#I would be sad if he didn't like peas (because I like peas)

[waves-against-a-cliff]

Where Soul Meets Body - Ghost x Reader

Ao3 Link

Content Warnings - afab!reader, no pronouns used, reader has a call sign, canon typical violence, ghost's past :(, angst, smut, fingering, oral, thigh riding, PiV, unprotected sex, happy ending. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary - Simon Riley has been your best friend since the two of you were five. You've been in love with him since you were 15. It's too bad life has other plans

WC: 18k

Big thanks to @shotmrmiller for helping me with the last chapter and big thanks to @itsagrimm for listening to my rambling about this since January. I'm so happy to see it written and finished.

Rainy days in the United Kingdom were far from abnormal. Seeing the bright sun with no clouds obstruction was abnormal. Seeing someone without an umbrella, even a jacket, in the rain was more than abnormal to you. Who in the world would set out to school without a jacket or umbrella? You approach the strawberry blond boy and tentatively hold your umbrella over his head. "What are you doing without an umbrella?" You ask, head tilting ever so slightly at the boy looking up at you. Oh, he's from your class, what was his name again?

"I don't have one."

"Did your mum not buy you one?" There was a small silence but you smile, "Well it doesn't matter now, I'm here and we can share." You give him your name and get the smallest smile from him.

"I'm Simon Riley." Ah, that's right, Simon Riley.

"Well then Simon, let's get to school." The umbrella was hardly large enough for you to fit under but you held it over his head as the rain came down. It rained all day but that was okay because you and Simon sat together all day. "I'll walk home with you so you don't get wet." You say while playing another round of Sorry!.

"You don't need to." Simon mutters as he moves his piece, his brown eyes downcast. You frown, brows pinching together as you try to piece together the logic behind that statement.

"I don't need to but I want to." You respond with a toothy grin. "It's what friends do." You say with confidence as you draw a card.

"We're friends?" Simon asks, his eyes suddenly meeting yours.

"Of course. We're sharing an umbrella." You laugh and move your piece according to the card. "And when you get your own umbrella, we can be umbrella friends." He repeats the term umbrella friends as if testing the waters and then smiles. A smile suits him much better than a frown you decide. During lunch, you offer part of your sandwich when you realize how sad his packed lunch is. "Here, I'm full." A lie but he hardly had half of what your mum packed. He looked at the triangularly cut sandwich with apprehension. "Please eat it." He continues to stare at it before picking it up and taking a bite then looking at you. When he sees your smile, he keeps eating it. "You have very brown eyes." You suddenly comment, unable to keep it to yourself. "I like them."

Simon easily fit into the routine of your life, each day after school he would walk home with you on Fridays. Together the two of you would chatter about anything and everything, conversation flowing easily. Somedays were worse than others, like right now while you treated Simon's busted lip with a bag of cold peas pressing against his cheek. "I'll beat him up." You promise. He seems different these days, he had always been a bit timid before but any loud noise scared him. You don't ask what happened, you could see it in his eyes that he didn't want to talk about it. Those same eyes were always looking down all the time now too, you wish he wouldn't. You like to see his eyes.

"You can't beat up Tommy." He insists.

"He beat you up, I'm just returning the favor." You huff as you dab the blood away from his lip and hand him a bag of cold broccoli. The attic of your home had become a safe haven to him and the walls and ceiling were decorated in drawings that the two of you had created over the last two years. A plate of triangle sandwiches sat half eaten on the box-made-table. "I'll just punch him. Serve him right." You huff and cross your arms after throwing the wet rag in the corner. Books and half put away board games were scattered all around the little attic.

"Please don't." Simon begs, his brown eyes downcast again.

"Will it make you happy if I don't?" You ask, twisting your shirt and pulling at the loose thread. Simon nods and you sigh, pushing your hair from your face. "Fine then but you're staying the night." You declare.

"Don't you need to ask your mum and dad permission?" He asks.

"They'll say yes. They always do." It was true, there hadn't been a time your mum hadn't let Simon sleep over if you had asked. Simon tapped your arm and handed you a book from the pile.

"Out of your head, let's read." He says while giving a frail smile. When did his smiles get smaller? You take the book from his hand, you hope it'll make him happy. A knock on the attic door as your mum peaks her head up.

"Are you staying for dinner Simon?" You mum asks and you jump on the opportunity.

"Can Simon stay the night mum? Please." You draw out your please and put on your best puppy eyes. Your mum looks between you and Simon who still held the bag of broccoli against his mouth.

"Of course he can stay. Just be quiet after eight pm." Your mum disappears back down the ladder towards the kitchen while you turn to Simon with a victorious smile on your face.

"Told you so."

You knock rapidly on his home's front door, "Come on Riley! I'm not gonna stand out here all day waiting for you." You would, of course you would. Rain or shine, warm or hot. The door swung open and you scrunched up your nose when Tommy was standing in front of you. "You smell like a sewer rat." You remark, "Where's Simon?"

"Don't you ever shut up?" Tommy snapped, "Simon isn't your boyfriend."

"He doesn't need to be my boyfriend in order for me to ask where he is." You immediately respond. He snorts and rolls his eyes. Tommy, Simon's younger brother, had been teasing the two of you for years since the first time he saw you walk Simon home. "Simon!" You say, a smile immediately appearing on your face as he finally appears behind his brother. "Come on!" You push Tommy out of the way and grab Simon's hand. "I got my drivers license." You boast, "Dad's letting me drive his truck around whenever he doesn't need it."

It was a rare day in spring when it wasn't raining and you weren't gonna let it go to waste. The windows of the truck were rolled down and the wind blew through your hair. The city of Manchester slowly disappears, the loudness exchanged for the quiet of the countryside.

"Don't look so grumpy Simon." You say when you notice he had his head in his hand and a scowl on his face. "You're acting like I'm driving you to your death."

"With how you drive, I'm sure you are." He retorts, a small smile growing on his face as you bark out a laugh.

"Well we're almost there so your death won't be quiet so soon." You remark. You slow the truck down before pulling off into a dirt road and coming to a complete stop. You turn the truck off and tuck the keys into your pocket and grab the basket you brought from the back of the truck. You look at the fence blocking the way into the flower field before you toss the basket over the fence before you launching yourself over the fence. "Come on Simon, just jump it!"

"Isn't this illegal?"

"Only if you get caught." You laugh and wink before helping Simon over the fence. The field of flowers stretch far and bumblebees buzz around from flower to flower. You open the basket and lay out the thin blanket onto the ground. Lowering yourself onto the blanket and you motion for Simon to join you.

"What's all this then?" He asked with a brow raised as you began to pull out a few cans of coke, a couple of sandwiches and apples.

"Happy 15th birthday." You say with a grin, "I got your present back at my house but I figured you'd like it out here." Simon stares at you, brown eyes wide as he looks between you and all the food you somehow managed to pack into the basket. You shift a little his heavy gaze as anxiety crept up as your cheeks turned red. "Do you not like it?" You ask.

Simon looked at you before a lopsided grin grew on his face, "It's great. Thank you."

"What are you planning to do after school is over?" You ask after taking a sip from your coke. "I mean, we only have next year left. Are you going to attend University?"

"I'm gonna take a butcher's apprenticeship."

"What?"

"My grades aren't doing great and I figured why not." Simon shrugged, "Not like it's a bad idea." You punched his shoulder lightly and glared at him.

"Why didn't you tell me you were struggling Riley? You know I would have helped." The wind blows softly, the flowers and grass rustle, birds sing in the distance. "You're a smart man Simon, if this is what you want to do," You take a steadying breath, "then I'll support you."

Simon smiles at you, "You took it better then my mum did at least." He sighs and takes a bite from his apple.

"She just wants what's best for you." You say, softening your voice. If there was one thing you learned about Simon Riley after these five years, it's that he loves his mum more than anything. You lean against him, coke can still in hand as the silence blankets the space between you and him. After a few minutes of silently eating and drinking, he nudges you.

"Look." He whispers and points to a flower by his side. You lean over and a massive smile grows on your face as you spot a very tired bumblebee resting within a flower. You look at Simon and feel something within yourself turn on or maybe become louder as you see his soft gaze at the sleeping bee. Suddenly, you wanted him to look at you with that same soft expression.

"You know Daisy?" Simon asks one day while you were driving to the flower field. It had become a place to get away from school and home, away from all the stresses of life for at least a few hours. Daisy was a classmate in the same year, you had never been close with her but you had grown up with her the same as you had with Simon.

"Of course, Daisy Lockmon right?"

"Yeah." There's something in the way he says it that makes your heart clench. It's the softness of it, the fondness and the soft sigh, even the sort of dreamy look in his eyes you spot in the mirror as he gazes out into the countryside.

"Yeah?"

"I'm dating her. She asked me out a few days ago." Few days ago. Why did that sting so fucking much? You smile at him as you grip on the steering wheel until your knuckles turn white and your fingers go numb. It doesn't compare to the squeezing grip of whatever is holding your heart. No, you know who holds your heart and he doesn't even know it. It's my fault, I never told him. You try to reason with yourself but it doesn't stop the hurt.

"Congratulations then. Daisy is a sweet girl."

A few months later, you feel like you're going to throw up. You fight back any words threatening to come out of your mouth besides something good and kind because he doesn't deserve your anger or sadness. Simon doesn't know, you keep reminding yourself, you're just his best friend that he's confiding in. Just the person he's grown up with since ten years old, just the person who treated his busted lips, cuts and bruises. Just his best friend. Not the girl, not Daisy Lockmon who he thinks he loves. He probably does love her, you've never seen him look at someone the way he does Daisy.

You lay in the field, something that allows your stress to melt away, does nothing for you. Not as Simon lays next to you, not as you think about the times before all of this you could have said something. Simon says nothing, you say nothing and the two of you just watch the clouds float by. Simon sits up as he speaks, "I'm ready to leave, how about you?" Your heart clenches again, time in the field has been getting shorter and trips less frequent. You know it's not just because of his relationship and it's just how life is sometimes. He has his butcher's apprenticeship and you're studying for university classes but logic doesn't dictate emotion.

"In a moment, I'll catch up with you at the truck." You say, pasting on a smile. Simon shrugs and grunts as he gets up. You wait until you're sure he's already hopped the fence and heading towards the truck before you move over to his spot. Where the grass and flowers are flattened down into his shape, slowly you curl into the spot. For a moment, you imagined that you were the one he says he loves. For just a bittersweet moment, you pretend that you're his and he's yours.

"I'm joining the military." Your ceramic mug shatters on the floor. Just like that, everything comes crashing down. The world was still reeling from the twin towers attack in the United States, the sense of safety shattered in a terrorist attack.

"What?" That was the only word that could come from your mouth. You look at Simon with wide eyes, the cozy atmosphere of your flat turned cold. "You're joking. Right Simon?"

"I'm not."

"What about your apprenticeship Simon? You've been working as a butcher since you were 16. You're nearly done." The words come flying out of your mouth, "Simon-"

"I'm not asking you to understand my decision. I'm just telling you that I'm doing it and you can't stop me." You laugh bitterly and the sound is so foreign to both your ears and Simons.

"As if I could stop you Simon." You mutter, moving to grab a broom and dustpan to clean up the shattered mug on the floor. "But why? You've never once shown interest in joining the military." The answer is clear, its reason why many people were joining the military and you already know his answer before he opens his mouth.

"The attack in the US." Of course, he doesn't elaborate. "I'm being sent to bootcamp in two weeks."

"Two weeks? That's hardly any time at all." You sigh and sink down into your couch, putting your face in your hands as you try to process everything. "What about Daisy?"

"Broke up with her." He says so plainly and with a shrug of his shoulders. You have to bite your tongue to keep from saying something back handed. You're not petty, you're not petty, you're not petty, is the thought running through your head but you can't deny how good it feels to know he isn't dating her anymore. Not like you have much of a chance now since he's going off to bootcamp. "She said she didn't want to date a guy in the military. It's a deal breaker apparently." It's not for me you think quickly.

The day comes too quickly, for once you wished life would slow down and let you soak up Simon's presence in your life. It's not like he's dying, he's just going off to bootcamp and then he'll be back is what you think to keep yourself from falling apart. Nearly nine years of friendship, spending hardly any time or going a long distance away from one another, now Simon will be gone for 14 weeks. Then he'll be stationed somewhere for two to six years. You wrap your arms around him, squeezing him hard and burying your face into his jacket. "You be safe Simon Riley or I'll raise you from the dead."

He chuckles and pats your head, "Its bootcamp not an active war zone." You just shake your head and he wraps his arms around you. "But I'll be safe. I'll write to you every chance I get, I promise."

"Good."

The last three years had passed quickly with the letters from Simon being the only rest stop between university studies and work. Grabbing your coat from the back, you sigh as you finally shut off the lights to the cafe you work at part time. With a small click, your work day was finally, finally over. You twist the lock on the cafe front door, struggling momentarily from your thick gloves. You turn to start walking towards your rather cheap flat and scream when you see a massive figure barely a foot away. The familiar voice hissing your name made the panic subside as quickly as it appeared.

"Simon?"

"Glad to know you still have those pipes of yours." You look at Simon, he is barely illuminated by the street lights but you can still tell he's different now. He's no longer the slightly slender boy you knew three years ago. He wasn't slouching and made direct eye contact with you. You take him all in before you rush to him and wrap your arms around him, burying your face into his coat and drinking in his scent.

"Simon Riley," You whisper into his coat before pulling back to look up at him, "you've really grown. Come on, I'll let you crash at my place." He opens his mouth to argue but you're already pulling him along. You lead him to your flat, which isn't far away from your place of work thankfully. You kick off your shoes at the door and tell Simon to do the same. Placing a kettle on the stove to boil some water you then sit down and look at Simon. "So, what's brought you back here?" You ask.

Simon looks at you, drinking in your appearance. You look tired, worn down and ready to collapse. "I'm gonna fix my family." He finally answers after you cock your head to the side.

"You're... gonna fix your family?" You ask, leaning back as the words wash over you. Your heart hurt slightly for a reason you didn't want to understand, for a reason you didn't want to voice out loud or in your own head.

"Yes. And I'm not leaving until it is."

You purse your lips and get up to pour the boiling water into two cups. You put an earl gray tea bag with a splash of milk into the mug for Simon and a few cubes of sugar for your own cup of tea. You hand him the tea and sit back down as you continue to run through the implications of his choice. "Alright." You finally say. "You can crash at my place while you fix your family."

"You don't believe me." Simon states and you snap your head to look at him completely. "I know it sounds crazy but I'm stronger now. I can finally do what I've always wanted." He says between sips of his tea. "And I won't leave until it is fixed."

You sigh and set your cup down, "Fine." You get up and grab a piece of paper and a pen. You scribble down the addresses of Tommy's friends that he keeps couch surfing between before handing it to Simon. "This is what I know about Tommy. You'll probably get a confirmed address from your mom."

"And my dad?"

"Still an arsehole who comes and goes as he pleases." You grumble.

You walk out of your bedroom as quietly as possible. You peak over your couch and feel a weight lift off your chest. He was still here, right here in your flat. Your best friend, your rock and crush. Simon was finally back, not for the reason you might have fantasized about more than often you were willing to admit, but he was back. Love is such a funny thing, you think to yourself as you lay in bed. It had been three years since you had last seen him, hugging and barely holding back tears as he hopped on a bus to bootcamp. You hadn't cried that hard ever as you had cried on that day when he left. You turn onto your side and wipe away a few tears that leak from your eyes, at least he was here now.

You stand outside his family's home. You look down the street and recall the exact path that you could take to see your family. You had turned down Simon's offer to come inside, you didn't want to intrude on his reunion with his mother. You tap your foot as you lean against your truck, the same one you had driven to the fields outside of Manchester all those years ago. Simon steps outside of the house and hugs his mother one last time, his mouth moves but you don't hear what he has to say. His mother looks around him and looks at you. She's been crying you realize. You exchange a smile and a wave before she goes back inside of the house.

"Got the address?" You ask Simon as you both get into your truck.

"Got it." He confirms and gives you the address. You can't stop yourself from grimacing, of course it had to be that arsehole’s address. You hadn't left Simon in the dark of what was going on with his family while he was deployed and away. You didn't bother to spare details, okay, well maybe a few. Mostly about your own interactions with Tommy and his friends. But Simon didn't need to hear that, he had already sworn to come back and fix his family at least a dozen times since the third month. He didn't need to stress himself over you.

The car ride was quiet, the radio was off and the only sound was the wind blowing in through the open windows. You can feel the rage rolling off him but also the concern for his brother. The truck comes to stop outside of a dingy and unwelcoming flat building, you look at Simon and take him in. His brown eyes fill with determination and rage the longer he looks at the building. Finally, he opens the door, "I'm gonna get Tommy." He says before turning to go into the building after shutting the door. You let out a shaky sigh and let go of the steering wheel, looking at your shaking hands you try not to think too hard about what Tommy and his friends had done. What kind of people they were.

Tommy, your best friend's young brother had let his so-called friends push you around at your job until they were banned by your manager. Then they slashed your tires. Tommy hadn't changed, just become a carbon copy of dirt-bag father. Simon was made from something different, he was his mother's son, the undying love of his family and the ability to go with the flow of life. To never give up. You tense up as the people who lived in the flat walk past you, your breathing becoming more shallow as you watch them enter the flat. Oh god. Oh god. You panic and go to unbuckle yourself but struggle as your trembling hands only become worse.

You could hear the fighting coming from inside the house as you finally unbuckle yourself. There were five of them and only one of him. Oh god. Oh god. You push the truck door open and nearly tumble out, rushing to Simon's aid. You didn't expect to see him handling himself well against five other people while Tommy crouches low to avoid the fight altogether. One of the men goes to try and put Simon in a headlock, you do the only thing you can think of. You grab the man's jacket and pull him into your punch.

Simon places Tommy in the back seat, telling him he's going to bring him to the clinic and get him clean. You rub your throbbing knuckles, the pain from that one punch still echoing in your body. Simon gently takes your hand and inspects your knuckles, clicking his tongue. "You were never much of a fighter." He comments and looks up into your eyes. "But that was a good punch."

You're standing outside the clinic, the cold early spring wind making you pull your jacket closer to your body. Today was the day Tommy was going to be released, you weren't going to turn down Simon's request for you to be there. You had been spending more and more time with Simon and his mother. She is such a sweet lady, and loves her sons more than anything in the entire world. Simon looks at you and smiles, "I told you I would fix my family."

You roll your eyes, "I'll believe Tommy is clean when I see it." You grumble.

"I know he wasn't a good man back then,"

"He was a fucking mess Simon." You say, "He and his druggie friends cornered me once, demanded whatever money I had on me." You finally spill your guts, "I don't like him. You've been defending Tommy and his stupidity every day since I've known you." You look him right in the eyes, "He doesn't deserve your love or your mothers. As far as I'm concerned, he's been on my shit list since the first time I had to clean your bloody lip."

Simon looks at you for a long moment, your words hanging in the air until he pulls you into a hug. "I'm sorry." He mutters and hides his face in the crook of your neck. You freeze and he hugs you tighter, "I'm so sorry. You should have told me about that. I would have never-"

"Don't be sorry." You whisper quickly, "Never be sorry. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry. Simon you're too kind, too forgiving."

"That's not true."

"I think it is."

Someone coughs and Simon lets go of you, his face breaking into a smile as Tommy stands in front of the two of you. He looks different, better. Healthy and alive. "Can we go home now?" He asks. You watch as Simon walks up to Tommy and wraps him in his arms.

"Of course."

You watch from the driver's seat as their mum opens the door and jump into Tommy's arms as Tommy hugs her tight. You can't help the smile that grows on your face when Simon joins the hug. Their mum looks at you and motions you to join them. You shake your head but Simon walks over and pretty much drags you from the car and into the group hug.

Later that night, their mum pulls you to the side. "Thank you." She says and takes your hand into hers, "for being there for my Simon."

"It really was nothing." You assure her and she shakes her head.

"You love him very much. Don't try to deny it, you've stuck by his side all these years and I've seen the way you look at him." She winks, "I just hope the two of you get together before I'm dead."

You can't help the quiet laugh that comes from your throat, "Me too." You whisper and look over at Simon who sits next to Tommy as they watch a football match after eating dinner.

You can hardly believe that you're sitting here at Tommy's wedding next to their mum as you comfort her. Simon stands as Tommy's best man as they trade vows. Beth looks beautiful as she always has. Long black hair and charming blue eyes, she was beyond kind as well. Perfect for Tommy who hadn't lost some of his snark but Beth softened him. You look at Simon and smile when you notice he's holding back tears as they exchange vows.

The wedding's reception wasn't filled to the brim with people but it was lively, friends and distant family members mingled as you sit at a table with a glass of champagne. Simon lets out a sigh as he sits next to you at the edge of the party. "Are you having fun?" You tease and Simon rolls his eyes. Joseph, Simon's nephew who you are sure will never know a day of fear or hurt like his uncle and father, is exchanged between party members and snuck small bites of cake.

"I'd let to get away from all of this for a moment." He admits as he runs a hand through his sandy blonde hair. You remember when he was the sad strawberry blond boy that rainy school day. The way he avoided eye contact and others. You smile and take his hand.

"Then lets go."

You can faintly hear the music from the reception but other wise, this bench away from the party was the perfect place. The night sky is some what visible, with only the brightest stars being visible from all the light pollution of the city. A small breeze blows through your hair and you close your eyes to just soak in the moment. You open your eyes and Simon looks at you, softness in his eyes.

"What?"

"You're stunning." He says and you furrow your brows, ignoring the heat in your cheeks and neck. He leans in closer and cups your cheek, "Can I kiss you?" The words don't come to you but you nod frantically, feeling worried that he might change his mind for some reason. His eyes look between your eyes and lips before he leans in. The kiss is slow and he holds you like you might break or in case you want to leave. His lips are slightly chapped but soft and you vaguely wonder if he put on flavored chapstick earlier. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer and he takes the hint. The kiss turns from soft to practically ravenous as he holds you close, your mouth parts automatically and he slips his tongue in.

When you finally pull back to breath deeper, he looks at you with amazement. "I love you Simon Riley." You whisper and rest your forehead against his, "I have since we were 15. Don't leave me again Simon. Not if you can help it."

"You're gonna hate me then." He whispers as he holds you close. "I'm returning to duty in a month."

"I could never hate you Simon. Not in a million years. Just… write to me and when you go on leave again,” You take a steadying breath, “We can talk about what we are." He nods and you press your lips to his again.

You stand in the rain. You fucking hate the rain. It soaks through your black clothes and makes it stick to your skin. It mats down your hair and hides the tears that run down your face. There is no one here, no one but you and the priest at this funeral. How could this happen, you wonder. Everything was perfect. You look at the name on the gravestone. Tommy, Beth and Joseph, there's another gravestone a few feet away that has his mothers and fathers name on it. Simon is the only one who is buried alone. A bitter and petty choice from their distant family. Everyone thinks Simon did it. There was no proof to prove otherwise and it fit the story. A soldier returns home and suffers a PTSD breakdown and kills his entire family.

It didn't make sense. Simon was getting better, he promised he was getting better and attending therapy appointments. He loved Joseph, he loved his family and he loved you. He would have never done this. Maybe he would have murdered his father but the anger there was long and bitter, if he wanted to kill his father, he would have done it years ago.

Earlier last month, you had passed by a stand with different brochures. Some of them were for churches, others for activities to do with the family. Normally, you would have passed by it, eager to leave the store as quickly as possible. But you stopped this time and glanced at a particular brochure, you picked it from its spot and glanced over it. “You belong here.” A soldier is yelling while another is taking cover, inside are different recruiting offices and general information. You pocket it.

It was an impulsive decision. But the papers were filed and your two week notice already given. You didn't want to think about the consequences of what you were about to do, you just felt lost. University didn't matter, your cafe job didn't matter and every street in this fucking city reminded you of him. You decided if you were going to join the military. You had been accepted, the letter sat in your bag now that all of your items in your flat had been packed up and stored in your old childhood bedroom. This was just the last thing to do before the bus picks you up tomorrow morning.

You throw the roses in your hand into the caskets until you reach Simons. Your hand trembles as it holds the thorny rose, shakily you bring it to your lips and kiss the petals before tossing it into his grave. "I love you Simon Riley."

You watch as the city of Manchester flows past you like a river. It's raining again and the droplets obscure your vision of the outside world. People around you talk and you realize just how out of place you are. These are 16, 17 and 18 year olds with bright eyes and dreams. You vaguely wonder if Simon had sat in silence as he liked to do or if he had been dragged into a conversation. You glance at your duffle bag by your feet before leaning your head back and shutting your eyes. The bus ride would be a long one, you figure that some rest would make it faster.

Your name is called and you step forward, you hold onto the bag of items shoved into your arms. You listen to the drill sergeant yell that these are your items. You are responsible for maintaining and keeping track of all things in this bag. You realize, in a way that makes it difficult not to smile, that Simon was right. They are hard arses here.

The scratches that litter your body sting as you crawl through the mud and muck underneath the barbed wire with a rifle held close to your chest. You breathe out puffs of condensation in the air, you’re shivering and you keep your jaw clenched so your teeth don’t chatter. You keep crawling, inching like a caterpillar towards the end of this section and fight the urge to just lay there on the ground. The cold rain soaks through your clothes and you grunt when part of the barbed wire above you catches onto your leg again. “Fuck.” You hiss but you’re nearly there.

You wonder why Simon never told you about this but he never seemed to tell you anything. You curse the dead man and curse yourself for being impulsive. Nearly done with university and you dropped out for him, for a dead man who was buried alone in his own grave. You use your anger to make it to the end, your uniform is covered in mud and the sensation makes your skin crawl but you run forward towards the rope wall, swinging your rifle over your back. “Come on Private!” The drill sergeant screams at you, “I’ve seen injured men move faster than you do!” You grit your teeth as he mocks you.

It's his job, you remind yourself, to try and break you. If Simon leaving didn’t break you, if him and his family dying didn’t break you then this fucking drill sergeant was not going to break you. You climb up the rope and grapple onto the next bit of rope, locking your legs with your ankles and you inch down the rope even as your hands burn.

That night as you sit in the corner of the mess hall, you itch at the bandages wrapped around your hand. Whatever salve the lady in the med bay had slathered onto your hand hadn’t done much to cool the burning. You know it's counterintuitive to scratch at it but who was going to stop you? You were an adult now and could suffer the consequences of your stupid actions. Like not demanding Simon give you answers on why he was pulling away after finally confessing his feelings. You clench your fist and smother those feelings with the pain you feel.

No matter how many times you try to remind yourself there's no point in focusing on the past you can’t stop. How can you stop? Everything you’ve done has been for him and now he’s gone and you’re still doing things for him. You look around the mess hall at the different groups of fellow trainee’s and know you’ll never have that kind of connection with anyone else. Simon was it. Your best friend since childhood, your first crush and first heartbreak. You wander outside and sit on a stack of crates near the mess when the talking and clanking of silverware grows too much.

The night is cool, the sky is clear from the rain that had poured so hard earlier but you can’t see the stars anyway. You go to itch at your hand again when a drill sergeant comes around the corner. You stiffen up and immediately get up to salute but he dismisses you before you even get your hand to your forehead. “Private, why aren’t you in the mess eating?”

“Lost my appetite, sir.” You reply, “Figured some fresh air would do me some good.” You go to scratch at your hand again and his eyes snap to the motion.

“Private, did the nurse not provide you with burn cream?” He asked and it was weird having the man who yelled at you all day suddenly become concerned for your well-being.

“She did, sir, it just itches.” You explain and the drill sergeant makes a face, for a second you worry that he will demand that you return to the med bay again. Instead, he nods.

“Dismissed Private. Get some rest.” You nod and scurry away to your barracks.

The helicopter’s wings slow but any flyaways in your hair whip and stick to your face anyways. After serving in the SAS for five years, you had been picked by Chief station Laswell and Captain John Price to be a part of the 141 task force. You couldn’t believe you had finally done it, all these years of serving and you start to finally believe that you might’ve done Simon some justice. All the broken bones, bruises and scars are worth it if it means he’s looking down on you fondly. You look between the four men in front of you. You recognize Captain Price immediately with his boonie hat and well groomed mutton chops. He extends his hand which you take and shake with a firm grip. “Boys, this is Gator. They’ll be joinin’ our task force startin’ today.”

The man standing next to Price smiles at you, beautiful white teeth with a stunning smile and soft brown eyes. He has a scar on his cheek and you wonder how he got it as you shake his hand, “This is Sergeant Garrick.” Price says and you beam back at him.

“A pleasure to meet you Sergeant.”

“No need for that, just call me Gaz.” He assures you and lets go of your hand. You turn to meet the third man and before you can even open your mouth or extend your hand to shake, he’s grabbing yours with a grip tight enough to shatter a few bones. He has a stupid mohawk haircut that he somehow makes work, crystal blue eyes and you can tell that he’s a little mischievous.

“I’m Sergeant MacTavish but e’eryone calls me Soap.” He laughs, warm like an early summer day, when he sees your eyebrows raise. “I’ll tell ye why later.” He promises with a wink.

“Oi! Johnny, stop hoggin’ the new meat.” You turn to the voice and have to stop yourself from taking a step back just so you could look at the man fully. He’s fucking huge. Broad shoulders, wearing all black and a skull mask to hide his face. You can barely make out his brown eyes from under all that eye black. His accent is rough, with a voice that gives away how much he smokes. He looks down at you, like you suspect he has to most people, and you want to slink away into whatever hole he thinks you crawled out of. Despite this, you stick your hand out for him to shake.

“And this is your Lieutenant, Ghost.” You have to stop yourself from snorting. Ghost, how fitting for a man literally wearing a skull mask. He grips your hand and gives it a firm shake as his eyes burn holes into your soul. You look at his hand when you feel something other than familiar flesh, it's a glove. Even funnier, its skeleton gloves. It sends you nearly into a giggle fit, yes this man is intimidating to a point where you would have been shaking in your boots a few years ago. But he’s unironically wearing skeleton gloves. How is that not funny? He gives you a firm shake but just as quickly removes his gloved hand from yours. “Alright Gator, Ghost will give you a quick tour around here and then I want you to report for training at 0500 hours.”

The tour is silent besides the simple sentences Ghost speaks and you’re that sure he wouldn’t if Price hadn’t put him on the spot for giving you the tour. “This ‘ere is the training hall, this is where yer expected to be tomorrow.” He gruffly says, stiff as a board. You nod and nearly jump out of your skin when someone wraps their arm around your shoulders.

“There ye are! I was tryin’ tae find ye.”

“Sergeant.” Ghost says gruffly and Soap rolls his eyes before removing his arm. “They are busy.”

“Away an bile yer heid.” Soap says with a laugh, “I ken that yer aboot as excited fer this tour as they are.” You didn’t need to see Ghost roll his eyes to know he did, it was just in the way the air shifts around the three of you. “Lemme take over the rest of the tour aye?” Ghost sighs but concedes which confirms that he would really rather be anywhere else than giving the FNG a tour. “Good lad.” Soap chuckles and pats Ghost’s shoulder.

Ghost leaves quickly for being a man so massive and Soap turns to you, “Dinnae mind him, he’s a big grump.” You snort and laugh while nodding in agreement. “Alright, let's continue this tour.” Soap claps a hand on your back and for the rest of the day, with breaks for food of course, he showed you around. He was certainly better at it then Ghost who acted like he had been asked to travel across the sahara desert while carrying you.

“Steamin’ Jesus.” Soap groans while he stumbles back from you. Sweat sticks to your forehead and your usual hairdo is ruined but so is the way of sparring and training. “I see why they call ye Gator.” He grumbles as he holds his head. “Ye fuckin’ death rolled me.” Soap accuses and it was true. You have the strength to take down men bigger than you in not only height but sheer mass. It was a skill you had honed for the past several years ever since you figured it out in bootcamp.

You wrap your arms around him as he tries to pin you to the mat and roll. You twist with all your might and switch the position then without a second thought you slam your head against his. The force knocks your brain around and the headache you’ll get later is going to be absolutely terrible but the man under you groans and holds his forehead. “I yield! Holy shite.” He curses as you immediately back away from him. You glance around at the group of people who had made it this far into the training and then meet the eyes of your drill sergeant who, if you weren’t mistaken and didn’t have a concussion, looked almost proud.

That night as you hold an ice pack against your forehead and sit outside the mess hall away, he approaches again. “Never seen a private do that.” He says after immediately acknowledging your salute and telling you to be at ease. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone do that before.” You sheepishly shrug.

“I didn’t want to lose.”

“And so you didn’t.” A silence hangs in the air as the crickets chirp and you wonder if that's an owl’s hoot you hear. “I think you're going to have a nickname before you even leave camp.” He says, “You have the other sergeants wantin’ to call you Gator.”

“Gator?” You ask even if you understand the implications. You guess you did a kind of death roll that poor buy but Gator? Really?

“Better than some poor sod who got named Dirt because he ended up with a mouth full of dirt after tripping on the 20 mile march.” You chuckle at that.

“I guess Gator is much better than Dirt.”

“That’s the spirit. You better get some rest for tomorrow, Private.” He says before walking away and just like that time, leaving you to sit in the cool night air before you heed his warning.

You grit your teeth as Ghost ignores you again. You’re just trying to get him to sign from fucking paperwork Captain Price asked of you. “Lieutenant I need-”

“Not now sergeant.” Ghost says as he walks away from you and you want to scream. Its been like this the entire time you’ve been on this team. At first you thought it was his way of hazing you, act like a dickhead and see if the FNG breaks. Well you haven’t broken, you’ve only doubled down because every time he acts like this you keep being reminded of Simon and how he wouldn’t have given up.

At least Gaz and Soap were more open to you being on their task force now that months had passed. Although you doubt if Soap had ever disliked the idea of you being on the force. You barely duck Gaz’s punch but aren’t fast enough to catch his leg before it slams full force into your side. You grab it before he can bring it back and yank on it so he falls onto the floor, he rolls over before you can pin him down. You stare at each other for a moment before you lunge at him like a rabid dog without a leash.

He steps to the side and then grabs the back of your shirt collar to slam you down into the mat. You squirm and fight to keep him from pinning your arms back but it's no use. And in this position, death rolling him was nearly impossible. And you’ve definitely been trying. “Distracted Gator?” Gaz asks as he pants and you snarl back at him before you let out a meek ‘I yield’. He releases you immediately and you rub your wrists. “Broken?”

“Negative.” You say as you walk over to grab your bottle of water.

Watching you spar from the corner was Ghost. He observes the way you fight and the way you wiggle out of every attempt to pin you until the last. If it wasn’t for your infamous ability to death roll, he’s sure you would have ended up being called Weasel. And wasn’t that an amusing thought? Still better than Soap. “Ye stalkin’ the FNG.” Soap teases and Ghost glances down at Soap with what he knows is a deadpan expression. Or at least deadpan eyes. Mask and all that.

“You stalkin’ me?” Ghost shoots back and Soap grins this feral grin that makes Ghost groan inwardly because that grin meant only one thing. Dog with a fuckin’ bone, thats what Soap is when he thinks he’s smelt something out. “Don’t start MacTavish.”

“Oh its MacTavish it is?” Soap feigns hurt as he clutches his chest. “Ye wound me sir.”

“It is when yer about to say somethin’ god awfully stupid.”

“Yer no fun L.T.” Soap laments and Ghost rolls his eyes while shaking his head at Soap’s antics. Soap looks past Ghost and to Gator who is talking with Gaz on the bench while the two of them drink water and give the other advice. “Slippery thing they are.” Soap comments and Ghost nods. “Dinnae think I’ve ever seen someone slip out of your hold befure.”

“Is tha’ the reason yer botheirn’ me Sergeant?”

“Botherin’ ye? Nae sir, jus’ wanna see how Gaz manages to take them down.” Soap says, a half truth and they both know it.

“They gave him a hard time too.”

“Do ye think tha’ they oil up befure every sparrin’ match?” Soap says with a smile and Ghost rolls his eyes despite the small smile growing beneath his mask. You look up and notice Soap and Ghost which immediately makes him want to flee the scene. Every time you lock eyes with him, it sends him back to his time in Mexico. You’re a constant reminder and he wants you gone. Simon is dead and he’s not sure why you even joined the fucking military in the first place. Last he knew you were close to finishing off your degree, did you drop out to join this place?

Ghost grits his teeth as he shoves the memories of both Roba and you back into the box he had stuffed the two of you into years ago. He can’t open the box for one without the other escaping. You offer him a small smile and he turns on his heel. He walks as quickly as he can back to his private quarters, perks of being an officer and also being dead he guessed. He slams his door behind him and marches right into the bathroom. He yanks off the mask and stares at himself. He stares at the scars across his face, his broken one-too-many-times nose and the scar that cuts his lip. He takes stalk of his flaws within his face, the one you had seen and hadn’t recoiled from.

He wonders if you even suspect that its him and his chest hurts at the thought that you’ve forgotten him. But he knows he hasn’t earned his right back into your life, he’s dead. He can never be the man you need or want, he’s different now. Much more scarred than when he returned from Mexico, he’s brash and rude. He doesn’t like people and he doesn’t like that he still wants to be near you. It’s irrational, it’s stupid and there’s nothing he can do about it but try and get to you to quit.

“Captain Price told me to give this to you.” A Corporal says, clearly shaking in his boots, as he hands Ghost a file. “A-and he told me that he wants you in the briefing room.”

“Dismissed Corporal.” Ghost says and the man scurries off. Ghost looks at the file and opens it, the first thing he sees is that it’s a duo op. The second thing he sees is that you’re the one coming along. “Fuckin’ hell.” He mutters as he looks at your little picture papercliped to the top of the page next to his faceless one.

“He always does that.” You groan to Gaz as you watch Ghost turn on his heel and leave once you lock eyes with him. “Did I do something wrong?” You ask, “It's been months.”

Gaz shrugs, “Ghost is an enigma, when you start to think you know him you find something else about him. That man has secrets upon secrets.” You frown at that statement. Obviously he was hiding his face to protect his identity and of course that made you naturally curious but you’ve never pressed about it. He’s quiet and efficient if any of the stories told you by Gaz and Soap were anything to go by. And now he’s a secret keeper.

Who are you Ghost?

You sit at the table in the briefing room, bouncing your leg up and down under the table as Captain Price goes over what the mission objective is and what intel you and Ghost will be going in with. The mission is in Siberia, the objective is to get an old usb drive from a recently re-abandoned USSR base. You glance over at Ghost who hasn’t stopped looking at you this entire time, only dragging his eyes away from you when Captain Price addresses him specifically. His brown eyes seem to be trying to burn holes into your very soul so you try to match it. This would be your first duo op with Ghost and you would not be pushed around during it.

”The group that had been inhabiting the old soviet base are still lingering around and might return when they realize that they’ve left behind a very important piece of information.” Captain Price says and points to the projected map on the wall. “You’ll need to be fast and efficient. Is that clear?” His blue eyes scan over the two of you and both of you echo a ‘yes sir’ at the same time. “Good, get your gear and be ready, you’re wheels up in two hours.”

“Yes sir.” You say and leave the room after being properly dismissed. You look at the file in your hand, the information covered in the briefing summarized in the file with certain things blacked out. Like the fact this is in Siberia or that it’s an old soviet base that had been taken over by a terrorist group for a short while. You worry about that fact, if this base had been well and truly abandoned, why would the group set up there? Siberia wasn’t exactly a very hospitable environment and would take a certain amount of resources to deal with. Not just any kind of terrorist group would be able to afford those expenses.

“What’s got ye frownin’ so hard?” Soap asks and you jolt, not even aware that Soap had come up to you. He glances at the file and whistles, “Yer on a mission with L.T?”

”Somethin’ wrong with that? Something I should be worried about?” You ask, glancing behind Soap to make sure that specter wasn’t there.

“Nae, nothin’ ye should worry about besides the stick up his arse.” Soap jokes and you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you. Soap grins, “There’s that smile.” Soap pinches your cheek and you swat at his hand.

”What are you? My aunt?”

”Nae I’m worse.” Soap laughs as he goes to pinch your cheek again. You squeal and laugh as you take off towards the armory and Soap gives chase. You eventually make him leave, shoo-ing him off so you can change into your gear. The gear is heavy but familiar, a comforting kind of weight that you always mourn once an op is over. Tightening the strap of your vest until you felt like it was secure enough and doing the same thing with the gun holster on your thigh.

”You tighten it anymore and you’ll lose blood flow.” Ghost grunts and you stop yourself from startling a little. Ghost walks up to you and loosens the straps himself a little before your brain starts working again. You slap his hands away and glare up at him.

”I am perfectly capable of knowing when to stop tightening my straps.” You hiss. You had been in the SAS long enough to know your preferences and the fact that he is trying to baby you is insulting at best and downright disrespectful at worst. Ghost stares down at you, brown eyes dead but also filled with some kind of emotion you can’t place. He says nothing else, doesn’t even grunt, before he turns to get his gear on. You huff and finish preparing your items for the op.

You go over the file one last time while on the flight to Siberia, flipping through the different pages and you can’t fight off the gut feeling that something isn’t right. You bounce your leg as you look at the map of the base, for an old soviet base, it's small. Granted, you don’t know how big USSR bases in Siberia tended to be but this is just too small. You glance at Ghost and contemplate mentioning this to him but since the armory he hasn’t spoken a word to you. Let alone even look your way which would normally be a reprieve but right now you wish he would look, just so you’d feel less awkward starting a conversation. You remind yourself that he’s a Lieutenant, he knows more than a Sergeant such as yourself. You need to trust your commanding officer.

Ghost can feel the warmth from you, like you had leaked a part of yourself into his gloves and now he can’t get rid of it. He doesn’t understand why he had approached and went to fix your straps, really they are too tight for comfort, but when you had slapped his hands away it was like a shock had gone through him. Like his entire system had been rebooted from the simple touch, now he can’t even bear to look at you. He can feel the weight of your gaze on him though and that’s how he knows that he acted out of character. He clenches his fist so tight his knuckles are cramped when he opens it again, he wishes you would just say what you want to say.

He wishes you would yell at him so he would have something to tell Price about, to maybe get you booted off the team. He’s been a prick to you, moving your stuff in the rec room, eating your food and being condescending. What kind of drill sergeant you had, he didn’t know but they must’ve turned your will into steel. Or maybe you were always like that, you hadn’t given up on him when you got a glance at his life at home. You treated his bloody noses and busted lips, you convinced your parents to let him stay over as often as possible. You even went with him to get Tommy despite the shit Tommy and his shitty friends had put you through.

Ghost clenches his jaw, no matter what, this is better for you. He just needs to get you to quit or maybe transfer to some kind of safer job in the military if you’re so hell bent on staying. He still can’t wrap his mind around the fact that you dropped out of university. He steals a glance and sees you looking at the file the same way you would look at study notes before a test.

You were right. Of course you were fucking right. Why do you have to be right? The base is much, much bigger than the intel said and worse is the fact that its not completely abandoned. “Get the fuck out of there!” Ghost yells over comms and you’re so close to just tearing the wiring in half so you don’t have to listen to him. You turn another corner, refilling the ammo in your pistol as the sound of pounding footsteps echo down the long concrete hallways of this underground base. You wait for the man to turn the corner and shoot him right between the eyes, the muzzle on your pistol only does so much and the sound bounces off the walls. ”I said to get out of there soldier!”

You snarl, “I’m getting this fucking USB drive, fuck off!” You say into comms as you run down the halls. Lights flicker above you and distantly you can hear soldiers yelling. Just a few more turns, you tell yourself as you slide into a wall, using your arms you push off it and keep going. Once out of this god forsaken underground, NOT abandoned, USSR base you’d die happy never seeing another concrete hall. You slam the door open to the server room stored deep in the base and lock it behind you, hoping that might spare you some time between you and soldiers surely running down the halls towards you.

”Don’t ignore me Sergeant!” His voice comes out warbled, likely because you’re so far underground. You clench your jaw so hard your teeth hurt as you fling open different desk drawers, toss everything onto the desk in search of the USB they sent you here for in the first place. After six desks, you realize there is no way there is a USB.

”Fucking CIA intel.” You grab an unused USB from a desk and jam it into the nearest computer. “Fucking lucky I took that damn class.” You mutter to yourself as you bypass the passwords and begin to download the information.

”Sergeant! I said get out of there, use your bloody ears!”

”I have to download everything myself!” You yell into the comms, “The intel was shite!” You slam your pistol into the PC you’re not currently using. “Fucking CIA.”

”I don’t care! I’m pulling us from this mission.”

”I’m getting this USB Lieutenant, you’re welcome to chew me out once I’m back on the surface.” You snap, “Going dark.”

”Don’t you da-“ You rip the wires out of your comms and throw the damn thing onto the floor.

Ghost yells into the comms again but only gets static back, he looks down at the base from the scope of his sniper. It looks abandoned, it looks small and easy to navigate but he heard what you said. He knows that its all a facade, that the terrorist group had found tunnels to another base nearby and have been smuggling weapons and food between those tunnels, hardly ever having to go outside at this base. Which is what led the intel team to believe its been abandoned and therefore an easy op. His heart is pounding against his chest and it hurts from how hard its beating against his chest, he keeps trying the comms. “Gator! Gator turn your comms back on!” He snarls into the mic but still nothing.

It’s then that it dawns on him that you didn’t just turn comms off, you ripped the wiring out. “God damn it.” He grunts as he gets off the ground, the snow disguising him falls to the ground as he hauls his sniper up and buries it under the snow between two trees. He pulls out his shitty cracked phone, that he frankly refuses to replace. He knows why and its not because he doesn’t like the newer versions. It’s because this one has those pictures of you, the version of you that hadn’t turned your back on civilian life yet. The version of you that makes him feel kind of sick for looking at now that he knows you now.

He opens up his map to the coordinates to the nearest safe house, and grabs his pistol before he puts his phone away. He sighs and makes his way down towards the base that must be crawling with enemy terrorists but no one gets left behind. And he’s not about to let you die down there, his grip on his pistol tightens for just a second before he forces his fist to relax. He saunters his way in, everyone is far too distracted with chasing you down to pay attention to the cameras. He slides down the ladder into the base and is immediately greeted with the muffled sound of an alarm. “Fucking hell.” He mutters as he readies his pistol and knife.

You grunt, push the metal cabinet against the door, pushing through the pain in your thigh to do so. By the time it’s in place, you collapse against the wall next to it, grunting at the pain that shoots up your thigh in quick bursts. You look at the bullet wound and can’t help the disgust that crawls up your face when you realize it's pumping blood out in the rhythm of your heart beat. It’s funny, you’ve been shot before but you never had the time to look at it. It makes sense that it would do that though. You lean your head back against the concrete wall and can’t help the sob that rips it way out of your throat. Not because you’re going to die, not entirely because of that. Because you’re going to die in a concrete box alone.

You smear your bloody hand against the wall, wiping it off as you fumble with your shirt, pull just enough fabric out and rip it. No, you think, you’re not going to die here. Anywhere but in fucking Siberia surrounded by enemies and in a damn concrete room underground. You wrap the torn fabric around your thigh, just above the wound and wrap it tightly. So tightly you can actually feel the blood flow being slowed and this time on purpose. You check the bullets in your pistol and laugh when you see only two. “And I’m fucking out.” You mumble just as you hear someone’s boots echo outside of the room. You rise on shaky legs and bite your tongue to keep from crying out from the pain but walk over to the corner. You raise the gun and point towards the metal cabinet that is rocking from the force of what must be either several people pushing or one big motherfucker.

You don’t pray, no sense in praying right now. Even if you did ask for forgiveness you wouldn’t get it, the blood on your hands is more than any person can justify, not even God because it is a rule. Thou shall not murder. You huff out a laugh at that, well you’ve certainly sinned. The metal cabinet comes crashing down and in bursts three men. Fuck. You fire your last two shots and take down the first two but when the third enemy hears the gun click, he laughs. It’s an ugly and horrible laugh, one that expresses his entire arrogance of you being in this situation. Wounded and without any ammo, your knife left behind in some fuckers neck a few corners ago. “You lose.” He taunts as he walks closer and your leg finally loses feeling, you slide down the wall as you stare at the man who is going to hopefully bring you death.

You’re reminded of that quote you read once, When I die, bury me in the woods, the wolves will be kinder to me than any man. And if you weren’t about to meet your end, you’d laugh at the fact you can’t even remember the woman who said it. You hope she got her wish. The man raises his pistol and presses it to your temple. You hear a bang echo in the room and expect for it all to be over but you grunt when the man lands on you. “What the fuck?” You mutter as you struggle to push the weight of a dead man off of you. He’s pulled off of you and you look up at the bloody skull face plate, “Aren’t you just a life saver?” You quip before you throw up.

Ghost huffs when you pass out after throwing up and narrowly avoiding his boots. He hauls you up and over his shoulder, tucking your pistol into your thigh holster. Trying to get you up the ladder was hell, he was constantly afraid that his grip would loosen and you’d fall to your death. The walk to the safe house is about half way done when he feels your stirring. He grips you tighter just in case you try to flail around and attempt to land yourself in the snow.

When you come to, you realize that you’re over someone’s shoulder. Just as you’re about to flail around, the memory of Ghost standing over you. “Awake now?” Ghost asks, his voice rough as always and that reminds you of someone you used to know. You give your reply in the form of a groan which is all that seems to want to leave your mouth. “We’re about an hour away from a safe house.”

”And I wasn’t told?” You snap, anger pushing past the way you feel like you’re going to throw up if you speak again.

”Need to know.”

”Well I might’ve needed to know!” You flail your arms around harmlessly before you collapse back to being a rag doll on his back. He doesn’t respond and when you think he’s about to return to his normal grumpy silence, he breaks it.

”What the fuck were you thinkin’?” He snaps and you jolt awake from the half sleep you had unknowingly slipped into. “Ripping your comm wires out and going dark. What the fuck Sergeant?”

”I wasn’t able to focus with you screaming at me to abandon the mission.” You immediately jump to defend, “I got the damn USB drive with the intel they need, I completed the mission.” You don’t even realize that he’s reached the safe house until he nearly kicks the door in because the doorknob is frozen. He practically tosses you onto the couch before slamming the door shut. “I completed the objective.” You nearly snarl out.

”You failed to follow simple orders to retreat.” He slams his pistol and knife down on the table, “You nearly died.”

”Yeah, well it didn’t seem like you’d care all that fucking much if I did! If I hadn’t gotten the USB,” You pull the damn thing from your front vest pouch and throw it onto the table. “then the entire thing would have been a waste!”

”I don’t care about the USB, if you’re in danger like that you follow my damn orders! I can’t lose you!” Ghost grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you just a little. You look at him, feeling confusion creep up before it is swallowed down by anger.

”What?”

”Forget about it.”

”No. You’ve been treating me like a damn nuisance the minute I joined the task force and now you suddenly care? Why now huh? Why now? Because you sure didn’t act like I mattered very much.”

”I said forget about it.” He snarls but you go to stand on shaking legs

”No fuck that! Fuck you Ghost! What changed?” You keep hounding him until he slams his fist down the table and rips off his mask.

Rage boils up in you so quickly, so quickly you aren’t able to express it all just through yelling. It burns you up, sets you on fire and throws lighter fluid into that inferno any time you think it's about to burn a little less. It’s all consuming anger mixed with all those years of grief that you never properly addressed, just slapped a bandaid on called military life and carried on. Hot tears run down your face as you scream and rage at him. You even throw something at him, though he ducks out of the way easily. “You fucking bastard! You bastard! Fuck you Simon Riley!” You scream as you cry, head pounding from something. The pain in your thigh? The rage in your temple? Or how hard you’re crying? Probably a mixture of all three. “You’re dead! I buried you! I went to your funeral Riley!” You throw something else at him, probably an MRE.

He says your name gently, like he’s trying to soothe an animal but you’re frankly ready to sink your teeth into his skin if he tries to approach. “You didn’t even have the courage to write? Not even a little postcard? Something! Anything! To let me know you’re not dead? You’re lucky I’m not able to walk.” You spit.

”Would you listen-“ Simon tries to say but you immediately cut him off. Hearing his voice makes whatever walls you have built up over these five years crumble so easily. You can’t let him speak or else you’ll fall into his arms and just cry. And you need to be angry because you deserve to be angry.

”No! You listen to me Simon Riley!” You ball your hands into fists, “Why? Why did you treat me like shit? Why did you undermine me at every turn? It’s bad enough that you let me believe that you were dead! Wasn’t that enough for you? But of course it wasn’t, you had to make my life hell because you met me again!”

”Shut up!” Simon finally snaps, his brown eyes swirling with fury and guilt. “I had my reasons and if you would just-”

”Well what were they then? Huh? I’m all fucking ears.”

”You keep interrupting me. If you didn’t-“

”You had months to come clean Simon! Years if you count the time before I met you again and after all that time you couldn’t just be a man and tell me? Couldn’t even send me a hint that you were alive?” You slam your fist into the wall, you ignore the pain that shoots right up your arm into your shoulder. You glare at him through your tears and wipe at them frantically. “You didn’t even try.”

”I did it to protect you! And if you’d just let me speak I’d tell you all the reasons I had to not tell you or even let you think I was alive!” Simon finally manages to say, he goes to speak again and you hold up your hand.

”Don’t talk to me Simon Riley.” You say as you wipe away any tears from your cheeks that hadn’t rolled all the way down. Your eyes burn and your stomach hurts from just how much you’re feeling right now. Deep down, past the anger you feel relief because he’s alive. Your Simon is alive and maybe more rough around the edges with a scar bisecting his lip, a nasty scar along his cheek and nose broken and not properly set several times. You’re also sure his eye bags have increased tenfold since you last saw him but his eye black keeps that little fact hidden from you. His teeth are chipped and broken but his brown eyes still hold that same depth. You can tell he still smiles the same and he’s still that overprotective boy who had scared off your date that one time just by opening the door.

That’s still your Simon Riley. But damn him to the deepest hell and back for making your heart hurt so badly. “Fine.” He grits out before he marches to what you assume is the safe house bathroom and slamming the door behind him.

There is something wrong with me. That is Simon’s first thought when he looks at himself in the mirror that must be old because his reflection is warped. There is something wrong with me and it's not the scars or the way my joints ache when I stand or sit down. There is something wrong with me and it makes my blood run black. Simon wonders if he had been born wrong. He suspects he’s always been this way, he was his father’s son after all, doomed to be awful to all of those he knows. To use them and drain them dry until they cut him off or he tosses them away. He doesn’t want you to be part of that cycle, to be a part of the cycle that always results in those close to him dying.

He already lost his family, he couldn’t lose you too so he cut you out completely. It was better if you thought he was dead. You were better off thinking he was dead in the ground even if it hurt you, even if it hurt him. And fuck did it hurt that first year, every time something happened he wanted to call you or text you. Tell you all about it late at night in a part of base where no one would care if he was awake if they even dared to approach him at all. Simon wanted to return to you more then anything but Ghost hadn’t dug himself out of that grave and lost his entire family as consequence for not fucking dying just for you to meet that same fate. No, you’d be his only in memory. Maybe one day he’d stalk your social media and find that you’ve moved on. Hopefully out of that fucking city, working a good paying job with a man who deserved you.

And it didn’t matter how much that thought made his supposedly ice heart hurt. It didn’t matter because he was dead and there was nothing he could give you besides this rotting body and whatever love he could scrape together for you.

Simon looks at himself in the mirror, completely maskless and bare for what felt like the first time in years. It felt like his skin had been pulled away to show the maggots, rotting tendons and muscle underneath. Every tear that had left your beautiful eyes had felt like acid on his skin, every word thrown his way a well placed knife throw. He knew he deserved all that malice and if you didn't want to talk to him, then he wouldn’t talk to you. No matter how much he wants to.

The next two days go by slowly, it reminds you of the time you had to go through a bog. Slow movements and time seemed to slow to a fucking crawl as you traversed the bog to go around an enemy encampment so you could get the jump on them from behind. It didn’t matter that your clothes had been soaked through or that you could feel the cold of the water seeping into your bones. You kept going. So the same logic was applied here. Your bullet wound in your thigh eventually got treated properly, in silence of course. Simon had given you the first aid kit and you did your best with what you had. Digging out the bullet had to be one of the most painful experiences you’ve ever had.

Simon had wanted to step in and do it himself but he knew you’d sooner accept an infection then let him any closer then needed. By the end of the hour and several deep, guttural screams cut off only by the belt between your teeth, you had managed to pull the bullet out. You were quick to stitch the hole closed and to wrap it in bandages. When that was over, you only had enough strength to crawl onto the shitty couch and pass out.

The first day not talking to him was filled with tension. It was so thick you could cut it with your knife, if you had it that is. It’s still stuck in that asshole’s neck which sucks because it was a good neck. You were hesitant to put any pressure on your wound, terrified of ripping your frankly shit stitches and increasing the chances of you getting an infection. You spent the entire day cleaning and taking apart your gun with occasional glares sent to Simon if he tried to enter the same room as you and stay for more than a few minutes.

He understood your anger, he did, but he couldn’t stand it at the same time. He wants to sit right next to and soak in your presence in a way he hadn’t allowed himself before this. He hadn’t bothered to put his mask back on and when he had stepped out of the bathroom without it the first time you had jerked like someone had pinched you. You could still tell he had blonde hair from his eyebrows but seeing his blonde hair in a buzz cut had felt like an electric shock. That was still your Simon even all these years later and that made you angrier. How could he? How dare he? After all these years, he looked the same despite the scars on his face but you? Do you still look the same despite the weariness in your eyes and being grief eaten.

The only word he spoke to you was, “There’s a blizzard coming in tomorrow.” You had only given a grunt in acknowledgement which he had to admit, stung. How many times had he responded to you like that while trying to get you to quit and transfer somewhere else? Far too many times, he ran a gloved hand through his prickly hair as he shook his head. God he had been so fucking stupid and stubborn. As it turns out, the blizzard couldn’t wait until tomorrow or maybe it was the next day. The wind shook the entire safe house, the walls creaked and groaned from the force of it. The windows were covered by snow or maybe it was a white out, you couldn’t tell. You didn’t even want to lift your head to check. You were fucking freezing despite your thermals and the blanket. Your teeth chattered as you pulled the blanket even closer and closed your eyes. Your cheeks were numb and you could barely feel your nose, your fingers actually hurt from how cold they were.

You blew more warm breath into your cupped hands, your entire body shivered as another burst of wind caused the house to groan from the weight of it. You glanced around the living room/kitchen area, the fireplace was boarded up but it wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t, you had no wood. The only thing of light was a battery powered lamp that you had been surprised still worked. You knew where Simon was, in the only other room besides the bathroom, the bedroom. Getting up those stairs would have been impossible for you the first two days here with your injury. Hell, you even doubted if you had enough strength to do it now even with the protein and nutrient packed MRE’s given to you for rations. But you suspected if you didn’t seek out another form of warmth and soon, you’d end up a popsicle. And frankly? That sounded like a bad way to go.

You shakily got to your feet, where it was from being nervous about putting weight on your injured leg or if you were cold, you couldn’t be sure. But you wobble up the stairs, gripping the rail for life the entire way and nearly falling when you finally manage to get the doorknob to turn. Simon catches you, he opens his mouth to chastise you before he realizes the state you’re in. He mutters your name, brown eyes filled with worry as you shrug, too tired and frozen to verbally shrug. He shakes his head and brings you to the mattress in the corner, he quickly runs downstairs and grabs your blanket before returning upstairs. You grumble, which honestly was just noises from the back of your throat as he settles next to you, pulling both blankets over the two of you. After a few minutes and warming up a little you mumble, “This doesn’t change that I’m upset with you.”

”I would never expect it to.” He whispers back as he wraps an arm around you. It shouldn’t be as easy as it is, like two pieces of a puzzle finally snapping together. You seep warmth from him like a leech while he holds you close and steady enough that you don’t shiver or shake. He stays awake the entire time, long after you’ve fallen asleep on your pack-made-pillow. Simon looks at you and drinks you in properly this time. Despite the blizzard outside still raging on and the cold temperatures making your skin lose a little color, you’re still as stunning as the day he confessed his love to you. He can still recall that day, sitting at a bench a little ways away from the reception party. The cool October breeze blowing through and the way you looked so relaxed. So content with the moment and with him. He kissed you that night, he kissed you like a starving animal. Like he might never get to kiss you again and that he needed to take what he could now.

“I love you Simon Riley. I have since we were 15. Don’t leave me again Simon, not if you can help it.” He was fucking idiot not to say it back, he didn’t even think to do so because his heart had been stabbed the moment you pleaded with him not to leave because he was leaving again. He was leaving you, the best thing in his entire life. Then he came back fucked but he did his best to get better. He didn’t want to touch you, he was terrified he would hurt you. Force himself on you, every night he dreamed that he was hurting you and that he enjoyed it. The therapy helped a little, you and his family helped a lot. Having something to return to helped so much. Then it all came burning down and damn it, he wasn’t going to let you die. So he killed the men then he returned to Mexico and killed Roba and his entire cartel. Then he never returned home, he never let you even think that he was alive. He glances down at you, sleeping in his arms

Sometimes, if he looks at you even now, he can recall the day the two of you met.

It was so cold and the rain didn’t make anything better. He trembles in his too-big shirt and pants which are rolled up to stop him from tripping again. He sniffles and wipes at his face, if he wipes away tears or the rain he doesn’t know. Other kids pass by him quickly with their umbrellas, rain coats and boots, protected by the things their mum’s and dad’s buy for them. His dad had sold his and Tommy’s umbrella’s and coats to afford more alcohol and drugs. Being the good big brother that Simon told himself he was, he let Tommy take their mum’s coat instead of him. He didn’t regret that, he could never regret making Tommy’s life a little better.

He isn’t expecting you to walk up to him with an umbrella with yellow ducks on it. He recognizes you almost instantly, you go to his class. You ask him, “What are you doing without an umbrella?” with your head tilted to the side like a confused puppy.

He mumbled out, eyes averted to the ground and soggy strawberry hair sticking to his forehead, “I don’t have one.” You asked if his mum didn’t buy him one. She did, she always did her best to provide for him and Tommy but his dad always ruined it. You don’t wait for him to respond, you don’t push for further answers or make fun of him for not having an umbrella or raincoat.

Instead, you smile at him and hold the umbrella with yellow ducks on it over his head after pulling the hood of your coat over your head. “Well it doesn’t matter now, I’m here and we can share.” You give him your name and he gives you his with the tiniest smile on his face. You held the umbrella over his head the entire way there then you walked him home because it was still raining. You called him a friend.

When you wake up, he lets you sit in silence. The blizzard had mostly passed through during the night, the worst of it was over but the safe house outside of the blankets was freezing cold. Simon knew he wasn’t exactly in a rush to leave the warmth and comfort of this moment. The silence hangs between the two of you and at some point, you begin to play with fingers in the way you used to when growing up. It takes a better part of an hour for him to work up the courage and it really feels like he is going to throw up when he whispers, “Do you still love me?” It’s quiet that if you didn’t know his voice that you’d think it was the wind still blowing.

He swallows hard and squeezes his eyes shut as he waits for the killing blow. For you tell him that you don’t love him anymore, especially after these five years and the shit he pulled. But it doesn’t come, instead he hears your shuffling and feels your slightly cold hands cup his stubble covered cheeks. He peaks his eyes open and nearly melts at the sight before him. You, nearly in tears as you look at him so fondly like you did that October day. “Of course I still love you Simon Riley.” He can’t stop himself from closing the gap between the two of you as tears spill from both of your eyes and kiss you.

You’re taken by surprise when he kisses you, it's gentle and some tears slip between your connected lips. You don’t even realize that either you or him has started to cry but you return his kiss, trying to keep him this close for as long as you can without breathing. His hands tug you closer, if he could tear open his ribs and stuff you in there instead of his heart and lungs, he would. When you finally pull away, tears still running down your cheeks, you look at him. Tears run down his cheeks too and wet the fabric of his shirt now that they’re not being caught between your lips and spread between your cheeks and his. “Say it again.” He croaks and you repeat it.

”I love you Simon Riley.” You kiss his cheeks, “I love you.” You kiss his forehead, “And I’ll keep loving you for eternity.” Simon melts with each kiss you give him and sighs when you kiss his lips again. His large hands find your waist and tug you closer, his thick thigh parting yours as his tongue swipes at your bottom lip. You happily part your lips for him, your hands gripping his shoulders as his tongue explores your mouth and a needy moan leaves you. Your heart aches still and tears keep slipping down your face because he’s here. Simon Riley is alive and has been for years. The relief is almost enough to make you forgive him on the spot.

Maybe you are forgiving him in a way, not fully. God knows that it will take a lot more than just this to make you forgive him but it's a start. And it’s a start you desperately need, your fingers dig into him further which pulls a groan from him. Immediately you loosen your grip on him, fearing that you’ve hurt him until he pulls away completely breathless and with pupils so wide there’s hardly any brown left, “Don’t stop doing that.” He leans in and whispers against the shell of your ear. It sends goosebumps rising up on your skin as you dig your fingers back into him right as his mouth connects with yours again.

He rests a hand on the back of your neck to keep you close and connected to him. You feel like a teenager again when he slips one of his thick thighs between your own and you grind down on it nearly out of pure instinct. The pressure of your pants seam pressing against your clit makes your legs weak and a liquid warmth to pool. You do it again and you moan into the kiss, his other hand which he had used to cup your cheek immediately went to your hip and grabbed it. He doesn’t try to stop you, instead he encourages you to grind against his thigh. He mutters something against your lips and it comes out muffled but it sounds like, “Take what you need love.” And you’re not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

You grind against him, a little harder this time which causes your entire body to jolt as the electric pleasure shoots up your spine. His hand on the back of your neck tangles itself into your hair and he pulls away only barely so he can catch his breath. You’re left breathless and panting as you grind against his thigh, he rests his forehead against yours and his eyes focus on you using his thigh. “Fuck.” He mutters as his hand on your hip moves up and cups your chest. “I’m sorry.” He whispers and you furrow your brows, your pace faltering at his words.

”Did I do something wrong?”

“No! No, I’m sorry fo’ bein’ such a twat.” He says and pushes his thigh back against you. Your head tips back as a moan leaves your throat and you resume your previous pace. He gropes and paws at your chest, trying to pinch and twist at your hardened nipples from over the fabric of your shirts. “Love, please let me- let me push your shirt up.” He begs and you immediately give your consent. He doesn’t waste another second and pushes your shirt up as far as it would go then he grumbles something to himself before he pulls it over your head and discards it nearby.

He dips his head down and immediately takes a nipple into his mouth while his hand squeezes the other breast. He sucks on it, laving his tongue over it like a dog and letting his teeth graze it slightly when he figures out it makes your hips jolt. You tighten your grip on his shoulders as your thighs tense up and you desperately keep rocking your hips against his thigh. “Si-Simon I’m cl-“ You’re cut off by your own moan when he switches nipples and when he looks up at you between blonde lashes your orgasm washes over you. Your hips stutter and your entire body jolts once or twice as you soak your underwear. Simon swears at the sight of your mouth falling open and your head tipping back to expose your entire neck.

His fingers are nimble as he unbuttons your pants, he hooks his thumbs under the waistband of both the pants and your underwear then yanks them down. “Let me? Please let me make you feel good.” He begs and you nod, mind still trying to piece itself back together after the first orgasm. He shuffles under the covers and it’s kind of funny to see the bottom half of his body sticking out but the sight of it is pulled away from you as he yanks you further down the mattress.

”Simon-“ You yelp before it’s cut away into a moan. There’s no preamble or teasing, likely because he feels like he’s going to die if he doesn’t have his mouth on your cunt now, before he buries his face in it. You grab at the blankets, your mouth falling open as you moan when his tongue flicks your engorged clit. He can’t seem to decide if he wants to focus on your clit or your pulsing hole, dipping his tongue down to slurp up your juices before returning to your clit. He’s desperate, his hands are gripping your thighs like you might try and pull away despite your moans and pleads for more filling the safe house.

He eases one thick finger into you as he sucks on your clit and you see stars in your vision. “Like that- oh my god- like that please don’t stop.” You whimper as your fingers card through his hair. You moan and start to squirm a little as he begins to pump his thick digit in and out of you. He seems to be searching for something, trying different things and sticking to the one that makes you keen the loudest. He crooks his finger just right and your thighs tense up around his head as a moan tears through your throat.

Like the sniper that he is, he focuses on that spot within your increasingly soaked cunt as he tortures your clit with his mouth. The slurping sounds have your cheeks heating up and you squirm as he pushes a second finger into you with no resistance. He rubs against that soft spot inside you that causes your body to relax further and pins down your hips when you try to squirm away from his tongue.

“Simon- nngh- that feels so-“ You can barely string together a sentence as he seems intent on rendering you boneless and incapable of speech as he abuses your g-spot. You feel a tightness growing within your abdomen, like something is winding up before it lets go. It barely registers in your brain that you’re on the verge of cumming. Simon must feel it too, with the way your pussy clamps down around his fingers, because he redoubles his efforts. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as your pussy pulses without a rhythm and you’re thrown over the edge. The muscles in your thighs clench involuntarily as the pleasure runs through you. He keeps rubbing at that spot through your orgasm, his fingers soaked in your slick as you twitch a little from the aftershocks.

You try to move upwards when he eases a third finger into you but he holds you down. “It’s too much.” You choke out as he crawls up your body, leaving a trail of sticky wet kisses. “Si please.” You hiccup as he begins to work you open with those three fingers.

”Got to work you open love.” He mutters reassuringly before capturing your lips in a kiss. He swallows down your moans like the greedy man he is, keeping all of these sounds for himself. He doesn’t care if the two of you are the only people around for miles upon miles, he doesn’t even want the walls to know your sounds in case they ever learn to talk. You whine at his words and a hand grabs his bicep as he fucks his fingers in and out of you. The stretch of three of his fingers is delicious, just that slight sting that ebbs away the more he finger fucks you.

It feels like he rips the next orgasm out of you, your entire body tenses as it slams into you. You feel yourself gush on his thick fingers and he keeps going, keeps fucking you through it until your pushing at his arm and pleading for a moment of reprieve. It’s only until tears gather in your eyes that he finally stops. Simon peppers your face in kisses while he whispers that he’s sorry. He promises that he’ll do right by you this time, no more running away or disappearing. He swears it as you unbuckle his pants and pulls them down. There’s a noticeable wet patch on his boxers but you don’t comment on it, just pull those down as well. Your mouth waters and your eyes widen when you see his cock.

It's thick, uncut and long. The tip is red from neglect and drips pre-cum like a leaky faucet. His cock is heavy that it hangs low and his brown eyes are filled with lust as he watches you reach down and wrap your hand around his length. “That’s not going to fit.” You finally whisper out, meeting his eyes which crinkle from the cocky smile on his face.

He leans down, body draping over yours. You can feel his body heat rolling off him in waves as he takes his cock from your hands and lines up the bulbous tip with your cunt. He strokes it a few times with his slick coated fingers as he looks you in the eyes before whispering, “I’ll make it fit.” When he pushes it, he does it slowly. You can feel every ridge, every pulsing vein of his cock against your walls. Despite having stretched you with three of his fingers before hand and making you cum twice the sting remains. It’s a sweet burn, a delicious heat that licks from your hips up to the back of your skull. It grounds you to the moment as his fingers dig into you as his hips meet yours, bottoming out in you he lets out a low moan. His eyes flicker down to where the two of you meet and he licks his lips at the sight.

He pulls back just a little and the squelch that comes from your cunt when he pushes back in makes your face hot. He leans down and grabs your uninjured thigh. He hooks his arm around it and forces it up as he cages your body between his arms. You grab onto his shoulder and bicep, your eyes can’t seem to leave his as he thrusts in and out of you. The pace isn’t fast but his hips snap against yours, the sound of skin on skin fills the room and mixes with each noise pulled from you. Simon swallows the lump in his throat as he supports himself on one arm and cups your cheek, his thumb swiping something away. You sniffle and reach your hands up to his face, you try to drink his face. The same face you thought you would never see as tears roll down your cheeks and his cock fills you past the point of full.

“I love you.” You say between hiccups and moans. You watch as his eyes water and he buries his face within the crook of your neck. He mouths at the sweaty skin there and whispers that he loves you back. That he loves you so much it hurts and that he’s sorry. He repeats it over and over again with each roll of his hips and that feeling within your stomach grows again quickly. With each snap of his hips you feel yourself getting closer and more tears leak from your eyes. You cum again with his name on your lips and feel his hips stutter and loose pace. He grinds up against you, nudging your cervix in a way that causes a slight pinch within your lower abdomen that makes you clench down harder on him.

You feel him cum, you hear his groan right next to your ear as his hips come to a complete stop and pressed against the meat of your thighs. His sticky warm cum fills you, the feeling is odd. Foreign but not entirely unwelcome as he stays in that position after letting your thigh rest back down onto the mattress. You twist your head to the side and give him a quick kiss, “Say it again?” He whispers.

”I love you.”

Simon lets out a shaky sigh, the relief he feels is palpable, “I love you too.”

It’s not all that surprising that he can’t keep his hands off you and you’re not innocent either. After seemingly fucking all of your anger towards him out, the two of you cling to each other. He rocks his hips into your again, every movement lighting up your nerves in a way that seems never ending. Like this pleasure will swallow you whole but you don’t mind, it hides the twinges of pain from your thigh from being pressed so close to your chest. You kiss all of his face, soft moans from both of you mixing together into a melody.

”How long until someone is able to get us?” You ask later while you lay on his chest and trail your fingers up and down his abdomen. You’re exhausted, barely able to keep your eyes open and the heat between the two of you is slowly lulling you further into sleep.

”The radio said they’ll be here tomorrow.” Simon replies and you mindlessly hum.

”What will happen when we leave?” You ask, “When all of this is over.”

”We’ll figure it out.” he murmurs and kisses you. “Rest up love.” You’re not surprised, actually delighted, when he wakes you up with kisses on your neck. He trails down from your jaw, nipping occasionally at the soft flesh which earns a wanton moan from you.

”Happened to resting?” You tease and he chuckles against you.

”Oops.” He says and it would be convincing if you couldn’t feel his smile. Simon’s hands trail down your naked body and he pushes two fingers back into your sopping wet cunt. You gasp and arch your back, eyes fluttering closed as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. “You’re so wet.” He groans, like he still can’t believe that you still want him. “Never going to let you go again.” He promises as he begins to abuse that soft part inside you.

Simon kisses your nose and you chuckle. “Excited?” You ask and he nods. It’s been two years since that mission when everything changed again. Two years since you found out Simon Riley never died, that he had refused to die once again. It had taken a little while to figure out what the both of you wanted, therapy helped a lot. It helped you realize that the military lifestyle, despite it being the thing you had only known for the past five years, wasn’t truly for you. Of course you had known that you had only joined in Simon’s memory but therapy helped you let go of it.

God bless John Price, bless him for being utterly professional despite two of his soldiers fucking which has to be the most unprofessional thing to do in the military. He looked at you with that smile that made his eyes crinkle when you placed the discharge paperwork on his desk that day 8 months ago. “Finally figured out what you want then?” He asked as he immediately signed off on it, not even bothering to read through it.

”Yeah, I have, Captain.” You said with a fond smile, you’d miss this. You’d miss him, Gaz and Soap but it wasn’t like they couldn’t come and see you when on leave. You’d only be an hour away in a nearby city anyways. You glance at the two keys in your hand, one for you and one for Simon. You place the second one into his palm. “Let’s go see our home then.” You pick up the cat carrier and Mittens meows in protest. You coo your reassurances to her, promising that it’s almost over. The three of you climb the steps up the porch of the townhouse you now own and Simon unlocks the door.

You glance around the currently empty space then glance behind you to the moving truck parked out on the side of the street. “I think it might take us a day to get everything in here.” You say when you turn to look at Simon

”I’d say two.” Simon says as he takes the cat carrier from your hands and sets it down next to the stairs. You quirk an eyebrow up and part your lips in an ‘o’ shape when you realize what’s on his mind.

”Really Riley?” You ask as you loop your arms around his neck and he chuckles as your expression.

”I’ve always wanted to bend you over a countertop.” He purrs as he tugs his mask down and plants a kiss on your neck which sends shivers down your spine.

”Is that so?” You ask as he backs you up against it after closing the front door. He hoists you up on top of it with a ‘mhm’ before he captures your lips in a kiss and his hands settle on your hips.

You grasp at the edge of the counter, moans being punched out of you with each thrust of his hips. The sound of skin on skin echoes in the house and mixes with his groans. Simon’s fingers dig a little harder into your hips, enjoying the sight of how your fat squishes up between his fingers. “You’re so fuckin’ stunning.” And all you can respond with is a moan as his fat cock abuses the tip of your cervix. “I’m gonna retire.” He babbles and his words hardly register in your mind as you begin to clench down on him as a sign you’re on the precipice of an orgasm. He loops a hand around and rubs mean circles around your clit which sends you falling off the edge.

He swears as your cunt clenches down on him like a vice and he spills himself in you all while he keeps rubbing at your clit. You lay there panting, trying to gather your senses as you blink away the tears of overstimulation once his hand falls away. You gasp and gulp down the air, “Simon?”

”Fuck I said that out loud didn’t I?”

You can’t help but giggle and shake your head. “You mean it?”

”Yeah, I mean it. I’m gonna look into retiring, I can’t be a soldier forever.” He rests his sweaty forehead against your back as he speaks.

”I love you so much Simon Riley.”

His hand reaches out and loops through yours, the matching rings on your fingers glinting in the light. “I love you too.”

[mind-intheclouds342]

A new ladder - Reader x Curly

Previous - Part 2 - Next

"Those were the words of the former captain of the Tulpar ship, owned by Pony Express, Grant Curly, who miraculously was the only survivor even in his condition after going through a series of murders on the ship, completely vulnerable, by the same person who caused the crash, his co-pilot Jimmy-"

You turned off the television while they were broadcasting Curly's testimony on all channels.

"I'll go buy a few things" you mentioned, getting up from your seat and putting on a jacket to go out. "Wanna come with me?"

Curly turned to look at you curiously, thinking you were going to leave him there on his own until you returned, or that you would take him without asking to keep him close.

Curly: "Please"

He sighed and you took his chair to start pushing him to the store.

They could notice the looks of the people passing by, all recognizing the man, but none able to approach him to ask a question.

"Do you like peas? Lin told me that you could eat without any problem as long as your pieces are small." 

Curly: "I have no problem with the food... I just don't like sweets."

"Okay"

You nodded, adding things to the cart, checking the prices, and thinking about what you could cook.

He stood gazing into the distance at the chocolate aisle, remembering the boxes of chocolates he used to buy for Linda, sighing at the thought that those days were in the past.

He found it strange to think that she was already over 50, while he remained at the age of 34, now being cared for by the younger sister of the woman who had once been his fiancée, who must now be around 32.

Curly: "Your birthday... It was a few months ago, right? I remember Linda used to say that she liked spring because it was when you were born."

"...No, my birthday hasn't happened yet, there's still some time left. But I don't really celebrate it, I just treat myself and that's it."

You shrugged even while looking at the products on the shelves.

Having everything you needed, you went to the cash registers to pay. The woman had seen Curly on television and gave him a discount as if he were some kind of veteran or senior.

That didn't please the man very much.

You stopped halfway back to his home, the streets were no longer so busy, after all, you had left a bit late after all.

"Would you like to feel something different?"

You asked him while firmly holding the wheelchair, there was a slight slope on that street, the man immediately turned to look at you, you looked excited to do something, like a child about to pull a prank.

Curly: "Sure?..." he said without being very convinced

And he let out a scream when you climbed onto the chair's wheel tubes and let the slope of the street make you go down, he could only hear a mix of his screams and your laughter as you went down.

He feared crashing into something or flying off, he didn't want to experience more pain, but the chair kept moving even after the descent was over. Curly was grateful for the good quality of the chair, and that it didn't fall apart when you got on it too. He was able to breathe easy when they stopped after a few seconds.

"And we arrived! Much faster, right?"

You patted his shoulder, ready to get off and push him inside the house, the man could feel the rapid beating of his heart at that moment.

Curly: "Do you do things like this often?" he asked, trying to have a conversation to calm down.

"Didn't you feel more alive?"

He fell silent as he thought about your question, while they descended, the only thing he could feel was his heart racing, the wind on his face, and he heard your laughter close to him, but at no moment was there sadness, remorse, or any of those emotions he constantly felt.

Just adrenaline.

Curly: "You could say that... yes..."

You put the groceries in their place and left out only what you were going to use, you ended up making some fried rice with chicken, egg, onion, and peas.

You could see how the man struggled to use his prosthesis to hold his utensils and eat, everything falling onto the table several times.

You moved your chair closer to him, making him look at you.

"Do you want to keep trying or would you prefer that I help you?"

Curly: "I give up for today..." was his only response, sighing.

You took food on your fork and brought it to his face, he opened his mouth and finally managed to take a bite, enjoying the taste of that simple food, he had missed homemade meals after so much time eating the provisions on the ship and then the bland hospital food.

"And? How is it?"

Curly: "Delicious," he replied, opening his mouth, hoping you would give him more.

You couldn't help but compare it to a baby bird begging for food, but you held back your laughter to keep feeding it.

Curly: "Mm.. So, when is your birthday?"

It was a very bad idea to talk to his implant while eating, causing him to start coughing as he choked on the food. 

"Well... It's exactly in 5 weeks," you smiled, making him raise his arms and you patted his back.

He was surprised at how quickly he was able to stop coughing when you did that, you immediately handed him a glass of water.

"I'll be right back, I'm going to get a cloth to clean the food scraps off the table."

You mentioned standing up to go to the kitchen.

While you were away, he kept trying to eat on his own, managing to get a small amount of rice on his fork and being able to eat that.

While he chewed, he kept watching out the window; that orange and reddish color appearing in the trees was tinting the whole place.

Her birthday... It's in autumn...

[fuctacles]

<<4 | 5 | 6>>

Eddie held back and was nice enough to give him an ice pack after. 

"Thank you," Steve murmurs, placing the frozen peas on his chin. He's not taking his eyes off Eddie, who's wired up and walking back and forth in the tiny kitchen. Steve is low-key expecting another hit. If he had his tail, it would be tucked between his legs. 

"Why?" Eddie finally asks, the first thing he says since the punch. But before he can get an answer, he follows with: "Does everyone else know?"

"Yes," Steve admits guiltily. "I didn't want to drop it on you right after the Upside Down, but the longer it took, the weirder it got, and I just..." he trails off with half a shrug. 

Eddie scoffs, sending him a glare while his strides pick up speed. It would look ridiculous, since it takes only three of his steps to walk through the kitchen, if it wasn't so serious. 

"You made it weirder alright. Why did you follow me around instead of hanging out like a normal human being?!" He throws his arms wildly around, almost hitting the fridge. "Or did you just want to keep tabs on me? Like a weird little dog-stalker?!"

"No!" Steve protests indignantly, but then falters. "Well, I— Kind of? But just to, you know, protect you."

Eddie finally stops. Which is not a good sign as far as Steve is concerned, but Eddie just stares at him. 

He recounts the run-ins they had with the local righteous mob. He reimagines them with Steve by his side instead, the human one, and there's no universe in which it doesn't end up with an escalation. People don't normally pick up fights with dogs, apparently. But...

"Was sleeping on my couch and eating my hot dogs also to protect me?"

Steve folds in on himself and Eddie can almost imagine his sad dog ears flopping down. 

"No, I just—"

Eddie's suddenly in his line of vision, squatting in front of him to peer into his face mockingly.

"Was it just for fun? Little doggy wanted belly rubs and treats? Make everyone look at me weird because I'm scratching Steve Harrington between his ears?" he scoffs. "And dude, I would do all of it, if I knew it was you. You were worried it would be too much for me after Vecna? I'm a nerd! I eat that shit up. Do you know how much better I'd feel knowing werewolves are real?!"

Steve is not even surprised at his outburst. He just shuffles his legs and corrects softly:

"Lykans."

Eddie jumps up, throwing his hands into the air.

"Oh, now you're gonna tell me?! You lost your naming privileges, man, you're a werewolf, period."

He leans against the cupboards behind him, foot tapping restlessly. But he was angry at so many things at once, that he didn't know what to grasp first.

"Why did you avoid me?"

"I didn't—"

"You did," Eddie interrupts him. "I never saw you around, only the dog. And then you started avoiding everyone else too. Why?"

Steve sighs, slipping the half-thawed pack of peas away from his face. His body slumps like any traces of fight have just left him.

"I guess it was easier. I could just walk around, keep an eye on everyone, and not... explain myself."

"Can't lie without vocal chords, huh?"

Steve sends him a tired look, and Eddie feels the tiniest of bits bad. He raises his hands placatingly. 

"I'm not your therapist. But I thought I was your friend."

"You are! Just..."

"Just not good enough to share the truth with?" Eddie offers.

Steve groans, this time unfolding to fall against the chair's backrest. 

"See, this is why I prefer shifting. I don't have to explain my thoughts to others, nothing is weird and unspoken, and everyone fucking loves me. They pet me and tell me nice things. But when I'm a human, I'm getting laughed at, dumped, used for rides, and have to stay alone in a big empty house."

Eddie just blinks at him, his anger slowly shifting into concern. 

"That's uh, a lot to unpack there," he says gently, pursing his lips in thought. "You know we've been worried about you, right? That we don't see you anymore. I mean, I didn't know at the time, but the kids knew something was going on with you."

Steve scoffs.

"Yeah, they noticed when they had to go beg Nancy for rides."

"Dude." Eddie frowns at him, both irritated and concerned. "I am so tempted to get your other cheek right now. Didn't Dustin call you to clear the air between us?"

"Yes, because you called him first," Steve reminds him. 

"Still, he could have left it for us to deal with on our own. But he cares, so he reached out. " Eddie sighs. "He wants us to be friends, but most of all, he wants you to open up; not to me, but to the rest of the party. So why are you holing yourself up, man? What's wrong?"

Steve doesn't move from his semi-open position, but he crosses his arms, and he's looking away at Wayne's cap collection, visible through the open space to his right. 

Eddie just looks at him, the worry in his stomach growing like a parasite. He decides that maybe this is enough for today. Enough feelings, talking, and confessions. That it is time to clear the air.

And by 'clear' he means 'cloud it with smoke'.

"Let's put a pin on that," he says and finally, Steve looks back at him, both worried and curious. "I think we both need to chill out and I still have that weed stored away for you. And a really bad horror from Gareth. The blood looks like ketchup, you're gonna love it."

Tags: @noodle-shenaniganery @jaytriesstrangerthings @imaginary-maggie-waggie @samsoble @croatoan-like-its-hot

@dragonmama76 @storyranger @scoops-aboy86

[sgiandubh]

When Cait married Tony she said they would honeymoon in Italy when it, meaning OL, was over. Good way to get it paid for by OL related appearance next March. Too bad she has to put up with Sam for a couple of hours. Sam, who said many times how he hated S2 costumes and was teased much by Meril, because he didn't like the feminine look. Too much like his true nature. He will certainly bring one of his prostitutes over past 3 years, Ashley being the latest, if her unnecessary week in UK last week for for anything else. 4 trips to Scotland for her in a year. It's clear which business she's really in.

Dear Business She Is Really In Anon,

I think you should be ashamed of yourself, for writing plain libel with no other arguments than your own twisted, bitter and irrelevant world view. If you consider that Ashley Hearn is a prostitute, just because she traveled four times to Scotland since late May 2024, then you are nothing more than a sad, sad troll, who thinks thousands of other women who happen to work in the marketing and sales sectors, all over the world, are also whores, right? You know very well all her trips have been more than thoroughly documented and you also know they did have a tangible impact, as far as that company is concerned. You should also get your fucking timeline straight before you treat us to your word vomit, because even the hatred you gratuitously spread around must have, technically speaking, at least some modicum of plausibility. She did not start to work for SS one year ago, punk: she started to work for them on May 21st 2024, which is exactly six months.

When C married McGill there is no way for you to tell what she said. You weren't there, you are a damn Social Zero and you just rely on word-of-mouth and ridiculously contradictory press releases and interviews. A honeymoon takes a week-end perhaps only in your shanty town and making the ball's organizers 'pay for it' is beyond ridiculous, including as far as C herself might be concerned (what is she, a cheap profiteer?) - supposing that 'relationship' would be anything more than a mutually convenient arrangement of sorts, of course. Sorry, but not the case.

Yeah, too bad she had to put up with S, against all odds, for eleven years, now. This is what really wrecks your pea brain, right? That, and being proven wrong and embarrassingly dumb, over and over again.

For your next endeavor, I suggest you'd turn your attention to your homeland telenovelas (you misspelled Maril Davis' name like a Brazilian and that is a dead giveaway).

Talvez Escrava Isaura seja uma substituição decente e mais acessível? Há reviravoltas baratas (gaslighting, veneno, delírio) o suficiente para mantê-la ocupada por um bom tempo.

You may wonder why I still answer your tragically ridiculous comments? Well, because it is time for someone to shame you and also show the true, dull and derisory colors of your stupid monomania.

[Later edit]: in no way did I want to imply anything negative about Brazil or its culture. I could have definitely better used one of the bajillion other Globo productions, dealing with Carioca intrigue and/or football wives. If I haven't, it is just because Escrava Isaura was a huge international success even in the Nineties, and remembered as such by many. While I am sensitive to the social and political inacceptable problem of slavery, I maintain that the 1976 adaptation of Guimarães's novel is simplistic and formulaic enough, hence more appropriate for Anon. I am sorry if my poor joke was construed differently and I apologize to all the people who might be offended. If you know me, you'd also know I am probably the last person to disrespect your country and culture.

[on-the-clear-blue]

So I was thinking and like, the Batfam all come from vastly different backgrounds, and like everything in life, food is easily the best way to truly see someone.

Bruce likely grew up eating the same thing every day in the way of "Fridays are Lamb chops, Sunday is Pot roast" because that's how it was just done those days.

His father was a well to-do man, a gigh class doctor and his mother was a socialite, they held their postion highly and knew what was expected of them, even by their staff.

Martha always worked withe chef for meal plans, changing things for holidays or if they would have guests but always had a base she built off of.

It was that base that Bruce clung to after they died, sure the chef left, the other maids and servants going wirh him, leaving just Alfred (he was just a butler, he ran the house, told people what to do not cook)

But Alfred, a man who been through war and acting school did what he did best, He adapted, becoming more than just his title of Butler.

Now think of all that being flipped on its head by little Dickie, freshly orphaned from his loving family. His loving Romani family that traveled across world that likely ate different cuisines every time they stopped in a country. (This is in fact a call back to my baby dick post)

Just...

Dickie, staring wide eyed at just the amount of meat on his plate: It...it's all for me?

Bruce, staring back with confusion: Do you need more? Alfred get Dicke more food, clearly this isn't enough for him.

I love the idea that Dickie pulls a face when he sees mashed potatoes for the third day in a row, he is crying and sad, he missed rice! Fresh veggies! Where was the flavor?? Why was everything so rich?

And Bruce adapts, he is the God damn Batman, of course he adapts, and the perfect schedule of foods he always knew would be on each day of the week is changed, oh of course he doesn't like it but it's for his son child so of course he puts up with it.

(Yes he can't handle the spice, he might of traveled the world for 5 years but he lived off of energy bars and MREs so he didn't have to think about food while traning)

Then his son is gone, (its all his fault why does this always happen why can't he just say what he means to say) and the schedule comes back. Was pot roast always this bland? When did the mashed peas start to seem unpleasant?

Then...Jason is in his life, it's a whirlwind of things, trying to get him comfortable in a place that seemed like a fairy tale.

Jason, who lived on the streets for years, Jason who even before he was homeless was in a poor household, who made ketchup sandwiches cus he was able to snatch a few from the gas station when the clerk wasn't looking, who thought fresh veggies were a special treat meant to be savored, who always felt loved when his mom saved up a bit and they got smoked turkey legs and boiled them up in a soup.

That Jason looks at the offered food and feels uncomfortable, all that was far to much for him.

Jason, frowning at his bowl of soup: Um...what's the big bits of green?

Bruce, looking up from his case file: Hn, it's herbs Jaylad, I think basil and parsley.

Jason, nodding but clearly doesn't know: Oh yeah...totally see that now...

Unlike Dick, Jason doesn't ask for things, doesn't want to be a burden to the guy who took him in, so he eats and doesn't throw a fit.

(The first night Jason actually ate with Bruce the kid nearly ate till he threw up, not wanting to waste a single bit.)

It was months later when Jason finally asked for something another and...

Jason, fidgeting: So B...Um...I wanted to ask but uh...C-can I just get like...actual crackers and stuff? Not those fancy rich people ones but like...Ritz? Cheese wiz? I...I just...I don't like blue cheese.

Bruce, blinking in rich person: Ritz...as in the hotel? I can ask Alfred about a cheese wizard but...Hn..

Later

Bruce, fighting Condiment King: Do you know a Cheese Wizard?

Then Jason, his boy, his and Gotham light dies, Bruce finds his body broken and beaten and- he was breathing Bruce got him in time- he didn't. The boy wasn't responding. His boy. His Jason died in his arms. Choking out sobs as he couldn't get enough air in, coughing and shuddering as he tried to get the smoke out

(Jason's death certificate says he dies of smoke inhalation, the explosion didn't kill him, it was the fumes afterward)

Then Bruce shuts down, he becomes the Batman fully, Bruce Wayne died with his son that day and all that was left was the Bat.

Then a pesky boy put on Bruce's sons outfit, charged in and saved him. Pulling the man back from the brink kicking and screaming and crying.

Tim wasn't a son to Bruce (couldn't be, wouldn't allow him to be) he came every evening for training and patrol and then he was gone and that was all Bruce had to think about the boy.

Then he saw Jason in Tim, saw Dickie, saw himself and before Bruce knew he was caring for the kid.

Asking to say for a post patrol snack was first denied, about a dozen times before Tim broke, humming and quickly downing that German dish that Dick always wanted when he was feeling sick.

Tim slowly started to settle, growing a bit more lax in his own right, like a feral cat slowly becoming more comfortable with someone.

(No he didn't take advice from Selina...there isn't any proof)

Bruce, sitting at the bat computer, watching the reflection of Tim training in the background:

Tim, winded and tired after a few minutes and having to take a break, pulls out a protein bar:

Bruce, Vietnam war like flash back to his own training days where he only lived off ration bars: pained Hn

And once more Bruce adapts, learns. Tim won't stay for dinner, won't stay the night after a hard patrol, but Bruce can tempt him, with little things, a bit of jerky instead of what Bruce knows for sure are bulk baught meal replacement bars during a stake out, a thing of left overs (they arnt actually, Alfred made them just for Tim) of "last nights dinner"

Bruce is 75% sure Tim knows but neither say anything.

Then tragedy rears its ugly head and Tim's parents are dead, first his mother, his father in a coma and...Tim choses to run away, hiding behind an uncle Bruce is very much aware didn't exist three days ago, and he can't do anything more than what he has already.

Then his boy (God not again why does he always get attached) losses his father, murdered by a God damn Flash rogue.

(The angry rant Barry gets about keeping track of criminals and their whereabouts become legendary in the Leauge)

Finally Bruce's boy is at the Manor and...Bruce sees him, almost for the first time behind the mask of "Tim Drake, the nice young man" he's reclusive, obsessive and picks at his food more than he eats. Surviving on snack foods and energy drinks.

It's a chore to get the boy to eat anything that wasn't out of a package or a box (and Bruce gets it he really did, knowing what it will taste like and knowing it will always taste the same was very comforting) but he managed.

Then like a hurricane Damian is brought into his life, his son, (he has another, one he never knew about and oh God he already loves him, already would die to have the boy trust) and then-

He's gone.

He's flung through time and lost and lives not his own are played out and things he never thought would be comforting are.

Then...then he is found and God it's been months, it's been ages and...

Dick is more Damians father than he could ever be, was there for him in was Bruce should have been...

Dick leaves again, but not as far as Jump city, comes to stay at Bludhaven. (So close but so far away, why didn't he want to stay?)

Jason comes back just as he came into this world, screaming and covered in blood (His boy, his Jaylad ALIVE BREATHING)

Tim has matured, changed, and he walks differently now, far more like Ra's stride (Why does Tim get dead look in his eyes now? What has his son seen? What has he done...)

And Damian. He only was with him briefly, not nearly long enough to see his LoA mask drop, to see the boy beneath the weapon.

That mask goes back on when Bruce returns, he sees the true Damian for a moment before it is shut off fully, sees his son (God did he say how much he loves the boy already?) Softly petting a cat names Alfred before noticing Bruce.

And like all times before, Bruce adapts, changes his approach yet again.

Damian responds to violence, he expects to be yelled at and will only respect a choice if it was fought for, Bruce knows this and...he messes up some times, takes the easy way out and does what the boy know and Bruce feels the guilt.

But he tries to connect, past the way of pain that Damian knows.

Damian, fuming in his room after an argument with Bruce, angrily looking at the wall: 😠

Bruce, knocking on the door, then opening it a second later, not saying anything as he sets down a bowl of mango on Damians bedside table, then leaves.

Damian, grumbling as he eats the fruit of forgiveness: Stupid Father...

(He 100% asked Talia what she normally does and it seemed to work)

Their relationship is rocky, but they find moments where they touch, where Father and Son find a soft moment, Damian teaching Bruce how to make his grandfather's Chai blend, Bruce in turn teaching his son how to make latkes, an exchange of their pasts together.

Then Cassandra comes and Bruce is thrown for a loop once more, she is unlike any of his other children, she is open, painfully so, she might seemed closed off, silent and deadly...but Bruce can see her, truly see her as she wants to be seen and she is screaming, hurt and scared and all alone.

He takes her home, David Cain can try and take his daughter away but there will be hell to pay.

And then she is home, she is settled in a life where she can learn more than just violence.

She stares at the plate of food that is put in front of her the first dinner that Bruce's family has together (HE HAS A FAMILY! WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN?)

And she cries.

It is just as she wanted but she didnt know what to do, David Cain was a horrid man, in his chase for the perfect weapon he long left the idea of pleasure and care by the way side.

So Cass was overwhelmed by actual food, not nutrient dense bars that tasted bitter and was ash on her tongue.

Cass, pitifully looking down at an orange: HOW DO I EAT YOU?

Bruce looking on from his seat: Sweetheart? Don't eat the peel, Cass-Cass. No. Cassandra please. N-No not the lime! Put that down! You're just going to...that.

Cass, looking pained from eating a whole lime at once: 😞

Bruce, looking equally pained: Sweetheart you can spit it out...

And Bruce thinks his family is big enough, with his boys and his wonderful daughter (no Steph and Barbara didn't count, as they both kept on insisting, they both still had parents)

And then comes along Duke and...God he is already signing the foster papers before he could think too hard.

Duke is unlike the rest of his children as in he is batshit insane but hides it far better than he has any right too.

Bruce tries to not pull his hair out as the kid talks about how he made a kinda cult around Robin and lead them to help the Bats...

It takes time for Duke to get used to the Manor, but he does slowly, finding his place in the family much easier than they all assumed.

Unlike the rest of his children, for some reason it is easy for Bruce to speak with Duke, it's as if they both think similarly.

If Bruce wanted any of his children to take up the cowl when he dies (Which he very much would not like thank you very much) Bruce is hesitant to fully say Cass would be the next Bat, while Cassandra has the fists to do it, Duke had the dedication and drive to, the mental state to truly be the Dark Knight.

Bruce, in the cave, hour 36 with out sleep, 5 coffees deep into a conspiracy: hn.

Duke, right there with him, missed two days of school and hasn't stopped drinking energy drinks: Hm?

Bruce, wordlessly passing the files over, before pulling a face at Dukes energy drinks: Hn..

Duke, taking files but offended on his poor babies behalf, popping one open and dumping it into Bruce's (empty) coffee cup: Have some you marshmallow looking ass...fuck out my face B.

Bruce, scowling, taking a sip before freezing for a full minute, (its the fruit juice kinda monster) his body hasn't has nutrients in a while and are all over this: Hmm...Nice.

(Duke shares more, cus while his dad is not able to be there for him, Bruce is more of that weird uncle that the rest of the family don't talk about.)

It's not till someone at a gala complains, saying "I understand he has an obsession with those...children, but why does everything have to be about them, I miss the old menu for these things." That Bruce realizes that the predetermined, predictable life he once clung to was gone, dead and long buried...and Bruce couldn't care about it less.

(That Gala person gets personally banned and their business is outed for all the shitty things they have done.)

---

This....this was far longer than what I meant this to be...I just wanted to talk about what they would like and what kinda food the batfams culture has but um...this got way outta hand...so ya.

[saramelaniemoon]

♡ previous ♡ ♡ next ♡

Eddie has always been the agreedable one in his previous relationships.

This afternoon you showed up in the trailer with the cake like every Saturday. The day before, Eddie had been wondering what you were going to bake this time. Maybe a chocolate chip brownie or cheesecake or those little cinnamon cookies? All your pastries were delicious. However, when you took the cake out of the container, he froze.

Carrot cake. A cake made of carrots. The worst vegetable the world has ever seen. If it were human, it would be Jason Carver. Eddie was sure that the carrot was responsible for at least half of the evil in this world. Once, in his dream, it chased him with a roll of newspaper, beating him like a bug.

He knew it was a good boyfriend test day. You tried very hard baking that cake, mentioning that Eddie wasn't getting enough vitamins, which was obviously not true because he was getting all the vitamins he needed from the tomato sauce on the pizza. However, telling you about his distaste for this devil vegetable would make you sad, so he bravely decided to eat this carrot-tainted cake. Hardening a smile to his face, he ate mouthful after mouthful, praising your baking. Your smile only widened. In his imagination, Eddie was like a knight with a sword protecting you from all the sorrows of the world. He was going to eat even another piece for you. Well, maybe next time. After eating a large portion, he thanked you and you both went to his room to watch the horror movie Steve had recommended for you.

***

He never complained about anything and agreed to everything, which is why he didn't understand how your first quarrel happened. It all started when you came back from the kitchen with two cans of soda.

- Eddie bear, why was Wayne surprised you ate the carrot cake I made?

- I don't know what the old man meant sweetheart.

- He said you blame carrots for all the evil in this world.

- It's a dramatic exaggeration.

- And that's why it sounds like something you said. Babe, why didn't you just tell me you don't like it?

- I don't understand why you're mad. I didn't mean to upset you.

- Eddie, you don't have to pretend that everything suits you. I won't be mad that you don't like something I made. I'll be mad that you're forcing yourself to eat it because of me. Promise me you won't make me happy at your expense ever again.

- I cannot promise you that darling. I'd even eat peas for you. And peas are not vegetables but plants from hell.

- Eddie...

- Okay, I promise if I don't like something, I won't force myself to eat it. But what about the rest of the cake?

- Don't worry, I saw Wayne took care of that.

- Not surprised. This man would eat anything after his shift.

- Hey! It wasn't that bad! But you'll be okay with beetroot cake, right? - you tested him.

- Sweetheart, we need to discuss your making vegetable cakes problem - Eddie said starting to tickle you.

***

The next week, you surprised him with a giant carrot-shaped brownie that didn't have any veggies in it. Better to eat such vegetables than none at all.

♡ next ♡

*traumatized Eddie boy after waking up from being chased by carrot*

[sweetestcaptainhughes]

Mam can I request ❤️‍🩹16❤️‍🩹 with jack hughes please 🥹🫶

I am truly sorry this and your other ask are just now being answered nonnie. But thank you for requesting! 🫶🏻🫶🏻 Also so sorry in advance because this will be sad.

200 Followers Celebration Masterlist

The "playful" flirting that they mean with every bit of their heart.

Everyone claims they have a photic soulmate. Someone who they met in their lives at the exact moment they were suppose to and immediately clicked. Everyone in life was suppose to have a Monica to their Rachel, or a Cristina to their Meredith. That is was Jack Hughes was to you, except for one small problem you were in love with him and he saw you as a best friend only.

You've only known Jack for two years now, actually meeting through his brother Luke. Luke was a 'friend of a friend' when you went to Michigan State. As soon as Luke met you he swore you were like the girl version of his older brother Jack. Someone who was quick-witted, charming when they wanted to be, could be the center of attention naturally, and when it came to a filter on their mouth almost nonexistent. But you were also someone who had secrets, who acted out of feelings of low self-esteem almost unconsciously and did what they thought they needed to do to survive. Turns out Jack was like that too, only it was a big enough secret that he would never dare let his little brother know, because he was older so he had to be stronger in his mind.

Meeting Jack two years ago when you were about to graduate Mich and move to Manhattan to start your life, and meeting Jack it just clicked. Luke was right, you were two peas in a pod, except only one of you was in love with the other. Due to your quick-witted mind and zero filter, you ended up accidentally flirting with Jack a lot, and he would flirt back, as the natural flirt that he is. But each time it was like a crane was being released again to smash into your heart. It happened everyday, it's even to the point where Jack thinks shameless flirting is just how you communicate now with each other. But today him flirting with you pushed you to the edge, and you had to excuse yourself to the bathroom to collect yourself.

Today you and Jack were eating lunch today in his apartment. Luke was in their living room watching something on T.V. Sitting down at the table, eating some pizza that you had just ordered from down the street.

Eating quickly because you hadn't eaten yet that day, you didn't realize that some sauce was on the side of you lips and your chin. Just focused on your plate and eating to help your growling stomach from your hungry. Finally looking up Jack saw the sauce immidately and smirked. "Hun" he always called you that before he said something flirtatious. "you made a little mess and got something on you." taking his finger and going to lightly touch your lips and catch the sauce before it dipped down your shirt.

"thats what he said" you spoke quietly trying to control your breathing and slow down your fast heartrate at how close Jack was to you, entering your personal space.

Immidately his smirk breaks out into a full grown smile as his mouth twitches as he says "yeah i would after your mouth would be full" Dipping his head down to your ear he whispered "with my cum."

It's like your body just reacts, you feel your stomach drop the familiar flutter of butterflies in your stomach, feeling yourself pull your thighs together. "baby if i sucked you off, i wouldn't risk any of wasting any of your cum I'm a swallow not a spitter."

"yeah wanna test that theory" he speaks in a low voice and you swear that your already feeling a pool form the wetness forming in your leggings, cursing at yourself for not wearing underwear this morning because you didn't want underwear lines.

"name a time and place Jacky" forming a small smile on your lips.

Jack laughs almost crying tears of laughter, as he backs out of your personal space finally. Gripping his stomach from laughing so hard as he plops himself in his chair. Once he calms down he turns back to his pizza.

Suddenly your stomach hurting but not from butterflies like a few moments before but rather anxiety because you let yourself believe that Jack was flirting with you because he actually wanted you. Quietly you excuse yourself to the bathroom, closing the door behind you. All you could think of as you watched your tears drop as you starred at your reflection in the mirror was 'how much longer can I live through this pain, of being in love with Jack Rowden Hughes when all he wants is to flirt and laugh at me'. After what felt like an eternity you felt yourself calm down enough to clean your face and put on a fake smile as you went back out to finish your lunch. Because even though you were in pain, you feared that a life without Jack Hughes would hurt more than a life with him where he flirted with you, taking a sledgehammer to your heart with each word.

[mrs-kodzuken]

hard to desire ⨟ kenma k.

chapter two

babydoll ari abdul

❝Oh, Father, forgive me for all my sins

When I meet your eyes, the Devil, he wins

Blinded by your lies, but I play pretend❞

previous chapter next chapter

"We're going to miss you so much sweetheart," Your mom hugs you tightly, tearing up a bit.

"Call us if you need anything at all, sweet pea." Your dad says, giving you a sad smile over your mom's shoulder.

"I will, I promise. I love you guys so much." You tried keeping the tears at bay because you knew you wouldn't be able to stop. They had packed everything you'd need into your small car and then, of course, sent you with extra money for the things they couldn't fit.

You were going to live with Kuroo in an apartment so surely there should be basic things like a refrigerator or microwave?

"Be safe, sweetie." Your mom said as you were leaving out of the door. You could only nod and wave bye, you'd never left home on your own like this before, so it put you through quite a few emotions.

You hadn't mentioned the part about Kuroo's roommate, Kenma, yet to your parents. They trusted you under Kuroo's care as if you were still a child.

Starting the drive to the town you would be spending the next few years in made you a little nervous. You decided to hook up your playlist and play some of your favorite songs to help with the nerves.

You had also wondered if you would ever see that strange man again, maybe that would be your first ever attempt at romance. Never being in a romantic relationship before meant that you relied on fictional characters from books to fulfill that part of your brain.

You just hoped that Kuroo wouldn't snoop to your bookcase that would be put up in your room to hold all of your books like trophies.

In the time that you had been driving and spacing out to the music, you had magically appeared in the town you kind of remembered.

Quickly, you called Kuroo because he didn't even give you the address to the apartment you would be staying at yet.

"Hey, I'm in town now. Could you send me the address?" You asked into the phone call connected to your car's radio.

"Uh, yeah sure," Maybe a minute went by. "There you go. I'll go let Kenma know you're on the way here, little one. See you in a bit."

Whilst you were trying to figure out the weird directions to get to the damn apartment, Kuroo was trying to get Kenma to come out of his room.

"Kenma, she's on her way now. Make sure you're nice to her, just what I had spoken with you about a couple days ago." Kuroo reminded Kenma, leaning on his door frame.

Kenma had been still trying to sleep even though it was almost 11:40am. That's always a tell-tale sign that he was up late on one of his many consoles or editing his Youtube channel.

"Kenma." Kuroo called once again.

Something stirred within the pile of blankets on Kenma's king-sized bed. Then a grunt was heard and Kuroo decided that it was enough for him, he'd have to actually say it again when Kenma would be up later. Kuroo shut his door and sighed, hoping this would go great for everyone involved.

Soon after, you sent him a text message saying you believe you had gotten to the apartment.

Kuroo came jogging down the apartment stairs to meet you exiting your car.

"Hey, little one. Was the drive okay? You need some help getting all that up the stairs?" He asked, giving you a hug. He'd be mindful of your feelings later when you've settled in so you can spill about your sentiments of being here, like you used to.

"Hey, yeah the drive was fine. Nothing but a bit of music and singing can't help," You chuckled and broke the hug.

"And yeah, it would be great if you could help me." You eyed your car, the backseat seemed to have been spilling through the windows based on everything your parents had insisted on packing.

"They sure do love you; you know that?" He mentioned opening your trunk so he could start with whatever is back there first.

You swallowed your feelings, "Yeah, I know. Let's get this stuff hauled in there." You said, changing the subject so you didn't have to think about that right now.

"I've taken the liberty to give you a queen-sized bed. I assume that you would bring your own sheets because I know you like particular 'aesthetics'." He made finger quotes around the word but that didn't take away how thoughtful it was of him.

"You didn't have to; I could've bought my own and put it together. I'm a manly man, you know?" You joked, enjoying the nice moment between you two.

"Yeah, yeah whatever you say." He grunted, hauling a box over his shoulder up to the apartment. After a couple trips, he told you he'd get the rest and lock your car for you so you could get things organized in your new room without being overwhelmed.

Heeding his instructions, you got to work.

By the time you were done, your room kind of resembled the one at home but this one spoke to you in a way that one never did. It signaled a new era for you – a new you.

Your bookshelf stood tall and proud with plenty of colorful books on it. Your bed had a pink and white theme, a fluffy rug in the middle of your hard wooden floor, and a door mirror were your favorite touches so far.

The apartment itself wasn't so bad. You didn't really get to take a look at it due to unpacking but you definitely wanted to now. Exiting your room, you find the bathroom and you guess the bedrooms where Kuroo and Kenma sleep.

The kitchen wasn't spacious, but it wasn't crowded either. It doesn't take a genius to realize that Kuroo probably meticulously placed the barstools and counter items like the tea, coffee, and toaster machines in specific places.

He was such a geek sometimes.

You looked through the cabinets and tried to stick everything to memory of its place. You, however, brought some of your own favorite dishware that had cute pink ribbons imprinted on the glass. You definitely were going to make your presence known with that.

That happened a lot more throughout the apartment too. Your little decor items like a specific throw blanket and pillow on the couch just for you. Small decorations on shelves here and there. Your toothpaste and toothbrush in the medicine cabinet.

You were popping up everywhere in their lives. In his life. And for some reason, it got under his skin. Even covering his head with a pillow, Kenma could still hear you bustling about in the apartment, talking to yourself about where something should go.

You'd occasionally ask Kuroo, and he'd just say, "Whenever you want to put it is fine with me, little one." Not taking into account Kenma's thoughts and that kind of pissed him off.

Not that it was his fault anyways. It's not like he got out of bed to say hi and greet you. Or it's not like he's pretending to be asleep so he doesn't have to conversate with you.

Kenma doesn't know why exactly you're getting under his skin so much, but it bothers him. It bothers him so deeply.

"Want to come with me to help you set everything up for school? I can show you the main buildings and once you get your class schedule, I'll tour the buildings with you, so you won't be late on your first day?" Kuroo's offer lit your eyes up.

Afterall, you were here because you wanted your degree, so obviously you're excited about classes and school.

"Yes, yes, yes. That'd be amazing. Just let me grab a jacket and I will. I saw something about it possibly raining later." You called out to him, fast walking to your room to get a zip-up you had on earlier.

You heard Kuroo walk back into the hall, and you thought he was going to get on to you for taking forever as you looked at your outfit into the mirror of your door. But that wasn't the case.

A knock was sounded, but it wasn't on your door. It was his.

"Kenma, want to come with us? We're going to go view the fall semester classes." Kuroo said through the door to Kenma's room.

You even stopped breathing to hear him.

You'd see the picture frames on the walls and here and there on the shelves from their high school days but there wasn't a current one of Kenma out. And even in those pictures, he was always looking away or face not closely in the picture. That in itself had made you curious too.

“Too tired.” Was all that was spoken but it still had an effect on you. Even though it was muffled through walls too. It was slightly becoming a bit more than curiosity at this point. But then again, you kind of had gotten a bit sad that he wouldn’t be tagging along.

You’d be living with a man you don’t even know, and he was too tired to go look at fall semester classes? Interesting. 

“Alright, well little one, let’s get this show on the road then.” Kuroo called for you and you opened your door.

“Okay!” You shoved that weird Kenma thought to the back of your brain and went ahead with Kuroo to enjoy how you guys would be spending the rest of your day. 

. . . 

Just like that, two entire weeks of school passed by. And yet, not even once within those fourteen days of school did Kenma take any invite from you.

You remembered how he turned you down multiple times. One day you had softly knocked on Kenma’s door, hoping for him to answer.

“Hey, want to come study with Kuroo and I? I thin-"

"Leave me alone." Kenma's annoyed, muffled voice cut you off and gave you the answer you needed. You purse your lips, hoping you haven't done anything to upset your roommate. Although that isn't even one of the possibilities for you haven't even been in the same room for longer than five minutes max.

Another encounter was when you had gotten home with Kuroo, and you guys decided to get takeout which was aka Mexican – your favorite. You had found Kenma sitting on the couch in the living room scrolling on his phone.

It was as if he could sense you looking at him, he quickly got up and headed straight for his room.

"Hey, wait. I wanted to know if you wanted to add to our order. We're getting Mexican food for dinner tonight." You spoke hopeful, keeping your voice light the entire time. You desperately wanted to connect with your roommate, even if it seemed that he hated you – your mere presence.

However, he had other thoughts as he passed you with a gruff scoff, "Mexican makes me sick."

Just a few words hurt your feelings more than you'd like to even admit. You weren't used to this type of rejection when you had been nothing but cordial.

One fateful day after class, you decided you really needed a study session with Kuroo to boost your spirits. You didn't want to feel so down with it only being the second –almost third– week of college.

"Of course, anything for you. I'm going to invite Kenma; he needs it too." Kuroo said, without thinking. You hadn't confided in Kuroo about how you think Kenma absolutely hates your guts. Every time you try, you just keep thinking maybe there is something you're missing that is making him behave this way towards you.

"Oh... yeah, that's a good idea." You tried to support it, but you were riddled with anxiousness.

Your nerves got even worse when Kuroo had stated that Kenma, begrudgingly, would meet up with you guys. Only to which you then mustered half a smile, knowing that the next few hours would be more stressful than the coursework itself.

You stood at the small cafe that was built into the university's library, you stared at the menu hoping that your memory would be able to recall what Kuroo had always ordered.

On the off chance that you and Tetsu come here to study or get a breather, you always forget what he orders. On the other hand, Kuroo has mentioned what Kenma gets every single time and now that is the only thing that has burned itself into your memory.

A fucking oat milk latte loaded with any sort of sweet syrup.

You'd been secretly watching Kenma when he drinks them, seeing which kind of syrup he favors more. You're not exceptionally sure why you've been doing this either. However, the vanilla and caramel he seemed to like the best, so you asked to add both of those syrups into his latte.

Then, you made sure to send Kuroo a quick text, asking what his order was again – hopefully it just gets blamed on your apparent forgetfulness.

'Iced coffee with a splash of sweet cream' He had texted back, which honestly seemed very basic.

With a drink carrier, you carefully made your way to the study table that soon had everyone's laptops, notebooks, and pens out.

"Thank you, little one." Kuroo said, hastily taking his bland iced coffee from the brown, recyclable drink carrier.

Kenma's sharp golden eyes peered upward at you, causing you to gulp. He took his coffee without so much as uttering a word as Kuroo got to work. You had pretended to type notes for your art class and secretly peered up to see the slightly upward turn of Kenma's lips.

You felt satisfactory with your decision.

After a few hours of studying, you couldn't help that your eyes kept drifting to Kenma. Kuroo had gone to the bathroom and your coursework was definitely not on your mind. You breathed in as you took in his entire form across the study table from you.

Kenma's medium length hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, his brown roots showing more so since they've grown out quite a bit from the starch contrast of the blond hair dye. A few strands of hair had framed his sharp angled face, he seemed extremely concentrated on whatever he was reading at the moment.

Your eyes moved downwards, taking in his frame and clothes. They were the most basic, as expected from someone who didn't really care what outfit he wore. A tee with graphics on it and black sweatpants.

Noticing more, his laptop had one of those light up keyboards that you kind of wanted to run your hands across for fun. If you focused on just him, you could slightly smell the scent of cinnamon apples coming off of it. It felt intoxicating to say the least, making you feel the slightest bit of light-headedness.

You snapped out of your thoughts when he suddenly shut his laptop hard.

"Done studying?" You asked curiously, trying to pretend that there isn't a weird flutter in your stomach nor that you basically were ogling him either.

"Why does it matter? It's not like you're doing any studying with the way you've staring holes into me." He sneered at you, and you couldn't help the faint dust of blush that coated your cheeks.

"I was spacing out, sorry." You muttered, only focusing your attention on the brightly lit laptop screen, not the way you feel embarrassed for the emotions that coursed through your veins when you thought of your roommate – who hated you, you had to remind yourself.

When in the hell was Kuroo coming back from the bathroom to save you from this?

synopsis: it's the summer before you go to university, and you decide to become roommates with your pen pal that you've known since you were in primary. big problem arises, he's got a roommate, and it just so happens that his roommate either has a sexual want for you or hates your guts – or probably both?

tag list: [let me know if you'd like to be in the tag list!]

@geektastic84 @lavanderdreamve @hhoneyhan @kirikeijii @marsoverthestars @nymphsdomain @justagirlnamedkai @kodzukein @74zix47 @kakuzone @jaeminaur @3lectraheart

a/n: i made the banner, and i got my idea for this multi-chapter fic from @deftrow !!

[perfectlyoongi]

DAD!TAEHYUNG who makes a teddy bear for your child from scratch. before your child even came into this world, Taehyung already dreamed of your perfect little angel. he imagined their small face, with their small hands and delicate feet, but what was most repeated in Taehyung's mind was the little teddy bear he had when he was a child. maybe the news of a baby on the way had unlocked Taehyung's more melancholic memories, but he didn't care — in the memories of the past, Taehyung imagined a future. and, wanting to offer something special to your child, something that wasn't purchased clothes or dolls that were repeated so many times, Taehyung took his time, taking refuge in your garage, fumbling with fabrics and buttons. but the end result was worth it, and it was with a smile on your lips and tears in your eyes that you received that very personal gift from Taehyung. “i wanted our baby to have something unique. i know it sounds stupid, but i feel like this bear might be more special than any other. i just wanted to surprise them. and you.”

DAD!TAEHYUNG who says that soap bubbles are little dreams of angels. when the summer days approached and the heat began to appear shyly between intense rays of sunlight, Taehyung would play with your child outside, letting the freshly watered grass give them a cool sensation. between laughing and jumping, running and screaming, Taehyung created small soap bubbles that floated far away, always calling for your child, always wanting to be chased by them. and, always happy and fascinated, your child followed each and every one of the bubbles, carrying in their mind Taehyung's sweet words that made them dance like a fairy. “each soap bubble has a dream of an angel. if you can catch them, their dreams come true.”

DAD!TAEHYUNG who encourages your child to eat vegetables by saying they have magical powers. it was no surprise that a child didn't like vegetables — your kid even said that they would eat another bowl of soup just to avoid eating the little peas and carrots that colored their plate. but children need vegetables to grow, and as such, Taehyung searched in his head for a simple and effective solution that could help him get your child to eat all their vegetables. “did you know that if a child eats peas they can touch the stars? it’s true! all the angels sprinkled the vegetables with a magic powder that helps children reach the sky. but if you want to stay on the ground, that’s fine with me.”

DAD!TAEHYUNG who taught your child how to create rainbows. there was always happiness in the world. the beauty that existed in the universe could be found in this world. and as such, Taehyung decided to teach your child how to make little rainbows. when the sun was already high and the heat was immense, Taehyung showed that, with a mouthful of water and a little patience, the colors of the universe would quickly appear in a colorful curve of pure happiness. and it was listening to your child's euphoric laughter and the songs they happily invented that Taehyung's heart became a little bigger knowing that his life would never be grey again. “all the colors of the rainbow bring a magic that makes you dance and very, very, very happy.”

DAD!TAEHYUNG who insists on having a board game night every wednesday. there was a huge collection of games in your cabinet in the living room; from small 50-piece puzzles, to more intense games like clue, uno and domino, a whole variety of games were used regularly. keeping all the laughter and excited screams in the boxes, hiding in the instruction books all the memories of repeated questions and cheats always caught, your cabinet was a small nostalgic chest, which only grew with each passing day, forever filling your hearts with pure joy . “today it’s our baby bear choosing the game. but it’s better they don’t forget that it’s their father who will take them for a walk tomorrow. it would be a shame for the father to be very sad because he lost.”

DAD!TAEHYUNG who says your child's heart is made of stardust. whenever tears appeared in your child's eyes, Taehyung swore he was dying a little. it was painful for him to see your kid crying, whether on a whim or necessity, but he knew it was inevitable — all children feel, all children cry. so, more to comfort himself, Taehyung always caressed your child's face when the tears were already washing their face and, in a soft and low voice, preceding a kiss on the forehead, Taehyung would say “your heart is made of stardust . it has so much love and tenderness inside it that it needs to spill a little out. all your tears are fragments of your kindness.”

DAD!TAEHYUNG who wrote letters for years to give to your child when they turned 18. Taehyung wasn't one to share his emotions — he just didn't think it was important. but when he found out he was going to be a father, an avalanche of happiness ran through his heart, flooding Taehyung's entire being, forcing him to throw some out. and so the first letter was written. what was a necessity quickly became a habit. Taehyung wrote to your child every year, reminding them of older memories and confessing untold promises. several letters conceived with love were deposited lovingly in a small box, all words that Taehyung was too afraid to say waiting patiently for the day your child turns 18. “in these letters are feelings that i never had the courage to admit. how much i love you. how proud i am of you. how happy i am that you exist. i hope my words can show you what you really mean to me.”

[kairiscorner]

(this is my first time writing for earth-42 miles, so please correct me if i get him wrong, ty !)

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

((also i'll be distinguishing miles 42 from miles 1610 through his second name, gonzalo, PLEASE CORRECT ME IF IT'S TOO WEIRD/INCORRECT IN THE FIRST PLACE TY... + ART IN THE PIC IS NOT MINE, I JUST EDITED IT, CTTO.))

miles-42 and miles-1610 x reader (twin au <33)

you had known the morales boys your entire life, they were sweet and caring, though only one of them was vocal about it; the other made it hard for you to tell if he cared or just waited for you to shut up and leave him alone. either way, both loved you just as much as you loved them, maybe even a bit more than you believed.

the two were partners in crime, whatever one did, they were sure to have the other's back. be it escaping home for the night to hang out with you, graffitiing some public place behind their dad's back, sneaking into their uncle aaron's place to hang out--they always had each other to get themselves out of trouble.

the two shared everything, as well. in common sibling, and of course, twin, fashion, their shared clothes, a room, a family--and of course, lives together. they were like two peas in a pod, quite literally; they'd share each other's joys, pain, anger, sadness... it was like a twin sense they had, an instinct that everything the one had, the other had to have, too.

but some things just weren't supposed to be shared, and even for the two close brothers, they knew that sentiment very well. there were days when the twins would hide things from each other, some feelings of jealousy, anger, or even... kind of just insecurity about not having what the other has--it hurts them sometimes that they know they can't share everything they have with each other.

even you.

they knew you since they were kids, teased you a whole lot, but protected you when you needed them. they were your best friends of all, even if other friends left you or you left them, they were the ones who stuck by your side the most, who you knew best. they were the real ones, and they loved you a whole lot; you were practically part of their family, as per what rio and jeff told you.

but even if you three were friends your whole lives, the two felt... different about it. as if they thought 'friends' was an incorrect label for what they wanted to be with you. they were big dreamers, both of them were–but the biggest dream of all, for both of them, was to make you theirs. and they don't mean to share you, they mean you pick either of them, be it gonzalo or miles.

gonzalo is subtle about dropping hints on how much he likes you, he only gives you a small sliver, a small taste of how much he really feels about you. he keeps you company when you're lonely, and he doesn't chat up a storm as much as his twin; in fact, you barely notice he's there, but somehow, you feel comfortable and safe around, especially when you finally notice him there.

you feel bad that he sometimes goes unnoticed to you when he hangs around you, but he doesn't mind–he can want you attention, it's a big honor for him to have it all to himself, but he wants to earn your attention, not force it out of you.

unlike miles, gonzalo is more of a listener, like a really intent listener. miles is great to talk to, it's a two-way street, you talk and listen, he talks and listens; but gonzalo always seems to listen, just mainly listening to you is the best he can do.

he didn't really feel like he was the best person to go to for advice, he'd rather listen to your problems and help you solve it on your own. he's unsure of how to solve a lot of problems on his own, so helping other people solve theirs? yeah, he worries a whole lot about what he says, even if he doesn't show it.

he cares about you so much, and he knows how capable you are, he tends to worry less in general because he trusts you so much. but if you really needed him, oh goodness, boy does not hold back on helping you, defending you, even.

he appears scary to a lot of people, and he uses that to his advantage. one time, you needed him to pretend to be your boyfriend for a couple of days, just to shake off some creeps who can't take the hint that you weren't interested. it got to the point where, when miles wasn't around, gonzalo confronted those guys and, nonchalantly, threw their lunch in their faces.

he did not flinch at all, and, without hesitation, he took your hand and ran away with you out of the cafeteria. when you asked him where he was taking you, he just said he'd take you far away from them, and even if they'd follow you, he'd beat their asses for real. like hell he'd let anything happen to you, let anyone else think they can have you.

"i held back because i'm a nice guy, like you say. and because i'm nice, i won't beat the crap out of them, yet. but they gotta understand... they can never be with you the way we're together."

you thought you knew what gonzalo meant to say, you thought he meant it in the nicest, friendliest way possible--and he sort of did, but he meant that... no one else can have what he wants with you; this romance with you that he's pictured in his head over and over again, but is too afraid to tell you and own up to his feelings.

he's scared he'll scare you away and lose you.

unlike miles, who always seems to share a laugh with you. miles is sometimes mistaken as your boyfriend, what with your friends and your parents always seeing you two together. you both loved art and music, hung out together several times, even without gonzalo, to share the pieces you two made, listen to music together, maybe graffiti a few walls here and there without his dad knowing; it was bliss, being with miles.

miles made you feel like the world was your oyster, he never restricted you to anything because he knew what it was like to be restricted from a lot of things.

unlike gonzalo, miles talks to you while he listens. he offers you advice, tries to solve your problems for you. and though you really appreciate his help, you somehow feel like he makes it his duty to take up your burdens and make them his own. miles has always been that way, selfless and people-loving, but it hurt you a lot to know that miles can't even help himself first a lot of the time.

he keeps telling you he's okay, he's not at all in any trouble, and even if he looks okay, you knew for a fact those were lies. miles wasn't the best liar, he was kind of compulsively lying, but the only lies he ever told you and everyone else he knew and cared about were that he was okay.

you really wanted to help him, but miles is stubborn; he insists he doesn't need help, he's "okay! what about you?" that's all he ever retorts with. as much as you loved miles, there were just times when you couldn't help him, not because you weren't just sure where to start, but he really closed himself off a lot of the time.

but, he's trying. he expresses himself through his art, and slowly, all his feelings unravel when you ask him about it. he could go on for hours on end about how much he put his feelings, his thoughts, his ideals into his work; how much love he imbued in every single bit of it.

one time, he made you a portrait; he was doing it subconsciously, maybe he did out of longing for you because he made it when you and your family were on vacation. he didn't realize it was you until gonzalo pointed it out, and slowly, he came to draw you, illustrate you, more and more, with and without him realizing that, in all his works... you're always the constant.

gonzalo encouraged him to hand it to you when you got back, but he was scared; what if you found it weird? what if you found it creepy? what if it was actually disproportionate to how you really looked? would you even recognize it was you?

but despite his overwhelming thoughts, he decided that he'd find out the answers when you gave it to him. and thus, he presented it to you the day you came home.

he hesitated, of course, he was nervous--fumbling over his words and laughing awkwardly to himself as you looked at the portrait.

"i know, i know, it's... kinda weird, no? like, out of the blue, you just came to mind. and i guess my hands just had minds of their own, it seems. ha, ah, um, well... hah, do you like it? is it... any good, or...?"

when you told him, without a second thought, that you loved it; he was so relieved. his confidence came back and he showed you more of what he made. though he was a little embarrassed because he thought some parts were off, some parts didn't capture the right essence of you--all that mattered to him was that you were happy, you liked what he made you.

but he could never tell you why you came to mind those days, why you were all he could think of that he drew you over and over and over again. when he listened to his favorite songs, only you came up to mind.

he's scared that if he tells you, he loses you.

the twins talked about how they felt about you to each other, and they came to a joint conclusion: they both loved you. well, that was okay, sort of... not that they'd stop being brothers if you liked either one of them.

"you know i'm not gonna lose to you though, right? i like them a whole lot, and... i care about them."

"hah, what makes you think i don't feel that way about them, too? you watch your back, brother, they'll be mine in no time."

guess it's double the trouble for you, with both morales boys pursuing you and your love.

a/n: yes i was inspired by the scene in the movie, you got me <33

[anonymousbardd]

꒰ ☕ ꒱ ┊: The Life Created (3)

- The Second Trimester

↳ Various x FemReader

- The following characters are Gun Park, Goo Kim, Samuel Seo, Jake Kim, and Vin Jin

꒰ ☕ ꒱ ┊: Gun Park

Gun definitely was always with you during the second trimester, he wouldn't let you leave for check-ups without him.

He'd drive you around anywhere you need, and when you felt a bit embarrassed with your swollen breasts, he kept on reassuring you by placing gentle kisses on them when you're both alone.

Gun doesn't hesitate to cancel his plans just to be with you.

He'd always cook for you and make sure you're feeling alright.

Gun helps you throughout everything and you really couldn't do anything about it.

When you got your first ultrasound, he held your hand as he looked at the small little bean growing in your belly.

He called the baby "sweet pea".

He got a bit, and when I say a bit, I mean a BIT emotional when he found out bby was a girl.

Definitely didn't want to do the gender stereotypes and got her a blue crib with a sky themed nursery because according to him, baby is a gift from the heavens.

Would definitely name her Heaven or Angel if you let him.

When you got the photos of the ultrasound, he framed them and has a copy in his office.

꒰ ☕ ꒱ ┊: Goo Kim

Goo would speak to your belly, telling the baby stories about how cool daddy is

He'd always kiss your tummy and would gently lay his head on it.

When you went to the doctor's for a checkup and ultrasound, he cried when he first saw the baby.

He cried with you.

He also cried when he found out you'd be having twins, one boy one girl.

He said it's double the blessing that he deserves.

It's like your emotions are connected to his, like, he cried whenever you cried.

Goo is very gentle with you, and whenever you'd fall asleep on the couch, he'd be afraid to carry you because he worries that he might drop you.

When you wake up you'd smell freshly made food and it would always make you feel hungry.

Goo also helps you wash up your body whenever you're very tired, he doesn't like it when you try to do things while you're exhausted.

꒰ ☕ ꒱ ┊: Samuel Seo

Samuel definitely scheduled an appointment for a photoshoot for you.

He's husband material, he cooks, cleans, does everything in the house because he doesn't like it when you do them.

He goes with you to check-ups whenever he can, but the times he forgets he'd get you flowers and snacks then apologises for forgetting.

He spent a lot on baby clothes and even set up a nursery by himself.

You cried when you first saw it.

Much like Gun, he also got your ultrasound framed.

When he found out you'd be having a girl, he was really happy.

He's the type to treat baby girl like royalty.

Samuel cuddles up next to you, gently stroking your hair as you fall asleep in his arms.

The first time he placed his head on your belly, he felt a small kick from the baby.

He'd keep his head there and you'd gently play with his hair.

꒰ ☕ ꒱ ┊: Jake Kim

Jake brags about you and the baby to everyone, he makes sure that all of your doctor's appointments are met and would come with you.

One time, in the middle of a fight, he got a message from you asking him to help you out with something.

No hesitation, he left the fight leaving everyone confused.

You're his top priority, if someone tries to keep him from seeing you, well good luck.

Whenever he's not doing anything, he'd randomly give you kisses and make you laugh with his stupid puns.

He'll have Lua help out whenever he does need help.

Although he'd act tough and say he knows what he's doing at first.

He was really happy to hear that you'd be having a bot.

He's 100% going to teach him how to play basketball and not to treat women badly.

Jake's sad because you guys can't really make love with eachother, but he doesn't let it bother him because he knows it's dangerous for little bean.

꒰ ☕ ꒱ ┊: Vin Jin

He was definitely trying this time.

He'd ask if he could help you in anyway, he'd put effort in trying to be there.

He'll do things he doesn't usually do like cooking, cleaning, basically all the house chores.

He'd ask for Mary's advice and he listens more.

Although he complains, he doesn't let you do much around.

He'd forget to come to doctor's appointments, but he'd have a movie night prepared.

When he first saw the photos of your ultrasound he thought you guys would be having 4 babies.

The reality hit him shortly.

When he found out you'd be having a boy he was really excited.

He wanted to teach him how to fight.

It was discussed early on not to teach the child fight.

[m0nsterqzzz]

Something Small

pairing: wanda maximoff x gn!reader

summary: you and wanda celebrate your one year anniversary, and she makes you cry. Happy tears of course.

warnings: tiny mention of death of a loved one, wanda making reader happy cry? literally just fluff

a/n: so this one means a lot to me as when I was a kid, my dad always used to play the guitar for me before I'd go to bed the same way his mother did for him. When his mom died, he stopped doing it. i was a kid so i didn't understand how much it hurt for him to even hear the sound of a guitar, but now that I'm older i understand it much more. I understand it even more now that's he's been deployed for over a year and half and even the sound of guitar makes me sad. He facetimed me the other day and played for me when he learned I was having a hard time sleeping, and i instantly burst into tears. My mom hasn't always been the best, but my dad has. So this one goes out to him even though I would rather die then show him my tumbler account. also, just rewatched the nanny diaries because scarlett johansson, and i remember how much i fucking love that movie so if you havent seen it, watch it.

song used as one dad sings because its the song my dad always sung for me: "Sweet Pea" by Amos Lee

The day you told Wanda about your childhood was the day she realized she loved you. It was weird timing but it was the way your eyes shimmered as you talked about your parents and siblings that made something inside her change. It was a look of far gone happiness, one that she wanted to make come back. You’d been dating for six months at the time, and she had recently told you about her brother and parents. “They sound like amazing people.” You’d told her, and she appreciated the way you didnt add a, “they were”. It's strange, but something breaks inside her every time someone reminds her they're dead. 

You told her you felt the same way as you told her about your father, and she’d replied with, “It’s because you love him. No matter where he is, no matter what changes in your life, that’ll never change.” She understood it in a way nobody else in your life did, the same way you understand her.

She’s never really believed in soulmates, but if they did exist, she's sure your hers. When she told you that one night as you guys were getting ready for bed, you just smiled and kissed her. You’ve known she was yours since the very beginning.

She was recently sent on a week-long mission, and she’ll be back just in time for your one year anniversary. You both agreed on getting something small for each other, so you bought her a few books she's been talking about recently and some new rings. She’s not a big jewelry person, but rings are something she cannot leave the house without putting on.

The sound of the front door opening takes your eyes away from the TV screen, and you jump up from the couch to run to her. “Wanda!” “моя любовь!” She catches you as you jump into her arms, holding you up with two arms and closing the door with her foot. You move back a bit to look her in the eyes, and it’s silent as you stare at each other with admiration. She has a small cut above her eyebrow, and a bit of dirt on her. Other than that, she seems fine.

She doesn’t drop you as she leans in to give you a kiss, but she does gently set you down as she takes off her shoes and tells you, “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too witchy.” You say. You guys stand there in the entryway for what feels like forever, embracing each other in silence before she decides to go take a shower.

When she comes back, she practically forces you to sit down and relax so she can serve the food even though you tell her she should after a mission. Wanda’s always been like that. Caring, even when she really just needs to be cared for.

You guys eat dinner while you talk, the previously silent room being filled with laughs and sighs of contentment. She doesn’t talk about the mission, as she always says she doesn’t like talking about work during her moments with you. She always tells you about them as you guy’s get ready for bed, and you listen to every word no matter how tired.

You guys always split the duty of dishes. She washes, and you dry and put away. It’s a boring process, but doing it with her always makes it worth it. The redhead then leads you to the living room as she uses her powers to turn on your favorite movie. She goes to grab something from behind the couch, probably a present, and you immediately stop her, “Can I go first? Please?” She nods without hesitation, almost like she's relieved she doesn’t have to go first.

Sprinting to your guys bedroom and then back, you join her on the couch and hand her the back. It’s sparkly green- her favorite color, even though everyone thinks it’s red- with white tissue paper. She basically throws the tissue paper behind her with a smile, which turns into a full on grin when she reads the titles of the books you got her. One thing about the witch is that she's easy to shop for. When you first started dating, a list of the books she currently wanted was placed on the fridge right next to the grocery list. You had simply laughed it off, but she continues to update it over time and it's become increasingly helpful.

Then she sees the rings, ones she had pointed out in a thrift store a few weeks ago. She slips on her fingers, and it takes everything in you to not make a comment about how hot her hands are. One is made up of tiny fake pearls, and that one goes on her pointer finger. Then a skeleton bone one, which goes on her ring finger, a small gold one with a red stone on it. That one goes on her pinky. Then a white one with a gold line going through the middle, which goes on the pointer finger of her other hand. She seems happy, and that makes you happy.

She gives you a small kiss and then mumbles against your lips, “Thank you my love.” The redhead sits up straight again, giving you a nervous smile and reaching behind the couch to grab something. She brings out an acoustic guitar, one similar to the one that your dad would use every night when he would play you a lullaby. In fact, right down to the tiny spot of blue paint marker your brother put on the side of it when he was five, it's the exact replica.

“So I um…..I tracked down your aunt.” Your girlfriend begins, not quite meeting your eyes as she fiddles gently with the strings. When you were a teenager and your father first died and your aunt came to pick up his things as she said you and your brother couldn't keep any of his stuff, you wanted to scream at her and rip the instrument out of her hands when she grabbed it. You don’t feel that way about Wanda holding it.

“After a polite conversation and a little bit of threatening, she handed over the guitar.” You giggle, bringing a small smile to her face. “Then I went to Clint and Laura, who spent a very long time teaching me how to play.” Your smile grows and she begins playing a familiar tune. The one your dad played. “They got very frustrated with me very quickly but they said since it was for you, they’d help me learn the song your dad made you. So I went to your aunt again and kind of stole the sheet music. I’m not very sure if that woman likes me.” “That’s okay honey. She doesn’t like anyone.”

You both quietly laugh before she clears her throat and says, “So I’m going to play it for you. I just hope you don’t hate it.” You don’t have time to tell her that you could never hate a gift from her before she's playing the chords. She messes up a few times, but it’d really be no obvious to someone how did not grow up hearing the song. Her honey-like voice fills your ears and it's like you're right back there, laying in bed with your favorite stuffed animal and watching as your dad easily moves his fingers over the frets.

“Sweet pea, apple of my eye. 

Don't know when and I don't know why.

You're the only reason I keep on coming home.”

Her voice is different from your dads, but that only makes it ten times better. You can quickly feel tears begin to form in your eyes.

“Sweet pea, what's all of this about?

Don’t get your way, all you do is fuss and pout.

You’re the only reason I keep on coming home.

I'm like the Rock of Gibraltar, I always seem to falter

And the words just get in the way

Oh, I know I'm gonna crumble and I'm trying to stay humble

But I never think before I say”

A few weeks ago, Wanda had laid with you in the dark and quietly asked as she was falling asleep, “What the hell is the Rock of Gibraltar?” You had tiredly told her what it was even as confused as you were, and it makes a lot more sense now.

“Sweet pea, keeper of my soul

I know sometimes I'm out of control

You're the only reason I keep on coming”

She is out of control sometimes, but you know how to bring her back. Actually, you’re one of the only people in her life that can.

“You're the only reason I keep on coming, yeah

You're the only reason I keep on coming home”

She lets the tune ring out into the silence as she concludes the song, and she doesn’t meet your eyes until she hears you sniffle. You have tears streaming down your face, and she instantly panics. “Why are you crying my love? Oh god. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry. Was it that bad?”

You send her a smile despite the tears and shake your head. “No. Happy tears Wands.” She sighs in relief, wiping your tears with her sleeves as you take a deep breath. “That was beautiful.” You lean into her touch as she caresses your cheek. “When my dad died……i hated the sound of music. I wondered how something so amazing could exist  if something as great as him couldn’t.” She nods in understanding. “My siblings would try to play for me, and I literally broke a piano once because of how much I hated the sound of instruments. As I got older, I got more used to hearing music, but I didn’t exactly enjoy it. It was mine and my dads thing. He would go to work for a long time and I’d barely see him but I knew that at the end of the day, every single day, he’d be there to sing to me. So many things changed over time but that never did. Until….well until it did.”

She listens as you talk, humming everyone in a while to show she's listening but also stays silent so you can talk. You run your fingers gently over the wood of the guitar as if it’ll break if you touch too hard. “But when I met you……you played music everywhere. In the car? Music was playing. Making dinner? Music was playing. Hell you get in trouble constantly for wearing earbuds on missions so you can listen to music. And at first, I struggled with it. I wasn’t going to admit it because I knew how much you loved it and I’m happy I did it. Because now, I don’t associate music with how mad I am at the universe for taking my dad, but with you. My favorite person.” Her eyes sparkle in a way that makes you want to wrap her in bubble wrap and protect her from anything and everything.

“You’re my favorite person too.” She says as she leans in to hug you, burying her head in your neck. “And I love you.” Your girlfriend adds as she places a gentle kiss on the side of your neck. “I love you to Wands.” You mumble.

You don’t see it, but she lets one arm release you and places it in her hoodie pocket, squeezing the black ring box tightly. If she wasn’t sure before, she is now.

[miniwheat77]

Close. Pt.1 (Captain Price x Reader)

!NSFW, Smut, Age Gap, virgin reader, fingering, mentions of death, violence, alcohol, !MINORS DNI!

(Summary): Reader gets left alone with Captain Price for a few months. How long can he spend alone with her before he caves?

Part 2 here

You can't remember the last time you had felt at peace with yourself. It's not that you were unhappy or anything, just uncomfortable in your own skin.

You've just turned 18, have no real life plans, you and your dad are constantly at each other's throats. It's a shit show for now, but you know it won't be forever. Your dad is in the military and he is very stern with you. He wants everything to look perfect and sometimes you just can't manage that. Your mum had passed away and he was all you had left as none of your other family really cared too much to stay in contact with you after she had died.

Your dad was due to be coming home soon and he expected the house to be spotless when he came home, which you had scrubbed the entire thing head to toe. Even going as far to dust off ceiling fans and light fixtures.

You had mentioned a couple times to him about moving out, but he'd flipped out on you. You're sure it wasn't anything personal, more or less just him being scared to lose you too.

He took it very hard when your mum passed away. He couldn't function for some time afterward. You and him fought like crazy because he seemed to take his sadness out on you. You didn't appreciate it and were going through it just as bad as he was. When she passed away, it meant you were alone while he was deployed. You had nobody to rely on when he wasn't there. You had no one but yourself 10/12 months a year.

"Y/N, you remember Captain Price?" he says to you over the phone. Your stomach falling slightly. "Of course I do, why?"

His name alone causes your hair to stand up. He was around a lot when you were a kid, your dad had gotten stationed alongside him in Britain and brought you and your mom to live there with him for a few months. During that time, you ended up spending a good majority of time with Captain Price, considering your home life wasn't so good. From about 8-10 you were with him. You had a huge crush on Captain Price. You had only just come to terms with the fact that you and him would never be anything, and your dad comes to lay this on you.

"He's coming to stay with me on the base for a few months, he'll be staying in our guest room. Is that okay?" he asks. "oh uh.. of course. Why wouldn't it be?" you laugh the nervousness in your voice off. "I'm sure he will be grateful we're having him, but make sure the house is clean for my return please, sweet pea?"

"Course dad." he laughs into the phone. "You always sound so unamused. When did you grow up and stop being my little girl ah?" he slurs his words. You can't help but roll your eyes. You hadn't realized he'd been drinking before. "Get some sleep dad. I'll talk to you tomorrow night." You laugh, hanging up the phone. You looked around the house, it was spotless, just like he'd asked. You made your way up the large staircase. Your dad made a fair amount of money and provided you with everything you needed and more. He had a nice house, and everything. But you didn't like to take his money. You slipped your hand over the oak railing, frowning to yourself. It was so lonely here without your mum. You hated being here alone.

---

"Hey. I've some bad news." Is the first thing you hear from your dads mouth a couple days later. "What?" you ask. "My contract extended another 6 months. But John has already gotten his plane ticket and can't get it refunded. It'll be just you and him for a while. Is that okay?"

You think to yourself. Alone? In a big house? With the finest man you've ever laid eyes on?

"Of course it's okay. It's not like I haven't done it before. No reason he shouldn't be able to check the base here out." You smile into the phone. "Oh good. I'm glad you're such a good sport Y/N." Your dad chuckles over the phone. "I'll ask him to keep an eye on you, yeah?" He laughs. "Yeah right. I've been here alone for like 10 months and I've done just fine." You roll your eyes, he can't see it obviously. "I'm sorry honey. But you know how this is."

"Yeah. I know. But it'll be alright. You'll be home before you know it."

---

When that Friday came, you had to pick John up from the airport, it was the plan from the beginning as you were supposed to pick your dad up as well. You couldn't help but be a little sad that your dad wouldn't be coming home. He was really all you had left.

You don't know what you would do if you didn't have him.

You had to be awake at 5am to go get John, you weren't happy about it. But thankfully, it was a warm summer night.

You had on a t-shirt and some shorts, not really thinking about how you looked in front of John. You were a little too tired to even think straight. You waited inside the airport by where the baggage claim was. You're sitting in a chair in the small waiting area. Pretty soon, you make eye contact with him, and he looks just as good as he did when you were younger. The same facial hair, same kind of uniform. Everything.

You send a smile his way and his eyes widen. "Good god. You're a woman." He laughs, pulling you into a hug. "What?" You laugh, wrapping your arms around his waist. "The last time I seen you, you were just a little girl." He laughs, pulling away. You missed his accent. He grasps his bag. "Yeah, was a long time ago." You blush. You make your way out to your car together, it was parked right at the entrance. "It's just crazy." He stares you up and down. "Although... are you in pajamas?" he says in confusion as you pass him to walk around the car. He climbs into your passenger seat. "Uhhh. Perhaps." You smile. He makes a "tsk" sound, shaking his head. "Didn't your dad always teach you to be prepared?" You reach in front of him, opening the glovebox. Inside was a gun your dad made you carry. "Jesus. I meant.. If your car breaks down or something."

"Bold of you to assume I can't change a tire in pajamas."

"You are definitely your fathers daughter." He laughs. He hears the song on in the car, and he smiles, reaching for the dial to turn the sound up. "Your playlist?" You roll your eyes. "Always." he laughs. "Man.. 20 year old me would've killed to be with a girl like you."

What's stopping you now?

You have to shake the thoughts from your head. "Yeah, show me a picture of you at 20." You laugh. He thinks to himself. "I don't even know if I have one." you lick your lips. "Suppose they didn't have cameras in the 1800's ah?" You smirk. He narrows his eyes. "Ha Ha. You're hilarious." He rolls his eyes. You laugh. "Now I'm gonna look for one." He slides his phone out.

When you arrive at your house, he grasps his bag out of the back and you both make your way for the front door. You unlock it and hold the door open for John. "Come on, guest room is this way." You walk down the hallway. He follows you and you open up the door for him. "Goddamn, when your dad said you had a spare room I didn't think he meant in a damn mansion." He laughs. "Yeah, it's a little extreme for 2 people." You laugh. You leave him to unpack his stuff.

"I found a picture of me when I was in my 20's." He laughs. You're sitting on your couch and he's walking up behind it from the hallway. "Show me." You smirk. He holds the phone in front of your face. "Holy shit." You laugh. "What?" he laughs. "If only you weren't 20 years younger." You smirk. He freezes up. "Yeah right, I was way out of your league." He brushes off your comment. "I just wanna know what happened?" You smirk. He narrows his eyes. "I got more attractive that's what happened." He crosses his arms. "Mhmmmm."

You were really good at getting under his skin for some reason.

---

He almost couldn't take the torture. He'd been here for a week so far and was struggling.

You walking around in nothing but shorts and tank tops, back talking him with those pretty lips.

You thought for sure he didn't have any feelings for you, but you didn't realize just how close you were to cracking him. He waits for you to get back from a friends house. Sitting at a stool at the countertop in the massive kitchen. He'd gone out and bought a good bottle of scotch, and maybe he'd had little too much to drink.

When you finally come in, you step inside. Walking into the kitchen after you'd kicked your shoes off. He noticed you had a messenger bag with black fabric peeking out. He knows exactly what you were out doing.

"Kinda late ah?" He smirks, startling you. "Jesus Christ!" you hold your hand over your heart. "Why are you just sitting there like that?" you sigh. "Come sit sweetheart. You ever had scotch before?" you swallow hard. "Uh.. no. Have you met my dad?"

He's got an evil grin on his lips. "Well. What he doesn't know won't hurt him. I mean, you weren't really at a friends house were you? I can see the dress sticking out of the bag. I'm sure he wouldn't have allowed that either." He smirks. "Well. It was a waste of time anyways." You laugh. He pours a small amount into another glass, sliding it over to you. You pick it up and put your lips to the glass and he smiles, watching you try it. Your nose immediately scrunches up and you cringe. He laughs a little too hard. "Maybe scotch shouldn't have been your first drink." You laugh. "It's fine."

"Why was the party a bust hm?" He asks. "I just don't fit in. At all." You look down at the countertop. "How's that?" You smile. "Since I've been so sheltered, bounced back and fourth. I don't really know how to fit in with people my age. They all wanna get drunk and party. I just decided to leave early because spending time with you sounded like way more fun." You laugh.

"But I suppose you probably don't see it. You probably just see me as some kid." He smiles down at the countertop. "Of course I do. I was there, watching you grow for a couple years there. I'll always see you that way." He laughs. "Exactly." He could sense the annoyance in your voice. "Y/N, what's going on hm? You've been acting weird for the last couple days." He grasps your shoulder to make you look at him, he looks you in the eyes. You pause for a minute. You lean forward, making possibly the biggest mistake you'll ever make. You plant your lips right onto his, and he draws back immediately. "Woah." He pushes you back by your hips. "Y/N.. I'm sorry. I can't kiss you like that. I can't-" you stand up from the stool, "no.. I'm so sorry. I don't know what got into me." You shake your head. "It's okay. I..." He stands up, brushing his hands off on his jeans. You quickly make your way for your room. Humiliated. He sighs as he sits back down at the countertop.

---

When he wakes up the next morning, he hears nothing but silence and his head pounding. He definitely had too much to drink the night before. But not enough to forget what happened. When he walks around the house, you’re nowhere to be found. Probably off to school already. He lets out a groan as his phone begins ringing. His head already throbbing.

“Hello?” He asks into the phone. “Hey John.” He hears your dads voice, his stomach falling a little.

“Hey what’s up?”

“Y/N got into a scuffle at school this morning, she’s getting dropped off by her counselor. You mind keeping an eye on her for me?”

“Yeah no problem. And.. a scuffle?”

“I guess some dumb kid was being mean to her. Hurt her wrist pretty bad.” John thinks for a second. “You make it sound like it was a boy.” He laughs.

“From what I understand it was.” John’s face falls immediately. “It’s been going on for some time now, I was gonna take care of it when I got back but.. I got an extension.”

“I might be able to talk to the school about it, if you want.” He offers. “I couldn’t ask you to do that.” He says. “It’s no problem. I’ll take good care of her, don’t you worry.”

John hears the front door open, and makes his way out from the kitchen. Your counselor is helping you inside. “What the hell happened?” He asks. John finds it a little weird that your counselor is a middle aged man, and was alone with you while you were completely inebriated. “Well..” he sighs. “A boy at her school was being a little mean. I guess they kinda got into a little bit of a tussle, he slammed her hand in her locker.”

That explains the wrap around your wrist.

“He said something about her mom, so Y/N just.. attacked him. They had to sedate her to get her to calm down. She’s coming down from it, but she’ll be alright.”

John nods his head. “Who are you? If you don’t mind me asking?” He asks John. “I’m Captain John Price. I’m looking after Y/N until her dad gets back from deployment.” Her counselor nods his head. “Well. This is going to go under investigation. I’ll be surprised if Y/N is allowed back after this.” He narrows his eyes. “That boy slammed her hand in a locker, and made a comment about her dead mother. If I were her, I’d have attacked him too.” He crosses his arms. “Yeah.. but it’s not up to me or you. It’s up to the school.”

John laughs. “Thanks for bringing her home. But if you’ll excuse us.” John says.

After saying goodbye, he leaves.

John sits on the coffee table, placing his hands on your knees. “Are you okay?”

You’re really quiet. You nod your head. You look drowsy. “Don’t lie to me.” He says sternly.

You shake your head no. He brushes hair out of your face. Watching you blink, the tiredness so apparent in your eyes. “You’ll be alright.” He flattens your hair with his hand, running it over and over again. He’s trying to calm you.

“I’m..” your voice cracks a little and your speech is slurring. “I’m sorry that I tried to kiss you.” You look up at him. He sits up from the coffee table, sitting next to you. “It’s fine, it.. was a crazy night. Let’s not worry about that though.” He pulls you into his side. You rest your head on his shoulder. “Who is this boy and why is he fucking with you?” He asks. “I don’t really know, he just started doing it one day and went with it.” Your voice slurs slightly. “Hm..”

“Everyone says he has a crush on me. That’s why he does it,” you laugh. “Yeah, that’s no excuse to do what he did.”

“And he’s really ugly.” He laughs a little harder than he should. “You’re so innocent. It’s so cute.” He smiles. Your heart aches in your chest.

So close, yet so far out of your reach. “Here. You get some sleep okay?” He covers you up with a blanket, standing up. You turn your head to the side, laying on the couch. He watches your eyes close, your body relaxing. He picks up his phone, disappearing into the other room.

—

When you wake up, you’re confused. It takes a few minutes until everything comes back to you. A yawn leaves your lips and you stand up, going up the stairs. You don’t see John anywhere around. You change your clothes into something more comfortable. You look at yourself in the mirror. The embarrassment from the night before still fresh in your brain. “Y/N?” You hear John calling for you. You quickly finish what you’re doing, going down the stairs.

“I took care of everything.” You frown, “what do you mean?” He lifts up a stack of papers. “You’re on a 2 week mandatory suspension, but I took care of the rest.” He smiles. “What did you do?”

“I just went down there, talked to your school. Seen the kid so I talked to him too. I could tell it was him because of the scratches and stuff all over his face. Has a hell of a shiner." He smiles.

“Oh god…” you cross your arms. “What did you say to him?” He laughs. “Don’t worry about it.”

You knew he probably threatened the boy to get him to back off of you. “He’s a little prick but he should leave you alone.”

He laughs. “Thank you, John. I appreciate it.” He nods his head. “It’s nothing. You feeling better?” He asks. You follow him into the kitchen, “I’m fine.” You grasp a water bottle out of the refrigerator, passing him one too. “So.. about your counselor..” he trails off. “What about him?” John shakes his head. “Just seems weird that he’s alone with you. Like that.” He pauses to take a drink out of the water bottle. “I’m alone with you.” You pull a stool out from the counter, hopping up onto it. He does the same, sitting next to you.

“Yeah but that’s different. I’m a family friend.” You laugh. “He’s just there to make sure I’m good at school.” John nods his head. “I only have like 3 more months of school left.” He nods his head. “That’s good, cause that guy gave me the creeps.”

“He probably thought the same about you.” He rolls his eyes. “I can’t be that creepy, you tried to kiss me.” He smirks. “Oh god.” You cover your face. He laughs. “Do you like me or.. was it just.. heat of the moment thing?” You look up at him. “Heat of the moment.” You lie, rolling your eyes. “For a Captain you sure are soft.” You glance at his hands, hoping he doesn’t catch it as you adjust yourself in your seat awkwardly. Even his hands had your attention. “I’m soft toward you. I’m only harsh when I need to be.” He shrugs. “So what, I’m the only person you’re soft towards? Why?”

“I don’t know.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “Yes you do.”

“I just figure your dad is probably already pretty hard on you. I mean I heard some of the screaming matches you two had.” You nod your head. You laugh. “Yeah. It was pretty ugly.” He smiles. “Plus maybe I just have a soft spot for you, what’s wrong with that?” He smiles. Giving you a playful shove. No matter what, he thought of you as a kid. A little girl he watched grow. You hated it. It unsettled you to no end that he’d never see you the way you seen him. “Why don’t you have a boyfriend?” He asks. You shoot a smile his way. “That’s classified.” You roll your eyes. “Oh come on. Tell me, there’s gotta be a reason.” He smiles. “Okay. Why don’t you have a wife?” You ask, tilting your head and leaning back in your chair. He smiles. “I don’t like the games you’re playing.” He laughs. You bite your bottom lip. “I don’t have a wife because the one long term relationship I was in, ended pretty badly.” He says. “There, now you tell me.”

“I don’t like guys my age.” He looks confused for a minute. “What do you mean?”

“Guys my age are immature and stupid. I don’t like it.”

“So.. what? You think men in their 20’s have that figured out?”

“No.” He looks even more confused. “Men in their 30’s and 40’s might though.” His eyes widen. “I-“ he pauses for a second. “For your sake, I hope your dad never finds that information out.”

“Me too.” You laugh.

“You have to be careful, Y/N.” He looks down. “Older men.. they just wanna use you and take advantage of you.”

“I know.”

He freezes up. “How do you know that? Have you been with an older man before?” He sits up straight in his chair, a laugh spills it’s way from your mouth. “Relax, I’ve never been with anyone before.”

He relaxes. “Wait.. anyone? Like ever? You’ve never had a boyfriend?”

“I went on one date. And it did not end well.”

He laughs. “Thank god. You’re still innocent.” He smiles.

You roll your eyes. “You have no idea, Captain Price.” You smirk.

“I hope you never date anyone. Ever.” You tilt your head back with a laugh. “Why’s that?”

“Cause the thought of you with another guy. Your age, older, or not. Makes me cringe.”

“Why? I’m not your daughter.”

“Yeah, but I was there with you. I pretty much raised you for two entire years cause you wouldn’t leave my house.” He laughs. “You offered.” You scoff. “I know. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Your parents were fighting a lot, I didn’t mind having you around.” He laughs. “I guess I just have such a pure image of you in my head that I hate the thought of some dumbass guy ruining it.”

“I want a family. So.. I hate to tarnish that little pure girl in your mind but I’ll have sex, get married, and have kids at some point.” He cringes as you say it. “Hopefully not in that order.” He laughs.

“Definitely in that order.”

“Ah god I don’t wanna think about that.” He scrunches his face up in disgust. “You’re still young, you have so much time to think about that bullshit. Enjoy it while you have it.” You sit up slightly in the stool you’d sat on. “You’re gonna tell me you don’t have sex?” You laugh. “Not in a long damn time, no.”

“Exactly, that constant need you feel? You aren’t the only one who feels that.” You laugh. “Here.” He slides his cup toward you. He’d filled it with Scotch at some point. “It helps take that feeling away. Just plug your nose.” You roll your eyes, tipping it back. Flinching much less than you had the night before. “You know my dad would be pissed if he found out you were letting me drink.”

“Yeah, but you’re a secretive little thing so I’m not too worried.” You smile.

—

A few hours later, you’re sitting on the couch. He’s next to you trying to play a video game but it’s only pissing him off. You’re drunk, staring at the screen, laughing as he raged. “What the fuck is this? My teammates suck!” You roll your eyes. “Yeah? You sure it’s the teammates and not you?” You laugh.

“Ha Ha. I’m at the top of the scoreboard. And I have the best KD of everyone.” He rolls his eyes. You smirk. “I don’t like your attitude.” He sets the controller down. “Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?” You cross your arms, challenging him. “Oh. Babygirl those are fighting words. You better quit while you’re ahead.”

“Make me.”

He stands up, “alright. But I warned you.” He smiles, an evil smile. He grasps your legs pulling you down, beginning to tickle at your sides. You squirm hard, laughter beginning to spill out of your lips. He leans down on top of you on the couch, straddling your hips to hold you down. “Okay! Okay! I’m sorry!” You cry out. “Say "I’m sorry for disobeying Captain Price!” He smirks, sliding his tongue along his teeth. “I’m sorry for disobeying Captain Price!” You cry it out as loud as you can. He draws his hands back, laughing as you came down. Your stomach hurt from laughing so hard.

Once you had stilled, his smile falters and he’s looking down at you. His eyes flashing to your lips and than back to your eyes. He swallows hard. You can see it in his eyes he’s weighing out the pros and cons of kissing you. He shakes his head, sitting up and moving away from you. “There.” He smiles. “Now watch me kick some ass.” He picks up the controller and you sit up.

What was that?

You know now, he’s thought about it.

When he loses another round, he rage quits and sets the controller down.

He leans back onto the couch, propping one foot up on the coffee table. “Earlier.” He grasps your attention. “You said you went on a date and it didn’t end well, what happened?”

You look down. “Uh.. this guy was bugging me for a while to go out with him. Like.. following me around in school, following me to my car afterward. Constantly messaging me. So I finally gave in and he just said a bunch of gross shit to me.” You laugh awkwardly. “What did he say?” You look down. “He said um.. that.. oh god,” your face heats up and he can tell you’re getting embarrassed. “He said.. stuff about my body. Like.. maybe if I ate less my thighs wouldn’t be so big because he didn’t like it.” You take a deep breath, John raising his eyebrows. “I told him I wasn’t interested in having sex or anything like that because I was a virgin. And he told me ‘if he doesn’t put it all the way in, it doesn’t count’ and.. just always said stuff about stretch marks and stuff.” John shakes his head. “I see what you mean, about boys your age. Because everything he hates? I fuckin love. Thighs?” He rolls his eyes back with a groan. “He’s an idiot and you shouldn’t listen to him.” You laugh. “I didn’t. I went on one “date” and that was it. Ignored him after that.” He smiles. “So.. you’ve.. never had sex. But. Have you ever been touched? Like at all?”

You shake your head, crimson creeping up onto your cheeks. He runs his fingers over his facial hair. “Have you ever wanted to?” He leans back into the couch, tapping on the beer bottle he had in his hand. “Of course I have.” You roll your eyes. “But.. I don’t even know how to do it myself.” You laugh. You're holding a beer bottle as well. Holding it between your thighs. “What do you mean, you don’t touch yourself?” You look down. “I.. have tried. It just.. doesn’t feel all that good I guess.”

He chews on his lip, creating an awkward silence for around a minute.

“I could show you, if you want.” He finally says it.

Your stomach falls. And you look up at him, those wide innocent eyes. And he knows he’s probably gonna regret this. You’re young and innocent and he was there when you were a kid. But again, you were 18, sexy. And you wanted him, he could tell.

“I.. I guess?” You say skeptically. You take in a sharp breath when he stands up. Is he joking? “C'mere.” He grasps your ankles, much like he had done when he was tickling you. He pulls you down onto the couch again. You set down the beer bottle and lay back. “Relax. I’ll stop if you want me to okay?”

You nod your head, staring up at him. That same sense of innocence in your eyes. He breathes out. “I shouldn’t do this, should I?” He breathes. “Probably not..” You trail off.

“I’m.. just showing you. Yeah?” You nod your head. "Nothing more." He says. "Yeah... Nothing more." you repeat, a little quieter than he had said.

You wanted him to touch you so badly you’d tell him anything he wanted to hear. He loops his fingers over the waistband of your shorts, panties too. Pulling them down your legs. He swallows hard as he finally sees all of you. “Do.. you have any toys you like to use? Or have tried?”

You shake your head. “Have.. you ever.. had anything inside of you?”

Once again, shaking your head no. “Okay. Just relax for me?” He slides his hand up onto your thigh, moving it higher. His gentle touch on your skin has your cheeks heating up, your face feels like it’s on fire. Where his skin touches your own, burns. It’s almost too much to take. All of those years yearning for his touch, his attention. And you were finally getting it. He runs his finger up your slit and a gasp leaves your lips as he rests it on your clit, drawing small circles into it. You squirm immediately, and he smiles to himself. “You’ve not done much huh? So sensitive…” he breathes out.

There was this part of him that wanted to preserve your innocence. Wanted to pull away, apologize and walk away. And than, there was a devil on his shoulder chanting for him to go further. To take your virginity and fill you completely full of his cum right where you laid, to taint every last bit of innocence left inside of you. Leave you full and wanting more.

He wanted you to taste him on your tongue every time you thought about him. His bitterness. He had an internal debate as you squirmed at his touch. So sweet. It was like dangling a piece of meat in front of a lion, you didn’t see it. Didn’t know what he was capable of doing to you. He breathes out, trying to hold back. You didn’t know any of this, because he was gentle with you. Hid all of the evil parts about himself from you, especially the one that thought about burying his face between your thighs as soon as he seen you at the airport, all grown up. He lifts your leg up, moving himself closer between them. Resting it in his lap. He lets out a deep chuckle. “Just relax for me sweetheart. You’re too tense.” His voice is deep and it’s a voice you’d never heard from him before. “Just focus on what I’m doing to you okay?” You nod your head, staring down to where he was touching you.

You’re watching, lips parted. You’re completely mesmerized and you’re holding back. He doesn’t like that you’re holding back. He starts to rub faster, drawing pants from your lips. You’re getting wet, which is what he wants. “M’gonna try something, okay?” You nod your head. He slides his finger over your entrance, gathering your wetness on it. He starts drawing circles over your entrance, and you’re confused. It feels good but it’s not anything like him rubbing at your nub. A gasp leaves your lips as he presses it into you, and he could feel you stretching around his finger. Just one finger and you were this tight. You lift your hips into his touch, your eyes screwing shut. “Does it hurt?” You shake your head. Once he feels like you’re wet enough, he tries to slowly add a second finger but a hiss leaves your lips and you move back slightly. “Sorry love..” he chuckles. “It’s.. it’s okay.”

“You’re so tight..” he breathes. His cock throbs uncomfortably against his jeans. He palms himself slightly when he knows you’re not looking. “Is.. is that bad?”

“No sweetheart. Well.. it just means. It’ll hurt more when you.. have sex for the first time.” He mumbles. “Because.. most likely. You’ll be dealing with something bigger than a couple fingers.” He pumps his finger a little faster. “Can you.. try to add another finger?” He bites his lip. Keeping his eyes from rolling back. “It’s gonna hurt.”

“That’s okay.”

He slides his finger out of you, watching you blush as he puts them in his mouth to wet them down further with his saliva. You thought he was oblivious to the fact that he’d just tasted your arousal, but he wasn’t. You tasted sweet and he loved it. He wanted more. Wanted to bury his face into you until you screamed.

He slides the first finger inside of you and once he thought you were ready, he lined the second up. You grasp the hem of your own shirt tightly, closing your eyes. He goes as slow as he can, pushing his finger into you. Your body has so much resistance and he sees you flinch as he pushes it in further and further. When he finally reaches his knuckle, the tightness around his fingers has him so on edge he could barely take it. He wants to feel you clench this tight around his cock more than he could put into words. He draws it back, pushing it back inside of you until they moved comfortably. You unintentionally spread your legs further for him, and he grits his teeth. You were so comfortable with him touching you.

“John..” a whimper falls from your lips and his stomach falls, his cock throbbing hard. He wants to get up and yell, the feeling in his chest that he has is too much to bare. The way you moan his name makes him wanna climb on top of you and fuck you until you forget his name. He breathes out. Closing his eyes, still moving his fingers into you. “I want you to do it.” He draws his hand back. You look at him. “Here.” He grasps your hand. Moving it to your soaked opening, “try one finger,” you nod your head, swallowing hard as you tried to push it into yourself. Once you did, your body relaxes. “That’s it. That’s a good girl. Just like that.” He smiles, watching the way you pumped your fingers fast into yourself. Struggling to hold back your moans. He could tell you were still desperate. His fingers were larger and he was better. So he moves your hand again, replacing your fingers with his own. Pumping them at a steady pace. Listening to the wet sounds his fingers moving inside of you made. The longer he did it, the louder you got. Moaning and whimpering his name. You looked down, beads of sweat forming in your face as you clutched the couch, trying desperately to hold still. “John-“ you gasp out. “It.. it feels weird.” You buck your hips into him, thighs clenching up tightly. “Relax, you’re getting close.” He sits up on his knees, moving himself between your legs. When he leans over you, you grasp his shirt with a death grip and he can't help but smile. “Look at me.” He leans down, holding himself up with one hand that was by your head, his other not stopping for even a second. He curls his finger up into your spongy spot, cries leaving your lips, tears streaming down your face at how overwhelmed you were because of him. He chuckles when he sees them. “So worked up..” he mumbles. He leans down, you silence yourself as you look him in the eyes, his lips only centimeters from your own. “Cum for me.” He whispers. “Give yourself to me, Y/N.” You bite your lip, he has you right on the edge.

He leans down, lips brushing against yours. He thinks about if he should do it or not, but it’s already past a simple kiss. So he leans into you, lips crushing against your own. Moving against each other in desperation and need. He pulls away when he feels your hips buck, pressing his forehead to yours, his cheek brushes against yours and he can feel your tears smearing onto his cheek. He wanted to hear that sweet cry you’re going to let out when he makes you cum.

“I- I-“ a mewl leaves your lips and you clutch onto his shirt tightly as you reach your high, eyes rolling back and clenching shut, gasps leaving your lips and your hips jerk as he rubs your sensitive nub with his thumb, pumping his fingers into you still. You squirm, grasping his hand and trying to stop him. He finally draws his hand away, webs of your wetness coat his fingers and you blush once more as he places them against his tongue, closing his lips around them and sucking them clean of your sweetness. He leans down again, pressing his lips to yours and kissing you with as much passion as he did before. When he pulls away a final time, his phone ringing brings him away from you. "Hold on." He sits up looking at it. "It's your dad, I gotta take this." He says, a little nervous as he answers the phone.

[sabrondabrainrot]

🌞Sun isn't self-sacrificing 🌞

Let's talk about that.

Guess whom is back on her copium? This lady. Anyways, time for more rambles and brainrot.

Disclaimer: This is going to contain spoilers from tsbs, tsams, laes etc. but I'm keeping it pretty generic and vague. Just being polite and covering bases.

To begin with, Sun has shown some self sacrificing tendencies but what matters with a self sacrifice is intent. Our Sun in the show has not intended to die for another person. At least, the current lore Sun won't. I get the vibes Sun actually understands that everyone loves him and he wants to live and be with them.

Sun suffers from extreme self esteem issues. He's ok with grinding himself away to nothing if it means helping others, especially his family. He spent a majority of his life being terrorized and guilted by someone he loved with no real end in sight. On top of that, he was made to feel useless and stupid so he has a hard to recognizes he's already doing enough just by being.

Adding to this, just because he doesn't value himself that much doesn't mean he wants to die. At his lowest, Yes, he wished he was dead, but that doesn't mean he wants to die. Sun has a lot of life in him and a lot of love to give. When he's not being tortured Sun loves living.

When you think of someone who loves living with his family, it's hard to imagine they'd so easily die for them. We have to look at Sun's actions and words. My biggest example of this instance is the first time he planned to use Star Power to protect NM/Nexus, he didn't plan to die. He knew he might get hurt but he told NM/Nexus he wasn't aiming to sacrifice himself. He was trying to actually keep NM from sacrificing himself, like Old Moon. It's so funny how circular the argument in that moment actually was.

It's a similar situation to when he went rogue and wanted to kill the 2nd Eclipse. He told Old Moon "Screw being a hero!" To me, this communicates he isn't trying to do the heroic sacrifice or anything similar. He was labeled a bad guy by Lunar in their argument and decided to just lean into that "villain persona". This also plays into the fact heroes go out of their way to save lives but Sun is explicitly out to take a life. Now for a clever segway, the reason why I see Sun as not self-sacrificing is because he knows what he has to lose and he knows how it feels to lose everything. Old Moon made him feel that loss. Just the same as Old Moon taught him how to feel pain.

Sun's one of the gentlest and kindest people in the TSBS shows and that's due to him not ever wanting to make other feel the awful things he's felt. Most of his actions in the show are how he typically would want himself to be treated (Dark Sun waves in the background).

Just to add, Solar is SO similar to Sun. It's honestly so funny. He works so hard and ALSO grinds himself down to the bone just to be a bit helpful to the people he loves. He also felt the loss of a loved one's sacrifice and had to kill someone to defend himself. (IE Sun killing BloodMoon and Solar killing his Moon) He even shares a similar self esteem issue with Sun!

They're just two peas in pod, I love it.

I was planning to come in with a bunch of examples of character who ALSO have the self sacrificing tendency who aren't actually self sacrificing but I'm tired from a long sucky Monday so I'm gonna schedule post this and do my self sacrificer propaganda later.

But yeah, if Sun does die it probably won't be from a sacrifice. Even though most Sun's have a history of dying for others or being murdered early. I think it's so sad Sun's get boiled down to nothing but a sacrificial lamb to many Moon's bloodlust. Or they live long enough to be the plaything of a bigger/greater evil then Moon. looks at Servant Sun.

[floralembarrassment]

omg could you like write some fluffy jegulus with regulus trying to teach james French but james is so bad at it but then like a few days after james told sirius to teach him how to make a love poem that he told regulus with the worst accent ever

that would be so great if you could !!! I love your short stories !!!

hi you sweet pea! this is such a great idea! I hope you enjoy what it inspired! with love

Poème (1/1) (jegulus)

"Pads you have to help me!" James pleaded.

"Why do you even want to know french? It's so posh for no reason, and too proper for anyone's good!" Sirius squashed back. He waved his hands as he spoke clearly dismissive of the idea.

"Sirius please, I just need you to help me translate this and then teach me how to say it." James shoved a piece of paper in front of him.

"What is th- is this a love poem? James explain? Is this to impress Lily? I didn't know she spoke French?" Sirius eyed him and wriggled his eyebrows.

"Oh you know me, just trying to woo," James said sheepishly.

But it worked because Sirius loved a scheme, especially since this one would make James look like a completely idiot. He could speak English and Hindi all day long, but for whatever reason he could barely garble out a 'bonjour'.

Sirius taught James anyway, sad sap that he was in the end managed to stumble his way through, never properly rolling his r's or quite getting the accent, but it was all confidence and sensuality Sirius had told him so that's what James aimed for.

Regulus met James at the edge of the black lake like he had asked him, a small picnic blanket, some snacks, and a few faeries he had befriended as prongs were dancing as lights between the trees. Regulus took James' hand and James kissed him on the cheek.

"You did all this for me?" Regulus asked, picking at the small fruits.

"Just wait," James winked, and as they settled he pulled out his poem.

Regulus smiled fondly but struggled to hold back a laugh as James read his poem:

"Mon amour, vous etes l'âme le plus beau, le plus gentil et le plus intelligente

Vous etes mon étoile préférée

et celui qui a volé mon coeur

je ferais n'importe quoi pour toi

et pour toi je serai là toujours,"

James recited. And even though not a single word came out as it was to, Regulus loved it.

He kissed and into his mouth he whispered, "who taught you that? You were hopeless when I tried," and kissed him again.

James smiled, "when you tried I was just too distracted by the hot teacher," and let Regulus laugh and kiss him again.

James was glad his plan to impress and woo worked, and one day Sirius would find out but it was not today. Today he was just kissing regulus black under the glow of the moon and the stars and he was just so happy to hold his favourite one in his hands.

[moonspirit]

What do u think Annie’s eating habits are like? We know she loves sweet food but what else

Is she a picky eater? Maybe due to being force fed during her training to get more powers.

Does she have trust issues around food?

Is the reason she likes sweet food due bitter things reminding her off the things she had to eat

Side note and a trigger warning for this part but does she have any disordered eating due to how she views her body. From a young age she had an extremely sexulized Titan and could this have affected her?

Hi anon!

Interesting topic tho! I have some thoughts on this, but whether or not they make any sense is beyond me xD

So the reason I have for why she likes sweets so much is because I hc that sugar was probably a hard to get commodity in Liberio. I don't have much of a base when I say this, nor do I remember if anything about daily life in Liberio was ever expanded upon in the manga, but to me, sugar sounds like something that would've cost a lot of money, something we know ordinary Eldian people in the internment zone didn't have much of. I like to think that sugar was bought and saved for the really important occasions like birthdays and weddings, and to get your hands on a sweet treat was considered something special. For fic purposes, I also imagined up an instance where Annie (already a warrior candidate) found herself staring into the windows of a bakery, drawn by the delicious smells and colours of fresh pastries, only to be shooed away from the vicinity by a military officer. That once she and the others successfully became shifters, she had her first taste of a cookie or a cake and she'd have liked more if only her father noticed she liked them and cared to get her some now that he was an honorary Marleyan (but he never did). That on Paradis, she had her first "free" taste of a donut with nobody to admonish her, and cried in her bed because it tasted so good and she could go and buy more and nobody would refuse her.

Also, the sugar gives her an instant dopamine hit lmao. Annie being the sad girl she was, would've found solace in the burst of happiness that eating a slice of cake gave her without having to rely on people-connections for it. Sugar = easy comfort.

Other than sweets tho, I don't hc her as too much of a picky eater. Only normal amount. There's probably some stuff she doesn't like, for example very spicy and pungent food, but except for those preferences, she likely eats most everything without a problem. (some veggies she's not too fond of (maybe peas?) stealthily travel on their own to Armin's plate).

Oh, for some reason, I really like the idea of Annie becoming very attached to chilled mangoes in the summers! (it's me, I'm attached to chilled mangoes in the summers)

Coming to the experiments conducted on her as a warrior tho. Again, personal opinion, but I think it would have more to do with how the thing she was made to eat "looked" rather than just tasted. Zeke's spinal fluid, for example, presented to her either as a murky liquid or as a chunk of his nape (ew T^T) could've brought her to gag on sight alone. Similarly Reiner's hardening ability could've been dished out to her in any number of ways beginning with the hardening "serum" (like the one in the Reiss underground) or as an actual part of Reiner's body (ew again T^T). Other experiments we don't know of could've also taken any form of gruesome appearance. And in all of these, the two most traumatic components that Annie faced were 1. The disgusting appearance of the "food", and 2. The fact that she was force-fed them against her will.

In that regard, I've always felt that she'd absolutely hate being forced to eat anything she doesn't want to. Let's say, even actual healthy harmless food, but if she's not hungry and some well-meaning person tries to *make* her eat, it's not going to go across well.

And now.... for the Disordered eating (TW).

Hmmm, can't say I've ever made a connection between the appearance of her titan and her eating habits tbh. Annie to me seems like a person who's *fond* of eating, especially sweet and sugary stuff and for different reasons as I've stated above. The fact that her titan is the only one that is explicitly sexed in such a way is definitely curious, and its been the subject of debate for years now. However the FT is held in high regard for its abilities and agility (all of which depend on Annie's skill alone), and as such, is considered a high performance machine, likely even by Annie herself. A war machine, a weapon. Having to always stay a step ahead of the enemy in terms of speed, lethality and effectiveness, I think what Annie would've been most worried about is her usefulness and efficiency rather than the shape of her body particularly. That said, I do think Annie would be uncomfortable not exercising or keeping herself in top form in shape at all times, even post-rumbling, since those are routines drilled into her from a very young age and not sticking to them makes her antsy.

I hope that answered all your questions :3!