own wizened face.”

She shrugged, pushing past the enormous Druid to rejoin the others. “In good time, perhaps…”

But her words dried up the second she stood on the edge of the gathering in the throne room.

He was there. In flesh. Ancient, grey, undead flesh.

Ketheric Thorm, half-elf, great general, and dead no longer.

Cordehlia heard nothing as she watched with frozen horror the scene before her unblinking eyes. An ax, launched from the hand of some goblin about to be punished for their failure, sliced right into the General’s armor. His great, gauntleted hand pulled it free, as if it were no more than a dull knife in butter.

Immortal. Just as they all had said… back from the dead…

And as she tried to steel over her face and steady her nerves, she forced more of those shadows from her past deep down inside her. They would have to be ignored. For now.

It wasn’t until they were back on the shadow-cursed trails, sent to find the mysterious relic that granted the immortal Ketheric Thorm his power, that Cordehlia finally felt her tenuous hold on reality and on her past begin to slip.

It was a century ago… a lifetime ago, a time when she wandered between losing the love of her life and falling under the spell of bloodlust the Bone Picker loved. Before she found herself totally alone. Not-quite widowed, but decidedly orphaned.

And now, her feet traced the same paths and vaulting roots from dying trees he must have…

Her father.

She kept herself busy, hurrying at the front of the group as they moved headlong into the dark and cursed forest.

“We really should make camp,” Shadowheart commented, “there are many dangers ahead, and we wouldn’t wait to face those exhausted.”

“A wise idea,” Halsin affirmed. “We can get a new start with the dawn… or,” he grinned a bit sheepishly, looking at the lands cursed to eternal darkness, “…if not dawn, at least when we are all rested.”

A few laughs sounded from the group as they headed for safer ground. But not Astarion. And not Cordehlia. She gave that smile that didn’t meet her eyes, holding her shoulders slumped down as if she carried that massive, invisible weight. He could almost feel it himself, just by looking at her. Slowly, he drew nearer, falling within earshot. Within arms reach, should she need him.

But she kept her attention on the Druid, locked in as they headed up the path. “Halsin…” she added, voice shaking just a bit, “you… fought to bring Ketheric down… the first time I mean?”

“Giving up your claim of being an imposter?” the Druid teased, instantly regretting the jovial tone as he saw the lines of her face. As he read her pain. “What troubles you?”

Cordehlia glanced beside her, face easing to find Astarion at her side. First in her heart. Always at her side. “These… ruined battlefields, where so many lives were lost, you’ve been here, Halsin. Tell me, did you fight beside the elven hosts?”

Halsin stopped short. That weight in her voice flooded with knowledge. He froze, nearly mid-step. “I thought you looked familiar…” he commented, almost to himself, eyes scanning the she-elf.

“Why?” Astarion interjected, curious if not a tad bit defensive at the familiarity.

“Of course, Star Elf, red hair that shock of brightness. A temper to defy the gods. You’re the daughter of General Aquilae, aren’t you? You’re just as ferocious in battle, just as passionate and hot-tempered.” The Druid tilted his head, starting to walk again. “I am… sorry for your loss. Sorry his sacrifice must feel like it's in vain with Ketheric back from the dead…”

“Don’t assume to know how I feel,” Cordehlia snapped, chin jutting up, barely meeting the large male’s chest-height. But fierce in demeanor. “Sorry,” she relinquished, that defiance instantly retreating back inside her carefully crafted shell.

“Quite alright. You’re in pain, grieving. But even grief heals, all things heal. Nature will heal, as hearts will too,” Halsin grinned gently, “but it takes time and… many ways of seeking solace…”

Astarion couldn’t fight the way his eyes tweaked in suspicion, hackles raising at the informality. As long as it was his tent that her solace was sought for…

“Aquilae…” Astarion let the name roll off his tongue. Something inside his mind thawing, something creeping into the light. “Is that… your name?”

What normally would have made a tender smile come to her full, pink lips made them scowl instead. “For once… for once, it would be a boon to have you either remember your past, or not ask such obvious questions.” She bit at every word. Her shoulders squared at him, armored and taught.

Those crimson eyes narrowed at her, his mouth hardened into a flat line. An exterior of equal adamant to resist her anger. And to hide his hurt.

“Well, darling,” he shook his head quickly, derisively. “I apologize for my shortcomings,” his gaze darted to the Druid who still lumbered beside her. “And I’ll leave you two to… reminisce correctly, then.” The vampire pushed his way between them, heading for the bustling group as they hurriedly and anxious made a small camp, setting magic wards and torches against the Shadows.

Cordehlia’s heart sank, her stomach knotted, making her want to puke right there and then on cursed grounds, watching him stride from her so quickly.

That exterior of injured pride, that mask of indifference hiding his own pain. Pain she caused. Pain flowed from her own.

Halsin cleared his throat softly. “He means a great deal to you, the Elf. The others gossip about your past constantly. Your Wizard, in particular, seems rather… put out that Astarion has meant so much to you,” the Druid sat himself down on a log, the wood creaking beneath his sheer mass.

But Cordehlia was too uncomfortable to do anything more than sway in place as her eyes darted between her Druid and the rest of her party. Not as if she were watching for every pissed-off dart of her silver-haired vampire in the mix.

“I… believe I know your history, or at least as much of it as the rest do…”

She scoffed, fingers beginning to unbuckle her armor methodically, absentmindedly. “More than he probably recalls,” she huffed under her breath. “If only… things were easier. Not just the tadpole and the Absolute… but with him.”

“Nature does not have regrets, young elf, only growth,” he smiled slightly, his scarred face turning with that wise happiness. “Besides, for as much as you resemble your father, the General…”

“He still seems like the pampered, arrogant, devastatingly handsome son of our High Lord and Lady?” she sniffed, suddenly feeling the warm pull of those years, however ancient they may be.

“I suspected as much. Your father only ever spoke to us briefly, to the point, not unlike his formidable daughter when she feels the need…”

That made Cordehlia grin softly once more.

“He had said once, on the eve of battle, he regretted risking his daughter to lose another… that you had already lost so much of your heart, an engagement to the next High Lord ending in tragedy.”

Halsin paused, turning to follow her own sharp, unerring gaze into the mess of companions. Watching as her eyes followed her lover through the crowd, her whole being growing heavier with grief each second that passed.

He let her breathe in silence a moment, waiting for her to speak. At last, something seemed to ease within her. “He was my everything, Halsin. My childhood playmate, my first kiss, my… first of many things…” Her voice was steady, aching with grief and joy mixed into one weighty tone. “He defied his parents to ask for my hand, well… his weakness for planning ahead worked that once, for as much… shame as it could have brought on us both. But I didn’t care. I had him.”

“The son of the High Lord and the daughter of the General must not have been such a match to frown upon,” Halsin sounded.. wistful. Cordehlia wasn’t sure. But she turned to look anyway. “At least now, for whatever darkness you both have endured, you share in one another’s burdens. But you can’t fault him for how he has… survived his pain by pushing down his memories. They will return, in time, as all things…”

“In nature heal,” Cordehlia finished with a laugh. “You’re rather predictable, Druid.”

“Three-hundred and fifty years, and you learn the value of consistency, young one,” he laughed, standing from the log. “Now, we better return before your vampire’s jealousy turns its hungry attention on me as a threat.”

Cordelia gathered the plates of her armor she had removed, walking them towards camp. And then she paused. Cursing.

Of course… as it had been of late, since that night in the Emerald Grove, all her things were in… his tent. Her stomach sank. She… wasn’t ready to face him yet. Wasn’t ready for his chilled anger or his glare of simmering rage, or his little frown of hurt.

But she swallowed her dread and headed towards that stretched structure of red and rose fabric.

It was already so dark, just the flickers of torchlight dancing to show her the way. Pausing, her hand hesitated before it pulled back the flap so she could enter. Cordehlia swallowed, why was she so nervous, he night not even be inside. Might be out hunting… or helping… or…

Before any other thought could make her hesitate longer, a pale hand shot out at her from within, wrapping its cold, undead touch around her wrist, and dragged her inside his darkened domain.

His tent was blacker than pitch. Even for her elf-eyes, it took her a moment to adjust her sights. But she could feel him around her, grabbing her from behind, hand around her chin, arm clutched around her waist, as he pulled her within.

“I didn’t think you’d come, darling…” his voice chilled her marrow, all the jealousy she had imagined inside him biting his words. “Thought you’d be too busy strolling down memory lane with someone who could walk with you…” his lips pushed against the edge of her ear, nipping it with his fangs, “just as you’ve always wanted…”

“You know what I want…” she murmured, arching against the confines of his body.

“Hmmm,” he taunted, and she could feel his breath trailing down her neck. “I thought I did… I’m surprised that you’re here, not indulging in some time with your warm-blooded companion who knows you… and most likely wants to… know you.” His mouth sucked on her ear, “carnally, to be clear.”

“Tch, tch,” she forced her body to twist in his hold, landing the point of her elbow in his gut to make his grip ease. Savoring the little grunted “oof” he made. “Don’t think so low of yourself, my love,” she breathed, scanning the way his face twitched between suspicion and arousal. “As if I could take anyone else, now that I have you back with me at last…”

She meant it, every word. Those eyes soft with sincerity, those lips already slightly puckered to invite him closer.

But he still had too much jealousy gripping his undead heart, too much ice flowing in his veins yet. “You’d rather have someone remember, I know, someone who knew your name, your father, someone who recognizes the family resemblance of your temper to match your hair… someone who can match the… intimacy you seek with your memories in the same way they might with your delicious body.” He pouted, those full lips of his frowning in taunting disapproval. “If only there was some way for us to share thoughts and memories, mind to mind…” he turned to give her the full power of his gaze then, and it made her lose her breath with his beauty, his intensity. That rakish cant of his brows and the haze of hunger in his eyes.

Her brows raised slowly, her smile spreading. “What are you suggesting, Astarion?”

He let his fangs show, his hands gripped into the soft flesh of her upper arms. “Show me, show me everything. Use the parasite, link your mind to mine, for I’ll be damned if anyone…” he growled with a snap of his jaw, “anyone lays a claim to you more than me.”

“Why, Master Ancunìn,” she smirked, running the pads of her fingers down that sharp cut of his jaw, “jealousy does rather become you.”

He stiffened beneath his touch, the muscles of his jaw tweaking as he clenched.

“You’re… not just jealous, are you?”

His eyes cast to the side. Just enough hint of remorse, of regret and longing softened his face.

“I… can’t explain it,” he whispered, almost sounding frightened to let the words out. “All I have known for so long is to manipulate, to do as I was commanded, to use my body and bury my mind, my feelings so far down, I… forgot what it was to think or feel for myself.”

His hands began to wander, to stroke her smooth skin and taught muscles beneath her shirt.

“And then, I found you, or rather, you found me. You forced me to confront those parts of me I neglected in order to survive. You made me rediscover what it meant to want a person…to want anything for myself. Like how you almost tore the throat of that vile Drow today, just for assuming you could compel me to bite her fetid flesh.”

He breathed, that jealousy still crept close by, his fingers insistent on her flesh, even with all the vulnerability that flooded his voice.

“I… should say thank you, my darling, but I would rather show you my gratitude. Rather stand at your side as equals, knowing everything that makes you… you.”

“That makes us… us,” she added, a smile soft on her lips. Her hand held his, pulling him down along with her, sitting on the mess of his blankets and pillows he called a bed. Before he could even settle completely, she crawled in his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist, cradling his cheek in her palm. His eyes bore into hers, the intensity, the possessiveness, the curiosity burning bright in the deep red of his eyes. “What would you wish to see?” she asked softly.

“Show me your father, show me you… show me our first moments, our sweetest moments, our most sensual, our most painful,” he rasped, brows furrowed with his ardor. “I want to recall… everything…”

She paused for a breath, eyes closing as if she searched those memories. Finally, her silver eyes opened, her gaze was languid, distant, and desirous. “Open yourself to me,” she whispered so close to his own parted lips.

A single brow arched in humor, “That's my line, darling…”

Before she could tease him or roll her eyes, their minds smashed into one another, their tadpoles humming as the world around them instantly disappeared….

———

“What do you have to say for yourself, lordling?” General Aquilae stared at him with those piercing dark eyes. Sharp like the eagle, the bird of prey after which he was named. “Son of the High Lord, caught watching our daughter bathing, you know there will be repercussions even your parents can’t pull enough strings to free you from…” The warrior’s voice rumbled like thunder, towering over where the young elf male stood in his study.

But Astarion gave no ground, arms crossed over the pale green of his tunic, the golden threads of its intricate embroidery catching the firelight as night began to fall. His sharp features smiled slightly, his deep violet eyes dancing as he watched the warrior pacing back and forth, that silver shock of hair barely tamed, same as he was as a youth, barely more tamed than the willful elfing that ran about with his daughter.

And now… now they would be inseparable. They had to be.

“You know what you have done has sealed Cordehlia’s fate as much as your own, little lord?” the general added. His voice sharp, direct.

“I would hope so, Commander,” Astarion purred in reply, “I thought my affections for your daughter were on… full display this afternoon.”

General Aquilae pressed his thick fingers into his temples, rubbing them as if to ease a headache. “You know, Astarion, most young males court their intendeds with letters or poems or art or song… not their cock in their hand as they watch them bathing.”

Astarion shrugged, coolly and casually. “I have never been like most young males, Commander. You have always known that, as loyal friend of my parents, their faithful General…”

“You can leave your parents out of this, boy,” the general straightened. “What will you do to make this right by Cordehlia? Leave her to the shame you’ve inflicted? To the gossip and the ostracization of her peers?”

“I intend to make her mine, General,” he replied. Steadily, those hard, smirking lines of his face easing as his smile dropped.

The commander turned to round one more time across his study, his boots falling harshly against the wooden planks of the floor. Until he drew up short. “It’s close, but you need to be clear, Ancunìn. You’ll make her your what? Mistress, whore…”

“Bride.”

It was a simple word. Uttered so clearly, so matter-of-factly, all ears that heard it frozen.

Her father. And Cordehlia. The sneaky she-elf who peered through the smallest chink in the wall, who held her breath to hear two men discussing her future. But at that word, her heart soared, scared, excited, terrified and… something else she didn’t know. Something that stabbed her like a hot poker in the gut and flooded her abdomen with heat. She could see Astarion’s face perfectly from here; he looked so regal, so confident. So happy. Especially at making her father draw up short and stop, at a loss for words.

“Well, General?” Astarion grinned, smiling so self-assured, so cocky, “do you need me to repeat, sir?”

“No,” the older elf cleared his throat loudly and repeatedly. “Thank you.”

Astarion bowed his silver-tousled head. “If that is set arights, then perhaps I can break the happy news to my intended myself?”

“Firstly,” General Aquilae raised a single thick digit at the boy, “I will set you straight on this point, lordling. You are both far too young by the rights of our people to marry. Prepare yourselves for a long engagement, one where you had better show her nothing but the respect and devotion befitting a female of our status…” he narrowed his large silver eyes down at the boy, “even if it is still beneath your own, Master Acunìn.”

Astarion flashed a bright smile, a deferential bow of his head and shoulders, hand placed graciously over his heart. “On my honor,” he crooned, magnanimous in tone. Just like his parents. “The lady and I will wait for years, for decades, if that is your sage guidance.”

“Not decades, no,” he sniffed in rejoinder. “Don’t be so grandiose, boy. Five years hence at most until you may wed, unless any unexpected, little… surprises… come up in the meantime…”

Violet eyes wide, Astarion remained still at the implication. He swallowed hard, much to her father’s satisfaction. “Yes, General,” he murmured in reply. The meaning was clear enough.

General Aquilae almost laughed at the submission, the immediate effect of discomfort that smacked the boy across his pristine, handsome, and youthful face. It would be enough to scare the boy into caution for the time being. And that would be enough for now. “Allow me to fetch your intended, then.” He crossed towards the door, but paused when the boy gave that signature boisterous giggle.

“No need,” he giggled again. “Cordehlia already has her ear pressed to the wall, eyes peering through keyholes, I shouldn’t wonder…”

That violet, glinting gaze looked right at her… where she had one eye locked through the crack in the wall. A smile dancing on his thick, parted lips.

Quickly, she moved and held her breath, flouncing her gown and making her way as if she were simply strolling by the study door, a little book in hand as if she were lost in reading. Her father threw open the dark wooden door. “Daughter,” he ordered. No other words needed. His lined brow furrowed to see her, in fact, so close to his study.

“Yes, Father?” she lilted, tucking the book neatly against her chest as she folded her arms. “Is… is there something the matter?”

“I’ll let you find out for yourself,” he replied, walking out the door, “but no, nothing the matter.” His rough hand caught his daughter’s fingers from her book, giving them a tender squeeze before he left them to it.

Her heart raced, slowly turning to face that smirking youth in her father’s study. The one who went toe to toe with her father, and lived to tell the tale.

“Astarion,” she beamed, open and exuberant to see him against her better judgment to be coy. “It is late, you know.”

“No better time for a man to call upon his beloved, his intended…” he grinned, all feline and subtle, striding to shut the door behind her. “I don’t need to regale you with all the negotiations do I? You were listening ever so intently from your little hiding spot, weren’t you?”

“Of course,” she smiled, taking a few steps away from where he felt so close to her. Crossing, she sat on the little couch near the fire. And she regretted it the instant he sat immediately beside her. “I… I suppose I should thank…”

“Don’t,” he interjected. “Tch,” he sucked his teeth, a habit of his when teasing her lately, “I told you I would get what I wanted, Cordehlia.”

“And, what was that?” she forced her face into a blank, innocent expression. Wide-eyed and pouting, hiding the laughter that bubbled inside.

“You,” he slowly seemed to lean in. “Despite my parents’ plans for a marriage alliance… despite your father’s hesitations…” his eyes cast down the front of her down, scanning the intricate weave of laces and ribbons that held her in, even as her chest heaved with panting and her bosoms threatened to spill out the top. “Despite even your own thoughts of self-inadequacy…”

“Oh, I do not doubt my own measure, Astarion,” she chided in reply, “I doubt that I will be enough to satisfy you and your… ambitions.”

“Wanting great things out of life means nothing if I can’t share it with you, my…” he whispered, that edge of pretend leaving his silken voice. A single finger pressed under her chin, feeling her throat swallowing and her jaw bobbing as she nervously met his gaze. “Hmmm, what shall I call you now?” he grinned. “My friend seems too unromantic. My intended, my betrothed… those seem so cumbersome.”

“Something simple, sweet and flirtatious,” she smiled, leaning into the heat of his touch, more of his fingers beginning to sweep over her cheek. “Nothing too saccharine… just a little something… darling…”

“Oh,” he gave that secretive half smile of his, “aren’t you just darling? So sweet and yet deceptively strong… that hint of irony behind it.. yes. Yes, it’ll do nicely, darling…”

Her eyes darted away, feeling so hot, cheeks flushed and burning, his hand still holding her face. But that heat swirled in her gut, her mind still reeling over the events of that day, and while her skin was clean from bathing, her mind had turned to only images and questions that were so, very dirty. “So…” she paused, feeling his face drawing nearer, his breath washing over her. “What was it you were caught doing exactly?”

Astarion’s eyes flashed, wide and dilating as he stared at that impertinent grin. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean… I wish to know… what… you were doing while you watched me,” her voice grew quieter, deeper in her throat the more she spoke.

“I was… pleasuring myself,” he managed to say, watching her cheeks growing pinker and pinker.

“Show me,” she whispered. Her chin jutted out in that over-confident way of hers.

Astarion cocked his head, a single corner of his lip curving slightly. “What?” he drolled.

“Show me… what you were doing…” she whispered, eyeing the door shut beside them, pure mischief in her silver eyes. “Show me, please…”

“I do so like it when you ask so sweetly,” he raised his brow, grinning widely as he leaned towards her breathtaking face. “So refined and smoothed over your edges, and yet…” His fingers pressed on her chin, tilting her upwards and drawing her close to his lips, “I still see that willful, feral playmate of mine who never once treated me like the son of the High Lord…”

“Quit your stalling, Acunìn,” she snapped, smiling all the while. Her body was pulsing, hotter than the fire before them should have made her. Her skin grew tighter the more he touched her.

“I can show you,” he whispered, smirking as his eyes darted towards the door. “But I’ll not do it in your father’s domain. Not when I’ve just garnered his dissenting approval.”

Her breath grew heavy, her dress suddenly too tight. “Where… when…?”

“It’s your home, darling. Can’t you think of someplace quiet… someplace intimate…”

“The gardens,” she couldn’t reply quickly enough. “I can slip from my terrace, if you meet me.”

“Then I shall be there,” his voice was thick, his lips brushing hers as he spoke. It made her stomach knotted and fluttery. Made her skin burning and her blood pounding. Whatever it was she was about to learn, she could barely wait the few moments it would be to sneak away.

Then he kissed her, more than just the little pecks as children. More than the courtly press of his mouth on her gentle fingers. He spared her nothing, for she knew full well already the twist of his tongue around her own, the sucking of his lips and the clack of his teeth against hers. But this kiss, this devoured her. Sucked her breath and filled her tastebuds with him alone. Until she forgot to so much as breathe.

A loud footstep outside the door made them suddenly draw apart, the turn of the handle making Astarion shoot right up from the couch to stand coolly at the mantle, a chilled, contented smile on his lips as her father returned.

As if those lips weren’t just consuming his daughter.

“It’s late, Master Acunìn,” the General commented, always direct, always commanding.

“Yes, well, there will be many years ahead of us for goodnight and goodbyes, isn’t that right, my darling?” the young elf nodded his head to his future bride. Who, very wisely, kept her flushing face away from the sight of her father.

“Yes, Astarion,” she replied, all joy and music in those two words. “Goodnight to you both,” she stood to dip a curtsy. “I am ever so pleased with our arrangement,” she added, smiling as she made her way from the room.

“As am I,” Astarion replied, locking eyes with the General. “Goodnight, my future bride and father. I can see myself out.”

“So long as you don’t see yourself back in, boy,” her father laughed under his breath. A cold sort of laugh, wisened by experience past the machinations of youth. “You have years for that. The blink of an eye for our kind.”

Astarion nodded his head, eyes still fixed on his exit. Careful not to give away the racing of his heart in anticipation. Gratified that his instincts were sharper than the General, the aging elf whose eyes he could feel until the moment he shut the door to their home behind him.

It would be an easy deception, to head down the path towards the road and double back to the little garden. The moon was bright, and the stars even brighter. Hanging arbors of bright purple and rosy blooms covered the walls and trellises.

She had chosen well, a secluded spot, hidden and muffled. He watched her room, a little cutaway on the ground floor, as he had before. Her shadow moving in the light, the flicker of candles gutting out as he heard the door to her terrace open.

He peered out from behind the arbor, her eyes instantly setting on him, her mouth parting in a smile. Hoisting her skirt, she ran over the little tiled terrace, scrambling, almost vaulting over the balustrade to land in his arms.

“I can’t believe you did that, Astarion,” she panted, instantly pressing her lips against his. “You’re so much trouble…”

“Yes,” he breathed in between her moving lips, “but aren’t I just worth it?”

“Show me what you were doing and we will see,” she growled into his mouth, his hands already skating over the silks of her gown, pawing beneath the edges of her robe. His fingers traced down her arm, weaving into her hand. Pulling her, they reached the little bench, nestled among the hanging vines of sleeping flowers. All was quiet and shadow. The air was cool against their burning skin, the stone of the bench even colder as they slammed into it, tumbling down to sit side by side. Pressed so tightly together, her leg draped between his. His arms pulled tightly around her waist.

“First day giving me your word you’ll be mine,” he panted, “and already all you want to know is how to pleasure me?”

“Well,” she shoved him away, hand planted firmly on his chest. “I already know how to tease you, to best you, to anger you and calm you…” she tilted her head with a sultry, knowing smile. “I’m sure there is much I have yet to learn… and I am eager for you to teach me.”

“You’ve come a long way from flinging mud in my face and threatening to tattle on my father, darling,” his words tickled her cheek as he hovered over her ear. “If you wish to learn, this lesson will be completely… hands on.”

“Save your wit, Astarion,” she hissed, a smile on her face, her hands already straying over the soft fabric of his tunic. “Need I remind you, after today, you had the advantage of knowing the sight of me… all of me. I have yet to have the same pleasure.”

“All in good time, after all…” he pulled away to stare into her eager eyes, so bright as they caught the starlight, “we have years ahead of us now.”

His hand covered hers, sliding it lower, letting her fingers brush over his belly that clenched as he struggled for air. Astarion said nothing, just giving her that half a smile that made her blush. His eyes watched her face blanch as he moved her hand even lower, to press it against where he was hard yet again that day. Slowly, he moved her fingers up and down it, her mouth hanging open slightly to feel its length from where it met his pelvis to the tip that pressed somewhere down the leg of his breeches.

She swallowed hard. Her breath was harsher than ever. Than even after sprinting.

“Well,” he finally purred as he kept their hands working over him slowly. “I only saw the parts of you that glittered in the water above its surface, and I have never been more jealous of some dewy drops on your skin before.”

Cordehlia smirked, beginning to move her hand more freely, fingers tracing the rounded edges of whatever it was beneath. “Now poetry? I prefer you razor wit…”

“How about nothing more than the sounds we make all on our own?” he breathed, his hands pulling the laces from his breeches free. She felt it shift as the fabric released. That hard thing twitching as he reached inside. She couldn’t look away, the sight of him making her mouth water.

And her body even hotter than she had ever been in his presence, in his arms before.

She shut her jaw, clenching it as she watched his hand wrap around its width, watched as it jerked and twitched as he beat over it back and forth. “It’s not like you to hesitate or to balk when something is… hard.”

One hand shoved his shoulder, the other wrapped to join his grip around that… thing. She exhaled as she squeezed, the skin so smooth, the whole shaft so hot and pulsing with the beat of his heart. And so hard as he had joked. Rigid and silken, hard and smooth. Her touch straying towards its tip, she saw it dripping, little white, almost clear drops as she touched it. She swept it in her fingers, tacky and slick over that fleshy tip.

He groaned as she did so, and instantly she pulled away. “Sorry,” she hissed, her cheeks growing even redder in shame to hurt him.

“No,” he panted, grabbing her hand back to encircle that tip again. “The opposite, it felt amazing, the way you touch my cock…”

“Oh,” she smiled, reapplying the same sort of stroke over that little slit, feeling it seeping again as she touched him. “So…” she tilted her head, meeting those dilated, violet eyes, “…you like this?”

“Mmm, very much, even better than when I touch myself and think of you. The real thing is so much better,” he groaned again as she stroked harder, faster, like he had before. Head thrown back, he closed his eyes, savoring that no-longer-timid touch.

“What happens next?” she asked, somehow breathless herself.

“The best part,” he replied through clenching teeth. “Whatever you do, don’t dare stop…” he was growling, his hips raising as she kept that beat. He rocked on the stone bench, hands gripping into the edge. She watched as he contorted, seeming to be in agony, that cock in her hand growing harder and hotter, but she didn’t dare stop. Like he asked.

She felt it shudder in her fingers, his body clenching as he groaned. Collapsing forward, he kept shaking as noise after pained and panting noise came from his mouth. More of that sticky white drips shot from him, and Cordehlia held her breath, so certain she had hurt him.

A fear that was dispelled the moment she looked at his face now. His slack-mouthed smile, his eyes wide and glowing in the moonlight, he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her against him. Lashing his mouth to hers, he muttered such sweet things into her lips. “That was…” he paused to breathe, “amazing. You were perfect. Better than I had dreamed…”

“It looked painful,” she replied, breaking away with a push on his chest again. Turning her head, she looked where the stones of the terrace were discolored and wet, where his cock still dripped a little more of that gleaming whiteness. “And you call that pleasuring yourself?”

“I assure you, he grinned, brows raising, lips quirking, “it is quite the opposite of painful.”

“Hmm,” she hemmed, skeptical as she turned to look back into that face.

“You look like you need some.. convincing…”

His hands wrapped around her waist, slowly starting to gather up the thin silks that covered her perfect, pale skin.

“I think I can show you, if you let me,” he crooned, mouth smiling wider.

“You’re going to teach me how to… pleasure myself?” Oh, she was so haughty, so confident and daring. Even when she was wrong, it was stimulating.

“Really?” She kept that hand firmly on his chest, even as her body gave her away, her hips sliding slightly closer as his hands pulled her skirts to her knees. “I take it this knowledge was not garnered from first… hand… experience…” she tested him.

“No, no,” he shook his head, smiling with reassurance, “I read it in a book, a most fascinating book…”

“So fascinating that it made you pursue release in… pleasuring yourself after?”

“Seems like you know more than an elegant, righteous she-elf should…” he touched her skin then, sliding two fingers higher from her knee. “You weren’t watching me, were you?” he taunted, fingers tracing back down only to dare higher beneath her skirts.

“No, that seemed to be your duty, my darling,” she laughed as she spoke, low and slick. Her breath came heavier. Her skin flamed hotter the higher he touched.

Then, she looked right into his eyes, all that taunting evaporated, her smile softened, her eyes wide and pleading as she could do nothing more than breathe and lean back even more.

And he kept touching, awed by that look of trust and… love. And then, he slunk those fingers beneath the thin line of her undergarments.

She was… wet. Hot. Those folds he had read about, observed in drawings… it was so much better now. But he needed more.

His other hand gripped her knee, pulling those strong legs of hers apart. A gasp tore from her throat as she let him. Her fingers clutched at the back of his head, locked into his hair as if she was about to collapse.

And then, his touch slid inside. Her eyes shot wide, her face contorting like his had, now she knew why.

He slid those fingertips back and forth, dragging that hot slick more and more through that seam. At last, he circled through that point at the apex, drawing his touch over that hard little spot. Just as he had read. But the way it made her clench and groan was even… more magnificent.

Her cheeks were so pink, her forehead beading with sweat. “What… is that…” she managed to speak, breathless and deep in her throat.

“Give me you hand, sweet Cordehlia, and you can tend to your own needs when I can’t be with you in the shadows.”

She obeyed, keeping that one grip tight around his neck. But the other slipped in to join his so quickly. Pushing harder, sweeping faster, his fingers tried to keep up with the way she was… touching herself.

“Gods,” he groaned, “how does it feel?”

“I… can’t…” she panted, eyes shutting hard as she groaned.

So he slid his fingers in deeper in… in her quivering walls.

“Ah!” she mewled, forgetting they were still in danger, forgetting anyone could hear them.

But Astarion didn’t care, not when she clenched hard and tight around his fingers, not when his cock was pulsing again, aching for another round of his own release.

She shook so hard, she almost pulled him down, her arm releasing instead to hold herself up. Her eyes looked at his body again, settling on where his cock still stood hard and twitching in his lap. “I want to watch you… watch you touch yourself while I…”

“Yes,” he growled, hand slipping from her skirts, rubbing that slick that coated his whole hand over himself. “Gods, Cordehlia,” he couldn’t keep his eyes open, not needing much more than a few more pumps on his cock to set him nearly off again. One last glance of her face wracked with ecstacy, the sound of her orgasm as she beat her own fingers into that hot slick he could smell… it was enough.

It was more than enough.

He watched as she bit her lips and screamed through them, hearing that wet squelch of her fingers beneath her skirt grow somehow wetter sounding.

She was divine. Worthy. Beyond compare. Worth all the wagging tongues of the nobles and disapproving scowls of his parents to make her his.

His.

And with that, he groaned and came again. Harder and more intensely than ever before. Spurting streams of his cum covered the tiles and dripped from his hand.

He looked at her then, her eyes glazed with lust, with sated desire and yet burning up for more.

He was hers as much as she was his…

And he would never be the same.

————

She released his mind. His mouth hung open, his breath ragged.

His heart warmed over, despite being dead, all fluttering and hot. Maybe a fragment of his soul returned to him, he wasn’t sure. The way her silver eyes beat open, that ember of desire in them from the memory of so long ago… it made him realize just how achingly hard he had become.

More than her blood in his stomach, more than the sight of her bathing… it was an ache in his groin and his chest that only one thing could satisfy.

And he could smell the same need between her legs, could hear it in the way her heart raced and rapped in her chest.

Swift and sure, her hands clutched into his shirt, grabbing him hard and pulling him. To make him climb on her body, to cover herself in the only remedy to quell her burning. She pushed his clothes off his skin, his voice reduced to a growl in his throat. Those eager, dexterous fingers ripped his own clothes off, relieved only once he was freed. Once they both were freed, nothing but their skin and desire to share.

“I was your first,” he rasped, crushing her with his body, consuming her with his mouth. “The first to know you, to touch you…”

“To taste me and pleasure me and have me…” she purred, “and I you.”

“And none shall have you like I have… like I do…” Astarion groaned, slipping his fingers into her, just as he had perhaps a million times before. Her arousal was so hot and plentiful, all resistance was gone.

As if her body was made for him. The same way a key can slip so perfectly into its lock.

After those memories, he wouldn’t be surprised if it were so. “You enjoyed learning from me,” he grunted into her mouth, the visions of their memories still flaring in his head. “Didn’t you?”

“Yes,” she sighed back. Her hips bucking hard, riding each crooking touch he made deep inside her.

“Your little shakes of excitement, your wide, innocent eyes and pink little lips wet for me…”

“Yes,” she sighed again, arching and clinging hard around his neck.

“Your lips, your breasts, your honey-dripping cunt… Gods, I want to fuck them all, make every inch of you mine, make them swollen and marked by my bite…” he looked down at her then, teeth glinting as he gave a wide-mouthed grin. “Not the Druid, not the Wizard, not a single one that looks at you would doubt you are mine…”

“Astarion, I’ve been yours,” Cordehlia said, hands gripping hard as she shuddered, feeling her own juices beginning to gush around his fingers, his thumb commanding her with all the dexterity he plied, all the knowledge of her body he now recalled from centuries.

He crooked his fingers even harder through her orgasm, working and fighting against every time she bore down in ecstacy. Panting, she softened around him, beneath him. Yielding to every part of him, body and soul. “Your turn,” she rasped, face nestled against his shoulder. Her hand gripped around his cock, slick already from the drips that already leaked from its tip.

Hips bucking into her fist, his lips peeled back to bare his teeth. “May I?”

“Bite me a dozen times so everyone sees your markings? Yes,” she snickered, rubbing over his shaft just a little faster until he groaned. From her touch or her words, she wasn’t sure. But she loved it either way.

The base of her neck, the throbbing of her jugular, the crest of her collarbone… one after another he nipped and drank. Each bite making her fist clench so tightly around his cock, he had no choice but to let his body rut into her grip. His tongue lapped all over her own ivory skin, her crimson blood thick in his throat as she pleasured him.

That age-old touch that commanded him, pleasuring him as only she could. Thousands of forced lovers over hundreds of years, and for once, he reclaimed that feeling of intimacy, that near-first-time thrill he thought long dead. Making love to one he wanted. One he…

“I love you,” he whispered between her blood-dripping breasts.

“I have always loved you,” the reply couldn’t leave her lips fast enough. Her fingers gripping into the locks behind his pointed ears, pulling his dripping copper-tanged mouth to hers. Furious. Crazed. Matching that possessiveness stroke for stroke with her tongue, nip for nip with her teeth on his lips. Her hand dragged through the pooling blood on her body, running that warm, thick liquid over his cock.

Making him shudder as she ran her touch up and down it again. He groaned with that hot slick gliding over his length. The scent of her blood was too delicious to resist. “As fun as it was to cum all over you when we were young, I’d much rather be invited inside, my love.” He tried to sweeten his voice, but that play on his cock already had him undone.

She only chuckled, guiding him inside her so quickly, he barely could tell what was her fist and what was her folds until her thighs clenched tight around his waist, her hips bucking hard against his own. Riding him with every little bit of passion she had stored inside for him alone.

Possessing her for centuries. Making certain he never forgot now that he was hers to possess as well.

[shinjisdone]

Hii, can I request a scenario with Thorfinn and the reader where the reader finds a comb on one of their expeditions/ raids and brushes Thorfinns hair? (Lord knows he needs it)

i truly salute thee if u uhm somehow still awaited an answer from me and i hope i wont disappoint 🙇

Comb

prompt: Thorfinn refuses to have anyone touch him fic: oneshot

A grin etched itself on your face when you spotted no blood on the wooden comb. Without really thinking you grabbed it in the dead of the night into your pouch, hurrying out of the burning house and into the fiery ocean. Thin strands of hair of someone long gone were entangled in the teeth that you removed one by one, fingers gliding over the wood before blowing the rest off.

"It's a good one. Well crafted." You showed the tool to your friend Thorfinn, who had his hunched back turned to you, idly cleaning his dagger. He had argued with you that this thing was not needed and that you are wasting your space in your pouch - but he was always quick to grow tired of arguing with your stubbornness. Instead, he gave a hum.

With a brief shove to the shoulder, you had the comb hover next to his face. The blonde stumbled, rocked back and forth like a swing and gave only a pout at the comb right next to him. It still had hair, how gross. "Brush mine first. I don't wanna have any of your lices." Though your jab was met with a scoff, Thorfinn tugged his weapon away, turned around and grabbed ahold of the tool. Patiently, you positioned your hair for him to begin. "This is a waste of time I told you." He grumbled and you looked back with a glare. "And I told you I don't want to deal with lices. People don't have these in their homes for leisure. You still trying to trick me that you never had any lices?"

You were first met with silence, before one of his hand grabbed ahold of the crown of your head, while the other roughly tugged at your locks with the comb. You groaned in pain. "I just run my fingers through it." "Oh yeah, and then have them crawl underneath your nails, "You suppressed another yowl through gritted teeth, "And then eat with those fingers. It's a miracle you aren't dead."

Another louder cry escaped you when he flicked your head. His strength, especially for his size and age, was inhuman and you bit your tongue at the childish act. "I'm tough, unlike you. I don't fall by some diseases or critters. You're wasting your time worrying."

"Still, could you try to be gentler? You're yanking all my hair out!"

"You won't have any lices when bald."

"Thorfinn!"

A small chuckle escaped him but without another beg, he held the side of your head gently and brushed smaller locks of hair one after another. Tangled strands loosened and he never noticed how soft your hair could be when he ran his fingers through them. You seemed to enjoy it too, the gentle wood on your scalp leaving you soothed. The blonde hesitated to tease you again and held his tongue.

After a while, he wordlessly gave the comb back.

Turning around, you urged him to do the same. He only rose a brow.

"I told you already."

"Even if you are a unyielding warrior, I don't want you to get sick. Or have you toss and turn and lose sleep over some critters. Let me do this for you quick."

Thorfinn pouted at the small smile lingering on your face. He did not like to be touched by anybody. Not by Askeladd's blade, not by Björn when he brutishly puts his joints back together, not by the other bandmates and their attempts at jokes nor by the bloodied hands of the enemies on the battlefield.

But with you he seems to lose all edge.

Your touch can be just as vicious as any other viking yet it is soft with him when necessary. Your touch seems more human than anyone else's. Something he can allow to come in contact with him.

Slowly, he turned around. Stubbornly he refused to meet your gaze and lowered his head as you began to comb through his hair. The blonde locks are tangled enough to leave a mother gasping at her child, split hair ends that smelled ever so faintly. The session, for how long it took, seemed like leisure to him regardless. You hummed and talked, jabbed a few times when you did find dirt and grime but kept the teasing to a miminum. The feeling of the comb teeth on his scalp left a shiver running down his spine, making him sleepy almost. But letting his guard down is not something he could afford - perhaps however, he could with you.

A waste of time. Waste of space in one's pouch, playing house as if you were a family taking care of each other. He did not like to be touched like that but he could grow to like it when it came from you.

[a-killer-obsession]

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

A search for a rumored Vegapunk weapon leads the Kid Pirates to an unexpected new crewmate, with a bloodlust that rivals their own and an incredible power.

CW: Please check AO3 for all current warnings, but general warning for smut, slow burn, serious gore, and really dark themes. AFAB reader, she/her pronouns.

Masterlist || AO3 || Chapter 1

Chapter 50 - Enemy

With Kid successfully rescued, it's time to go find Killer.

Word Count: ~4k

“So, what's the plan then?” Kid asked, chomping on an apple from your very quickly dwindling food stash, “they're gonna wake up and discover I'm gone soon.”

“We need to find Killer,” you replied, “I'm hoping he knows where the others are. Either because that's where he was, or because he's… working with the Shogun.” Kid sighed at your forlorn expression as you curled your knees up to your chin. “Last time I saw him was in the Flower Capital.”

“How far is that from here?”

“About a day’s walk,” you replied, laying out your map for him to see and pointing to the relevant areas, “we're somewhere around here, Heart Pirate base is here, capital is right here in the centre. I was thinking though, maybe we go to Law first, so we can get your seastone off.”

“Absolutely fucking not,” Kid growled, “I don't need that smug cunt's help. Kil can pick the lock when we see him.”

“Sure, if he wasn't a whole different person right now,” you sighed, “he's more likely to fight you. We're gonna have to subdue him, maybe bring him back here. Can you carry him with one arm?”

“Aye,” Kid responded confidently, “ye of little faith, I can take him without my devil fruit.”

“It's not taking him down I'm worried about,” you explained, “his fighting is off right now. He's manic and sloppy, I can take him down no problem with my fruit. The problem is getting him all the way back here, keeping him restrained and trying to get him to talk. I don't know what they did to him but they convinced him that we're the enemy.”

Kid examined your face carefully, seeing how lost and defeated you looked. Your expression reminded him of the way you looked after you lost your baby, something was hurting you deeply, that much at least was clear to him, even if he himself was emotionally stunted most of the time. “There's something else bothering you, isn't there?” He pried. You blinked away tears and sniffed, only sparing him a short look before hiding your face between your knees. “Talk to me doll, what is it?”

“I don't even know if everyone else is alive,” you sniffed, “what if Heat is dead? I should have told him I loved him earlier, I shouldn't have made him wait. He could be rotting somewhere for all I know.”

“He knew long before you said it lass,” Kid soothed, pulling you into his lap and resting his chin on top of your hair, “he's alive, they all are, we're gonna find them Yin. Just stay strong. You've done so well on your own, you don't have to suffer on your own anymore, I've got you. We're gonna find everyone.”

“What if we don't?” You cried, “what if we're too late? What if I took too long? What if we can't bring Killer back to his senses and everyone else is dead already?”

“Shhh, shh,” Kid soothed, holding your head against his chest, “I'll have no talk of that, you did everything you could, we're gonna save them. Together. You're not alone anymore, I'm right here Yin, don't cry. You're a Kid Pirate, you've gotta be brave.”

Kid took your face gently in his hand, tilting your chin up with a crooked finger, before running his thumb softly over your cheek to catch a tear as it ran over your scattered purple freckles. “You're not alone,” he said uncharacteristically softly, “let me hear you say it.”

“I'm- I'm not alone,” you sniffed, watching his amber eyes flick between your eyes and your lips, overly aware of how close he was and warm chest against yours. “I'm not alone,” you repeated, softer, almost a whisper as you leaned towards him. He made a quiet grunt as you pressed your lips against his, but he quickly took possession of the kiss, pressing back with a harsh need and forcing his tongue in your mouth. The kiss turned frantic, moans swallowed as Kid fisted his hand into your hair and you rolled your hips to grind against his growing erection.

“Not alone,” you whined, “Kid, I need you.”

“I know baby, I know,” he groaned back, shifting you to lay on your side next to him so he could hitch your leg over his hip, holding your ass firmly so he could grind his clothed length against you. “Gonna help you, gonna take good care of you till we get your boys back, I promise. They'd want me to take care of you.”

Desperate to feel full and distract yourself from the anguish still potentially waiting for you, you pushed Kid onto his back and straddled him. You made quick work of his belts while he groped at your tits, pushing up your shirt and bra to reveal the soft flesh underneath. He squeezed them purposefully to make you release your milk, groaning as a thin line shot out somewhat violently and hit him in the face, which made you giggle a little at his surprised expression. His eyes rolled back as you freed his cock and took it in your hand, pumping him and admiring the precum beading at the tip. You shuffled to squat over him, too impatient and needy to properly prepare your cunt, pulling aside your panties and whining as you sunk down on his length, letting the painful stretch and the pleasure that followed distract your mind from your stresses. Things didn't seem so bad with Kid's fat cock buried in your cunt.

“There you go sweetheart,” Kid groaned as you rode him, “let yourself go, all will be well. Fuck, you're so tight. Good girl, such a good girl.”

Kid's praises made you whine and ride him faster, and you wondered if Killer had shared your pension for praise with him. “S-say it again,” you whined.

“You're such a good girl,” Kid cooed, guiding your hips with his one good arm, the stump of the other moving like it longed to reach out and touch you as well, “such a very good girl, Yin. Doing such a good job taking my cock. Looking after your captain like a good sweet thing. You gonna be a good girl and cum on my cock?”

“Yes!” You moaned, coil pulling tight far too quickly thanks to his praise, “c-cumming!”

Kid groaned at your walls squeezing around him, his balls tightening as he realised it was the first time you'd cum on his cock, and it drove him wild. You were trying to come down from your orgasm but he began to piston up into you, making you scream as your orgasm seemed to continue on forever. “Good girl, good girl, good girl,” he chanted before making an animalistic roar and unloading inside you. The moment he stilled you collapsed against him, panting into the scarred crook of his neck, his hand still on your hip, his grip a little lighter now, keeping you sat where you were to warm his cock.

“Do you think they'll hate me?” You whispered. Post nut clarity was a real bitch.

“Who?”

“Killer and Heat,” you clarified, “do you think they'll hate me… for sleeping with you.”

“Not a chance,” Kid soothed, pressing a hard kiss into your hair, “they know you sweetheart. They know your heart is theirs. This is just a comfort. They won't hate you for just trying to feel a little comfort after all you've been through.”

“Okay..” you resigned, not entirely convinced but trying hard to trust your captain.

“Don't sweat it Yin,” Kid insisted, “you're okay, everything is gonna be okay. I'll tell them myself if you're worried about it. I promise they won't care.”

“We should get going soon,” you sighed, letting his softened cock slip from inside you and rolling off him, “it's a day's walk to the capital, we should get moving.”

“Yin,” Kid crowded behind you as you gathered your things into your duffle, stilling your frantic movements with a firm hold on your arm, “we're going to find them. When have I ever let you down?”

You let him pull you into a tight hug, his arm rubbing your back soothingly while your arms struggled to wrap around his thick waist. “I know captain,” you sniffed, “I'm just so worried.”

“Let's get going then, aye?” Kid suggested, giving you a reassuring pat on the back before separating himself, “let's go put those worries to rest.”

You slipped your visor on with a nod and threw your duffle over your shoulder, then you led your captain out of the crumbling shack, onwards to find your friends and lovers.

Your biggest concern right now was how to stay unseen and avoid fights on your way to the Flower Capital. Until now you'd been travelling under the cover of night, when you were at a visibility advantage and it was easier to hide. But with the guards at Udon no doubt having discovered Kid's escape by now, the two of you couldn't afford to stay still for any longer than necessary. You'd both allowed a few hours for a nap, but the sun was now risen, and soon there would likely be Beast Pirates out searching for the missing captain. You couldn't wait till nightfall, you had to keep moving, but that left you both exposed.

Some of the Beast Pirate Gifters were able to fly, and would spot you from a distance, especially now that they were no doubt actively searching. That left travelling under tree cover as the best option, though it would greatly slow the journey, and not all of the route had trees to hide under. You could use your devil fruit to cloak, but it would need to be used sparingly to conserve your energy in case it came to a fight, and you had no way to hide Kid's seastone cuff. If the two of you got caught out with nowhere to hide, the floating cuff would stick out like a sore tooth.

The best option, after checking with the map Kin’emon had given you, was to take a longer route via the neighbouring region of Hakumai, instead of going directly to the Flower Capital. It would take longer, but you would still hopefully make it before night. After that the plan was to search the capital after dark, being that it was the most likely time for Killer, or rather, Kamazo, to appear. The plan was less clear after that, but you hoped you would be able to disable him again so that Kid could carry him somewhere he could be bound, until you both figured out how to fix him. Or at the very least get information out of him so you could find where they were keeping the rest of the crew. You weren't keen on giving Killer another concussion, a man could only take so many knocks to the head before it resulted in permanent damage, or even a death-inducing brain bleed, but if it came to it you didn't have much choice.

The two of you made your way under the treeline, Kid refusing to let go of your hand. He felt responsible for you, as more than just a captain. He felt a responsibility to look after you on behalf of his best friend, and his long time friend Heat. Kid knew how sad and stressed you were, so he was trying to do what he thought they would do in this situation. He was no good with dealing with feelings but he was trying his best, and not to be too humble, but he thought he was doing a pretty good job. You appreciated his effort though. After more than a month on your own, a simple thing like having a warm hand in yours gave you a great deal of comfort. Just knowing you weren't alone anymore did a lot to soothe your anxiety and give you hope.

“How much further?” Kid huffed as he stomped along behind you.

“Why, tired already, captain?” you teased.

“Oi, some of us have spent the last month in a labour camp,” Kid scowled, before quickly remembering you hadn't had things much better, “Sorry, I'm fine to keep going for now, I was just curious.”

“It's still a few more hours, I think,” you hummed.

“You think?”

“I didn't have to take the long way last time,” you sighed, “have some patience, Eustass. This country is fucking crawling with Beast Pirates, and some of them can fly. We have to stay hidden.”

“Fine, whatever,” Kid grumbled.

The edge of the treeline came into view as you worked your way through the brambles, and you pressed your spare hand against Kid's chest to indicate for him to stop, the two of you squatting behind a bush. You adjusted the settings on your visor, searching for any nearby sounds or heat signatures that would indicate enemies. The next treeline was a good five hundred metres away, it was a decent distance to go without cover, so you needed to be extra careful, making sure to scan the skies as well. A group of warm bodies heading your way caught your attention, making you glad you'd taken the time to stop and check.

“Incoming,” you whispered, “big group of them, prisoner escort on their way to Udon I think, I can see one with shackles on.”

The two of you hid in the bushes, thankfully with no need for your devil fruit with the thick foliage, you could only hope that there would be nobody with good observation haki among the group. Even if you cloaked the two of you, you couldn't mask against decent haki. You heard Kid take a deep breath and hold it as the group came into view, maybe you should have warned him you'd masked sounds, to keep any accidental rustling from giving away your positon. Based on their clothing you could see they were all Beast Pirates, led by one on horseback, who dragged behind him a prisoner led by a long chain. Your breath hitched as you saw who they had, grabbing Kid's forearm and gripping it with a strength that told him something was very wrong. He hadn't seen him yet, or perhaps hadn't recognized him, given how wildly different he looked, and even moved, compared to the man Kid had been raised by.

“Killer,” you said in a hushed tone. Kid's brows, or lack thereof, shot up, amber eyes flicking between you and the blonde being forced to walk behind them.

“You're sure?” Kid replied with gritted teeth.

“One hundred percent,” you stammered. Kid made a move like he was going to stand, and you gripped him harder. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Freeing him,” Kid growled.

“And how are you gonna do that?” You hissed back, “you're unarmed, literally, without your devil fruit. All you've got is me and I'm just as fucking exhausted as you are. I don't have the energy to take that many. Not to mention we don't know if Killer will fight them or us. We're outnumbered, it's better to let them take him and free him later.”

“Fuck that,” Kid growled, “they're not taking him to that shit hole. I'll fight them on my own if I have to.”

“Kid! Don't!” You pleaded, “look, they have guns, even if you can take them hand-to-hand, you can't do shit if they shoot you. You're strong but you're not fucking bulletproof.”

As you argued with your captain the group got closer, the two of you turning to watch as Killer walked by. He stopped for a moment, staring directly at the bush where the two of you were hiding, and you knew full well that his haki told him the two of you were there. The horse-mounted pirate tugged at his chain, forcing him to continue, and he threw back his head and laughed as his feet moved again. It wasn't a happy laugh. It wasn't a laugh that said ‘my crew are here, and they're going to free me’. No, it was all pain, mixed up in his brain by the defective SMILE fruit, his true emotion was only fear and hopelessness, you could sense it in his brainwaves. Your chest felt tight watching him walk, and Kid made a soft growl beside you. There was no doubt in his mind now that it was his friend, and that something was very wrong with him. Killer never laughed out loud around strangers, let alone enemies. He hated his laugh more than anything, suppressed it except in the presence of those he loved and trusted most. Everything you'd told Kid was true, as much as he hadn't wanted to believe it, and if it weren't for his bubbling rage, he would have cried.

Kid moved to stand once again, pushing you away when you tried to stop him. “Kid, please,” you begged, “listen to reason, you can't help him right now, they have too much advantage.”

“Who's the captain here?” He bit back, “either you're with me, or you're against me. You're gonna help me free him, or you're gonna stay the fuck out of my way.”

“Kid, please!” you shouted, glad for your power masking the sounds of the argument, “you're just going to get us both captured!”

“Then don't fucking come with me,” he growled, “stay here like a fucking coward.”

Tears welled in your eyes as your hand dropped away from him. His heart hurt seeing your expression fall, but his anger was still in control of him. It always was when Killer wasn't there to show him there was a better way, only Killer had ever been able to convince him to stop and think. Kid had a one track mind to get his best friend back, and he wasn't going to let anyone stop him, not even you. Which only gave you one choice.

“Kid, please, if they take you again I might not be able to free you this time,” you reasoned, “I can't let you go out there.”

“Let me?” Kid growled. He grabbed your face and pinched your chin between his fingers hard, and you whimpered, immediately going back to that dark place in your mind that you thought you'd never have to return to. The one where every man in power was a threat to you, and you had to behave, or face the painful consequences. “You don't let me do anything, you fuckin’ hear me? You're my subordinate, and you're gonna do as you're fuckin’ told. Or you can find yourself a new crew.”

Something in your brain snapped then, images of Thompson's body under your knife flickering behind your closed eyes. His blood and piss pooling on the floor, the fearful expression on his face, the way he cried out when you cut him. His life draining from him as he choked on his own dick, the light in his eyes fading by your hand. ‘Never again,’ your mind chanted, ‘never again, NEVER AGAIN.’

“Fine,” you spat back, your voice laced with venom, “you can find yourself a new weapon. I'm fucking done. I'll find Heat on my own, you already know full fucking well he'll choose me over you. And as for Killer, you can explain to him for yourself where I am, why his girlfriend and daughter aren't back on the ship. See if he stays by your side after that.”

Kid let you go quickly, shock evident on his face. He didn't think you'd be so quick to quit, he thought he would be able to convince you to help him if he just threatened you. In the blink of an eye he'd ruined the months of trust he'd built up with you, and he immediately regretted it, but it only served to make him angrier. His anger was misplaced though, it wasn't you he was angry at, it was himself, and Kaido for tearing his family apart in the first place. But right now the only person here to receive his wrath was you, and he'd never been good at holding back when he was mad.

Multiple things happened in the blink of an eye. Before you could register it, a seastone-cuffed fist was flying at you, landing square in your gut and knocking the air out of you. You went down hard, wheezing and struggling for air as your arms wrapped around your stomach. In your struggle you groaned loudly, revealing Kid to the enemy, who spotted him immediately. You had the self-preservation to mask yourself with invisibility, but in your anger and pain you decided to leave Kid on his own. He'd made an enemy of you, he wasn't your problem anymore. He insisted he could hold his own, so he could fucking hold his own.

Next came the laughter, Killer turning manic as chaos unfolded, barely masking the two gunshots that rang out. Your vision was blurry as you lay on the ground, but you could see enough to watch Kid go down, a smug smile on your face as he realised too late that you'd been right. As soon as he went down, he knew it was over, as the pirates used the butts of their guns and swords to beat Kid until he was too hurt to fight back, all the while set to the eerie sound of Killer's mania. Your smug smile was wiped from your face as you watched them drag Kid to his feet. A new chain was attached to his cuff, which was then linked to Killer's, and the two of them were forced to walk again.

You laid shell-shocked on the ground, releasing your cloaking as soon as they were far enough, all your energy now going into the harsh sobs that racked through your body as you realised that once again, you were alone. You stayed there until night fell, curled up in a ball with your knees to your chest, wheezing as the sobs agitated your bruised ribs, twigs and stones digging into your side. The temperature dropped and you began to shiver violently, until you had no choice but to get your shit together. You had to keep going, at the very least you had to help yourself, and if not for your own sake then for Dawn's, and for Heat. Even if you couldn't get Killer out of prison on your own, you could at least sneak in and get information out of him, find out where they were keeping Heat and the others, rescue the rest of the crew, and then guide them to rescue Kid and Killer. Once you freed the rest of the crew, your commitment to them would be over, and you would leave with Heat and Dawn. Steal a ship and leave this awful fucking country for good. Maybe Killer would come find you, but you couldn't let yourself hope right now that he would even ever be himself again, hoping would only lead to more heartbreak.

With shaky breaths you struggled to your feet, your mind set. You would go to Udon, but only for information. For now, you just needed to get somewhere safe, and without Kid you could now move much faster, cutting back to your abandoned shack as fast as your legs would take you, relying on your devil fruit to keep you hidden. You ran for what felt like hours, collapsing immediately as soon as you made it inside the dilapidated building, and quickly passing out from exhaustion.

[NEXT CHAPTER] - link soon

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[bolithesenate]

I have. So many questions about your version of Tarre but I will try to keep it short

How did the Mando's react when they found out that he was a Jedi?

How did his first Jedi Master die?

Did Tarre manage to finish the tapestry (the one he was trying to finish before the meeting) before the due date or?

Did Tarre one day look up and ask his close circle of Mandos if he was the Mando'alor and said circle had to awkwardly tell him he had been the Mando'alor for a while and they were technically his advisors?

HOW was your Tarre adopted by the Jedi - assuming he has always been a Mando even if he did practice much of the culture? Did he accidentally run away as a toddler and end up in a cargo ship across the galaxy in enemy zone? Did he accidentally set fire at 3 separate houses in the Vizsla Clan and they decided to set him against the Jedi (and did it work even if only for a temple)? Tell me pleaseeee

Also sorry if this is stupid I assume that Tarre has always been a Mando or is he a convert (and if so was it via the god haunting him or was it after he went on the self-imposed exile while everyone thought he was dead)? I'm asking this to make sure I understood everything correctly

okay okay okay. well, let me preface this with saying that I am 1) INCREDIBLY stoked to see someone as invested in cringefail jedi Tarre as I am and 2) I have an incredibly detailed account of Tarre's life in my mind (that I might one day write down in fic form) so you don't know the beast you just unleashed

how did the Mandos react when they found out he was a Jedi?

well, it depends a bit on which Mando. the guy that for a while was his Alor and then became his second in command figured it out on his own after Tarre was a bit too weird about certain things for a bit too long. He mainly was put out that Tarre never trusted him enough to tell him (even tho Tarre himself probably assumed he'd just left the jedi order at that point). Also, it explained just a lot of the general weirdness of the guy, so if anything it cleared things up.

The rest of their inner circle figured it out some time afterward when Fay just appeared in the middle of their dining room, calling him out on his bullshit. I think they were too mortified to see her immediately do a 180° and start a custody war with a literal force-deity to react, really. And again, Tarre being a Jedi explained more questions than it raised (at that point he'd had probably a literal decade of raking up a history of being That Weird Guy TM)

And the rest of Mandalore's populace... I genuinely think many of them might never have known? At least not during their or Tarre's lifetime?

There might have been rumors, sure, but again, Tarre had already collected a lot of weird ass rumors about him by that time, so it kinda was just another one of those? At least this version of Tarre never went out and proclaimed he was a Jedi in some grand sort way. He was way too busy for that. Which I think would explain quite nicely how all subsequent generations of Mandalorians seem to put all emphasis on Tarre being Mand'alor and never really seem to mention his ties to the Order.

2. How did his first Master die?

His first Master, a rodian crèchemaster named Yuumba Doksa, died on a mission where they were supposed to investigate a sudden epidemic amongst settlers on a newly colonized planet. It turned out to be a bioengineered virus commissioned by the Sith, and despite the Force, Tarre had to watch his Master die before an effective treatment could be found. He himself also got infected with it, but because his genetic material was such a wild blend of things, his immune system was a lot more resistent to the virus.

3. Did Tarre finish the tapestry before the meeting?

No.

In retaliation, he just took his loom to all subsequent ones. That was the first in a long list of Weird Things He Just Does I Guess.

4. Did they have to tell him that?

Of course they did.

Actually, and this is getting down into the nitty gritty of my personal headcanons and worldbuilding around Tarre Vizsla, "Tarre Vizsla" started off as two people: Tarre on one side and Marek Vizsla (his alor-turned-second-in-command) on the other. Through a bit of a miscommunication at some point, the spokesperson persona the both were operating under got the name Tarre Vizsla, even though Tarre at that point wasn't a member of aliit Vizsla. House Vizsla yes, but not the Clan. That came later.

So for way too long Tarre just assumed that all these things they were doing, he was doing under a shared name, sure, but they still were two people and Marek was the higher ranking one of them, so naturally he was the one the Mand'alor title actually belonged to.

Until they all had to tell him that 'no, you idiot, you are the one doing all the work here, it's your position. Marek is just here to yell at people and, if necessary, shoot them.'

5. & 6. I'll have to answer together because they share a lot of commonalities

I'm firmly in camp 'Tarre was a convert' (in the end) (kinda).

It's quite possible that one of his parents was a Mando, simply because of the smoothie blend that his genetic are, but they were not around to make decisions when he first exhibited Force powers. So he went through a normal(ish) jedi childhood (minus the truly being bad at jedi-ing) until he went to ilum and came back with an old god as his saber.

But since this was the old republic and things generally were a lot stranger back then, no one - Tarre included (plus, he still was a child back then u know) - really questioned it. Tarre just was one of those Jedi with a weird colored lightsaber. Happens from time to time, right?

(as for why Kad Ha'rangir chose Tarre... who knows what the gods think, right? especially a god that literally is change. The Force works in mysterious ways)

Him properly becoming a Mandalorian was.... well, who can say when exactly it happened. Maybe he was one from birth, just 'temporarily misplaced' due to external circumstances, maybe he became one when a mandalorian god called dibs on him, maybe it happened when an old weaver lady whose backyard he crashed his shuttle in also called dibs of her own, or it's possible it happened when he got his first set of beskar'gam, or when he officially became mand'alor, or when he properly got adopted into Clan Vizsla or perhaps even at some other, small junction of his truly strange life.

Or maybe it never really happened at all? Who knows. I don't think anyone ever made him swear to the resol'nare (if that even existed in that form back then), they just looked at him and said 'yes, this is what peak mandalorian-ness looks like' o(￣▽￣)👍

(half of them were looking at Marek when they said that. that's why the statues look nothing like Tarre)

And I think if you had asked Tarre at the end of his life what he was, he genuinely might have answered with "a Jedi"? Because that's still the thing he grew up with and he only (temporarily) fled from it due to of his own anxieties. Like. All the work he did on Mandalore was because of the things he learned as a Jedi - to help where he can and strive to make a better galaxy for the people around him.

It just so happened that the people around him technically were the Order's mortal enemies.

[tagthescullion]

The way Drew's portrayed as an antagonist doesn't really sit right with me. When I was younger I just accepted it at face value, but then I started thinking about it - Drew, Silena, the war, everything - and I think it's a lot more nuanced.

Drew is allowed to be angry at her sister - who she was presumably close to and trusted, as her head counselor and the one next in line for head counselor - for betraying them! Yes, Silena died a hero, and that redeemed her in the eyes of many, but that doesn't change what she did!

And the thing is - she died. Drew (and the rest of the cabin) can't get closure. They can't talk to Silena and ask her why she did what she did, or yell at her, or do anything. She's dead.

As of TLH, it had also only been four or five months since the war. Eventually Drew's anger might calm down, and she might come to terms with Silena's memory and what she did. But it's only been a few months. Her emotions haven't calmed yet.

I also can't believe that Drew is the only one in the cabin who - supposedly - absolutely hates Silena and everybody else forgives her wholeheartedly. There's like fifteen Aphrodite kids; can we assume that they have multiple nuanced feelings? That, say, Mitchell is still struggling to reconcile Silena the traitor with the Silena he thought he knew, and Lacy just wishes she could talk to Silena one more time and ask her why, and that one eleven-year-old doesn't care what Silena did and just wants her big sister back?

Like. It's nuanced and it's complicated. Add to this that Drew immediately became head counselor in the middle of the war when Silena died right after the revelation that she was a spy and, well, it's a mess.

if rick hadn't been a yes-like-other-girls hating coward, the true family issue in HoO wouldn't have been some boring curse in the hephaestus cabin (which added nothing much to their cabin lore tbh), it would have been about the mini civil war in the aphrodite cabin. I will start this by saying I adore silena's character, but mostly bc she was a lot more interesting than she is given credit for

I absolutely refuse to believe every aphrodite kid was okay with silena! makes no fucking sense at all, she was worse than luke, she didn't just betray them the one time and then became the enemy, she passed info to the other side for years!!!!!!! I cannot think of a single more traitorous thing than to spy on your family and friends!! to sell them out!!

and they were all like "well but she died for us so whatever"??? by that reckoning, then nobody hated luke anymore after he died, bc y'know he died for them all like jesus or some other rubbish like that? they were both on the wrong (good intentions, I'm not denying that, but they hurt people and resulted in their fellow demigods dying)

the aphrodite cabin should've been in chaos after the war. nobody would trust them with anything, they're already known as the bad side of the rumour mill, imagine after this?? and then piper says some shit like "silena knew what family was", piper, mi ciela, 1) you didn't know her; 2) she didn't betray you; 3) silena forgot what family was for a long, long while, she's a crappy example to compare yourself to!

I don't doubt eventually they'd have understood silena, like luke, didn't mean to cause such harm, they were young and fooled by a higher power, and they did love their family and friends, but that wouldn't happen less than 6 months after the event

and yes, ofc, self promo: drew and piper talking about silena (a long while after everything); two conversations between silena and luke

[whatsaninterestingplacethisis]

Thinking Of You

Imagine

Adam Fantilli x Latina!Reader

Synop: y/n and Adam are "casual" friends with a hint of hatred that turns to something real when their mutual friend forces them to share a bed.

a/n: enemies to lovers 😏 one bed trope let's pretend Adam went to a public high school & disregard the location inaccuracies.

cw: cussing

+

It was natural instinct for you to be rude to the male species, especially if they looked like Adam Fantilli. In middle school you met your best friend but along with y/f/n, Adam trailed along, and never seemed to leave.

You never became friends, you wouldn't even consider mutual friends, but he was always there and his existence was annoying in itself.

In high school, every time you searched for your friend he would always be around the corner; bugging you, “hey raccoon eyes, didn't get any sleep last night or what?"

"Adam get out of my face." you scoffed.

"Couldn't sleep because you were thinking of me huh?" he nudged your shoulder.

This was freshman Adam, his teasing got worse over the years but lessened senior year as he focused on hockey.

++

Prom weekend was awful to say the least, you couldn't find the dress, and your date canceled the night before. You would have gone with y/f/n but she already had a date. Your friend group, including Adam, were taking photos outside the venue and Adam couldn't help to tease,

"What happened with James? Wasn't he supposed to take you out?"

You huffed as you knew he was going to make fun of you "He canceled on me. Go ahead laugh." The second you found out James would be ditching you, you could already hear Adam's nagging voice.

"Damn that's a low blow. You could always do better anyways." he said with genuine.

You side eyed him, hard. "Thanks, I guess."

The rest of the night was lame. All of your friends were dancing with their dates and you were guarding the girl's purses at the table. That was before Adam plopped on the chair next to you.

"Do you wanna dance?" For knowing Adam most of your life you knew he had to joking.

"Nice try Fantilli." you crossed your arms in annoyance.

"I'm being dead serious."

You gave him a disbelieving look and then he said, "C'mon just one song."

He dragged you to the dance floor and as if it were from a movie scene, the upbeat song changed to a slow one just in time.

"Why are you doing this? You're just going to use this against me in the future." you complained

"You know I'm not a monster right?" he softly guided your arms around the back of his neck.

"I'm still questioning." you shivered as he snaked his hands around your waist.

"Just relax." your head naturally fell on his shoulder.

"I mean the sight of you sitting alone at prom was pretty depressing." he jokes like always

"Okay that's it." you pushed his torso away before he reeled you back in.

"I'm kidding. Every girl should have at least one dance at prom." You stared at each other before you place your head on his shoulder again, "Thanks." you whispered.

Prom night wasn't that bad thereafter.

+++

The last time you saw Adam was graduation and the celebratory parties after. Neither of you discussed prom night, not in a teasing manner or a reminiscent matter either.

Your friend influenced you to follow her to umich because her boyfriend at the time was also going there. They didn't last long, but for the start of the year you had each other. It so happens Adam was also attending umich.

"You know Adam plays hockey here right" your friend asks as you've been trying to do homework in the library.

"I'm aware."

"We should go to a home game."

"Of what?" you were concentrated reading an article for class.

"Of hockey obviously."

"Why would we do that?" your eyes still glued to your laptop.

"To support Adam."

You eyes snapped to your friend.

"And his brother, Luca plays here too." she said as if that were the problem.

"Why would I go see a hockey game, especially if Adam is in it."

"You say that as if you despise his existence."

"Well you're not that far from the truth!"

"You know that's a lie. Adam has always been a friend to us, we essentially grew up together."

"Adam made fun of me all through high school and when I went through puberty." you stated flatly.

"That was Adam being Adam. Plus, he turned your prom night around didn't he?"

"He did." you couldn't ridicule him for that night.

"Then things have changed since then. Let's go the next home game and just see him play. He probably won't see us anyway."

You sighed, "Fine."

++

You wore your navy umich beanie for school spirit. When you thought of the last time you talked or even saw Adam it had been months. You didn't want to admit it but the thought of seeing him again made you nervous.

You and your friend walked into the arena with linked arms and found your seats in the surprisingly crowed space.

"Do you even know the general rules of hockey?" you asked your friend

"Nope, but a girl can learn!" she said with a hopeful smile.

Soon enough, you would see number 19 on the ice and it was weird seeing him in this setting. Watching him play and he had no idea you were in the stands following his strides.

You and were friend followed the game along, cheering with the crowd and booing with the crowd. The game you so happened to go to was the same game Adam made a goal. You and your friend were stoked, jumping up and down and screaming. You guys won that game. It was exhilarating, especially since you saw Adam make a live goal.

+

"Okay I will give it to him, that was pretty cool." you rarely complimented him but he deserved it.

"Let's tell him in person! Let's see if we can find him." your friend offered

"Uh no. I didn't agree to that." you quickly declined

"Oh c'mon it will be quick."

You don't know how but y/f/n easily found her way around the backstage of the arena and could sneakily find the back exit. You two waited by the exit waiting for Adam to come out.

"Someone is going to find us and get kick us out." you whispered at your friend.

"Don't look suspicious and we won't."

"As if it's that easy. A security guard is gonna come by and think we're stalkers or something."

"Shush someone is coming." your friend whispered

The two of you could hear footsteps coming around a corner and it was another player, a tall one too. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the two of you awkwardly standing by the door.

"Uh who are you?" he asks

You gave a look to your friend to do the talking, "I'm y/f/n and this is y/n, were friends of Adam and were waiting to congratulate him."

"Wait, you're y/n?" he pointed to you and you nodded.

"The guy never stops talking about you, he should be coming out right now."

Your friend had a huge smile on her face, you on the hand looked dumbfounded. Why the hell would Adam talk about you after not seeing each other for months? You wondered if he was talking shit.

After a few second the tall athlete turns to the hallway, "Hey Adam you have some visitors." he says with a smirk.

Adam turns the corner with a smile, he always has that dumb smile on his face. When his eyes landed on yours his smile impossibly got brighter and to your surprise he ran up to you and bear hugged you.

You grunted when his body impacted you, he pulled away and stepped back admiring the fact that you were standing right in front of him, but also trying to gather his composure.

"Hi" you said with a questioning tone after he hugged you for the first time ever.

"Hi" he said brightly but not as bright before

"Hi y/f/n." he turned to your friend

"Hi Adam" she had a sly smile on face the whole time seeing the scene unfold.

"What are you doing here?" he mainly asked you before your friend could respond

"We thought of seeing you play and supporting you."

"Yeah congrats on the goal." you said with a very small smile.

"You saw my goal?" he asked very enthusiastically

"Yep, it was kind of an empty net but a goal nonetheless." you tried to downplay his work but he saw right through you.

"Yet you came out and saw me play." he had a smirk on his face

"Don't think too highly of yourself Fantilli, it was y/f/n's idea, not mine."

"Still." he whispered between the two of you.

"I'm just going to squeeze past through, I'll see you later." the tall athlete said to Adam before leaving.

"Yeah we should go to y/n, it's getting late and all." your friend tried to end the night as if it were just starting

"Sure" you agreed quickly

"Wait, we should hang out soon. You know like the old days." Adam offered

"Sure Adam, we have your number. Goodnight and congrats again." your friend said as she dragged you through the exit before Adam could get another word in.

+++

"Oh my god, you two are so cute." she said as you walked to the parking lot.

"Please stop with this me and Fantilli narrative, it's never going to happen."

"How can I? Every time you two are together it plays right before my eyes." she says so dramatically

"Adam and I are the bane of each other's existence. The guy doesn't and could never see me in any romantic way. And trust me neither could I." you stated

"You are a foolish girl." your friend whispered to herself. She was going to make this ship happen and prove you wrong.

+++

A few months had passed by and y/f/n's plan was going to be in action very soon.

"So I was thinking the whole gang should come together at my parent's vacation house for the weekend." y/f/n said, "What do you think?"

"Don't these plans usually happen during Spring break?" you asked in a literal sense like you always do.

"Yeah I guess but right before the holidays would be fun too."

"Yeah it does sound fun, we just have to pick a date where everyone is free."

"I already did, everyone is ready and excited." she said calmly.

"Ok...so what weekend is it?" you were shocked that you were the last one to know about these major plans.

"Next weekend, so do your laundry and pack accordingly." she said with a smile on her face

"Okay." you laugh as you think of having a huge sleepover with your friends again

++

You and y/f/n had gotten the house a few hours before the rest would come to pack the fridge with food and necessities.

"So who is exactly coming?" you asked

"Uh just our regular high school group."

"That's four people, six plus you and me. Cool you and me can have our own room if you want." you said

"Yeah but, I kind of invited my ex." she said slowly

"Now why would you do that y/f/n?" you asked in disappointment

"He called me recently and he wanted to talk again so I said yes." she said with a nervous smile on her face

"You already know how I feel about him so I'm not going to bother. Does this mean I will have my own room?" you pondered as you put a gallon a milk into the fridge.

"Actually, I invited Adam too."

You slowly turned to your friend and she still had that nervous smile on her face. You didn't know what to say, you knew she did this on purpose, you were left speechless.

"Before you get mad, this might finally bring you two together."

"Let me stop you there." you faced your palm to her, "No way in hell am I sharing a bed with Adam Fantilli."

"But-" she started before you waved your hand to shut her up.

++

A few hours later, everyone had showed up, even Adam to your demise. The first hour was spent catching up and settling in. Then after dinner y'all played board games and watched a movie. It was the end of the first night and it had been fun but the sleeping arrangements were nagging at you.

"So Adam, you and y/n are left to share a room." y/f/n said with hope in her eyes

"We're not sharing a room." you quickly added.

"y/n/n, it's either sleeping on the cold leather couch or in a comfy room." she demanded

You avoided Adam's gaze the whole night and you couldn't stare at him in this moment, he was probably holding in his laugh.

"Oh c'mon it's only a weekend. I just hope you don't snore too loud." he joked

"y/f/n." you whined as if she was your mother and Adam was a bothersome child, he surely acted like it.

"Adam, I trust you will be nice to y/n/n just this once. Y/n/n you too. Your room is down this way. Goodnight." she quickly said before speed walking to her room.

You heavily sigh and look back at Adam. He still has that stupid smile.

++

"You are too close." you said in the dark tucked under the covers

"Nuh uh, you're the one hogging up all the space."

"You are literally laying down like a fucking star fish. Move over." you pushed him in the torso making him flinch and laugh

"That tickled." He finally curled up like a baby but facing you, clearly flaring his nostrils at your face

"Stop that." You turned facing your back to him.

He followed by turning away to almost falling off the side of the bed. The both of you laid in silence not trying to fall asleep but Adam could feel you shaking.

“Are you cold?” He asked in the dark

“Are you not? It’s freezing in this house.” You shivered under the blankets

“We could cuddle to stay warm” you couldn’t see his face but you knew he had a smirk.

You were tired of being a victim to his games so you played along.

“Okay” you said and moved over to hug his side.

Mr. Confident wasn’t so cocky now, in fact as soon you touched him he froze.

“C’mon Fantilli be a man of your word.” You whispered into his bicep. You hear him gulp and the shakiness in his breath. He maneuvered so he could hold you properly and neither of you were cold anymore.

++

When you woke up Adam’s leg was draped over your hip and his arm over your waist. When you gained consciousness to realize the sight you started to freak out.

Without any hesitation you tried to sit up to get away from his touch but he just pulled you back in.

“Adam let go.”

“It’s still cold.” He snuggled into your hair and you found yourself rethinking everything. Was this like prom? Just a convenience for the both of you?

He repositioned the blanket over you two neatly and pulled you closer if possible. Your eyes widened at his behavior, wondering if this was a dream.

“Adam?”

“Hm?” You were wondering if he was even awake enough to realize what he was doing.

“What are you doing?”

“Keeping you warm.”

“I’m warm now.”

“Thanks to me. Now shush and go back to sleep.”

It was still dark outside and you were still tired so you fell back to sleep.

++

This time Adam was up before you. Still cuddling your figure but admiring you sleeping face. He thought you felt his gaze because soon you started to wake up. When your eyes met his, you turned around and he just laughed.

“You snore, very loudly.” He said like his usual self.

“I do not snore.” You said defensively but still sleepily

You did snore, very rarely, but it was soft snoring not loud at all but he found it adorable.

He started to trace shapes on your back, sending shivers down your spine

“I thought you hated me.” You said in hopes of trying to grasp this morning’s actions

“I never hated you.”

“Then why do you always tease me and make fun of me?”

“That’s my dumb way of showing affection I guess.”

“Showing affection?”

“Yeah, like cuddling you to sleep.” His hand found your waist again ready to pull back into him

“This is not fair.” Your hand stopped his

“You can’t just treat me like trash my entire life and then butter me up in one night.” You had turned around to face him

“I’m sorry. Getting a reaction out of you was my way of flirting and I know it wasn’t right. Can we start over?” His hand found yours

“I think we already did last night.” you admitted.

“I think you forgave me the second you touched me first.” He really couldn’t give up his teasing behavior.

“If anything Fantilli, you’re all talk and you should be embarrassed that I had to make the first move.” You softly pointed your finger into his chest

“You’re absolutely right. I’ll be better now, no more teasing. I’ll be a man of word starting right now.” he pledge

“Good.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Wow that was blunt.” You giggled at his forwardness

“I want to prove to you that I’m a man of my word starting as soon as possible. So can I?” His hands had already pulled you closer

“You may.”

a/n: this feels like I could have made it as a whole fanfic lmao but no!