#and he probably took this thing to solitary with him

[eleccy]

what happens when klavier and apollo are sorting through kristoph's belongings after his execution and come across an honest-to-god scrapbook, a scrapbook that starts with pictures of kristoph and klavier, the first one being of a young kristoph holding klavier on the day that klavier was born, and subsequent chronological polaroids of the brothers on vacations, on first days of school, on holidays, christmas photos, concerts, birthdays, graduations, and kristoph has meticulously marked dates and locations on every page, and he's freaking decorated every page with colored paper and taped-in ticket stubs and mod podged confetti and he's goddamn DESIGNED this thing, the page with klavier's first concert is marked "a special day!" in neat cursive and it's a pic of them both smiling before everything went straight to shit, and the number of pictures on each page slowly gets more and more sparse, and then there are almost abruptly a few blank pages, and then there are no more pages of kristoph and klavier together. instead now there are pictures of kristoph and apollo at events, social dinners, trials, apollo's graduation, more pictures of apollo and kristoph together smiling at the camera than apollo ever remembers posing for and taking but it looks like he did, and the extra decorations and whatnot are a little more muted, just a little less glamour in them but the same attention to detail as the pages that have klavier, the very last page is apollo and kristoph at a bar association sponsored dinner from april 5, and then the pages stop abruptly for a second time and the rest of the book is completely blank because we know what happened on april 20.

and neither one of them ever fucking knew that he kept this or cared or gave half a shit, but a man who is known to rigorously stalk people who might just somehow be tangentially related to a case that he was tangentially involved with can only treat the people he really loves and cares about in a certain way, given that, and this was like his hobby. this dude was at a craft store on saturday nights picking out matching rick rack and tissue paper and those little zigzag scissors that you use on craft paper and he was telling nobody about it he was just doing it to soothe the demons in his own mind because goddamnit he was proud of those two jokers and he was going to document that shit to look back on if nobody else would. because god knows their parents weren't doing it.

[crimsoncandy04]

I woke up feeling ✨frisky✨ today.

So anyways here's how I think it would go down in the scenario where you're dating The Wanderer but he's unfortunately NOT very touchy and rather distant at times.

Yet you can't help but feel so horny for him despite your desire to not push his boundaries. And he eventually figures this out.

💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍💙🤍

Wanderer was a good boyfriend. He really was.

He took you on little dates often. Sometimes to a cafe where he'd often make little remarks about your sweet tooth but would let you order an entire table of desserts if that's what you wanted (he never ate anything himself but would often just get coffee or tea or even strong liquor while he watched you eat), other times you two would go on walks or have little nights in together with lots of playful banter and hobby indulging.

He really seemed to come alive while you were alone with him. But in public Wanderer would practically become your shadow. Always behind you but never saying a thing unless asked. At first you thought he was just shy but after a while it became apparent in his lack of anything much besides hand holding and quick hugs that he really just wasn't all that tender of a man.

He didn't care about making friends or even appearing friendly.

He just liked you.

And you had come to the belief in your mind that if you didn't exist, he probably would let himself become an urban legend in Sumeru.

You could just hear the stories too.

Like "they say if you're outside alone for too long past twilight, and the streets are empty, you'll see a mysterious man wearing a big hat watching you from the shadows." They'd probably call him the hat man or something.

And while this definitely wouldn't bother others much, Wanderer's borderline lack of desire would often be torture for you.

You were always such a cuddly woman. You liked hugs and kisses and just getting to snuggle those you loved to near death.

And even though he would never stop you, sometimes you could almost intuitively feel your boyfriend mentally forcing himself to get comfortable with you suddenly wrapping your arms around him or kissing his neck from behind as you tried to climb onto his back.

Because obviously he loved you.

But he just couldn't ever really match your enthusiasm for certain intimate acts.

Wanderer was a solitary man.

Just being in a relationship probably felt strange for him.

And so you decided to back off after a while. You didn't want him to feel uncomfortable with you and since he usually went above and beyond to act as a protector and almost a complete provider for you (at least these days after you moved in together), you decided to be fair and at least let him have his personal space outside of your bedroom.

You still got your snuggles at night, so you could cope.

That's what you told yourself.

However after a few months you began to feel oddly drained and unmotivated. You were always tired.

You didn't really feel like going out much anymore and would just stay in bed for most of the day.

Wanderer immediately noticed this shift in demeanor (probably before you even did) and often asked you directly if you were ill or if he was making you unhappy. You would always assure him it wasn't anything he did and that you weren't sure why this was happening to you (you really weren't) and finally one day while out with other friends, you're given a solution to your growing depression.

Your friend remarked that it sounded like you just needed to spend some time with yourself. And by this she meant that you should masturbate.

You felt a little embarrassed by the topic at first. You hadn't really explored that area of yourself since you were younger and puberty hormones made you curious like any other normal boy or girl.

Yet your friend swore on it and said that you would feel a thousand times better afterwards. You even went with her to a small shop hidden away in Port Ormos to buy a toy for yourself that she claimed would change your life.

After that it was just about getting to know yourself and well... getting off.

The first part wasn't that hard.

You waited until Wanderer left the house for a bit to do whatever it was he did during his long periods of being gone, and then found a relaxing position for yourself on the bed and got to work.

The toy you had gotten was just a dildo at first glance but according to your friend, some researchers had gone above and beyond for the girlies of Teyvat and incorporated bits of electro crystals into the final design in a safe and rather enjoyable manner.

In other words this thing would vibrate.

You held the newly purchased pink vibrator toy in your hand and stared at it for a bit before finally using your own saliva to lubricate the tip and sliding it into your slit carefully. Once inside you pressed a button at the base and suddenly you felt like every nerve in your body was brought to life. You cried out as the toy almost instantly brought you to orgasm. Your first orgasm technically.

It took some actual effort to move your hand after that and pump the thing in and out of your now aching cunt.

It felt absolutely... perfect.

You would do this for an hour or so and only by the time dusk arrived and you grew nervous about Wanderer accidentally finding out what you were doing, would you quickly put your toy away and clean up. You hurriedly stripped the bed, tossing the sheets into the basket reserved for dirty linen in the bathroom and then climbing into the bath yourself.

You would have just finished showering and would be attempting to put new sheets on the bed by the time Wanderer came back.

And of course he was immediately suspicious of your good mood.

He wasn't upset though. He always did secretly find your smile to be very cute looking. But something about it just seemed... different today.

He waited until you went into the kitchen for something to eat and then began to analyze the place. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. But you were displaying guilty body language.

And worst of all you STILL weren't trying to hug him.

Wanderer had never wanted to admit it but he had found your desire to always touch him rather sweet. And then one day you had just... stopped.

You grew depressed.

You didn't want to touch him at all practically.

Had he done something wrong?

Wanderer knew he wasn't the affectionate or romantic type really. But he knew that it was his duty in a relationship with a woman to care for her and make sure she's safe and that her needs are met.

He thought he had done a pretty good job at that at least.

And then suddenly you had seemed like you found his very presence... repulsive.

And to make matters worse now, he had discovered that for some reason, you had changed the bedding and took a shower at a strange hour.

It seemed to click in his head then.

You had cheated on him hadn't you?

Wanderer couldn't even look at you after that. He had remembered what Nahida said once about learning an entire situation before reacting and her words alone were what kept him from turning you into a missing persons case that night.

How DARE you throw away your relationship with him, how dare you just step on his love for you and seek out another?

What had he done to deserve such an unfaithful and manipulative woman in his life?

You had tried to hug him to sleep again that night but Wanderer just turned over and ignored you.

He could practically feel your heartbreak at his silent rejection but you said nothing. You just went to sleep as you normally did while Wanderer merely stared at a wall all night.

Forming a plan on how he would catch you in the act of cheating tomorrow and then no one would blame him for exacting vengeance in the situation. Because he would let it be known that it had been you who took his care for you for granted.

However the day would actually play out VERY differently than what Wanderer imagined.

That afternoon he returned to the house you two shared and effortlessly got inside without making a single noise or leaving any evidence whatsoever of his entry. He was in his element a little here as he hid just outside of the bedroom door and waited for the right moment to catch you and whoever you were with, Wanderer could practically make himself invisible if he wanted and he could probably make even the most elite fatui spy weep as he made them look new.

So you not hearing him quickly slip into the bedroom as you made love to yourself was definitely expected.

But what he actually saw you doing was what shocked him.

There you were on the bed you two shared, on your back with your legs spread wide as a phallic shaped toy brought you to orgasm right before Wanderer's eyes.

It took him a few seconds to actually believe what he was witnessing. And yet he couldn't bring himself to look away.

You made the most interesting expressions. Your body would tense and shiver in ways that bordered on downright enticing. Your voice sounded so uncharacteristically feminine and soft as you would moan and squeal as you thrusted the toy in and out of your pussy.

Wanderer didn't know what to say or how to move at that point.

However several things finally became clear to him, apparently you were pent up. and this was what had made you eventually become withdrawn and depressed.

How you got the idea to do this was beyond him.

He knew he shouldn't be watching you do this. He hadn't been invited and if anything he was the reason you were doing this at all.

He had left you unsatisfied. He had fallen short of making you completely happy with him as a boyfriend.

And this gnawed at his mind more than he cared to admit.

Why didn't you even BOTHER to ask him to help you?

Did he make you feel like he would react poorly?

Did you just...not find him... attractive?

Wanderer suddenly felt a familiar sense of failure deep in his soul.

He hated it.

But damnit, he couldn't stand the idea of you wanting something and getting it some other way besides him.

He could make you scream like that too if you had just asked nicely.

Or maybe begged a little.

A small smirk forms on Wanderer's face as he suddenly feels himself actually getting aroused at the idea.

That's when he makes a decision, fuck it.

You were so desperate to be touched that you were shoving a piece of silicone into yourself. It was pitiful.

He would show you so much better.

After all, wasn't this something a good boyfriend did anyway?

You nearly faint as you see Wanderer suddenly appear beside the bed.

He made no sound whatsoever.

"Wanderer? Oh my god!" You immediately try to sit up but Wanderer stops you by suddenly leaning down and smashing his lips against yours.

You let a small surprised gasp as you feel your tongues intertwine and his hand pull on the toy still buried inside of you. He pulls it almost completely out before suddenly shoving it back in as far as it can go.

You squeal with delight and Wanderer quickly swallows your soft moans and whimpers as he continues to kiss you while now pumping your vibrator in and out of your pussy. His fingers find the button as well, your legs shake as Wanderer fucks you with the toy.

He finally gives you a chance to catch your breath as he increases the speed of the vibrator too.

"oh Wanderer! Yes please right there..!" You mewl.

He grins mischievously

"feeling good? Heh, you look so cute like this I hope you know. I might just want to keep you like this from now on ~" he purred.

He moves to get in front of you and lifts one of your knees over his shoulder as he continues to get you off. The way he twists and pumps the vibrator makes your breath hitch and your body tremble. However at some point he tries angling it and now you feel yourself starting to come undone.

"please there! Ah! More~ more please ~ Wanderer ~"

You feel your lower body tightening up as he continues to stir up your insides. You wanted to adjust yourself a little but you couldn't. He held onto you in a way that forced you to keep your legs wide open for him and even as tears form in your eyes and you feel your toes curling and uncurling as a powerful orgasm rakes through you, Wanderer still just watches you with such intense eyes as if your every sound and movement was being noted in his mind.

He doesn't let go of you after but slowly he does pull the vibrator out of your still aching cunt. You watch with wide eyes as he brings the toy to his lips and begins to lick your juices from it. He meets your gaze as he speaks in a low and seductive tone.

"you taste so nice Y/N. I've never had anything like it before ~ mind if I sample a little more?~" he asks as he suddenly discards the vibrator to the side and before you can even process what he's asking, grabs your other leg and pulls it over his other shoulder.

You gasp and feel yourself at a loss for words as Wanderer suddenly buries his face against your pussy and begins to fuck you with his tongue almost roughly. You whine and moan as he practically lifts you off the mattress and becomes a man with one goal in mind.

Your fingers dig into the bedding when he finally gives some attention to your clit. His tongue encircled the tiny bud and teasing it lovingly as he kept you firmly against him no matter how much you cried out and tried to wiggle your hips for some relief. Wanderer realized this was a sensitive spot and kept stimulating it and because of this you felt your body go slack finally. Accepting the pleasure assault on your delicate nub.

"Wanderer your tongue ~ feels so good ~" you moan softly as you feel your body reaching another climax quickly.

You feel him give your clit a small yet rather rough suck then. Causing a small cry to escape your lips as you feel your pussy clench. You couldn't handle this for much longer...it feels so good...

Wanderer keeps going.

You squeeze your thighs around his head as he keeps his hands on your knees and locks you in place. He keeps his pace until eventually you feel your insides flutter with the relief of climax once again. Eagerly he shoves his tongue in your hole and begins to lap up your release. You still can't move and he won't let you go. He practically cleans you with his tongue before making eye contact with you again and giving you a rather hungry look.

You barely have time to open your mouth before he's trying to make you cum again.

Why did you ever doubt that he'd be interested in pleasing you like this?

He'd make you regret ever believing that.

[amyispxnk]

Silent Night

Summary - You're back from college for the holidays, and you've decided on exactly what you want for Christmas - Joel Miller's cock.

A/N: this was such a last minute fic im ngl rn. wasn't even planning on posting a Christmas fic, let alone my FIRST dbf joel miller smut?? anyway, i hope everyone enjoys. happy Christmas<3

Pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 3k

Warnings: smut, some good ole daddy kink, age gap (20+ years), Joel is pretty pervy in this, alcohol, divorce mentions. Not proofread because I'm tired

DO NOT COPY THIS FIC IN ANY WAY PLS AND TY.

When you left for college all that time ago, Joel didn't have any strong feelings towards you. You were his best friend's kid, so naturally he saw you often, and got close with you. You were a sweet kid, kind, smart (more than him, he reckoned), and very.. determined when you wanted to be.

Now you're back for Christmas, and as he sees you exiting your dad's car, hurrying over to him, yelling “Joel! Joel! Oh, I missed you so much!” he realises how fucked up his mind might be.

Any normal guy who was reuniting with a girl he'd known since she was a teenager, and a girl he had at least 20 years on, would not be looking at how her tits bounced in her crop top, or how her leggings were tight enough to let him see just how perfect your ass was.

But Joel wasn't normal, he wasn't a good man, so he was looking for all of those things. If he'd actually been looking at your face, maybe he'd have seen you smirking. Maybe he'd have realised you wore those clothes for exactly this reason.

-

Joel, or dad's best buddy, Mr Miller, as you'd known him until you were 16 and couldn't be bothered to pay respect to your elders, had been a part of your life for a while.

Ever since your mom took off, Joel was coming around far more often and, in his own gruff and quiet way, was taking care of you more than your own father was at the time.

Nowadays, you didn't really have any resentment towards your father because of this - he'd just gotten divorced, he was going through a rough time.

But teenage you definitely did, and having Joel step in like that definitely left you with mixed feelings.

If things weren't the way they were back then, you'd probably have developed this all-encompassing crush on him even earlier.

When you were leaving for college though, the crush suddenly dived into your life, crashing down and muddling up everything you thought you knew about yourself.

Now, as you returned back home at last, you knew you had to have him, or you feared you might just lose it.

He was everything a girl.. like you, could want right now. Old, brooding, mysterious, and so fucking hot.

So as you hopped over to him where he stood in his front lawn, you made sure to hug him tight and make sure he could really feel that you weren't wearing a bra. You knew he was looking already, so why not let him feel it?

He hesitated for a moment - probably struggling with his boner which you swore you could already feel - before bringing his arms around you and clapping you on the back.

��I missed you so much, Mr Miller.” You hum sweetly, looking up at him through your eyelashes. His own eyes almost flutter shut at the name you chose to use for him, and he manages to choke out a soft missed ya too, darlin’.

That darlin’ would be enough to make you come tonight.

Your dad finally turns around after unloading your luggage and turning the car off, greeting Joel before the two of you head to your house.

-

The next day, it's Christmas Eve. Dinner rolls around, and you check over your makeup one more time. You don't want it to be too much - it would look weird, considering it was only Joel coming over (your dad was a solitary creature) - but you still had to look good for him.

The doorbell rings and you almost trip down the stairs. “I'll get it, dad!” You yell, and he thanks you, completely unaware of your motives.

You open the door, biting back a smirk when Joel immediately looks you up and down, only just managing to tear his eyes away from your chest.

“Hi, Mr Miller. It's so good to see you.” You smile sweetly.

“Hi, sweetheart… told ya y’dont have ta call me that. Joel's fine.” He says softly, eyes still a little hazy.

You step back to let him inside and immediately take one of the beers he'd brought over once he sets the case down.

“Y’old enough to drink that, honey?” He teases, mind finally out of the gutter for now.

“I'm 21 in like.. a month. It's fineeee.” You smirk, tipping your head back and taking a big swig, showing off the long column of your neck and the swell of your breasts.

His mind is back in the gutter.

Your eyes are off him for now, so he allows him to drink in the sight of you properly. A silly Christmas hat atop your curled, gorgeous hair; red sweater tight around your breasts, little candy-canes dotted around it; your skirt, far too short and he's almost certain you're teasing him now, tights underneath making him want to rip them clean off of you. Your makeup looks perfect, red lips which he knows would look perfect around his cock, mascara which he can picture smudged and ruined from tears and sweat while you fuck-

“Joel, y’made it! Cmon, sit with me.” Your dad grins, and Joel's eyes widen. What the fuck is wrong with him? He cannot be thinking that way about you.

He shakes his head, muttering something to himself before going to sit with your dad.

-

Joel finally thinks he'll have some reprieve from your incessant teasing, letting out a tired sigh as he sits on the couch, your dad on the armchair.

“Tired already, old man?” Your dad teases.

“You're older than me, asshole.” Joel grunts, earning him a chuckle.

Just then, you appear in the doorway. Of course, of-fucking-course, you'd decide to watch TV with them tonight. It's soccer, for Christ's sake, you'd always get bored out of your mind and run upstairs to go on your phone whenever the game was on.

Not today though, much to Joel's dismay.

“What're you watching?” You ask, sitting beside Joel. He tries to mask his discomfort.

“Just soccer hon, I know you don't like-” your dad starts, but you quickly cut him off.

“No, no! It's fine. I'll try watching it tonight.” You smile softly, and settle in to watch.

You clearly get bored after about 5 minutes, sighing softly.

“You really find this interesting?” You murmur to Joel, now having made yourself comfortable on his shoulder. He tried to make himself as stiff as possible when you first lay on him, but you were persistent as always, and he just gave in.

“Ain't nobody forcin’ you to watch it.” He argues, and you keep quiet after that, eventually getting up to go get the food ready.

-

Dinner is yet another trial for Joel. You've gotten just as frustrated and impatient as he is, it seems.

Leaning in front of him when serving the food, giving him a clear view of your tits. Not to mention you never serve food, set the table, but all of a sudden you're acting like little miss helpful today.

‘Accidentally’ dropping a cup and bending over in his eyeshot to pick it up.

Sitting beside him at the table instead of with your dad.

When your hand moves to his thigh, he bolts upright, earning him a look from your dad.

“Bathroom,” is all he can get out before he's rushing upstairs.

“Fucking kid. Thinks she can fuckin’.. pull all this shit with me.. thinks she can act like this in front of her dad.. fuck me.” He mutters to himself, despite undoing his belt and pulling his cock out, barely stifling his groan when he spits on his palm and starts tugging at his length so fast it's almost painful.

His mind conjures up all sorts of unholy images, and he's on the brink of release when- “Mr Miller,” you coo, knocking on the door. “is everything okay? You've been gone for like 10 minutes. Was it something in the food?”

He's so angry, so pent-up, he wants to pull you in here and just fuck that goddamn attitude out of you.

He's deathly silent, flushing, turning on the sink as he pulls his pants up, blue-balled like he'd never been before, and exiting the bathroom.

“Everything is fine.” He grits out, fists clenched as he walks past you. You eye his bulge and smirk before practically skipping down the stairs.

“He said everything's fine, daddy.” You smile to your dad, and he almost collapses. He swears he sees god for a second.

That word coming out of your mouth should absolutely not turn him on like it just did - but it did.

The rest of dinner, he's almost silent, just gulping down beer and chewing on his now cold turkey. You don't try anything with him, actually a little afraid he might just get up and leave.

Instead, you wait until the movie.

Your dad puts Die Hard on, and after a lengthy argument about whether or not it even counts as a Christmas movie, - you insist it's not and will carry that with you to the grave - you settle beside Joel.

Joel thinks he's made it through the worst of the evening, but then you shiver. You shiver again, and then you pout, and he feels obliged to ask.

“Are you cold?”

“Yeah.. can I have some of the blanket?” You whisper. Your dad is practically falling asleep in the armchair.

He goes to hand you the blanket, and you, devious as ever, put it over both of your laps, cuddling up to Joel even more.

He's on full alert right now, stiff as a log, waiting for your next game.

The movie goes on, and then your hand creeps under the sheet. Moving from the side, to your own lap, to his arm, then to his leg-

“What're you-” he grunts, but you just shush him.

“I'm trying to watch the movie, Joel.” You huff, as if your hand isn't on his cock right now.

His eyes are darting between you, the screen, his lap under the blanket, and your dad. Way too much is going on, and as you start palming him, he lets out the most pained groan. He sees you biting your lip and he's so angry, so horny, he doesn't know what to do with himself.

Your dad suddenly wakes up, and the bubble pops. You pretend you're asleep on Joel's shoulder, and you know you've won when Joel tells your dad to just go on up, that he'll make sure she gets to bed.

As soon as your dad's bedroom door shuts, Joel grabs your jaw, glaring at you.

“Exactly what the fuck do you think you're doing, little girl?” He spits, and you giggle softly.

“‘m not doing anyth- ow, Joel!” You whimper when he squeezes your cheeks together.

“You gonna tell the truth now? Gonna answer me properly?” He says, tone and eyes cold as the ice on your driveway.

You nod, trying to stifle your whimper. He eases the grip on your jaw, still holding it, before asking you again.

“What do you think you're doing?” He says through clenched teeth, and you know he's not fucking around anymore.

“I.. I just..” Fuck it, you may as well shoot your shot, otherwise what was the point of everything tonight anyway?

“I wanted you to fuck me, Joel.”

Creak goes the step at the top of your staircase, and you squeak, jumping off the couch as Joel pulls the blanket and a pillow over his lap. You rush upstairs past your dad, hurriedly bidding him goodnight before slamming your door.

“Just came to grab my phone. Everythin' alright..?” He asks, brows furrowed at your skittish behaviour.

Joel nods, and your dad leaves him alone.

His cock has been throbbing for hours. So long that it's actually painful. But now he can't do anything. You and your dad are upstairs, you'll be asleep in 5 minutes, and Joel will just have to pretend it's your pussy wrapped around his length when he fucks his fist in the guest bedroom tonight.

-

Guilt gnaws away at him as he cleans his come off of his hand and stomach, tossing the tissues into the bin before changing into some sweats and managing to fall asleep after half an hour of tossing and turning.

The world seems to hate him, since he wakes up at 2am, heading to the bathroom only to walk past your bedroom and hear you moaning. He can't make out what you're moaning - but he has a good idea - and he's thankful your doors are quiet when he opens the one to your room.

You're facing away from the door, legs spread, face in your pillow as your hips buck, fingers working your pussy furiously.

“Joel, Joel, fuck-” you gasp, whimpering as you get close.

Fuck this.

If he didn't get to come for the entire evening, you did not get to come right now.

He walks over to you, morales abandoned, and growls your name.

You squeak, biting your lip as you turn and look at him. You'd been so close, but now you're too petrified to finish.

“Joel, I-”

“Not another word.”

It's the last thing he says before he flips you back onto your stomach, pushing your head down into the pillows.

“You're gonna be a good girl and shut the fuck up while I fuck this needy pussy. You understand me?”

You part your lips to reply, earning a spank to your ass.

“Can't fuckin’ listen, can ya? No talking, baby.”

You nod, whimpering as he pushes your head back down and pulls your soaked panties off, tossing them onto the floor.

“Fuck, look at her. Drippin’ for me, ain't she? Didn't know you were such a slut, babygirl.” He teases, knuckles dragging along your slit, and you cry into the pillow, hips bucking back against his hand.

Another spank, making you moan, trying to stop your hips from bucking once more.

“You take what you're fucking given. Do you understand me?”

You nod, having learnt from your mistakes.

“Good girl. Knew you could listen for me.” He coos, before he's thrusting two of his thick fingers into your dripping heat.

You gasp and whine, moaning his name into the pillow, almost tearing your sheets with how hard you grip them.

“That's right.. moan my name. Fuckin’ slut.” He grunts, head ducking down to tease your clit with his tongue. You almost lose it, starting to clench hard and fast around his fingers. You're right on the edge when he pulls away.

“Joel!” You practically sob, deflating as your orgasm drifts away.

“Shh, shh. You thought you could tease me all night and still get off? Y’thought wrong, honey.” He coos, mocking, pulling down his sweatpants and slicking up his cock with your wetness, giving you no warning as he starts to push in.

“Ohh, fuck. Knew you'd be tight for me, baby. That's it, good girl.” He groans, bottoming out. He allows you to cry his name into the pillow, but when he starts really fucking you, it gets too much.

He pulls out to the tip before slamming back into you, making you almost scream, back arching and hips bucking - unsure if you want him to get out, or fuck you even harder.

He decides for you, starting to pound into you. The only sounds in the room are your broken moans, his heavy breathing, and the rhythmic slapping of skin on skin.

“Joel- Joel- pl-please I'm gonna come- please Daddy-” you moan, and his hips stutter before he's pulling you up by your hair, his back to your chest when he resumes his aggressive thrusts.

“Shut- the fuck- up.” He pants in-between thrusts, and you whimper, brows drawing together as you get close. He starts rubbing your clit and you see stars, unable to stop yourself from coming.

“Fuckfuckfuck yes, yes daddy- oh my god-” you sob, before he's pulling out and manhandling you onto your back, thrusting back inside to the hilt, palm covering your mouth.

“You better shut up right now unless you want your real daddy to wake up, find us here like this-” you curse silently when you clench around him at the thought - what is wrong with you?

“Oh, you like that? Dirty fucking girl. Such a slut for daddy, huh?” You clench tighter at that, and his thrusts speed up, pace irregular. “Yeah, you fuckin’ like that.”

His hand leaves your mouth and you cover it yourself, not wanting to anger him anymore.

“‘s okay, baby.” He murmurs, taking your hand from your mouth and leaning down to kiss you. As he does, his hand goes to your clit, and you moan loudly, muffled slightly by the kiss, as your back arches off the bed and you come so hard you see stars, setting off his own release and making him groan, biting your shoulder as he fills you up.

It's quiet for a moment, save for your shared panting, before he pulls out.

“Fuck, honey..” he murmurs, watching your shared fluids dribble out of your cunt, gathering them up on his fingers and pushing them back into your tight hole.

“Made such a mess, didn't we?” He says softly, brushing your hair away from your eyes as you giggle softly, nodding.

“That was so good.” You whisper, and he nods, gathering you up in your arms.

“Joel, you can't stay in here-” you mutter, confused.

“Just relax, honey. I'll leave in the mornin’. Just let me hold you for now.”

You're utterly perplexed, but you're definitely not complaining, swallowed up by his warmth and drifting off within a minute.

-

The next morning, you're opening presents, and you bite your lip when he reads his card from you. At the bottom, you'd added - come to my room afterwards for the second part of your gift - and when he comes upstairs afterwards, it's safe to say he doesn't leave for a good hour.

Dividers by @adornedwithlight <3

Thank you sm for reading, I hope you enjoyed! Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! Have a good Christmas everyone!! ❤️

[lucid-loves]

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

Thank you for waiting! 🤍

What a Time To Be Alive

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

Word Count: 13.7k, One-Shot

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

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

Somehow, you missed your old cell. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They wanted you awake for this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Spi-”

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

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

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

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

It should’ve been him to get caught.

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll take care of her.”

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

“Options?”

He shrugged. “Job options. Living options.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When will everything feel normal again?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why would you want that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 It was your torture after all. 

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was still months of footage left to sift through.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He never wanted to leave your side again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pasta. . .” 

“You really want to get back into cooking?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It stirred something deep within himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Only Ghost could make you feel this way. 

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

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

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

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

~

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

Keyword: Shouldn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dove?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hell, he probably needs therapy too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was in love with you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[hauntingrabbits]

Batman my little pony AU. Part 2 here, Part 3 here

More info on these under the cut!

1. Sundown Mane/Batpony (Bruce Wayne)

His backstory & general situation is pretty much identical to every other batman out there so I wont get into it.

Other notes:

-His cutie mark is a masquerade mask that I tried to make vaguely bat-shaped. The general public sees his Cutie Mark through the lense of his reputation, and he leans into it heavily to obscure the truth. In interviews, he presents it as being tied to hosting galas (it’s the reason he started hosting those huge masquerade balls in the first place) and/or his fashionable looks, but in truth it’s far more representative of his stealth and disguise capabilities, as well as his masked night time hobbies as a whole.

-He’s not an actual bat-pony in any way, the bat wing appearance is just the costume (intentionally designed that way for intimidation, battle, and obscuring his identity further). Though most citizens assume he’s a true bat-pony, other rumors range from him being a vampire, to an Earth pony with false tech-based wings, to a magically disguised alicorn, to a spirit of the night.

-If Batman were actually to be a pony I think he’d 100% be an earth pony, because his big thing is relying on skill and tech rather than power and he has the whole “normal guy amongst gods” thing going on. HOWEVER. There are actual bat ponies in this show. How am I not supposed to utilize that somehow for the guy whose name is BATMAN? Also with Sundown I think being a Pegasus just fits the playboy personality front he puts up. I don’t know why, its just vibes.

-I think he just doesn’t fly much while patrolling as batpony, instead using his wings for extra jump or for intimidation and cover like with his cape. They’re probably steel-tipped or something too. He doesn’t rely on flight for advantage and trains entirely grounded because he doesn’t want to be dependent on flight and find himself lost if his wings are ever incapacitated.

2. Apollo Honeyscales/Two-Face (Harvey Dent)

Fascinated by the Equestrian legal system and craving a more organized society than what was offered by his generally disorderly and solitary fellow Chimeras, Apollo moved to Gotham to pursue higher education. Unfortunately, ponies are often intimidated by, if not downright terrified of Chimeras, so though Chimera cultures usually give each head equal social weight and three individual names, Apollo quickly adapted to instead try to present himself as pony-like as possible. He used a singular name and pronoun for his whole body, presented the less intimidating, herbivorous-looking goat as his “main” head, and eventually even took to having a faux Cutie Mark applied for media and court appearances. Prior to the attack, the lion and the snake head were never seen talking in public, and even in private the only ponies to have heard them speak were his close friends Sundown Mane and Glider Gold.

After being attacked with acid in court, Scales succumbed to injury and had to be amputated, while Honeybite was left alive but severely scarred. With this event, Apollo’s and Honeybite’s already fragile mental states from years of pony society othering them, the weight of their job, and personal repression finally snapped in their grief and anger, leading Honeybite to fully take the reins and create the criminal persona of Two-Face. Attempts from both Sundown and Glider and to reach out since have been unsuccessful.

Other Notes:

-According to the wiki only one chimera shows up in the whole show so. I made stuff up. -Chimeras typically being solitary is based on the fact we only ever see one in the show. This solitary nature would make it hard for them to have a widespread legal system at all, let alone to enforce it; thus Apollo’s original fascination with the foreign pony legal system. The Chimera in the show also has individual names for each head, each with a slightly different style (the goat following pony name conventions with the name Pumpkin Cake, the tiger following a slightly more violent version of pony name conventions with the name Sweetkill, and the Snake bluntly just being named Snakey). I tried to follow similar conventions for Apollo. I was most happy with the name Scales, because it followed the blunt snake naming convention while also sort of doubling as a scales of justice reference. Apollo is just a reference to Harvey’s nickname in some of the comics, and Honeybite is just for fun.

-His perfectly split coat is unique even among other chimeras, and as Apollo he was generally considered attractive and “exotic” by Equestrian media outlets.

-The temporary Cutie Mark application was done professionally. (Surely ponies have perfected this art, right? Like this has to be something pony society does and has services for, right? Ponies covering up embarrassing Cutie Marks, blank flanks covering up an embarrassing lack of a Curie Mark, Ponies getting Cutie Marks done for costumes, theater, movies, etc… you get it.) Apollo’s choice of a faux Cutie Mark is meant to serve as both a way of further integrating himself into pony society and a proclamation of his legal skills.

-Apollo was a genuinely great lawyer. Ponies on defense were often so preoccupied at the terror of having a lion and a snake silently stare them down that they wouldn’t realize it was actually the goat they should’ve really been afraid of until their entire case had already been ruthlessly torn to shreds.

3. Glider Gold (Gilda Gold)

Even prior to their relationship and subsequent engagement, Glider had long been Apollo’s closest friend and confidant. She saw the way his job and keeping up his image was tearing him apart long before the acid attack, and she deeply regrets not trying harder to get him the help he needed before it was too late. Multiple news outlets have been trying to get an interview with her and their efforts only increase every time Two-Face shows up in the news (despite Sundown’s efforts to dissuade them). She hasn’t been the same since the attack and Apollo’s disappearance, losing interest in her work and finding her friendship with Sundown heavily strained as they both feel the weight of Apollo’s absence.

Other notes:

-I wasn’t even going to draw Gilda originally because she’s such a minor character in Batman stuff but as I was writing out Apollo’s background she nudged her way back in. I like her too much.

-This version is based on her very first iteration where she was a sculptor. Her green coat is a reference to that version’s accompanying Two-Face (also his first iteration), who had green scarring.

- The choice for her to be a pegasus was mainly just to go with her silly name, but I do think being a pegasus would be beneficial to a sculptor. No ladder required to work on high details just fly up there.

-I am not immune to the bruce/harvey/gilda agenda

[nana-luvy]

. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 .

warnings: fluff, afab!reader, daughter of Aphrodite!reader, bestfriend!Luke, no established relationship, they're both blinded by their own fears (also, two uses of y/n, sorry but i weirdly couldn't do without)

In which everyone wants her, and she just wants to be loved the right way.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“Hey, sorry, can I talk to you for a second ?”

You turned your head in the voice’s direction, diverting your attention from Luke who was sitting in front of you at the small picnic table, your hair moving in slow-motion like even the wind was in on trying to make you appear even more godly than you already did.

“Ethan, hey. Sure, do you need something ?”

Your voice was soft, like a soothing melody carried to the boy’s ears. You tilted your head to the side when he looked at Luke and then back at you, his hands fidgety and betraying his nervousness.

“Can we… talk alone ? Please ?” the boy said, a question seemingly directed to Luke more than to who he was previously talking to.

’Oh, he’s one of them.’ the curly haired thought, a brief look of annoyance flashing through his eyes.

But before he could say anything, you cut him in his track, gracefully lifting yourself off the wooden picnic bench, your long, perfectly manicured finger pointing at him before you spoke. “You wait here, we’ll go.”

You offered him a sweet smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes, before turning around, motioning to Ethan with a small ‘lead the way’, before you both went a little farther from the center of the camp.

Luke was frustrated, terribly so, as he saw yet another one make a move on you when he couldn’t bring himself to. You, his best friend since he first arrived at camp ; you, the Aphrodite child who probably took the most genes from their mother ; you, the one person he couldn’t get off his mind since long before he even knew what feelings were. Just one girl had become the center of his small world, his life revolved around you like the earth could only ever think of circling around its Sun. You were his Sun.

Luke was torn from his reverie by a random kid from his cabin asking for advice about a prank to pull on his twin, and the counselor couldn’t have been happier about the mischief all his siblings and himself had in their blood that, in this moment, would be saving him from spiraling thoughts and solitary mopping. Was he dramatic ? Very much, but he couldn’t help himself when it came to you.

“How bad are we talking ? For the prank ?”

“Hmmmm… Not too bad because she’s gonna go all crazy on me if it’s too much…” the little boy said, clearly frustrated.

Luke thought for a second, a smirk lighting up his face. He got closer to his little half-brother, and whispered in a conspiracy-like tone.

“I think you can go ask one of the Stoll bros for glitter and put it inside her bed sheets, like all over her mattress’ cover. How’s that ?”

The two snickered together, before someone cleared their throat behind them, and Luke turned around to see you standing there, back at the table, with Ethan nowhere to be seen.

“Again at being a bad influence on the youth, Castellan ?” you asked, though it did sound like more of a statement, arms crossed over your chest with a small smile dancing on your lips. But Luke immediately acknowledged the crease of your eyebrows.

Yet, he decided he wouldn’t ask about it, not right this moment at least. “You know it’s the only thing that makes life at camp just a tinge less boring.”

“Oh, so I don’t make your life at camp any less boring ?”

The boy thought for a second, theatrically tapping a finger on his chin, before looking back right in your eyes. “You’re right, it’s just the second only thing to make camp-life less boring, right after you Bee.”

Though you wouldn’t show it, you felt your heart skip a beat. The slight drag in his voice when he used your nickname, the one he had claimed for him only to use years ago, his queen bee; the flirty smirk that played at the corner of his lips, one you should’ve grown accustomed to after so much time but still had her heart racing; the look in his hazelnut eyes, one you could only tell yourself was carrying an intention your delusion made up, because that was the only explanation. All the things that you shouldn’t be paying attention to, but that made your heart leap in your chest and your hopelessness rise up again.

“Cut the flirting or I’ll cut your pretty curls in your sleep.” you only chose to answer, trying to calm down the simmer of her emotions. As Luke faked a shot in the chest, you stepped over the bench on the other side of the table, sitting back in your place.

By now the young Hermes boy had left and you were only together in the clearing again, very few people going around this area in the middle of the afternoon. The Sun was shining right above your heads, center of the sky, a light breeze grazing your skin and sparing you a little of the summer heat that had everyone else running to the beach for most of the day.

A small silence settled upon you both, and you went back to the little paper butterfly origamis you were preparing for your younger half-siblings, while Luke just watched your precise folding, before he finally spoke the question that burnt his lips.

“So… are you still single?” the brunette asked, somewhat hesitant even if you both were now very used to the conversation, and the little sigh that left your lips in front of him made his own curl in a concealed smile.

“I think we can write him out as part of ‘all the other ones who tried before’.” you said, mimicking a quoting sign with her fingers. Luke let out a little laugh at your way to phrase it, before you continued. “I mean, he could’ve been great, I guess. He was all nervous and fidgety, and his eyes were all over the place, it was kinda cute y’know ? And then boom, wrong question Ethan. The disillusion hit hard. I mean maybe I didn’t think he would be ‘The One’, you know, and I didn’t have much prior expectations, but… it’s getting tiring.”

Even if he had heard it tens of times, Luke listened intently, looking you in the eyes even if you didn’t look back, head resting on his palm for support as you rambled on about how Ethan was only one of the others. Again. But he didn’t grow tired of hearing it, never, because it only meant he still had a chance, it meant you hadn’t been took away from him by someone else. Yet.

“And why did you turn him down then, if he’s so great ? Is it really the question thing again ?” the brunette asked, a hint of a laugh still in his voice.

“It is… I know you wanna make fun of me, but he just didn’t- he didn’t say it right.” Your shoulders slumped a little, a pout growing on your lips, but quickly you pursed them instead, shaking your head slightly. “But anyway, I’m used to it, it’ll work out one day.”

As you said those words, your eyes longingly looked back at the boy in front of you, and you couldn’t understand how he didn’t notice it, the way your eyes almost always searched for anything that mirrored your own feelings in the depth of his brown orbs. It was just one of those moments now, seeing him on the other side of the table, where you knew you could just touch his face if you reached with you hand and yet you felt like there were worlds between the both of you.

“I’m not gonna make fun of you, Bee, as much as I’d love to, don’t you worry your little head.” he started, attempting to poke at your hair playfully but you swatted his hand away with a amused roll of your eyes. “But I will notice the dedication, really. How long has it been now, over three years since you’ve dated anyone ?” He perfectly knew it was three years, because the moment you started dating that girl was the moment he discovered the meaning of his own feelings and what true jealousy felt like. “And you don’t waver, huh ?”

“Yeah, you know me, I’m hard headed..” You couldn’t repress a small smile through your obvious sarcasm, before continuing. “But it’s just… I don’t think it should be that difficult for people to find my answer. They’re all bouncing off a wall with their poor questions, and the next comes with an almost exact same one, it’s dumb to do the same thing over and over again and still expect a different outcome..” You sighed, exasperated, looking up at the sky. “I swear, if you know me just the littlest bit, it’s not that complicated…”

Luke’s gaze cast downwards, hearing your faint whisper brought to his ears by the wind, because it just felt like another reminder that you would never have him as more than friends, and he probably didn’t deserve it anyway. Because, even if you claimed it wasn’t so hard of an enigma, in the end, he didn’t have the answer either.

“So… what’s the magic ‘not complicated’ question, then, Mini-Bee ?” he asked, fluttering his eyelashes like a woman in the 18th century trying to get her ways.

But, just as you said every time he asked that before, you just looked at him with a smile and said,

“You’ll be the first to know when someone says it right, but until then, I don’t want to give any hints. It would rig the system ~”

And you quickly added “And do not call me Mini-Bee or I’m gonna kick you in the shin and it’s gonna hurt.”

“Not very Aphrodite’s daughter of you, Mini-Bee ~” Luke teased, hiding every bit of his disappointment, and you both ran off, chasing after him with a pine cone in your hand you had every intention to throw in his face.

.

.

It was breakfast, a few days later, and you had just left the table with a girl from the Apollo cabin who, apparently, needed your help with something. But from the corner of his eye, Luke could clearly see the small cheering a group of Apollo kids were doing in her direction from their table in the Dining Pavilion.

“Ok so.. is anyone gonna address the elephant in the room, or are we just going to collectively act like there’s not a single problem here ?” Chris said, tentatively like just speaking about it would scare the conversation away.

Luke looked up from the plate where he was absentmindedly picking at his food without really eating it, clearly confused as to whatever Chris was talking about. But looking around the table, he noticed the other’s gazes all centered on him.

“Oh, what again?” he said, more snappy than he intended. “Is it about her again ? Guys, don’t ask again, it’s pointless. You’re just doing the same thing over and over again, while expecting a different outcome…”

“Even grumpy Luke can’t help but copy her expressions ~” Silena teased from the other side of the table, though the dreamy sigh she let out right after did clash a little. “Can’t you just man up already ?”

“Um can’t you just shut up already ?” the brunette replied, though immediately regretting it. “I- shit, sorry, didn’t mean it.”

“Don’t worry, I get it : you’re seeing the girl you’ve been fancying for gods know how long being asked out by everyone and you still can’t make just the slightest step in her direction because you’re just that much of a scarred kitten. Tough.” Silena remarked back, sipping on her drink like she didn’t just punch him in the stomach with her words, while everyone else’s eyes widened, looking at each other surprised but still amused. He probably needed to hear that, after all, because the scaredy-cat act was getting too painful to watch.

“I-” He let out a frustrated sigh, taking his head in his hands and letting down his fork in a loud clatter of metal and ceramic. “You don’t get it, you can’t get it. I can’t ask her if I don’t have the right question, or else she’ll just look at me with that pained look she gave everyone else and- no, it’d be stupid, careless, absolutely suicidal.”

“What the fuck are you rambling about?”

“Language, Percy.” everyone sternly snapped at the little boy.

“No but i mean, be for real, you don’t make any sense bro. Like, what do you even mean ‘right question’, that’s just a bullshit excu-”

“Language!”

“Fine, chill… Still, just a lame excuse bro.” Percy continued, mumbling in annoyance. “And by the way, Clarisse is just a year older and she swears all the time.”

They all gladly ignored the last comment, staring intently at Luke for an answer. An answer he didn’t exactly want to give, because he knew they wouldn’t understand, but a part of him felt the painful need to finally vent about the one thing he couldn’t allow himself to talk to you about.

“It’s… it’s complicated… Bee has this kind of.. this kind of only exigence, i guess? I mean, for her to like, accept to go out with someone, she wants to be asked out a certain way or som-” he started to try and explicate, stumbling a little over his words, before Silena cut him off.

“Oooh that ~ Oh I know about it.”

“You what?” Luke felt like he could’ve just broken his neck from how fast he snapped his head in the girls direction, his eyes wide and eyebrows scrunched together. “What do you mean you ‘know about it’ ?”

Silena let out a little giggle, and Luke just became even more confused. “I don’t ‘know it’ know it, if that’s what you’re asking. She just…talked about it, a few times, you know ? Something along the lines of ‘I swear these people are so frustrating, asking me to be their girlfriend, when they don’t even know me enough to guess it’s not what i want.’” she said, mimicking her half-sister’s annoyance.

“Yeah, doesn’t give me much intel, huh…”

“Oh girl, you’re finally back!” Annabeth greeted, cutting short to Luke’s spiraling thoughts. “Now go back to your best friend, or else he’s gonna keep on sulking. I swear we could see the light go out of him when you’re leaving.” she joked, insisting on the ‘best friend’ and making Luke cringe a little.

With a little laugh, you went to take the free seat next to Luke, throwing him an amused look. “See, I totally make your life at camp more entertaining.”

Here it was again, the characteristic flirty smirk. The one that swayed your heart.

“Yeah, you totally do.” The whisper of his voice sent a chill over your skin. “Have you broken yet another heart, Medusa ?”

And for just a second, you thought that the question meant a little more than it let on, before shaking the feeling off. “I have yet again been disappointed by demi-humanity, if it is what you ask.”

“What a heart breaker..”

While everyone else at the table didn’t pay you any mind, engulfed in their own conversation, the tension between you two, on your corner, was thick. Luke had slightly leaned in to whisper his last sentence, throwing you that ravishing smile he used so well, while you had your head slightly tilted to the side in fake innocence and mock confusion at his claim.

“Now that I think about it, I haven’t broken yours yet, waiting for your turn ?” You reached over the small space between you to adjust a curl that was falling in front of his eyes, but saw something flash in his eyes for a second, a small tremor that cut through his expression for the shortest moment before he went back to his cocky self.

“And be one among others ? No thank you, not for me.”

But little did you know, it was actually one of his greatest fears, as a demigod who could get killed any second: feeling like one among a million of others who tried but didn’t succeed rather than being the one in a million who stayed by your side.

.

.

“You’re doing bunnies today ?” Luke asked as he walked your way. You were sitting over some big rocks on the side Canoe Lake, colorful origami papers on your lap while you folded one meticulously, paper bunnies next to you in a small basket.

“Lily got hurt yesterday during capture the flag, I thought I’d do something to keep her company in the infirmary…” You didn’t tear your eyes away from the piece of paper in your hands as you replied.

“So you chose to gift her… an army of bunnies ?” he said with a confused smile, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to contain a laugh.

That made you look at him with a scowl. “Well, it’s the only think I know how to do, and she likes bunnies so…”

“Hey, just saying…” the brunette replied, hands up in surrender as he climbed the rocks to take a seat next to you. He grabbed a little paper animal by the ears, examining it, before speaking again. “But don’t worry, it’s cute.”

And you felt really dumb when your heart skipped beat just because the word left his lips. Not even for you, just for a dumb paper rabbit.

“How did you find me, by the way ?” you quickly changed the subject.

The boy just shrugged. “I don’t know, just followed my Bee radar or something.”

“Ha ha, very funny.”

“But why though ? You’re hiding or something ?”

You let out a soft sigh, halting in your folding for a second. “Matt wants to confess again.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, wow.”

“What is it, like..the fourth time already ?” Luke asked in disbelief: the boy had some real problems with rejection.

“Yeahh… But it’s really fun, and I say that in a fully ironic way, because I tell him no, and I explain that it’s both because it’s really not how I want to be asked out and because I just don’t like him i general, but he comes back. Each time. With almost the same way of asking out, for real.” you replied, growing noticeably exasperated by the seconds.

And Luke would use just anything that could help him.

“Wow, he’s that hard headed huh ? What did he even say, he just twisted the sentence a little ?”

“Yeah! He’s all like “can you be my girlfriend”, then “would you”, last time “could you”. Ugh, I swear if he finds me he’s gonna ask “do you wanna be my girlfriend” and I’m going to loose it. And gods forbid I do what I have in mind, because my mother is the Goddess of passion and my hatred for people who force their way in is an inextinguishable fire.”

“Damn.” the boy next to you said, not able to continue his thought as you just carried on.

“I mean, why does he come back like that all the time? He doesn’t even love me, let alone like me, I mean I barely see the guy around camp so I doubt he knows more about me than whatever gossip there could be running around. Is it so hard to conceive me as something other than a mere trophy ?”

“What? Of c-”

“I get that my mother is pretty, and maybe I even got some of her genes, but it doesn’t mean I want to be treated like an intricate set of china you just expose on a wall! I’m my own person, living person, and I want my own too…”

“What are you ta-”

“They never get it, no matter how much I say it. They never let me say anything, and if they do they never listen to me. And for some obscure reason, it’s not just the guys, even the others don’t ever get what I say, they don’t even try to pay attention to my reasons, they just think I’m some dumb girl who thinks she’s too good and makes up reasons. I hear them all, talking in my back like snakes… All they do is talk about themselves, they never take me into consideration, like I’m only the transaction, and I’m tired.”

As you spoke, Luke just looked at you from the side, his eyebrows furrowed in compassion. He might not have been able to fully feel what you felt, but he could at least imagine the loneliness you might’ve felt from this all. Your voice had become just a whisper by the end, your eyes downcast though the brunette could see water pearling at the corners, and he couldn’t help the wave of emotions that passed through him.

“Hey, it’s ok..” he whispered in a low breath, before shuffling closer and wrapping his arms around your shoulders. You immediately snuggled against him, not bothering to hug him back but just letting Luke’s arms engulf you with their comforting warmth. Your shoulders were stuttering along with soft sniffling sounds, and the boy couldn’t help but cradle your hair affectionately, trying to soothe you back to calm as small drops fell against his shirt, unconcealed affection bleeding out of his every gesture.

After a few minutes of silence, you finally broke away, pushing yourself from his chest before you’d grow so addicted to the feeling of being in his arms that you’d never leave.

“You kinda look like a panda.” Luke teased, fumbling with his pockets to find a pack of tissues.

You dabbed a finger under your eye, seeing the mascara transferring to your skin in annoyance. “Erh… Do I at least look like a cute panda?”

“You look like a really depressed panda.”

“Charming… You know, the more I think about it, the more I wish I had written love letters to my crushes and never sent them, when I was younger. Because I could really use a Peter Kavinsky right now…” you whined, a pout on your face, and the boy couldn’t help but find it extremely cute, more than just flirtiness dancing on his smile.

The brunette scoffed, sprinkling some water from the lake on the tissue. “To be honest, you’re more Christine material than Lara Jean’s.”

“Oh fuck you..” you replied with a laugh, that quickly died in your throat as Luke gently grabbed your chin to make you face him.

“Wow, you pray to your mom with that mouth ?” he joked, watching intently right under your eye as he started dabbing the damp tissue on the skin to clean up the runny makeup.

His focused expression, with his face a few inches from yours only, had you go a little haywire, your eyes confusedly dancing along his features as you didn’t know where to look; his piercing brown eyes, the long white scar decorating his cheekbone, his slightly parted lips- ‘look somewhere else before you start drooling.’

“I don- whatever…”

Luke didn’t pay it much attention, finally putting back the now stained tissue in his pocket. “All clear, just reddish eyes but you’ll have-” His voice cracked as he realized actually just how close you two were, your gaze now fixated back in his eyes as he spoke. He cleared his throat before continuing, “You’ll have to manage.”

“Yeah..” you replied in a breath as Luke’s fingers lingered just another second on your face.

.

.

His mind was whirling uncontrollably, he couldn’t seem to make it stop as he tossed and turned over his bed sheets. The air was already wrapping around him like a blanket, warm and heavy around the room, and Luke just couldn’t seem to get the sleep he needed as the humid air stuck to his skin uncomfortably. The buzzing of the insects outside of the cabin seemed to grow louder as time passed, filling the silent night along with the soft snoring of asleep campers across the room, only acting as a reminder of his own restlessness.

But his mind was running a hundred miles an hour, trying to find the solution to the enigma that plagued his mind, trying to move every possible hint in every possible angle, but it was like filling a puzzle without knowing which pieces you were supposed to use or how the final picture looked.

“If they knew me enough, the way someone who really likes me would, they’d know how to say it…” he muttered, now laying back on the bed with an arm under his head as he looked to the ceiling, quoting you. But how to say what ? How to say what ? Luke thought he liked you enough, Hells, loved you enough to get it, he had known you for years, through high and lows, for laughs and sometimes even tears, and even him wasn’t able to make sense of the puzzle.

‘He asked me to be his girlfriend.. dammit.’

What’s so wrong about that ? Isn’t it basically what asking someone out is about ? Wasn’t the whole point of dating someone, at least on a female point of view, to be their partner…? But as he reminisced, Luke felt something off in the sentence, but he couldn’t pinpoint it. It just sounded a lot like what Silena had talked to him about, with this same kind of lingering indignation…

‘a mere trophy’ ‘an intricate set of china you just expose on a wall’ ‘I’m only the transaction’

Those parts were tugging at Luke’s heart strings, if he had to be honest about it, because he understood how hurtful that might be: to be dehumanized, reduced to what people want and expect from you rather to what you truly and fully are.

It had happened before he left for his quest, during his quest and when he came back. Everyone expected him to be the hero, the mighty soldier of the god who would conquer, deliver and come back unharmed, the one who would deserve glory and cast light upon demigods. And when he came back, heart hanging low in his chest, scarred and just a shadow of himself, people still looked up to him, the best swordsman at camp, the one who came back. They all cast on him an image that he knew he wasn’t truly delivering. Actually, you were the only one who had really cared, because you had seen beneath the mask of fake glorious smiles, you had hugged him as tears streamed down his cheeks and his scar burnt red across his face, you had seen him as more than the distorted reflection that people wanted him to be.

And just as you did before, he wanted to be able to see through your words, to decipher your thoughts: because he valued you as so much more than just a mere object or a mean to a social climb, and he wanted you to understand it.

‘they always talk about themselves’

What did you mean? There were so many readings..

Luke’s thoughts were hazy, tiredness mixed with whatever was keeping him from sleeping like everyone else did. They were going in every direction, trying to make sense of everything that crossed his mind, rethinking everything in search of a detail he might have missed.

“Talk about themselves…” he mumbled, eyes closing tightly like that would help him pierce the riddle right through.

Of course, people did love to talk about themselves, and people who actually had godly ascending even more. But the sentence just made the boy tick, as if it had to be dug in deeper, holding something more than just its surface meaning-

“Man, shut up, please I’m tryna sleep…” a groggy voice said in the bunk right over Luke’s, Chris apparently annoyed by his bunkmate’s muttering for the past hour, before the brunette could hear shuffling in the bed above and the return of the soft snoring. Luke stifled a laugh, thinking it might probably be about time for him to sleep to, but the more he tried, the more his brain worked the question that plagued his mind.

And the next moment he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until morning, because something in his mind clicked, and the pieces finally formed a full picture. Because it made sense.

They always asked to get something from you, never to give you something, they asked of you but never about you, people assumed and didn’t search further, maybe because they didn’t think of you but for you. And you had every reason to grow tired of it, because the one thing that made you so sought after and desired was also the thing that cursed the opinion people had of you.

And knowing he finally had his answer to this never-ending question, Luke just couldn’t sleep, too expectant. When was he supposed to tell you? How was he supposed to tell you? The only thing he knew for sure was that after years, waiting just those few hours would be the most torturous thing he’d ever have to do.

.

.

As the morning came, the sun starting to rise in the sky, you didn’t have it in you to fully wake up, only wanting to lounge in bed for a little longer.

“Go without me…” you mumbled as one of your half-siblings asked if you were going for breakfast, being completely engulfed under your pink plaid even in this hot summer morning, book in hand.

“Fine, but you really have to eat though, ok ? I’ll try to sneak you back a stack of pancakes.”

“Oh you are just the best ~”

You finally had the cabin to herself, focusing your whole undivided attention to the book you were reading, kicking your feet like a silly teenage girl under your covers as you re-enacted every funny interaction on the white pages.

“Oh hell yes, Wes fucking Bennett, more than time to get your Buxbaum back!” you squealed, rolling around in the bed with the book pressed to your chest. “I can’t believe I have to wait hundreds of pages for anything to happennnnn…”

You were brought back from your reverie by a few knocks on the door of the Cabin and fell dead silent, not wanting any interaction to stop your reading moment and acting like no one was in.

“Bee ?”

Oh, okay, maybe you’d move.

You shuffled out of your bed sheets, putting on your fluffy slippers and dusting your already perfectly ironed pajamas, before going to open the door to see Luke on the other side. He looked…tired, to say the less.

“Hey, good…morning… Are you okay ?” you asked as you registered your best friend’s appearance on the checkered deck in front of the cabin, messy curls falling in all directions and heavy bags under his eyes.

The boy nervously ran a hand through his hair before answering. “I- yeah, hey. I just didn’t sleep well. But anyway, I kinda need to talk to you, and I was gonna catch you after breakfast but then you weren’t coming and I heard you were still here so…”

“Oh, yeah sure, come in.” you replied, opening the door further so he could go in, the strong smell of perfume slipping outside as you did so.

“Or- or is it a bad moment ? I can come by later-”

“Nah it’s fine, just didn’t feel like getting out of bed it’s fine now.” you cut him off, adjusting the straps of your top nervously as you crossed Luke’s gaze before he finally came inside.

You trailed behind him before reaching your bed, going to sit on it and pulling the plaid over your legs, before tapping the space next to you, inviting Luke to do the same. He only shook his head, starting to pace around between your bed and the one next to it, walking slowly but definitely exuding a nervous aura.

“Luke, are you sure you’re okay ? Is something wrong ?” You had rarely seen him like that, to be honest, and you could feel his very communicative stress seeping in your own skin. “I’m not gonna lie, you’re starting to stress me out a little, too…”

Luke stopped in his motion, looking worriedly at your downcast look. “Oh, no, Bee I’m sorry, don’t you worry. It’s not that serious I just… I just know I only have one chance and I don’t want to mess this up.”

He exhaled heavily, and you looked back up at him with this one expression that made his knees go weak under him and his mind get hazy; the worry in your gaze mixed with confusion, your furrowed eyebrows, it just urged him to blurt out everything when he knew it wasn’t the best way to do it.

Luke ran another hand in his already messy curls frustratingly. “I didn’t expect to do that in this completely disheveled state, to be honest, I think I’ve always imagined a little more of a fitting scenery, like a hidden spot in the forest, or the evening around a campfire or anything that didn’t involve huge eye-bags and pajamas but…” He took a long, deep breath, closing his eyes to calm his nerves even the tiniest bit not to look too fidgety when he said…

“I like you. Really, really, really much.”

Silence followed as you stared in each other’s eyes, looking frozen as Luke tried to find the most subtle hint of whatever you could be thinking inside your gaze, his heart almost bursting in his chest in apprehension. Because he felt like he had waited for this moment to come for so long, and maybe if he hadn’t done it now it would’ve killed his spirit forever, but also maybe he should’ve been happy being close to you as a friend all this time. Because now, it was ruined, whatever direction it was gonna take.

On the other side, sat on the bed, you were stuck in your head. It was like your blood had stopped flowing through your veins and yet was pounding in your temples, like your heart was beating in your brain but your mind had stopped working. The time had stopped for you, because it all felt too unreal to be true.

You had dreamed about it, in some way, and now living the situation was so…frightening. Because sure, you had hoped your feelings weren’t totally one-sided, and having it spoken to you was an insane feeling, but now you just felt like whatever you had settled for over the last years, the thing that made you feel less lonely in the crazy environment you called home might have just broken apart from you. But if there was one person who could come back from it, it was him. It was Luke.

“Oh, I- Luke, it-”

“Please, wait.” Another deep breath, to calm his nerves. “I’m not just saying it randomly, it’s not just words I throw around, you know it. I don’t exactly like dealing with feelings, but I just know I have to do it, this time, because it might be the only chance I ever get to do it, really…”

His gaze now hung low, still standing but looking down at the blue carpet under his shoes. “I know this is out of the blue, and I know you might not expect it and maybe you don’t want it, and if you don’t it’s all fine, I just hope things can come back, even in the littlest, to how they were before right now. But, y/n…”

You realized you were holding her breath, your full name sounding weird when Luke rarely used it to talk to you, and it made you think of all the romance book you read, it sounded like a final scene, where the characters had the heart to heart talk, and no misunderstanding was left to wonder about because all pieces finally came perfectly together. Expect you weren’t a Lara-Jean, you weren’t a Liz, you weren’t an Alice, and Luke wasn’t Henry, or Wes or Peter. And everything could crumble.

‘Please, Luke, please don’t fuck up, because I can’t drop this even for you, it’s kept my heart safe for too long, and you’re the only one I believe can do it, deep down…The only one I hope does it…’

“Y/n, can I, please…” He marked a beat, his tone dead serious in the silence of the large room where you could barely hear a fly, the tension thick in the air.

“Please what ?”

“Can I please be your boyfriend, please ?”

His eyes were deeply rooted in your gaze now, he couldn’t tear them away in fear it would break the moment, and he saw the soft smile slowly grow on your face, the water gathering in your eyes, the way the light shone on your face through the window, the way your hair fell in a messy look that perfectly framed your face, and it was like he was falling in love all over again.

Your lips parted to say something, but he was quicker. “Wait, please, just one last thing: scratch what I said in the beginning, I love you. Really, really, really much.”

“That’s a lot of ‘please’ and a lot of ‘really’..” you replied with a hint of a laugh in her voice.

“It…is, yeah.” The boy scratched his nape awkwardly, still not moving from his spot. He felt like it might be too much of an intrusion, like he should let you the space to think about it. All the cockiness had left his body the instant he stepped foot in the cabin, and he felt incredibly vulnerable, like your eyes could now pierce right through the protective shell he almost always had on.

You swept a tear off your cheek with the tip of your fingers, holding in a quiet sob, before continuing. “You know how I told you you’d be the first to know when someone found it ? The question.”

‘Please let it be it, please, I don’t know what I’ll do if I was wrong.’

“Well someone found it, just now.” you continued, finally getting up from the bed and practically running in Luke’s arms, pulling him in a tight hug. You buried your face on his shoulder, tears soaking the fabric. “What took you so fucking long, Luke…” you whispered, pulling him impossibly closer so you could hug him with all your might.

The brunette stayed still for an instant, his mind needing a little time to register the situation. So that was it, he was not one among a million but the one in a million, and now he was decided to never let that title slip from his fingers. His arms wrapped around you as his mind did around the idea of what had happened, softly nuzzling his head down in you hair.

“Well you were not exactly straight-forward, if I had to be honest, and we both know I can be a little slow to catch on, so…”

“Yeah, you’re a real jock aren’t you ?” you replied playfully, though not moving an inch.

Luke raised his head, looking down at the you with an amused look on his face. “Well, now I just have to play lacrosse and I’ll be the perfect Kavinsky for you.”

A small blush crept up your cheeks as you looked back up in the boy’s eyes. “I’m so happy I forced you to watch romcoms with me all this time.” you said, before getting on your tiptoes, kissing his lips while all the emotions you two had ever pushed down finally flowed back to the surface.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Heyyy luvs <3

Ok so I know this is a liiiittle lame and lacking creativity but… idk i kinda like it <3 (not me being a delulu hopeless romantic girl obsessed w YA romance books who only wants this to happen irl.)

Fun fact, I’m actually writing a few of those os while at my internship workplace… Don’t tell on me <3

Hope you enjoyed it, don’t hesitate to tell me heheh (i love validation. Dead serious. I was that girl in school istgs) and I hope you have a good day / week ahead of youuuu

Love, Nana ~

[remiratboi]

Death - Part 1

Masterlist

Death Personified M X Human GN Fat Reader

CW: Pet death, grief, death (obvi?), masturbation, monsterfucking, yandere if you squint, not sure what else yet, will add as I go.

Death wasn’t a single entity. It was more of a group. A way of being. There were hundreds holding the name “Death”. He didn’t know any others though. They didn’t interact. It was a solitary life. Flitting from life to life, helping souls move on. He held a rudimentary understanding of why the creatures around the souls would mourn, but it was a beautiful thing to him. He lived in an in-between realm. Not quite dead, not quite alive. Very few could see him, and most only could shortly before they themselves moved on.

This was why he was in their home. It was dark. He knew they were around. He had been checking up on the cat who lived with them for a couple days now. She was close to death.

He stood next to the couch she was curled up on. He preferred to take creatures gently. He was not malicious. He chose the souls who were ready to move on. The cat looked up at him with one eye, not bothering to move her head. She was frail. He could see her vision wasn’t strong. He mewled at her and she stretched her paw out towards him.

Death leaned down to press his finger into her paw when a voice snapped him out of his focus.

“Please don’t.” It was shaky and sorrow filled. Death turned around to see you. You stood in the door frame, illuminated by the light behind. Your face was covered in tears. You could see him? He hadn’t felt any connection that would signal your ability to see beings like him. And he knew you weren’t close to death. How could you see him?

He stared longer than he should, dumbfounded and with no idea how to respond. You sniffled and continued. “Please, just wait until tomorrow. I understand, it’s…. She’s old. But can I please have one last night with her?” You begged.

He took advantage of the out, and rather than trying to respond, he swiftly ran away. He didn’t go far though. He had been rattled, and he didn’t like it. He spent his eternity alone. Only dying and dark could see him. He avoided the dark, and the dying never saw him for long. But you were neither? You frustrated and intrigued him. He would never admit that the way your plush body had looked, and the way your skimpy pjs clung tightly to your form had also intrigued him.

It wasn’t unheard of for his kind to get involved with humans, or each other. But it was forbidden. And dangerous. That much power with something so frail had resulted in more often than not, a soul ripped from their body before their time.

Death’s touch wasn’t always an execution. He could control the touch. But it was difficult and took immense focus. Something others had learned too late, that they were worse at than they had thought.

He sat now, on your porch railing, gazing through the rain that fell in the night sky. He watched you through your windows. He never realised you could probably see him. He was so used to passing through unknown that he didn’t even consider it.

You made a fancy chicken dinner for your pet, he assumed her favourite. You curled up on that same couch with her and hand fed her. You cried. A lot. He wondered what it felt like to mourn. He wondered what it felt like to love enough to mourn. He wasn’t supposed to give creatures more time, but he hadn’t been able to look you in the eyes and take something you clearly loved so much.

You cried yourself to sleep sometime in the night. He floated through the wall and stopped in front of your pair of sleeping forms. You looked beautiful. Your face was no longer tensed by emotion and he could see the freckles that covered your nose. Soft eyelashes fluttered against your apple cheeks.

He reached down to touch them, before catching himself. What was he doing? You were human. You weren’t for him. Also, he was about to kill your cat. He thought you probably wouldn’t appreciate waking up to have death touching your face before taking something you loved so deeply, away from you.

But he didn’t move his hand from where it was. Stretched out in front of him, inches away from your face. He was shocked by his own desire. Had he ever felt desire before? He didn’t think so. You were just so soft. You looked so safe and comfortable. He imagined running his fingers down your curves, feeling every inch of you.

The sun started shining through the windows and he realized he’d been standing there for far too long. You might wake up soon.

He turned from you, eyes dragging. He looked down at your sleeping cat. He felt bad. There was another new emotion. He knew it was better, and that her soul would continue on in peace. But he also knew you loved her. For some reason, he didn’t want to be the cause of your pain.

He steadied himself and shook his head. This was what he had to do. This was what he was made to do. It was his only purpose. He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your pet’s head, her exhale as he did, her last.

He watched her soul coalesce above her body and then dissipate. He had seen it hundreds, maybe thousands of times. It was beautiful every time.

He looked back down to you and took an instinctual step back as he realised your eyes were open. You looked up at him with a teary gaze.

“Th… thank you.” You said. His throat felt thick. You were thanking him? “Thank you for letting me say goodbye.” You finished. You curled your body around your pet and sobbed into her fur. He felt like he was intruding.

He started to turn away but hesitated. He looked back down at you. His chest hurt. He reached out a shaky hand and lingered above you again. He fought with himself. He should leave. He’d been here too long already.

But he couldn’t help himself.

He reached down, and so gently you could have mistaken it for wind had there been any, he brushed your hair from your face.

And then he was gone.

[walkingstackofbooks]

A 9-year-old Julian Bashir who has had nightmares about evil doctors in an alien hospital for as long as he can remember. He doesn't tell his parents though because "he's a big boy now" and nightmares are for little kids, so he knows he should deal with them alone. And even if he'd like a hug sometimes, his mum only gives him hugs for doing well, not for doing badly, so he figures there's no point bothering her

A 15-year-old Julian Bashir who realises that the nightmares he used to have were based on the apparently very real alien hospital his parents had taken him to as a kid, and spends hours trying to figure out what were real memories and what his mind had made up over the years as he slept. The nightmares come back with an intensity, but they're nothing compared with how he's feeling when he's awake, and pretty soon they become a normal background noise of his life.

A 19-year-old Julian Bashir who's finally been moved into a solitary room after his third roommate in as many weeks complained about the almost-nightly screams. His advisor asks if he wants to speak to anyone: he claims they're just night terrors and he doesn't actually remember them. Besides, even if he could talk about what was in them, he probably wouldn't, because he's fine - he's used to them by now.

A 24-year-old Julian Bashir who gets woken from his nightmares by warm hands and gentle kisses, and learns what is like to be soothed back to sleep by the soft voice of Palis Delon

A 32-year-old Julian Bashir who has a different nightmare every night. The last year's been difficult. But then, it's been difficult for everyone, and he knows he's far from the only one to be suffering from nightmares at the moment.

A 34-year-old Julian Bashir who can't stop dreaming about the torture he went through four weeks ago, who's missing Ezri and who Miles is increasingly concerned about. When the O'Briens offer him their spare room for a while, he warns them multiple times about his nightmares, and is pathetically grateful when that doesn't change their minds. "We have nightmares too, Julian," says Keiko. "We can cope with yours."

A 34-year-old Julian Bashir who is confused when, three days later, Miles remarks, "You are having a bad run of those nightmares, aren't you?"

"They've been better than usual, actually," he replies awkwardly. "It's been really nice being able to go back to sleep afterwards, for once -- you and Keiko have been so generous in coming and checking on me."

"Course we're gonna come and check on you," says Miles gruffly. "You woke up terrified. We're not letting you do that alone."

"I'd be fine, Miles," Julian reassures. "I'm hardly going to expect one of you to come in every night."

Miles pauses. "...How long are you expecting to have them 'every night' for?" he asks, with some concern. "I mean, after a thing like this, how long does it usually take them to settle down?"

Julian stares at Miles. "I... have nightmares, Miles," he replies, frowning. "Just like you. Nightmares happen every night."

"No, they don't," says Miles, equally confused. "Don't get me wrong, they can do: after something big then sure, they're like that for a few weeks - a couple of months, even. But eventually they fall down to once, twice a week..."

Julian is looking at Miles incredulously. "That might be how it works for you," he says. "I guess my brain's different to yours. Mine don't stop, they just... mix. Change. Get confused with one another, eventually. I've had more dreams about being genetically modified by Sloan in the Dominion camp than I care to remember, you know?"

Miles' concern has turned into abject dismay. "You're saying you've had nightmares every single night since the Dominion took you?" he exclaims.

"Well, maybe not every single night!" retorts Julian, a little unsure what Miles is getting so het up about. "I do have some days when I don't... But yeah, pretty much. I've had nightmares most nights since I was fifteen, it's just how my brain processes stuff."

"Fifteen?"

...

A 34-year-old Julian who finds out that having nightmares every night for two decades is, apparently, "not normal" and something he should be seeking help for.

If Ezri comes back alive, he supposes he might take it up with her.

[heechwe]

remember that | 𝐬𝐦𝐠

୨୧ pairing: song mingi x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 5k ୨୧ genre: angst, slight fluff, smut ୨୧ tags: exes(ish) au, "we're on a break" au, soft pining, miscommunication, makeup sex, praise kink, oral (f receiving), semi-dom!mingi, unprotected sex, squirting, creampie ୨୧ synopsis: A break is supposed to give you time to understand what you do and don't want. But what if Mingi has to come with everything that frustrates you about him, no exceptions? Can you make it work, or will you both succumb to the pressure of love not being enough? ⟢ AUTHOR'S NOTE: Beta'ed by my babes Booki @kwanisms, Tiya @gyubakeries, and Ally @lovetaroandtaemin, I love you all so much. Also song title inspiration from LANY!

There are many valid pieces of evidence to support the argument that breaks never work. Friends, family, and perfect strangers remind you, solicited or not, why minor blips of time meant to think things through are simply an excuse, leading to the demise of a relationship.

“Don’t be chickenshit,” your best friend Karina remarked when you told her you were officially taking some time apart from Mingi. He would stay back at the dorms while you both took the next two weeks to think about your future. He didn’t want to, but he had to respect your wishes if he wanted any chance to mend the fences that were broken. “You know what you want to do, so do it. Don’t hide behind a ‘break.’”

You weren’t hiding, not in the slightest. If anything, the past few days alone have given you time to breathe. To reflect on the things that have and haven’t been working in your relationship for the last year.

You work in the same industry, and yet you have kept the entirety of your coupled status under wraps from everyone, save for your intimate group of loved ones. It isn’t hard to hide when you work on almost ten guys’ hair and makeup, but it’s all too easy to let feelings impede upon your professionalism.

Mingi’s always been willing to give you everything, but he doesn’t always see the entire picture of your needs. Sometimes, you don't need him to rescue you, and his eagerness borders the line of smothering too much for your comfort.

And yet, running through the pros and cons doesn’t make you miss him any less.

You ache waking up alone, not feeling the rise and fall of his chest under your head or hearing the sounds of his gargantuan feet pattering around your apartment. It became his apartment too by association after the fifth month of dating, his belongings sitting in every nook and cranny of what used to be your solitary space. Now, without him, it feels too hollow, too reminiscent of what it was like before he came into your life.

Even drives without him are terrible, the usual cacophony of traffic more bearable when he’s by your side, singing along off-key to the music on the radio or to his playlists when he uses your car’s bluetooth.

His absence is everywhere, and where there’s freedom sits all the despair attached to his missing presence.

“It hurts!”

“It’s not gonna hurt if you just listen to me.” You try to move closer to Hongjoong’s eye with the pencil in your hand, but he whips his head away again before you can begin on his waterline. “I told you to look up and away from me. You’ll barely feel it!”

“That’s a lie and you know it.” Hongjoong pouts in the makeup chair, and you stifle a giggle that bubbles in your throat. Watching so many impeccable performers be terrified of makeup applicators is probably one highlight of your career so far, especially guys as intimidating to look at as the one in front of you.

Suddenly, you feel him enter the room. The instinctual pull between you and Mingi goes beyond logical bounds, the tether made of only the metaphysical. It reminds you, every time he walks into the same space you’re in, how your body wants to be nowhere but next to his. You hate it more now than you ever have before.

“Am I going next when he’s finished?” Mingi cuts through the sudden silence to ask, his timbre a tad hollow but somehow still hopeful. You haven’t spoken for three days. This past weekend is the longest you’ve ever gone without communicating with each other. You can tell just from the sound of his voice it’s taken a toll on him.

You don’t turn to face him directly, finding some confidence from not having to look at the face you love so much head-on. “Seonghwa is, but he’s off getting his shirt hemmed, I think.”

“Just be patient, man.” Hongjoong winks at his younger friend. You thwack Hongjoong on the cheek with your eyeshadow brush, making the humored expression on his face dissipate.

“Did I say you have to talk when you’re getting your face done?” Hongjoong shakes his head with terrified eyes. “Exactly.”

You go back to your kit, but you feel despondence creep up your neck at the small quantity of black and neutral eyeshadow you have left. “Fuck it, we’ll just have to make do with the eyeliner right now.”

“Can’t you grab some from Mina’s kit? She probably won’t mind.”

You shake your head and go back to the pencil you dropped on the vanity when Mingi walked in. “I’ll just grab some more from the store later.”

“I can pick up some now if you need me to.” Mingi pipes up again, more hope seeping through his words. Sometimes, his overwhelmingly helpful nature makes you think he'd be reincarnated as a big puppy in the next life.

You finally face him with a soft smile, and you see the corners of his eyes crinkle up at your expression. “It’s okay, Min, really. Nothing I can’t handle.”

This is exactly why you needed space from Mingi. Staring into his big, brown eyes that make your body even a fraction weaker than before is why you can’t think through things properly around him. He takes all the logic and reason out of you, leaving you only to listen to the workings of your heart. And such an effect makes it simple to forget the myriad of minor problems that became so big you could not suppress them any more.

As he smiles at you, you repeat the words in your head like a mantra: he doesn’t listen, he’s too reckless, he acts on impulse half the time…

Seonghwa walks in and exclaims, “Okay, I think the shirt fits finally!” He looks between you and Mingi and then stares at Hongjoong with a curious fluff of his eyebrows. “What’s up with them?” He mouths to his friend.

Hongjoong can only shrug, the expression basically stating “Who knows anymore man?” without verbal support.

The longer you lock eyes with Mingi, the other men in the room long forgotten, you wonder if all you’re doing during this break is delaying the inevitable.

You took copious snapshots of the boys’ last looks before they had to practice on the stage. The sweat would ruin what you worked on for hours, so it was crucial to catalog it for your portfolio before that could happen.

Now, you watch them work through the three songs’ choreography with ease. Mingi takes center stage multiple times, and you smile to yourself at how ridiculous he acted an hour prior when he was in your chair, so busy complimenting you that you could barely get through doing his makeup.

“You look really pretty today,” he says as you dab the bridge of his nose with liquid highlighter. “I mean, you always do, but I haven’t seen you in a few days, so…”

You smirk and put the tub back in your makeup kit. “Making up for lost time, Min?”

Mingi blushes, a shade so pink you think you can skip putting that component of his makeup on altogether. “Just stating the obvious.”

“You don’t know,” you say, “I may have looked like shit in my sweatpants and ratty t-shirts all weekend.”

“Wanna know a secret?” You humor him, moving closer until his lips brush the shell of your ear, making you shudder. “That’s when you look the most beautiful to me.”

You retreat with trembling hands and a breathless laugh. “Are you gonna keep spitting game or can I finish your eyes now?”

Mingi smirks and snaps his eyes shut, pressing his face as close as he can to yours once again. He whispers with such a quiet but sultry tone, you think you may risk it all and kiss him once to get it out of your system. “Do whatever you want with me.”

And here you are, back in his orbit like he’s the sun and you’re a planet, willing to spin around him forever. A few weeks ago, you didn’t mind doing so until it made you dizzy, but you don’t know now if you miss depending so much on him. His “I got this, babe” one minute and “I can handle it” the next slowly made you realize he either didn’t trust you to work through anything without his help or he was so willing he couldn’t see how it came across. 

Bringing it to his attention didn’t make him any wiser to the problem, his response defensive rather than introspective. He argued it was in any boyfriend’s nature to want to do everything for their girlfriend. “Don’t you do the same for me? What’s the difference?” He asked in the fight's haste that led to your desire to take a breather from each other.

Flitting the memories away, you focus on Mingi’s undeniably enchanting dancing and rapping. It’s what reminds you why you fell for him in the first place, both his talent and work ethic, which gave way to everything else that turned you into putty for him. 

Before the group can finish the last song, a courier taps on your shoulder. “For you, miss.” He holds out a bag from the makeup store downtown, the contents inside being all that is low in your kit.

“I didn’t order anything,” you respond, fighting the only logical answer and culprit of the situation. The kid shrugs and makes his way out of the building, and you turn back to Mingi, the giant lost in his choreography. You feel your eyes light with fire rather than fuzziness, your desires and impulses from before long gone.

When he drops from the stage and makes it to the back, you slam the bag into his chest before walking away. “Wait! You said you needed this stuff!” Mingi trails behind quickly, his long legs catching up to you in seconds.

You turn when you’re alone in the hallway, your fury unleashed. “I said I could do it after work, and you went over my head again to do something I deliberately said you didn’t have to do!” Your bottom lip trembles. “Do you not care about listening to me at all?”

“What? No!” He shakes his head, his own face becoming a mask of confused anger. “I just wanted to help. And it’s just twenty bucks of makeup. Why is this such an issue right now?”

“Because I didn’t ask for your help!” You throw your hands in the air, and the gesture only makes you feel smaller.

Mingi chuckles, no humor in the sound. “You always take things on by yourself, even before we started dating. Is it so terrible of me for wanting to help, just a little?” He practically pinches his index and thumb together to emphasize his point.

“They’re my burdens to bear,” you scream. “Is it so hard to get in your head? I’m not some princess in a tower you need to save.”

“Why do you always treat someone else’s help like it’s a grandiose gesture you should feel guilty for?” He steps closer, your chests barely a breath apart. “I help you because I want to, because you deserve it and because I love you. Why can’t you stop pushing me and others away who want to make things easier on you?”

The words get stuck in your mouth, no sounds coming out in a response that makes sense or can answer his questions properly. A tear escapes your eye, falling hot on your cheek. Mingi tries to wipe it away, but you whip your head out of his direction and rub your face with your palm.

San comes from the exit you both walked out of and looks on with concern. “You guys alright?”

You shake your head and walk past them both, your heart in knots too tough to untangle today.

You clip the buckle on your heels as you continue to hold your phone’s receiver to your ear, the sun setting as you make haste to end the call and head out the door. “Woo, for the last time, you should know where I’m going by now. I thought we were friends before I started dating one of your best friends.”

“You are, but you could be playing coy, I don’t know!” Wooyoung remarks, making you laugh. You haven’t seen the kid since Monday when you walked away from the show, not having time to say goodbye to him before you made your way home.

You always spend Thursday nights with your parents for dinner. Your immediate family decided long ago to make time out of all of your busy schedules for weekly briefings and small talk over home-cooked food. It was one of the few times you found peace in the hectic nature of everyday life.

“Trust me—and you can let our mutual friend know—just the same usual Thursday plans.” You hear a knock at the door and rush to get off the phone even faster, wondering who could be outside your home so close to the evening. “I gotta go, talk to you soon.”

You iron out the wrinkles of your dress before heading to your apartment door. The man on the other side steals your breath in his white button down and denim jeans combo. He completes the ensemble with his thick-framed glasses and his hair, tousled just a touch, exactly how you like it. His fashion choices on nights like this still stun you to no end, even if you’re surprised he’s here tonight at all.

“M-Mingi,” you say. “What are—“

“I wouldn’t miss family dinner, together or not.” He clears his throat and puts his hand out, clearly eager for you to take it. “If you’ll still have me there, I mean.”

You fight the smile tugging at your cheeks and instead take a deep breath and his palm in yours. Your fingers interlace, and it reminds you more of home than the entire 900-square foot apartment behind you. “Just because you made such an effort to look so nice. It’d be a waste, you know?”

Mingi smiles and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his other hand. He smiles to himself the entire time you lock your door and head down the stairwell, not letting go of your hand once.

You don’t say no when he offers to drive, or stop him from holding your door open until you get in, and he thinks that maybe you’re turning a corner after he slipped up. And you think you might just give into him for the sheer fact being in a car again with him, listening to his off-key riffs, reminds you of everything you’ve been missing, for better or worse.

“Honey! Mingi! Come in,” your mother beckons you at the front door. She welcomes you inside wearing her signature floral apron, though your father and brother do most of the cooking.

Neither you nor your mother expected Mingi to bring flowers to tonight’s dinner. You didn’t expect him to invite himself at all, but thinking about it, it would be weird for him not to attend when your family did not know you were on a relationship hiatus.

This Thursday holds no more significance than all the others, but it warms your heart to see your mother grab a vase from the living room to hold the batch of tulips Mingi brought.

“Sometimes I think my own husband forgets my favorite flowers. But not you, my sweet boy.” Your mother pinches Mingi’s cheek, and Mingi blushes a shade of plum at the physical touch.

“Speaking of him, does he need help in the back? I know the grill can be a pain for him and Eric to get going,” Mingi offers.

“That would be wonderful, Mingi, thank you.” You smile at Mingi as he leaves you two to walk towards the back porch. He greets your father with a handshake and your little brother with a manly hug, and any residual anger you felt over the past few days instantly dissipates.

He’s always been a caring person. You knew this the second he brought a spare pack of bandaids on your second date when you slipped and fell on your knee during your first. Sometimes, as you’ve grown to learn, he seems to have a hard time hearing when his help isn’t necessary. Or the exact help he envisions isn’t the help you desire.

“That boy is one in a million, baby.” Your mother says as you walk to the kitchen together. “I can’t picture someone better to take care of you.”

You sigh. “Who says I need to be taken care of, Mom?”

She shakes her head with a grin as she keeps stirring the soup on the stove. “Everyone needs someone, my love. Even when a person is adamant about fighting their own battles like you.”

“That’s not what I mean,” you huff, exasperated. “All I’m saying is that I can have someone by my side and not be wrong for wanting to do things on my own in my way, right?”

Her head continues to move back and forth, her ladle going in the same fashion. “And all I’ll say, baby, is that it’s important to let someone know those things. If you don’t tell someone what you’re looking for, they’ll make assumptions. And you know how we all feel about those.”

“They make an ass out of you and me,” Eric pipes up from behind you, making you flinch. You thwack him on the arm, and he rubs the spot with a pout. Your father and Mingi gather in the kitchen behind your brother, the simmering steaks on a large plate smelling delectable.

“Time to eat, everyone!”

Before you all can head to the table, Mingi pulls you in and whispers, “The right one is yours. Medium rare, how you like it.”

He leaves you standing alone as he sits next to your brother. Your heart resides in your throat the rest of the night, sitting beside Mingi and your mother and wondering if maybe a part of you hasn’t given credit to Mingi in the way he deserves. Maybe you both have been wrong in your own ways, and it’s still fixable.

Maybe this break is serving a purpose in a way you didn’t expect.

The drive back to your apartment is quiet, but it’s charged with tension from the way Mingi rubs patterns into the back of your hand with his thumb. Both of your palms rest over your thigh, the muscle on fire from how his large fingers encompass yours and hover over the fabric of your dress.

Now is not the time for sexual frustration. It’s time to talk and see if the break can be amended into some form of peace treaty.

He parks his car in the lot and looks over at you with a small grin, close-mouthed but earnest all the same. “Tonight was fun. Glad to hear Eric’s doing good in school.”

You smile back. “My parents were happy to see you. They thought with the comeback coming up you wouldn’t be able to make it tonight.”

“I wouldn’t miss it. I told you that.”

Your throat is in a mess of knots once again as you nod. You turn in your seat to face him head on, and Mingi mirrors your body posture. Removing his palm from your thigh, you hold it in both of your hands, finding some strength to let the words come out. “We need to talk.”

Mingi’s eyes go wide immediately, inching as close as he can to you despite the ridiculously large glove box in his way. “If this is the start of that conversation, please—“

“No, no! I’m sorry,” you say immediately. “I shouldn’t have started with that.”

His free hand goes over his chest, and the relief floods over his entire expression. “You really can scare the shit out of a guy, you know that right?”

“I said I’m sorry,” you respond with a teasing pout. “But, I think I’ve been terrible at communicating what I need from you and from this relationship.”

Mingi thinks the words over before he nods slowly. “Okay.”

You inhale again, taking in a deeper breath. “First, I apologize for not being transparent. I should’ve said that I’m not exactly the greatest at getting help, not just from you. And my expectations couldn’t have been met if I didn’t tell you what they were, and I’m sorry for that.”

Mingi nods with ease, almost like he’s shrugging it off entirely, like there was nothing to apologize for. 

You continue, your confidence in your speech building. “I love the big and little things you do for me, and I’ve always appreciated your willingness to be there no matter the time of day for those you care about. For my family, for the guys—even for a random person on the goddamn sidewalk.”

You feel tears pooling in your eyes. “But, I need you to listen when I tell you there are some things that you can’t help me with, or that I don’t need your help for. And taking my opinion and listening doesn’t mean you’re not doing your best as a boyfriend. The opposite, actually.”

You see words on Mingi’s tongue threatening to spill out, and you give him the clear to say them. “I guess I just don’t know how to show you I’m here for you otherwise.”

“You’ve always shown me that, Min,” you respond instantly, not wanting him to doubt himself or his capabilities as a partner. “All I want is for you to be by my side, even if I’m struggling with things, and if you can understand that I’ll ask for your help when I need it moving forward, I think we’ll be okay. Okay?” You kiss his palm in between your own hands, and you tuck it under your chin.

Mingi smiles and puts his other hand on your thigh, rubbing the skin through the material of your dress. “Does this mean that I have to go back to that store and get a refund for the makeup I bought?”

You laugh, the sound coated with happiness, and shake your head again. “No. Why let all that good eyeshadow go to waste, right?”

Mingi chuckles, full of vigor. “Right.” He leans across the box between you, your lips an inch away from his. “And does this mean I can kiss you now?”

You quirk an eyebrow and smirk. “If you know what’s good for you, Song Mingi.”

His lips press to yours, quick and hard, and you swear you hear the clack of your teeth against his the second they collide. You don’t care, though. The feelings that accompany the kiss are all-encompassing; the pain from being apart for days, the tension from the entire night between you like a knife ready to strike down, the love that’s always been there even when you both were apart.

“Fuck, I missed you so much,” Mingi confesses. His lips reattach to yours as he bunches up your dress with his hands, his fingers just barely ghosting over the hem of your panties. Your quickly dampening underwear meets the cool air in Mingi’s car, and you shudder.

“Min, the place for kissing and making up is not in your car. Take me to bed properly, please?” You beg and nibble at his bottom lip. The moan that leaves his mouth makes your heart sing and your pussy wetter than it was a moment before.

He nips your lips again before saying, “Anything you want, always.”

Mingi sprawls your body out on your shared bed gently. You can tell he’s worried the moment is a figment of his imagination, or you’ll change your mind in a second, wanting him to go back to waiting and wishing for you again.

But you dispel the doubts in his mind the second you say, “Mingi, please touch me.” He grins and pulls your dress down by its hemline, the strapless material easily removed from your body with his strength. 

He kisses your skin as if starved of your body for years instead of days, moving from your ankle to the juncture of your thigh and pelvis. You moan weakly, hips bucking into nothing but the cool air. “You’ve made me wait, princess. It’s only fair you have to wait a little bit too.”

His words ring hollow, though. The second your panties meet the same fate as your dress, he kisses your clit and folds with all the love and admiration he has in his body. He dives into your cunt with the same fervor he put into his kisses on the way there. His mouth goes at a solid and quick pace, his tongue slipping inside of you before circling around the sensitive nub between your legs and repeating in that fashion.

You clutch his hair with your hand. Mingi’s other hand presses down on your stomach so you can’t arch too hard off of the bed. “So eager and so wet, princess. Just like I like it,” he whispers hoarsely.

“Fuck, fuck, Mingi, please fuck me,” you whimper. “I want to come with you inside of me.”

Mingi shakes his head, his hair ruffling against your inner thighs. “I want one on my tongue, baby. Just one.”

He increases his tongue’s speed against your clit, flicking so fast you think you may die before you feel the effects of your impending orgasm. But, thankfully, you get to welcome the release in all of its glory. Your essence covers Mingi’s face as you ride out your high, letting your hips roll until you come down completely.

Mingi kisses you hard when he comes up from between your legs. You mewl at the taste of yourself on his tongue. He taps the side of your thigh with his fingers, and by now you know what he wants you to do.

You turn and raise your body up on all fours. You jut your ass out for him to admire in the moonlight's glow pervading your bedroom window. He chuckles, but it’s airless from his shock at the sight in front of him, one he thought for a second he would never see again. “Goddamn, I could look at you all day. You know that, right?”

You look over your shoulder and bite your lip, moving back to brush his reddened cock, making him groan. “Why look when you can touch?”

He slams inside of you in the next second, clit smacking against his balls from the sheer force and size of him going all the way inside of you without issue. You press your face into the bed underneath you, garbled moans filling the room because of your pleasure.

Mingi yanks you up by your hair, not slowing his pace. “I don’t think so, princess. I want everyone in this place to know how good you’re getting fucked, got it?”

He bends your neck at an absurd angle to kiss you again, his tongue and lingering traces of your essence filling your mouth as he drills his cock into your velvety walls. It’s indescribable how impeccable his sex drive is, tonight one of all the other nights he’s made you fall apart multiple times without a sign of stopping.

But seeing as you’ve been apart for the better half of a week, you think he may just fall apart as fast as you do on a normal day.

“Min, I’m close,” you warn, your body slowly weakening from staying in position after such merciless thrusts and the brutal force of his cock slamming in and out of you.

Mingi holds you up with one hand while the other snakes down to your clit with intense exuberance. “Me too, baby. Just hold on tight, okay?”

Suddenly, he’s going faster than he ever has before, your body merely a toy for him to emit dozens of thrusts into in such a brief time span. His speed is almost unmanageable, it creates blind spots in your vision. You come with a violent cry ripping from your throat, your body releasing onto his cock and on the sheets below you. You don’t stop coming until he slows his own pace and orgasms himself, the mess between you and on the bed a mixture of your releases.

Mingi exits you and moves the two of you to a spot on the bed not covered in the mess, but he can’t help but stare as his cum leaves your cunt in small droplets. He’s partly fascinated by the sight, but also relieved to have you back in his arms in the bed you’ve shared for months.

He rubs up and down your arms and kisses across your collarbone until he reaches your face, his eyes reflecting a pool of love and satiation. “Hey, beautiful. Are you feeling okay?”

You smile dumbly and give him a small nod. “Never better.”

He kisses your nose before he meets your lips again, this kiss softer than all the other ones you’ve received from him tonight. “I love you.”

You know he means it every time he says it. Yet, somehow, with a newfound understanding of your shared wants and needs, and a promise for the future to be better than the past, this time he says it feels sweeter than it ever has. And when you say you love him back, you mean it even more.

@gyubakeries @loserlvrss @lovetaroandtaemin @xomakara @pars-ley @addictedtohobi

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[homiesexuallaj]

Request: Eric Draven (Bill Skarsgård version) introverted loner, meets Shelly who helps bring him out of his shell. Its love at first sight for Eric😍🖤

Pairing: Eric Draven x reader

Warnings/Genre: heavy au, fluff, rehab, troublemaker Shelly, Shelly makes you into a troublemaker, you and Shelly are like besties, shy Eric, reader flirts with Eric a tad, drug mention, mention of cigarettes

A/N: Okay yes I did read the ask wrong but in my defense I was blinded by the god of “x reader’s” and somehow my brain added that shelly introduced the reader to Eric, but hopefully you still enjoy it!

--- --- ---

You'd been in rehab awhile now. At least a couple months. You didn't have many friends, or any really. You had a few acquaintances that you got along with but no one that you had a true bond with.

Every day became the same for you. Shower, get dressed, breakfast, group therapy, afternoon outside time, lunch, one-on-one therapy, evening outside time, dinner, sleep, and repeat. It was tiring with no change. Until a certain duo started to cause some ruckus.

You didn't know who they were. The noticeable things were that they both were severely tatted up and that there seemed to be a whole foot of height difference between the two. The girl of the duo seemed to cause the trouble and disruption, dragging the poor, tall boy into her shenanigans. After getting in trouble for the umpteenth time, the boy disappeared and you came into view.

The girl, who's name was Shelly, popped herself right down at your table during lunch time. She had such a wide smile that her usual wide eyes turned to crescents. She twirled her hair as you two talked.

You two seemed to click almost instantly and Shelly quickly brought you out of your shell, dragging you into mischief. Mischief like sitting with boys Shelly thought were attractive, causing food fights, sneaking around after hours, escaping through the narrow windows in the laundry room, and giving each other stick-and-poke tattoos.

Shelly really did bring the troublemaker out of you.

Three weeks went by before Shelly's male companion was released from solitary confinement.

Shelly quickly flew back into his arms, dragging you by your hands. And here, you finally got a good close-up look at the man.

Compared to before solitary confinement, the man has black, crow-colored hair. Throughout the weeks here, his mullet had grown out, the tips of his hair curling up and peaking out from behind his neck. His eyes were a muddy green, brown flecks turning golden in the sunlight. His black tattoos were a stark contrast against his pale skin. And up close now, the man really was tall. So tall that you were face-to-face with his chest, his very broad chest.

Over the next few weeks of troublemaking, you learned that Shelly's male companion's name was Eric Draven and that Shelly often took the lead in troublemaking (with you being announced as second-in-command). Eric was rather shy and was often dragging in your's and Shelly's troublemaking. And he wasn't lookout, oh no, Eric was dragged down right into the middle. He often hoisted you girls up into places where your heights wouldn't allow you to reach.

At the moment, it was just you prancing through the halls. Shelly was off playing with one of her boy toys. You weren't looking for anyone in particular but when you came upon an open door on the second floor you couldn't help but peer in.

The room was messy. The mattress was overturned and the sheets torn off. There were papers everywhere, practically covering the tile floor, and a couple sheets of paper were thrown out into the hallway. In the middle of the room, picking up some of the papers, was Eric. He seemed irritated, probably because the care staff had ransacked his room. You shrugged, picking up the papers that led from the hallway and into his room.

"Well well well," You started, leaning against the doorframe. "What do we have here?"

"Oh um," Eric seemed to jump a bit at your presence. "Just some sketches."

You hummed, "You mind if I take a peak?"

"Not at all," Eric responded, swiping aside a couple papers so he could out his mattress right side up.

You flipped through your hand full of papers. Eric's drawings were good. Many were of the outside forest that surrounded the rehab building, others were of people around the common areas, and a few more caught your eye. There were some drawings of Shelly, mostly closeups like poses or while she was doing something nearby. The rest were of... you. Most from afar, drawn from across rooms or from different floors (as the angle suggested). The drawings were innocent enough, but one or two were you drawn in your undershirt and sweats with a hint of your nipples poking through the thin material. You blushed and cleared your throat.

"You like women with tight clothes, don't you?" You teased, watching as Eric put the sheets back on his bed.

Eric stood and looked down at your hand, seeing the slightly provocative drawings. He blushed heavy, spreading out across is cheeks and down his neck.

"Sometimes," He scratched the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact.

You only hummed in response and nodded, setting the papers down on a nearby table. You sauntered over to the taller man, causing him to drop his sheets that he was attempting to wrap around his mattress. You stood as tall as you could and wrapped your arms around Eric's shoulders, pulling him down to you a bit.

"What do you like to do for fun, Eric?" You practically purred, standing close but yet not close enough.

Eric looked between your eyes, nervous but there was obviously something else ticking in his mind. From the corner of your eyes, you could see his hands twitching. It was like he was itching to touch you but wasn't sure if he was allowed.

"I'll-I'll show you," Eric told you and made a motion to stand at his full height.

You pulled away from Eric and watched his movement.

Eric moved around you and peaked out the doorway of his room, looking for wandering staff. Once the coast was deemed clear, Eric grabbed your hand (almost on instinct) and lead you down and around the hallways.

The white walls twisted and turned. Wherever Eric was leading you, it got dimmer and dimmer. After another look around, Eric opened a door that he lead you two to. It squeaked loudly and you both cringed. Before you could have a look around, Eric pulled you into the dark room. The door shut behind you and you were befallen into pure darkness.

Eric let go of your hand and you could hear him shuffling around. He knocked into a couple things, cursing under his breath. A metallic creak and a groan were heard and the room was lit up from the ceiling. A ladder came down from the square opening. You stared at it, wondering what Eric had gotten you into.

"I'll go first," Eric muttered, already climbing up the ladder.

You followed a few steps behind.

Eric disappeared into the light. You followed and peaked your head up into the open air.

You were on top of the rehab building, rocks covered the entire roof. It was all flat, save for the three-foot-tall border around the roof to keep people from falling off. There were a few machines up here, like for air conditioning and stuff. It was all white up here, with the texture of gray from the rocks.

A tattooed hand interrupted your looking around. You followed the arm up to the face of the person. Eric was giving you an amused look. You rolled your eyes and grabbed Eric's hand, allowing him to help you the rest of the way up.

"So how did you learn to come up here?" You asked once your feet hit the rocks.

"The staff only come up here during certain times of the day," Eric answered, leading you to some metal duct-work that laid down on the roof. "If you watch it's not hard to learn their routines."

"Ah," You responded, now realizing how much Eric really watched his surroundings. "So this.. is what you do for fun?"

"Kinda boring, right?" Eric chuckled, sitting down on the duct-work and fishing a couple thin, white objects and an orange lighter from between the rocks.

"Why this?" You asked, avoiding Eric's question.

"It's just nice to get away from people sometimes," Eric lit the thin object, a cigarette, and took a hit. "It's loud down there. Out here is quiet."

Eric blew the smoke away from you and offered you the cigarette.

"No thanks," You held a hand up. "I don't smoke."

Eric nodded, keeping the cigarette to himself now.

It was quiet now. You couldn't help but side-eye Eric, admiring his smoking form. His long fingers kept the cigarette held in place, you noticed a slight tremor in them.

You could help but scoot a bit closer to the tall man, still eyeing him to see his reaction to you testing the waters. You saw him side-eyeing you back. You switched your eyes to the forest ahead, watching the swaying trees. Slowly, you leaned over towards Eric and laid your head atop his shoulder.

He tensed for a moment but relaxed, taking another hit from his cigarette.

"You're right," You muttered. "It is quiet up here."

--- --- ---

A/N: My askbox is open for Eric Draven! Feel free to drop one in!

[kyseya]

The octopus

The octopus-hybrid Octavious

This octopus hybrid was born in the large aquarium he called home. It’s all he’s ever known. Despite the vast variation in plants and spacious tank he lives in having been built with an octopus’s natural habitat in mind, he has no clue how it is in the real ocean. Is it the same? Or is it much different. He wouldn’t know.

However, he can’t help but wonder. Sometimes he catches himself drifting off to somewhat macabre scenarios in his mind. He’ll think about whether he would be able to survive in the sea as he is now, or would he easily get eaten by a much larger predator. He tries not to delve into the latter scenario.

As octopuses are mostly solitary creatures the aquarium decided to put him in a tank of his own. From what he can recall(and heard from the workers of the aquarium) he has many siblings- none he was close to of course. They were taken to other facilities right after hatching. Perhaps they also sit in a watery tank contemplating their existence. Or maybe they’re dead. Octavious can say for sure that his mother is dead though. When an octopus female lays eggs, she stops eating and dedicates the rest of her life to protect her eggs.

Octavious doesn’t let that fact rule his life however. Just like with his siblings, he didn’t ever get to know any of them.

In the first years of his life he never found the solidarity uncomfortable. It was quite the opposite. He enjoyed his alone time. He was fed and he was safe, that’s what mattered the most. Too bad he’s the aquariums only octopus hybrid. The visitors often want to take a look at him and get impatient whenever he doesn’t show himself. He wish he could ask them how they would feel about getting gawked at everyday. If that were the case, they would also hide away in their privat cave.

He really, really disliked the humans pressing their face to the glass, trying to sneak a peek at him. He’d probably say he has an antagonistic view of every human.

That is, before he met you. You were one of the new caretakers hired by the zoo and that was obvious by how you messed up and clumsily moved about in the beginning. At forst he believed you to be another annoying human but you proved him wrong. You were so kind and patient. You never got mad when he refused to show himself whenever it was feeding time. You never tried to force him to interact with the visitors.

It took a while before he felt ready to talk to you. He had imagined you frowning and scurrying away because of how he ignored you during all you previous encounters. But you didn’t. Instead you smiled and greeted him cheerfully. The two of you spoke every chance you got and slowly you scene an irreplaceable part of his life.

He realised he didn’t simply like you as a caretaker or a mere friend; he wanted more. He wanted to be your mate.

He understands that there is a whole ‘you live on land and he lives in water’- thing but he is able to stay above the surface for a certain amount of time, plus he also has his own private cave only he can access. It’s above water so you can be there and be completely fine. It’s not a big problem.

Octavious often dreams about you staying in his cave with him. You could talk forever without anyone interrupting and you could cuddle and play to your hearts extent. There would be no one to take away your attention from him. Being someone who usually shies in the opposite direction of attention, this is really confusing him.

But he doesn’t mind it, no. He loves you after all! Octavious will do anything to be your only mate.

[yandere-daydreams]

oh daydreams, please bless us with your opinion of what kind of Hybrid the JJK men would be

my takes are hot and controversial. y'all will never know how much self-restraint it took not to pull an 'oops all catboys' and actually give this list a little genome variety.

gojo satoru would be a gyrfalcon. he's an absolutely huge, constantly looming bird of prey with grey-speckled feathers and a wings so long, it only takes one to wrap around you entirely. most hybrids hybrids are at least a little stand-offish, but he's laid across your lap nearly every night, clicking happily while you preen him. if it wasn't for his wings, his piercing eyes, you'd think he was a canine-hybrid - just based on how unwilling he is to ever leave your side.

geto suguru would be a black panther. graceful, elegant, stronger than he has any right to be - ironically, the only things that don't add to his air of mystique are the rounded, twitching ears on top of his head and the sleek, black tail that's almost always brushing against your legs. he's not as clingy as gojo, but if you ask politely, he might let you comb your fingers through his hair (you're dead if you ever try to call it 'petting') as he purrs and kneads at your chest. there's a good chance you'll be left with more than a house-cat's worth of scratches after your informal grooming session, but don't worry, he'll be more than happy do run his rough tongue over your injuries and pretend he doesn't notice that his pointed teeth are just making the damage worse </3

fushiguro toji would be a grizzly bear. his coat is much darker than that of the standard bear hybrid, but once he stands to his full height and throws you over his shoulder with all the effort it would've taken to lift an empty cardboard box, your doubts are miraculously cleared away. he's got hands that can wrap around your head and a jaw that can bite through through steel and he's going to take every possible opportunity to drape himself over you and wonder allowed just how good you'd taste if he ever decided to take a bite. his bark is worse than his bite, though. scratch his adorable ears for a few seconds, and he'll be roughly five-hundred pounds of putty in your hands.

nanami kento would be a spotted jaguar. he'd prefer to be something plainer, like a panther or a cougar, but he wears his spots well. jaguars are largely solitary animals with little need for socialization or companionship, but with enough pestering, he might let you hover around him and fawn over his vibrant coat and extremely kissable pink nose. he's more reserved than most of the other hybrids on this lips, but he'll show his affection through the occasional grooming session and, if you're lucky, the occasional slab of (store bought, thankfully) meat left where he knows you'll find it. he says he prefers to be alone, and yet, he's stilled curled around you every night, purring happily and nuzzling into your neck. he's just a big softie, at heart.

sukuna would be a red fox. it's not enough for him to be a predator - he has to be the one predator known for its intelligence. he's got an ever-present kitsune's smile, his white-tipped tail constantly curling and swaying as he flaunts his strength, and he's got no shame when it comes to unabashedly proclaiming himself your superior while you comb out his thick fur for the nth time that day. he's cockier than gojo (somehow) and obsessed with the idea of proving himself as a mate (without ever admitting he'd want a worthless human as his mate, of course), which means you're going to have a very jealous, very smug fox at your side at all times, no matter how difficult that might make your daily, probably not extremely fox-centric life. try not to hold it against him, he's just trying to impress his future mate <3

[tezzbot]

I've seen quite a few people say that Branch was left alone to raise himself after his grandma died but, like, I really doubt that, because with their living situation there must have been hundreds of parents and primary guardians taken when their children were still young.

So I headcanon that there must have been a sort of, everyone was in charge of raising the kids as a collective type thing. It was just that Branch really had connection with pretty much no one outside of his family and had lost just so much already, and with him turning grey he wasn't able to bounce back like other kids his age might have been.

I imagine there was meal times he sat quietly away from everyone else, kind of picking at his food. He probably wouldn't have participated in any activities with the other kids. He just slowly isolated himself until eventually he was just left alone by other kids. Leaving any adults taking care of the groups he was in to simply worry about him, but still keep him fed and making sure he got outside at least once a day.

Maybe, like a lot of quiet kids, he took to reading. Sort of teaching himself how to survive (on paper lol). It was probably a "Well at least he's doing Something." for the caretakers lol

Then, on the night of the escape, someone would have had to have gone and got him, helped him through the tunnels, made sure that he got to the place that would become pop village, house him while he grew and began creating his bunker.

Then eventually he would become a snappy teenager, learning the the moodier he was, the more that other trolls, no matter his age or not, would begin just leave him alone.

Well GOOD, alone was what he really wanted.

...Wasn't it?

He would grump around outdoors sneering and barking things angrily at others and have his panic attacks and plans in the solitary saftey of his bunker... which Could be even safer, maybe if he just dug it down a little deeper... ten stories might just be enough... For storage that is.

He isolated himself. He made the village roll their eyes and turn their backs on him. Confirmation bias is a hell of a thing. Yes, as long as he was the one making people leave him on purpose then it was his decision not his fault

But there are likely some older trolls in the village that probably still wonder if they could have done more to prevent Branch from becoming so suddenly hateful and rude and miserable

[celestialbruise]

sanguine

(some moshang bloody kisses for the new year~)

-

The first time it happens, Shang Qinghua thinks he’d dreamed it.

Mobei Jun had come to haunt his leisure house, and while this was no longer enough to startle Shang Qinghua, it was still enough to leave him on edge, his wary eyes always pinned on his uninvited demonic guest. Mostly, Mobei Jun would come to knock him around a little, mutter a few words of complaint, order Shang Qinghua to do something such as gather information or sabotage some Night Hunt that interfered with Mobei Jun’s interests, and then he’d either pass out on Shang Qinghua’s bed or hover over his shoulder like a shadow of death while Shang Qinghua shakily tried to finish his work. 

Stupidly enough, sometimes the silence lulled Shang Qinghua into a false sense of security - perhaps even comfort. 

He’d always been a rather solitary person. In his past life, his few friends had all been made on Weibo, and while he did meet up with his family on occasion, it was really more a part of his role as a son than for any reason like companionship. They registered him as their flesh and blood and saw no deeper than that. Mostly his days were spent in front of his computer, slaving away on another ten-thousand-word chapter of Proud Immortal Demon Way. On occasion he had socialized with his fans in the comment section - his haters too, if he was feeling especially bored and, oh fuck, did that mean he subconsciously considered that asshole Peerless Cucumber to be one of his friends?

Shang Qinghua’s life really had been pathetic. Sadly, given a second chance, he wasn’t faring much better - at least he was a Peak Lord now. That had to count for something, right?

“You write very slowly,” Mobei Jun intoned from behind him. Shang Qinghua couldn’t hide how badly he flinched. He had a tendency to zone out while working, which was probably one of the dumber things to do in the presence of a demon. 

Shang Qinghua glanced down at his hand, slowly scrawling characters. It wasn’t his fault - writing traditional characters was hard! Typing was much, much easier. 

“I usually write faster than this, I’m just thinking,” Shang Qinghua grumbled, annoyed, before feeling horror envelop him at the realization that his annoyance was audible, bleeding all over his words like ink. “Sorry, my king!”

Shang Qinghua braced himself for the blow and miraculously managed to swallow his undignified yelp when an ice-cold hand cuffed him over the head. 

“And stop picking at your lip!” Mobei Jun snapped. It took Shang Qinghua a moment to register that he even was. Another unconscious habit - picking at his lips, worrying at the dead skin, peeling it away, over and over, sometimes only stopping when he’d taste blood.

As if summoned by his thoughts, something wet suddenly welled forth.

“Oh,” Shang Qinghua’s hand slowly fell away. “Sorry, my king,” he dutifully repeated, raising his hand back up to wipe the blood away, before a large, pale hand suddenly wrapped around his wrist, five strong fingers coiled to keep him in place. Shang Qinghua froze, and not just because of the icy touch.

“My king?”

When he looked up, he was shocked breathless. Mobei Jun’s eyes had gone dark.Pupil entirely eclipsed his frigid-blue irises, and Shang Qinghua suddenly got the bone-deep impression that he was staring into a fathomless abyss - or perhaps, more aptly, the eyes of a beast.

“My king….?” Shang Qinghua repeated, voice layered with nerves, when Mobei Jun still did not answer. Was Shang Qinghua’s blood really so unsightly? So offensive? He didn’t remember writing ice demons to have an aversion to human blood…..

In one swift movement, faster than he could blink, Mobei Jun dipped down and swept his tongue across Shang Qinghua’s bleeding lip. Shang Qinghua was too shocked to even flinch. Mobei Jun’s tongue, now flecked with sanguine, slithered back into his mouth and Mobei Jun’s lashes fluttered as his throat bobbed. A moment later his eyes flared as if incensed and he returned, this time capturing Shang Qinghua’s bottom lip in between his teeth. A whimper stole from Shang Qinghua’s mouth unbidden as razor-sharp teeth teased his stinging flesh. It wasn’t painful, but the threat that it could be set his blood alight. In fear! Definitely fear…..

Shang Qinghua swore what escaped from him next was a gasp of shock, and nothing at all like a moan as Mobei Jun began to suck. He could scarcely comprehend it, all at once wound taut as a bowstring yet going boneless, limp. Pliable under his king’s hands and his surprisingly deft ministrations. At the feeling of his own blood being pulled forth into Mobei Jun’s mouth, the strangest sensation overtook Shang Qinghua. It was not simply one thing. It was cold and hot. Fire and ice. Pain and the absence of it. No, there was something sharp tugging just behind his navel, like a fishhook was caught there, waiting to spill his guts. Was it fear…..? Unconsciously, his eyes fluttered shut.

At long last, Mobei Jun’s strangely warm mouth pulled away. Shang Qinghua opened his eyes, feeling dazed. Light-headed, though he was certain Mobei Jun couldn’t have drained that much blood. Drank, drank that much, because that’s what he had done, hadn’t he? He’d taken Shang Qinghua’s cut lip as if it were a chalice filled with wine and he’d…..he’d-

“Sweet,” Mobei Jun murmured, licking his lips. Shang Qinghua felt a lurch in his gut as if he were free-falling.

Had he really written demons to crave the taste of human blood….?

[kai-anderson-whore]

Temptations (Kit Walker x nun fem reader) smut

Requested by @mrsmarch64 thank you so much for this request sorry it took so long to write 🥰

Summary: reader is one of the sisters at the asylum and has the hots for kit which leads to something else

Warnings: smut, kit being accused of crimes, asylum, sex, oral reader receiving, virgin reader, Christianity, religion, getting caught, punishment, solitary confinement

Taglist: @spill-the-t @iluwmycats @lili-tate @evanpeterswifeyy868 @jademunson @evanpetersfansblog @howtobesasha @lustforeverrrr @fand0mh03

•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•..•°˚˚°•.•¤❅¤•.•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•. .•°˚˚°

Working in the asylum was hard you didn't like the hard punishment the patients get expecially one person in particular kit walker. You knew from the get go he was innocent you saw it in his eyes when you would have discussions as part of his treatment.

As the months grew you began to have feelings for kit, he didn't know until he caught you giving him lingering glances in which he gave you a smirk in return. You knew you shouldn't feel such feelings towards anyone the feelings of lust, desire, neediness. But that all changed when kit came along.

You and kit were in the kitchen he was helping you make bread for the local bakery. You were kneeding the dough whilst kit was cleaning up some of the dishes that you weren't using anymore. "You know sister y/l/n I still don't get why your the only one of the nuns and workers that is nice to me why" kit's voice broke the lingering silence between you both.

You were caught off guard you stopped kneeding the dough you breath hitched in your throat. You didn't know how to approach this or what to say, "well I could tell you were innocent from the moment I saw you kit I saw it in your eyes and in your time spent here you never laid a finger on anyone only spoke your innocence and truth".

Kit watched you closely noticing you haven't moved from your spot your eyes focused on the dough in front of you. "Sister your the only one who believes me here I can't thank you enough" kit whispered you hadn't realised he was right behind you, "you don't have to thank me" you whispered back the heat rising through your body.

You knew you shouldn't feel this way you made a vow to God you knew it was wrong to even feel this way. You felt kit's hands on your arms his mouth closer to your ear feeling his hot breath on your neck the scent of his last cigarette still lingering almost bringing you to your knees.

"But I want to sister, I saw the way you look at me it's definitely not how the lady of the cloth should look at someone" he chuckled his hands rubbing your arms your breath hitched feeling like shocks of electricity through your body.

"Kit we can't what if we get caught and plus I'm a woman of God we simply can't it's a sin" you whimperd feeling his erection against your back making your mind cloud with lust. You wanted to desperately just let him take you then and there but you had it drummed in your head that it was sinful and in this places eyes it was probably the worst thing to to give in to your sexual desires to a patient.

"I mean with the things that happen in here I think this is the last of anyone's problems sister" his breath tingling on your skin sending shivers down your spine but you knew it was right plus you couldn't fight it anymore you wanted him and he wanted you. You turned around now pinned against kit and the counter. Kit's arms on the counter shielding you in a devilish smirk on his lips his eyes scanning you like prey making you weak at the knees.

His eyes bored into your nervous ones, you could see the lust in them how they darkened as he thought about all the unholy things he wanted to do with you right now. You swallowed a lump in your throat trying to speak but before you could even get a word out kit crashes his lips on yours. Filled with hunger and passion your eyes wide open in shock before slowly closing them responding to the kiss.

You hands on the back of his neck holding him close the worry of you not being a good kisser in the back of your mind. Kit's hands on your hip pulling you closer till his erection poked your thigh, he pulled away from your lips traveling to your neck sucking and slightly biting on the exposed skin. "God I want you so bad" he groaned you couldn't help but let out a small moan a sound that never left your lips before turning your cheeks a flush pink shade as kit continues his work on your neck.

Your hands pressed against his chest as his own went to the back of your thighs guiding you on the counter your uniform bunching up revealing your bare legs to him. His lips pressing up your leg till his head was under your dress placing a kiss on your clothed clit an audible gasp leaving your lips. Your skin burning with desire while kit's fingers hooked your underwear peeling them off your legs and onto the floor.

"You ready sister y/n?" He asked looking up at you through his long lashes the sight made you even more wetter. You nodded your head unable to let the words leave your lips. "I'm going to need you to use your words sister" kit softly chuckled a small smirk tugging on his lips seeing the effect he had on you already. "Yes kit please" you whimperd pushing your thighs together desperate for some sort of friction.

Kit slotted himself between your legs kneeling down placing his lips on each of your thighs one last time before pressing a sloppy kiss on your clit. A loud gasp leaving your lips, your head pulled back, jaw slack the feeling overwhelming yet so good. Kit kitten licked your clit stimulating you hearing the sounds of your moans fill his ears.

"You know sister your gonna have to keep quiet" he teased yet warned.

All you did was nod trying to keep your mouth shut in fear you would get caught. Kit continues his work on your throbbing heat the pleasure unbearable for you since this was the very first time you did anything of this sort. Kit then darted his tongue in your entrance his nose brushed over your clit adding a whole new pleasure to the mix. You had to put your hand over your mouth to block out the moans leaving your lips "Oh god" you moaned against your own hand as you felt yourself close to the edge.

Kit never missed a beat bringing you to your first orgasm keeping your hand secured on your mouth tears brimming your eyes completely overwhelmed of the feeling of euphoria. Kit went back to licking you through your high your legs slightly shaking from overstimulation. Licking up your arousal kit pulled away from your heat standing straight licking his lips. You went to jump off the counter to return the favour but kit stopped you before you could even get off.

"What you doing?" He asked his brows furrowed, "returning the favour" you said feeling slightly embarrassed kit smiled shaking his head. "Nah you don't need to worry about that this is about you right now I want to make you feel good" he stated kissing your lips again letting you taste yourself on his tongue. freeing his painful erection kit lined up with your entrance you took a deep breath squeezing your eyes preparing yourself for what's coming next.

You felt the pain as he slowly pushed into you. "I'm gonna need you to relax I know it hurts but I promise it will go away" he reassured you peppering your face with his lips distracting you from the pain. Before you knew it he bottomed out staying still letting you adjust to the foreign feeling. Kit stretched your walls perfectly as you told him to move once the pain turned into pleasure.

Thrusting into your wet pussy, your hand holding him close by the neck your breathing was heavy the sweat building up as he thrusted into you with a passionate pace. The thought of getting caught and the fact you gave yourself to god left your mind all that occupied it was kit and the way he made you feel.

"Your so beautiful" he whispered against your lips making you want those plump lips on yours.

"Kiss me" you said kit smiled before giving in to your need for his lips. Kissing you with the amount of passion his hips gave into you. It felt more than a quick fuck meaningful if you will. Kit swallowing your moans feeling that knot form one more time until.

"WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON HERE!"  A voice startling you both heads snapping to the person who caught you. Your heart dropped seeing sister jude standing there in horror kit pulled out of you quickly fixing yourself dreading what's to come next.

"Sister jude I'm so sorry" you pleaded making your way over to her. "My office NOW you too Mr walker" she said coldly your heads hung low following your boss into her office for your punishment.

Standing behind the chair sister jude sat on her own eyeing you both up clearly thinking about the punishment you both will receive. "You sister y/n I expected more from you not to give into the temptations of the devil" the disappointment oozing in her tone. "I'm sorry sister jude I know I shouldn't have but I'm only human I just wanted to see what it would be like just once" you whimperd the tears brimming your eyes.

"No sister jude it's all my fault I came onto her please don't punish her" kit pleaded with jude who scoffed at you both. "You are both equally as guilty" you couldn't even hear anything anymore everything else was a blur all you remembered was the backs of your  legs stinging and you were sent to your room as well as kit you were also punishment in some sort of solitary confinement in your room for a week.

All you could think about is kit and the whole kitchen situation late at night. You missed him already you wondered if he regrets it since it got him into trouble but you wouldn't find that out till you were out of punishment.

[sunny374940]

I have my moments, darling

Hello, it's egg crackin' time. Remember how Emmrich was so mad at Solas in May I kiss you? (it's here if you want it) Now Emmrich gets his revenge. It's just a short scene, but I had to get it out of my head.

Here on ao3

Rest of my stuff here

Minrathous was a horrible blighted mess. Emmrich had seen enough of the blight to last several lifetimes and yet there was ever more of it. They rounded a corner and saw another writhing mass of blight tentacles, which were all converging on a solitary figure. The person dispatched the tentacles with great bursts of magic and then they turned around and there was no mistaking who this was.

Solas.

Emmrich saw red. He wanted to hurt him so badly. Hurt him, like Rook had been hurt. He would never forget the terrified expression on Rook's face when he believed that Emmrich hated him. And he believed it because Solas imprisoned him in that horrible place.

He longed to make him pay. For all the suffering Rook endured, for all the sleepless nights on Emmrich's part. But he couldn't. He would lose quickly in an outright fight against Solas, for one. And they needed him, couldn't win this war without him, so he couldn't allow himself to even try destroying him, no matter how much he wished to do so.

Rook was coming up to Solas to talk, and Emmrich's ears were ringing with all the rage he felt, but some of Rook's words filtered to him, angry and betrayed and hurt.

“You used blood magic on me?”

What?

Solas was making apologies, but Emmrich didn't hear a word he said, because this was the last drop that overflowed whatever vessel was holding his fury in check. Emmrich strode up to them and Solas dared to address him.

“Greetings, professor,” he said, as if this was an academic meeting, as if the only thing keeping him safe right now wasn't the fact that they sorely needed him.

Emmrich took a breath to scream at him, but words failed him. He wanted to kill him, bring him back and kill him again. But he had to be reasonable, no matter how much he hated to be so. He let his breath out in a sigh and settled for what was attainable at the moment.

He punched the Dread Wolf in the face.

Solas reeled back, though he unfortunately remained upright. Even so, Emmrich felt glorious satisfaction at the sight of the bastard that hurt his Rook touching a hand to his nose and having it come away bloody.

He shook out his hand. This would probably smart for a while, but he wouldn't waste mana on healing something so inconsequential now. And maybe feeling the evidence of his revenge wasn't so bad.

“I suspect this was deserved,” Solas said, wincing at the pain, and Emmrich was satisfied indeed.

“It was,” Emmrich nodded. But it wouldn't do to dwell on this anymore, time was short and whatever revenge was possible had been had. “Shall we go? I believe we have a world to save.”

“That we do,” Solas replied and Emmrich was gratified to hear a note of respect in his voice.

Rook took his hand, their fingers intertwining, and there was so much awe in his expression that Emmrich almost blushed.

“You're such a badass, love.”

“Thank you, darling. I have my moments.”

Hii @mercars-musings, @lavender-tea-fling, @starfleetteddybear, @spinfins, @sorrowsfallallaround, @redheadsramblings