#and it takes like 4 minutes to boot up every time

[shxxmisafreak]

ever since i was a little girl i knew i wanted to quicksave. quicksave. quicksave. quicksave . quick save . qui

[miniwheat77]

Can’t hide. (141 x Reader.)

!NSFW, smut, sex pollen, 141 hunting reader, p in v sex, gang bang, you know the drill no minors!

“You ready for this?” Captain Price raises a fist up to you. “Born ready cap.” You smile. Bumping the side of your fist into his.

“Nothing to it anymore. Clean sweep, be back by lunch time.” You smile.

Those were your famous last words, before all hell broke loose.

It started out normal.

Infil went excellent. Quick and easy. Nik found a good spot for the Helicopter to land, left without a problem. He wouldn’t be too far away when Captain Price called on him.

Sneaking in was easy too, everyone laid low and stayed quiet. Eliminating every single threat on the small base was also just as simple, it seemed like nothing could go wrong. Until something went wrong.

Gaz was the first to come across it. The massive underground bunker full of huge vats. Full of a mysterious liquid. Vials upon vials, syringes full. It seemed endless. Nobody knew what the mysterious liquid was until you stumbled upon the paperwork for it. And than. It was go time. The five of you worked for a couple hours destroying every bit of it, each of you even having fun with it.

Until Soap tripped over a notebook and stumbled into a large pool of it, he catches himself with the edge.

But not before his hand dips into the liquid.

It burns immediately. It absorbs into his skin almost instantly and his body soaks it up like a vitamin. “Shit.” He gasps. “That can’t be good.” Captain Price laughs. Just after he finishes speaking, they hear Gaz let out a hiss. “Shit- it soaked through my boots!”

“Well that’s really not good.” They laugh. “Let me get Nik on exfil, Laswell will know what to do.” He mumbles.

He doesn’t announce it, but it’s soaked through his boots as well.

That leaves Ghost and you who haven’t been infected and he wants to keep it that way.

“Nik, we’re ready for exfil.”

“I’m worried about these storm clouds Captain.” Nik calls back through the radio. “Shit… bloody fucking…” he hesitates before speaking into the radio back to Nik. “ETA?”

“Maybe tomorrow morning if it’s clear Captain, I can get someone to come in with a vehicle.”

He sighs. “It’s alright, we’ll wait it out.”

He walks back into the bunker, Gaz and Johnny have shed a couple layers, a sheen of sweat glistens off of them. The drug is starting to set in. It wouldn’t be long now. “I got myself with a Syringe, Price.” Ghost mumbles. “Bloody hell. Who isn’t infected now?”

“Just Y/N, sir.”

He sighs.

“Did we destroy all of the paperwork?” He asks. “Yes sir.”

He groans. You’re fucked. Royally fucked.

“Well. Suppose we wait it out and see what happens because I have no clue. Nik can’t get here until morning becaus-“ a loud burst of thunder hits and cuts him off.

“Of that.” He sighs.

He paces for a few minutes, doing the old man things that he usually does, but as the minutes tick by, everyone gets more antsy.

“Let’s go find somewhere else to stay, it’s cold and dangerous down here.” He mumbles. His own heart is pounding in his chest. The five of you make your way back out of the bunker, walking through the mud and pouring rain to get inside the building completely. You split off and look for a good spot to stay for the night but the only thing anyone finds is a conference room.

Everyone picks a chair around the table, and it’s a waiting game after that.

You’re off in another world daydreaming, not paying too much attention to anything. Thinking about the hot shower you’ll take when you finally get out of here. It’ll be so nice, washing away the blood and dirt.

You don’t see the 4 stand up, gravitating toward a specific corner. You don’t see them conspiring.

You’re not expecting it when Soap grabs a hold of you. Holding you much tighter than he normally would for any reason at all. It pulls you out of your thoughts and that’s when you see that there’s something wrong. The four of them surround you. “W-woah!” You mumble, trying to tug your arm away from Soap. He doesn’t budge. “Let go Johnny- what’s wrong?” You ask, eyes darting around the room. You’re only met with hungering eyes. None of them make a move to stop him.

Before you know it, they’re lifting you up, the four of them slamming you down on the large oak conference table, a hiss leaving your lips when your back hits it. Only then do you see your Captain coming at you, Syringe in hand. “Woah! Hey wait! You don’t have to do this! What’s going on?”

“It’s a sex drug sweetheart. And we’re all infected.” He chuckles. His voice is far darker than before.

The syringe stabbing you in the arm has you hissing out, teeth clenched. He presses the back of it, injecting the liquid into you. “You now too.” He smirks. His gaze is dark as he looks at you. The four of them looming over you like a storm. Gaz reaches for your waistband and that’s when you know this is about to get serious. They’re like a pack of hungry wolves ready to tear you to shreds.

“Fuck.. smell so good.” Johnny groans. You get a good grip on the table and slam your heel into Gaz’s chest, making a mental note to apologize to him when all of this is over. You force yourself back, rolling off of the table and making a break for it.

You bust through the metal door at a full sprint and don’t look back for even a second. The rain is coming down fast and it’s hard to run through the mud but you manage. The dense forest around the compound will shield you from them, or so you hope.

Branches of pine needles and leaves slap past you as you sprint, your heart pounds in your chest but you know what awaits you if you stop.

“It’s alright!” You hear them yelling out to you. Clearly coming after you. “You can run but you can’t hide!”

The deep roar of Simon’s voice has chills rising up your spine. The drug is working its way through your veins now. You had to create as much distance as possible from them. You notice a stream and decide to take another way. Walking into it to conceal your footprints and using it for a while. It feels like you’ve been walking for miles when you finally step out of the freezing water. You’re sure there’s no way they’ll find you, so you settle down between some bushes.

You lay low and quiet. You’re freezing cold and it’s hard to hide but you manage it. The rain never lets up, and you never hear anything else, settling down to try to warm yourself up before you died from hypothermia. You have nothing, having taken all of your gear off in the conference room you had found. Bad move.

You wait. Shivering with cold feet covered in mud. When this was all over you were going to take the hottest shower you’ve ever had.

Once again, your mind fucks you.

You’re off in space somewhere when arms wrap around you. His deep laugh has you squirming. “You’re not getting away this time sweetheart.” He laughs.

It’s Ghost. You slam the back of your head into him, bloodying his nose. He’s dizzy from the hit, he lets you go and you take off again. This time there’s four sets of footsteps chasing after you, right on your heels. Like something out of a horror movie. Your lungs burn and your legs ache but you don’t make it far, a hand on your ankle has you colliding with the forest floor. You cry out when whoever had tackled you moves on top of you. They’ve got you pinned. You’re thankful that it’s just pine needles under you now, much nicer than the mud.

Your shirt is soaked and stuck to you.

You’re horny from the stupid drug and you know you can’t keep yourself away from them any longer. You’re still panting as they stare down at you. “Fine. You caught me.” You breathe.

They laugh. “Nice little game of cat and mouse, lass. Now it’s time to pay up.” Soap chuckles. He grasps the hem of your pants, fighting them off of you since you’re soaked to the bone. You roll your eyes at him. “You’re nothing but a bunch of pervs.” You roll your eyes. “Before, you were fighting us. Don’t see you fighting me now.” He chuckles. He’s right, you’re not fighting him. The ache you feel in your belly is begging for relief. “If I’m such a perv, tell me to stop.” He looks down at you. The moonlight illuminates him just enough. You can see his hand gripping his throbbing cock. He’s got himself lined up with your entrance. Legs pushed apart. The others have let go. Seeing you’re not putting up a fight anymore.

You shake your head.

“Do it.” You grit your teeth. He laughs. Pushing himself into your dripping hole. You take in a sharp breath, whining out. Hearing him chuckle at how pathetic you are. Captain Price raises your shirt up, thumb brushing over your nipple. You reach up and grasp his hand. You guide it down to your clit, hearing him scoff, shaking his head with a smirk. “Looks like the drugs working on you too. Little slut..” he laughs.

“Not gonna work, I like when you’re mean to me.” You look up at him, smile playing at your lips. He rolls his eyes, laughing when your eyes screw shut as he starts drawing circles into your clit as Johnny fucks you. “Such a bad girl. Ran away for nothing but fun hm? You like the chase sweetheart?” He chuckles. You wanted him to shut up, so you grasp his exposed cock. Hearing him sigh. “Shit…” he mumbles. He’s hard and throbbing. His body begs for some kind of release.

The primal need they feel to have a pussy on their cocks. It’s unbearable.

Soap is like a wild animal as he fucks you. Groaning out as he fucks you like a madman. Captain Price doesn’t stop circling your clit and it leaves you a writhing mess. Ghost looms over you, pumping his cock with his hand. They’re so pathetic and desperate, you feel bad almost. You look back at him, through your eyelashes. Eyes locking with his. It sends sparks shooting through him. The look you have, it’s nothing but filthy. You lick your lips and he knows immediately what you’re implying. He wastes no time scooting further toward you and you part your lips as he lines his dick up with them. They part as he slides into your mouth, nearly crying out as you take him down your throat. “Oh fuck…” he whines. You toy with the tip, tonguing it as he nearly cries from being deprived. They’re all so pathetic. “Come here, Kyle.” You draw away from Ghost for just a second to wave Kyle over to your free hand. He all but scrambles to you. The attention you’re giving them is more than they’ve had in months. “Oh fuck..” he whines. Your hands wrapped around them, it’s nearly too much. You take Ghost back into your mouth, your captains fingertips still dancing across your clit. Ghosts hand moves to pinch and toy with your right nipple, Gaz takes the hint and does the same to your other. You mewl at the stimulation. Feeling more at once than you’ve ever felt, but you can’t help but want more. You give them a few minutes before you fight against them. They worry you’ll run again but you prop yourself up onto your hands and knees, pushing Johnny down and climbing on top of him.

He’s surprised for a second. You move over him, sliding back down onto him. He gasps out. You grasp your captains hand and guide him behind you. “Oh shit..” he mumbles again. Realizing what it is you want. He spits into his hand, gliding it up his cock. Lining up with your ass. He teases your hole with his tip, getting you slick enough to handle him. When he slides into you and both of your holes are filled, you’re almost satisfied. You need just a little more.

Ghost stands over Johnny, cock lining back up with your lips and you take him into your mouth.

Johnny’s hands find your nipples as he fucks himself up into your pussy. You whine out, hand reaching out for Kyle’s dick once more. You wiggle your right hand free, gliding it down the front of you, finding your own clit. And finally, it’s enough.

You’re shaking after just seconds of being stimulated. To the point it’s almost too much. “Ah fuck- gonna cum.” Soap hisses.

You draw away from Ghost and the words leave your lips before you can stop them. “Cum in me- fill me up.” You gasp.

The drug doesn’t make him think twice before he’s filling your pussy. Crying out and bucking his hips until he’s too overstimulated to think straight, drawing away from you. He switches places with Gaz.

He steps away, obviously trying to clean himself up. The clarity is there now in his brain, the realization of everything going on is becoming clearer.

The other three still remain, all desperate to feel your walls clamping around them. Gaz has nestled himself beneath you, surprised when you move right up to him, raising yourself up with your knees and lowering yourself onto his cock. You’re close, you just need that final push to reach an orgasm. He starts thrusting up into you, once against feeling that same intense pleasure as before. He cups your breasts and your breath hitches in your throat. The knot is building, getting bigger and bigger.

“Oh f-fuck!” Captain Price gasps, hips stuttering as he reaches his high. He fills you up, wrapping his arms around your front and burying himself inside of you. He’s panting. Relaxing for just a second. Feeling the way your body lurches as Gaz thrusts up into you. Captain Price regains his composure and stands up. Taking a deep breath as he creates some distance. Ghost is quick to take his place. Your knees are tired from the hard ground.

Ghost lines his fat cock up with your ass, sliding into you. Filling you to the hilt with his big cock. You whine out, nails digging into his arms. He takes a deep breath. Lips right by your ear. “Deep breaths doll.” His voice is deep, sending chills up your spine. He pulls you flush to his chest, his shirt is wet and cold against you. His cargo pants are too, the only warmth you feel from him is his cock pulled through the zipper hole. He glides his hand over your chest and stomach, trailing it down your front to your nub, rubbing circles against it. Your breaths get more ragged and unsteady, a sob is clawing its way out of your throat. You’re shivering from the cold, the rain has never subsided. Your hair is completely soaked, Ghost moves it onto one shoulder so that he can leave kisses against it.

You clutch Gaz tight, his hand entwined with yours as he thrusts into you.

“Agh, I’m so close!” You cry.

“Me too…” Gaz breathes.

Rocking your hips into him, meeting his thrusts. He’s not going to last. He hisses, his pretty white teeth showing in the moonlight. You lean down, letting your head rest forward as they ravage you. “Ah- gonna… gonna- ugh!” Gaz moans out, hips jerking up into you as he fills you, not stopping for even a second as he rides out his high. He finally stops when he’s overstimulated and Ghost draws himself out of you. Lifting you off of Gaz. Gaz stands up, and moves to join the others in the building. You’re nearly fucked out, so close to being on the edge but just short each time. You’re desperate at this point.

“Hold on.” Ghost hesitates. He tugs his soaking shirt off, fighting with it for a second. He uses it to clean off his shaft.

“What are you doing?” You ask. “I.. I didn’t want to give you an infection or anything. Don’t worry about it.” He mumbles. When he’s gotten himself completely wiped off, he lifts you up onto him. “They’re so selfish aren’t they? Leaving before you’ve even cum.” He’s got a grip on your hips, guiding you down his shaft. You whine out. You’re fucked out but still want to cum so bad. It feels like your heart is going to beat out of your chest any minute, you want it so much. “How about you cum with me hm?” He breathes. “Deep breaths darling, hold onto me.” He pants. His grip on you is tight.

He keeps a steady pace. You’re right on the edge again.

“Cum with me.” He breathes. “Show me what you can do darling, go on.”

You bury your head into the crook of his neck, crying out as you finally reach your peak. It washes over you like a tidal wave, shaking against him. He grits his teeth and whines as he reaches his own high, filling your pussy.

He rides out your highs, raising you up onto him by your hips. You’re nearly sobbing when he lowers you from him for just a second. “Fuck…” you whine. “Here, it’s cold but it’s all I got. Put it on.” Ghost passes you his soaked jacket from earlier. It is cold but it covers you. He lifts you up, beginning the hike back to the building.

———

“You all look exhausted.” Nik notes as everyone climbs into the chopper.

You exchange glances, resting your hand over your neck. There’s been a number of love bites left there the night before. You pretend like you’re rubbing your neck. Hiding your pink cheeks. “Uh.. yeah. It’s been a long night.” Captain Price avoids his gaze. “Ready to be back at base.” He laughs.

Nik notes the extremely quiet and awkward ride back to base. Ghost sitting a tad bit closer to you than normal.

“Does it hurt?” You mumble to Ghost. “What do you mean?” He asks. “You said you poked yourself with a syringe and got infected yesterday, does it hurt?” You ask again. “What syring- oh.. oh uh… yeah. No it doesn’t hurt.” He mumbles. “Where was it again?” You ask. “Oh uh. It was somewhere on my hands but the needle was so small so you can’t see it.” He lies.

You don’t catch the lie that he’s so clearly hiding.

His dirty little secret.

[babygirl-riley]

Daddy’s Gonna Buy You a Mockingbird

When coming home Simon hears his daughter start to fuss.

Warnings: angst, mentions of childhood trauma, fluff, swearing, Dad!Simon

simon x reader guide

simon x reader family edition

Simon was fucking tired, the mission was long and difficult. It took them 4 months to plan the fucker just for the target to know their every move. He lost lots of men and women those nights, they had to camp somewhere in the middle of the desert cause transportation got fucked.

He unlocked the door of his home and walked in. Immediately he heard the whimpering. Simon heard you trying to lullaby both of your toddler. Simon was told that she has been sick for almost 4 days. It was teething that led to two ear infections. His poor angel was getting her ass jumped left and right with them infections.

He took his mask and boots off leaving them on the shelf near the door. He locked the door as he made his way through the hallway. When getting closer he heard you sniffling. “I don’t know what to do baby girl,” The toddler cried harder as you cried with her. “I am sorry. What do you need baby?”

Simon tapped the door making you jump. At first you thought you were going to fight but then relief came through. “Simon,” You started to sob. “Just take a shower and I will be there in minute.”

“I can take her.” He said walking fully in.

“No,” You wiped your tears quickly before shaking your head. “It’s fine you just got home. Please just take a shower love.”

Simon nodded, he didn’t want to but he could tell if he didn’t you would burst. He saw the dark circles under your eyes, how red your eyes were. You haven’t gotten any sleep. That tugged at his best strings, you have been dealing with this all by yourself so he wants to be able to help you.

Simon quickly got into the shower, washing all the paint, blood, sweat, and dirt from him. He waited for a moment before turning the faucet off and get out. He heard your sobs once more as he wrapped the towel around himself. Opening the door that showed you laying on your side curled up. Simon walked up to you and sat next to your body. He placed a hand on your hip rubbing circles.

“Not the best welcome home,” You sighed turning to face him. “Im sorry.”

“For what love? Taking care of our child? Don’t ever apologize for that.” He reassured, basically whispering.

“Just me crying and Im so fucking tried. She doesn’t sleep nothing longer than maybe 5 minutes before she is screaming. And I wanted to give you a warmer welcome and instead buzzed you off and…”

“Thats enough sweethear’ it has been a long week for you,” He got up to grab sweatpants and went around to his side to pull the blankets up and over him. You watched as he laid and scooted closer to you wrapping his arm around you. “Come ‘ere, get some sleep my dove.”

He doesn’t remember when you fell asleep or even him. Simon heard the soft whimpers start, you didn’t move and he was glad that you didn’t. He was also very happy that you moved out of his grasp while in your sleep. Simon carefully and quietly headed out of the room. Rubbing his tired eyes as he made it to his daughter’s room.

When he approached the room there she was. Standing up in her crib crying, once her eyes landed on his she cried harder. “Daddy.” She called a couple of times.

“Alright princess, you’re alright daddy’s here.” He said picking her up.

It took him a back of how hot she is, sweat gripping her pjs. Her crying increasing as she gripped onto his shoulder. “Shhh I know,” He said bouncing up and down. “I know baby.”

He felt her diaper and walked to the changing table, which to her was a sin. When he placed her down she screamed a bit, immediately he gently placed a palm on her chest. Putting small pressure. She stopped screaming as she still cried. His daughter loved when he did that when she wanted to be cuddled yet when he had to do certain things like this.

Because of how many times he has done this with her, he one handed did the diaper. He left her only in her diaper, get some air to her skin due to sweating and her being hot. As she still cried, he picked her up and lead out of the room walking to the kitchen. “Let’s try a warm bottle and me a tea yeah?” He said quietly, holding her close as she still cried.

While working on the bottle he rocked back and forth waiting for the teapot to heat up. He wrapped both of his arms around her holding her more close. “I’m ‘orry my birdie, teeth are arseholes. I know.”

She held around his neck placing her head down on his shoulder. Simon kept holding on until the smallest noise came from the pot. He didn’t want to wake you, he was even surprised you haven’t woke up yet. His daughter became more whimpering than crying.

He poured his mug first so the water could cool down just a bit more. Then poured water into her bottle. He made his tea before finish making her bottle. Afterward he walked to the living room and placed the tv on. Miss Rachel was her favorite to watch lately, that’s what you mentioned.

He placed her forward towards the tv as he placed his mug on the side table. Simon held her close to him as she drank her bottle. Rubbing her belly as he watched the show with her. He hated this woman, just found her annoying, you mentioned to him that it was her job to do that fake high pitch thing. To him it just made him want to mute it and never see it again.

His daughter leaned closer to him as he sipped his tea. She sniffled and hiccuped due to crying the whole time. He smoothed her thick blonde hair back, making her eyes roll. Another thing she gets from him. People massaging his scalp or play with his hair he would pass out from.

After three videos both Simon and her were laying on the couch. He had her on his chest with a blanket on both of them. “Shh I know,” He said as she started to whimper again. “Daddy is here, don’t worry. He will stay. I would do anythin’ for you not to be in this pain.”

She sucked on her binki her eyes rolling fighting sleep. Yet another thing she got from him. Fighting sleep. Simon remembered when you told him you were pregnant with her. He was terrified. Scared that he wouldn’t be good to her, that he would turn into his own father.

Simon actually left for hours from the house making you think that it was a bad idea to tell him. Until he came back in tears, first time you seen him break down. Telling you his fears and worries. You would comfort him and hold him that he has never been an ounce of his father. Never be like him.

Simon remembered when he asked for his dad to hold him. His dad told him to stop being a child, to grow up. Or even watch him cry in pain and laugh at the fact he was crying. He even remember Tommy being hit for even mentioning that his throat hurt. Telling him that is something to be crying about when he was hurt.

Because of those memories he was going on for months in his mind that he didn’t believed that, didn’t believe that he would be a good father, it wasn’t until she was born. When he held her in his big hands. He knew that this was the opportunity to not be his low life father. And yet here he was being not that, his father would have never been comforting him when he was sick. Holding him. Loving him. He was grateful to be able to be here for her. For you. To show the love and care that he wanted to.

Simon sighed as he felt her breathing slow down, falling into deep sleep. He settled more down into the couch as he closed his eyes, holding on to his princess.

You woke up with the sun beaming into the room. You groaned as you placed a hand to where Simon would have been. It was cold. You opened your eyes and frowned. Was a dream that he was home? You sighed getting up and heading to your daughter’s room. For it to be empty too.

You walked around the house figuring out where the hell was your daughter. Which when you heard Miss Rachel on the tv and two figures on the couch. It made your heart swell. You walked to around to face both your daughter clinging onto her father. Simon softly snoring and his daughter as well. You forget how similar they look.

The soft features of when they slept. Their hair. Their nose. You also noticed that she was just in her diaper and didn’t look sweaty. You inhaled deeply feeling a bit of relief. Hopefully that means that her temperature went down and back to normal.

You smiled thinking about the time where you were almost about to pop. Simon holding your tummy telling your daughter that he will protect her with every ounce of his being. Not matter where or what she is doing, he will be there. You would play with his hair as he rubbed your tummy, feeling her move every time he would place a hand on your tummy.

You grabbed both bottle and mug, walking back to the kitchen. “Definitely going to be a daddy’s girl.” You whispered, starting to make breakfast for your perfect family.

[marcsburnerphone]

And they were roommates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: the captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: kissy kissy, sudden departure , flirtatious banter, I hate goodbyes.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 6- part 7 - part 8 - Part 9 - part 10 - part 11 - part 12

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“Baby i’ve got to go.” John whispers into your ear early in the morning, darkness still accompanying the sky.

“Hmm?” you say turning on your side, sleeping heavily considering you fell asleep a measly forty minutes ago.

“There's been a breakthrough on location and if we get there by tomorrow this mission might not be months again.” that wakes you up.

“Wait, so you're leaving right now.” 

“Yes lovie.”

“No.” It's not what you meant to say but it's all you could have in the moment.

“What?” he says softly, brushing hair from your face as you sit up.

“I'm sorry I mean, I mean I wasn't expecting this.” you say trying to fight back whatever this feeling is in your throat.

“I know and I'm sorry.” John says as he intertwines his fingers with yours appreciating the efforts you are putting in to seem strong.

You realize as you fully come too that he's already dressed in his military attire, only lacking the heavy jacket. He looks handsome, yes extremely, but he also looks like he's about to slip from your grasp for god knows how long.

“I miss you and you're still sitting in front of me.” how you make a strong man weak.

“Oh love.” he says before resting his head on your chest basking in the feeling of your fingers snaking through the hair at the base of his neck, the feeling of home.

“You'll be back.” you say out loud but he knows you're talking to yourself.

“Are you sure you have everything you need?” you say as he sits back up looking towards the medium sized duffle bag that will hold everything he needs for the next while.

“If by everything you mean clothes, medicine and meaningless items, yes, I do.” But he seems to be leaving the most important part at home.

“Kay, I'll walk you out.” you're trying so hard not to cry, you knew it was coming, you're as prepared as you could be. 

“Alright.” he stands offering you his hand as you slip off the bed.

He throws the heavy duffle over his shoulder as you follow him out wood floors creaking extra loudly because of his heavy boots, his shoulders surprisingly are slightly slumped which is not usual for john, he usually stands as straight as a board. 

You slip on your slippers by the door and throw on his coat that hangs on the rack. He opens the door for you as you walk out into the chilly air waiting for him to join you at the bottom of the steps.

“Best behavior yeah?” your bottom lip softly trembles.

“In your dreams.” he smiles, bringing your lips to his, cusping your chin ever so softly, savoring the taste of you, the feel of your teeth and graze of your tongue. You're just trying to be present in the moment, you also should have known John gave one hell of a goodbye kiss.

“I'll probably have wet dreams about that kiss.”

“I'm glad that it induces those feelings.” he says before leaning in close to your ear “but remember they'll never be like the real thing.” he finishes with a kiss to your cheek standing tall again.

“I love you.” you say.

“I love you.” his voice does something akin to a shuttery breath.

“Call me when you can, yeah?” you say as a tear falls from your eye.

“Every second i get i will, i promise.” he says kissing you quickly one last time, the sun beginning to rise giving the sky a beautiful hue of purple.

“Bye john.” you say taking in a deep breath.

“Bye love.” he whispers before walking to his truck hopping in quickly, starting the engine and putting it in drive he sends you a wink and a smile before descending down the road.

You cry freely once he's out of sight grasping the side of your shirt that your hearts beneath, his cologne that lingers on the sweater wafts around you. Slowly you turn around heading back inside locking the door behind you. Slowly but surely you make your way into your bedroom throwing yourself down onto it praying for sleep to come back to you and suffocate you.

John makes it to the start of the highway before a tear slips from his eyes, that tear turned into one too many when he realizes he accidentally took your favorite lip liner that you left in his car from your last date. It's agonizing, he thinks but he's so grateful that you've given him a newfound reason and a strong motivation to make it home as quickly and safely as possible.

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trying to figure it out and if you're still here reading I love you beyond the moon and the stars<3

@beebeechaos @ttsbaby01 @arminarlertssword @quakeroaksguy @rafaelacallinybbay @bumblebeesfromvenus @glitterypirateduck @midnights-song @lovelythingsinternal @fruitymoonbeams-blog @kkaaaagt @kit-williams @enfppuff @kythefangirl25 @eviltheleon @here4thespice @dclore22 @raethethey @waves-against-a-cliff @novausstuff @darling006 @vampirekilmerfic @Dreams-of-qian-qian @spngingerbread21 @thepumpkinqueen93 @copiasratscheese @youdontknowe @spyderdoll @angels-gonna-play @viisgrave @lieutenantlashfaz @sunndust @beckythecatqueen-blog @aoioozora @o-birdseed-o @mothmothmothmothmothmoth @ihateuguys @oversensitivitea @spicyspicyliving

[vampiricgf]

˗ˏˋ CRY 4 U ˎˊ˗

› or the one where you make him grovel if he wants to be forgiven. and get off.

leon kennedy x f! reader

wc : 2k+

dom reader, mean reader kinda, dacryphilia, begging, handjob, ball fondling, lots of spit and drool mentions, dry humping, orgasm denial, edging, praise (good boy), finger sucking, he might be a lil ooc but whatever we ball

"Oh, my poor baby."

You're evil, he's been convinced over the course of the last half hour that you must have some kind of pitch black ichor running through your veins rather than blood. Only some conjured up, story book type of wicked woman could find as much satisfaction in this as you clearly did.

You two had an impromptu separation three months ago, after a particularly explosive argument all stemming from the fact that nearly as soon as his boots had hit the hardwood floor of your shared apartment he had been answering the phone for yet another adrenaline soaked excursion into some other far flung corner of the world. You'd been worked up, had already turned yourself into a walking wound oozing anxiety all over the walls over the twenty two days he was already absent and then you hadn't even had him for ten minutes before he was being yanked away from you again.

He knew it wasn't really your fault, it was the natural strain of being in a three way relationship when the other party was the united states government. But admittedly he'd gotten pissed off in response, hated being the one your venom soaked barbs were directed at because "the government" was all but a shadowy, person like outline that was hardly corporeal enough to be the one taking your verbal punches at that moment. It had been a less than graceful exchange, piss poor on his part, culminating in him slamming the door on you mid sentence and vanishing for yet another multi week gap. When he came back you were gone, the apartment so sterile he thought you must've hired professional cleaners to obliterate any trace of you with not even a "go fuck yourself, Kennedy" left in your place.

Although he could admit he deserved it if only for choosing to be petty over and over the past three months as he passed on every opportunity he had to even send you a quick message, any sign he was alive and wanting to work this argument out once he was state side again. That he loved you no matter what.

That's why he called you as soon as he got back, saw the lifelessness of your shared home, heart full of hairline cracks at the possibility that it may no longer be. Three months of guilt eating him alive, burning through his veins and threatening to spew out of his mouth at the slightest provocation. When you answered it was like the split second before a character in a movie gets hit by some random runaway vehicle: all slow motion, lung freezing tension until the inevitable moment of high speed impact.

His moment of impact was your quiet little call of his name into the receiver, jumpstarting his tongue into a flurry of barely coherent pleading, begging to see you, begging for just one opportunity to make it right, do anything and say anything to make it up to you, win you back, just please please please don't leave. He felt insane as you stayed quiet and let him babble, felt like if it went on any longer he'd collapse in on himself, folded up like a sheet to languish on the floor until he was just a stinking pile of once human jelly.

At the time he believed you more like an angel, some benevolent deity tossing him a life preserver when you had cut him off mid word vomit and told him you would be over in a bit, had been staying at a friend's place, but that you two could talk "so long as you're sure you can spare five minutes for me this time." Ouch, but he'd known better than to respond to the jab that time, bait left untouched as you ended the call.

"Can you look at me, Leon?"

Your soft tone rouses him from the haze of recollection, bleary slate grey irises training on you in the half dark of the bedroom, blinking back now cold saltwater that's been gathered against his lash line.

Your soft hand caressed his taut balls, alternating between clearly enjoying the feeling of his bodily strain and squeezing just enough to make him gasp, mouth dropping open involuntarily as his thigh muscles tensed so hard it was a miracle they didn't severe in a spectacular show of blood spray and meaty chords piercing out of his skin.

You've been at this so long he felt delirious, brain on fire in such a way that even the worst fever hes ever experienced pales in comparison. Your little giggles reverberate against his eardrums, making his eyes flutter shut as they roll back, his hips jerking against nothing in a pathetic pantomime of sex.

"How badly do you want me to forgive you?"

"So, so fucking bad- please please sweetheart, fuck-" his hips rise even higher off the bed as your warm hand palms at the base of his heart stoppingly hard cock, that one feather light touch making him nearly convulse against the bedspread as you smile and bite your bottom lip, eyes narrowed and heavy with mischief.

He knows he can stop you whenever he wants, he's making the choice to not touch you, abide by the rules of this little payback you had proposed to him. Of course, just the thought of your hands on his dick again had made him agree before he really thought it all through. Ever the quintessential man, Leon Kennedy.

You were demanding he proved how badly he wanted your forgiveness by essentially allowing you to use him like a toy, doing whatever you wanted and if he was your good boy then by all means, you had plenty of time to discuss reunification post mess making.

But he had failed to consider that you had three months of heartache backed up, and like a girl in an exorcism film you needed this release as much as he did, a final cleansing of all those negative feelings before you could move forward. Yet truly, he was all too happy to be the instrument you worked it out on.

Even if it felt like torture in the moment.

You clicked your tongue at him, slow as molasses as he sagged back against the pillows, mouth open to plead with you again but before he could vocalize one single syllable you quickly leaned forward and clapped a hand over his spit slicked lips.

"Open your mouth when I tell you to, understand?"

On anyone else the faux authority would make him squirm in secondhand embarrassment, but on you? Your firm tone sent a shockwave shiver quaking down his spine, ending with another pitiful spasming in his cock that made him cry out against your palm, bucking his hips yet he kept his hands steady in place against the bed. Not moving, just as you'd specified.

Really he's shocked he hasn't shredded through the bedspread at this point, with how much he's been twisting the fabric in his grasp in order to resist the urge to just grab you, manhandle the hell out of you and finally slot his aching cock right where it belongs: squeezed between your warm walls, milking the life out of him.

You lean forward again and press a kiss to his forehead that's so chaste it gives him whiplash with the contrast of your actions. It doesn't matter that he's whimpering against your hand, nuzzling into your touch and your kiss, he's so desperate for anything from you. Being so focused on his own need he doesn't realize what you're doing until your index is lifting his lip, sliding against his top front teeth while you coo at him.

"You're being so good for me, baby, now open your mouth."

The praise coming off your tongue, in a tone so warm it's like honey spreading over his skin, makes him give a dopey little smile as he lets your fingers slide over his tongue, sucking at them and giving little barely there bites with his molars, rolling his tongue around them and savoring the distinct taste of your skin. When you straddle his thighs he tenses, eyes squeezing shut for a second but rather than more teasing it seems you've taken pity on him.

His wicked, heartless lover once again crowned the pure hearted princess of the kingdom in your room as his watery azure eyes watch the glittering glob of spit leave your glossy lips and roll down the head of his cock, mixing with the sheen of smeared precum already decorating the puffy, red flushed head. It gives another painful jerk as you grip him up once more, making him gag and whine around your fingers.

Fresh tears of relief spill down his cheeks, glinting in the lamplight like rhinestones as his hips frantically and messily jerk out of time with the rhythm of your hand. It doesn't even matter, all that matters to his baser instinct is that finally, finally your hand is wrapped around him and the friction he's been nearly screaming for is catapulting him towards a high speed orgasm. As ecstasy blooms in his mind, a raucous display of internal fireworks, he cries out your name in a garble of nonsense sound around your digits.

You stop.

You stop and his hips stutter, cock throbbing so hard he can feel it in his chest as he cries out around your fingers, half choking from the way it sends saliva sliding down his throat.

As you pull away he feels the panic rising like a living thing in his ribcage, frantically spasming and twisting against the confines of his bones as he leans forward, chasing after you.

"No, no, no please sweetheart please don't stop I'm right there it was right there-"

"You think you deserve it?" You ask cooly, head tilted to the side with one brow raised critically and he feels like he could start screaming, his jaw slack as your words slide over his brain.

The bedroom is suddenly the scene of a two person disaster, feeling like an airplane cabin going through spontaneous decompression once all the air has been violently sucked out via even a fingernail sized hole in the window glass.

He whimpers your name, grabbing at your forearms and not sparing a single thought as yet another round of fresh tears turn you into a watercolor painting.

"I feel like I'll die if you don't touch me again," it's the most true string of words to flow from his tongue, he knows he'll wither away on the spot, blow around the room in a cloud of dust if you're hand isn't back on him within the next minute.

And you smile, fuck you smile so beautifully he can't help but return the expression complete with red twinged puffy eyes and a wobbly lip caught between his teeth.

With a surge of elation you grab his hands, manually sliding them up your stomach to your clothed breasts and he moans like a bitch in heat as he practically pounces on you to get his reward, getting you pushed back against the bed with a shocked oof squeezed from your lungs before his mouth is devouring your lips. It's all clicking teeth and spit sliding down your chin but he doesn't care, can't spare a single thought when he's rutting his bare cock against your clothed cunt, the vague feeling of your warmth more than enough to violently shove him off the cliffs edge.

Even as sticky spurts of cum splatter against your clothes and get pushed against his and your skin through the material he doesn't stop, hips continually grinding against you as if he really is fucking you, too caught up in the all consuming head rush of his orgasm to care about the mess he's making all over your pants and shirt.

As the pulse in his head, chest, and cock subsides his sloppy movements slowly come to a stop. The only sound in the room for what feels like eternity is his own panting breaths, slow to even out into a normal rhythm with his face buried against the side of your neck. Your fingers sliding through his hair makes him preen, pressing down onto you with his full weight as you let out another little laugh, nails scratching against his scalp. If he could, he'd be purring like a housecat cuddled against your chest.

"You held out pretty well," you murmur and he hears the grin in your voice as he presses a soft kiss to your pulse, feeling the way it picks up at the contact.

"Mhm, this mean I'm forgiven, your majesty?"

You laugh again, a full body laugh that he can't help but bask in as it vibrates through you both.

"You were forgiven the second I picked up the phone, you know. Can't stay mad at you, even when I want to."

"Could've fooled me," he says as he picks his head up from your throat, pressing a firm kiss to your lips and humming when you nip at his bottom lip.

"You look pretty adorable when you're begging," you say it offhandedly and he shivers again.

"Why don't we put that on the back burner for now, angel." He presses a kiss to your lips as you laugh again, swallowing the silvery sound and letting it fill in all those miniscule cracks on his heart like fixative putty.

You're his, and you're both exactly where you belong in this moment. And it's truly all that matters to him right now.

[vergess]

Please, please explain how to install and use linux like I'm 5 years old. I'm so sick of windows adding AI and other bullshit to my already struggling elderly laptop but I'm really not good with computers at all so I have no idea where to start with Linux.

Okay, so, I'm going to break this down into steps I would give the average tumblr user first, and then if any of them are confusing or use words you don't understand, ask me and I'll explain that step in greater detail.

Step 0) BACK. UP. YOUR. SHIT.

NEVER EVER EVER CHANGE YOUR OPERATING SYSTEM WITHOUT A COMPLETE BACKUP OF ALL YOUR FILES.

Step 1) Learn your machine. You need to know:

How much RAM you have

If your processor is 32 or 64 bit

How big your hard drive is

On windows, you can find out all of this by going to the start menu, typing "about" and opening the first result on your system instead of the internet.

For additional instructions, visit this page.

Step 2) Pick your Linux.

There's like 10,000 kinds of Linux, each tailored to particular functions that the end-user (that is you!) might want to have. The sheer amount is very daunting, so first I'm going to give my suggestions, then I'll explain how to pick for yourself.

For Mac users, I suggest Kubuntu. For windows users, I suggest Mint Cinnamon. If your laptop is really REALLY old, I recommend Sparky Stable, which is the lightest weight Linux I would ever suggest for a new user. In every case, download the version suited to your processor (32 bit can be labelled "x86" or "32 bit"; 64 bit is always labelled "64 bit").

If you want to try a different type of linux, you'll need to make sure your laptop meets the "minimum specs" or "system requirements." These numbers tell you how much RAM, processor and hard drive space the linux will use. (That's why you needed those numbers at the beginning.)

Step 3) Collect your supplies. You're going to need:

An ISO burning program compatible with your current system, like Balena Etcher.

A copy of the ISO file for the Linux you want to use.

Your laptop.

An 8gb or larger USB flash drive.

Step 3) Make a bootable USB drive

Install Balena Etcher, hitting "okay" and "next" when prompted. Last I checked, Etcher doesn't have adware attached, so you can just hit next every time.

Plug your USB drive into the laptop.

Open Etcher.

Click "flash from file" and open the ISO file with your Linux on it.

Click "Select target" and open the USB drive location. Hit the "flash" button. This will start writing all the linux installer data to your flash drive. Depending on the speed of your machine, this could take as long as 10 minutes, but shouldn't be much longer.

Step 4) Boot to the USB drive

This is, in my opinion, the trickiest step for a lot of people who don't do "computer stuff." Fortunately, in a rare act of good will, Windows 10 made this process a lot easier.

All you'll need to do is go to settings, then recovery, then advanced startup and pick the button labelled "use a device."

This tutorial has images showing where each of those is located. It's considered an "advanced setting" so you may get a spooky popup warning you that you could "harm your system by making changes" but we're not doing anything potentially harmful so you can ignore that if you get it.

Step 5) Try out linux on the flash drive first.

Linux installs using a cool little test version of itself that you can play around in. You won't be able to make changes or save settings, but you can explore a bit and see if the interface is to your liking. If it's hideous or hard to navigate, simply pick a new linux version to download, and repeat the "make a bootable USB" step for it.

Step 6) Actually install that sucker

This step varies from version to version, but the first part should be the same across the board: on the desktop, there should be a shortcut that says something like "install now." Double click it.

Follow the instructions your specific linux version gives you. When in doubt, pick the default, with one exception:

If it asks you to encrypt your drive say no. That's a more advanced feature that can really fuck your shit up down the road if you don't know how to handle it.

At some point you're going to get a scary looking warning that says 1 of 2 things. Either:

Install Linux alongside Windows, or

Format harddrive to delete all data

That first option will let you do what is called "dual booting." From then on, your computer will ask every time you turn it on whether you want Windows or Linux.

The second option will nuke Windows from orbit, leaving only linux behind.

The install process is slower the larger your chosen version is, but I've never seen it take more than half an hour. During that time, most linux versions will have a little slideshow of the features and layout of common settings that you can read or ignore as you prefer.

Step 7) Boot to your sexy new Linux device.

If you're dual booting, use the arrow keys and enter key to select your linux version from the new boot menu, called GRUB.

If you've only got linux, turn the computer on as normal and linux will boot up immediately.

Bonus Step: Copy Pasting some code

In your new start menu, look for an application called "terminal" or "terminal emulator." Open that up, and you will be presented with an intense looking (but actually very harmless) text command area.

Now, open up your web browser (firefox comes pre-installed on most!), and search the phrase "what to do after installing [linux version you picked]"

You're looking for a website called "It's FOSS." Here's a link to their page on Mint. This site has lots and lots of snippets of little text commands you can experiment with to learn how that functionality works!

Or, if you don't want to fuck with the terminal at all (fair enough!) then instead of "terminal" look for something called "software manager."

This is sort of like an app store for linux; you can install all kinds of programs directly from there without needing to go to the website of the program itself!

[gavisuntiedboot]

We Can't Be Friends (but I'd like to just pretend)

Pedri x Stylist! Reader

Part 2

Warnings: None

Word count: 4.3K

A/N: Back with part 2! I'm warning y'all now - it's going to suck until it doesn't. Please bear with me. Also, I have included the links to both the shirts being sold for Gaza and the direct donation link. Please check them out! And if you can't donate yourself, I donate $1 for every watermelon comment under this post! So please make sure to share at the very least.

~~~

Being scolded was the worst feeling in the world. Well, actually, sleeping with a famous client and then having him immediately chase your coworker was the worst feeling in the world. But boy was this meeting with Katerina a close second.

“There needs to be a case study on this kid.” She muttered under hear breath as she moved sticky notes around the December calendar. She darted her eyes around her current configuration, before turning sour and looking up at you. The dark circles under her eyes had darkened a shade since you had seen her the previous week, and a twinge of guilt played against your sternum for contributing to her fatigue.

“Let’s go over some basic rules, my dear. First and foremost, you cannot block your client’s number.”

“But I-“ You began to protest, but your boss lifted one finger, silencing you instantly.

“I do not care. I do not care if he is a dick. I do not care if he is going to make my stylists kill each other. Honestly, that might be a blessing.  I do not care if he is the father to a litter of bastard children running barefoot around your home. You work for SDF. You work for Pedro Gonzalez. He will have access to your phone, your email, your address, hell your underwear size if he asks. Understood?”

You bit back the urge to protest, just nodding silently. She breathed in deeply before continuing.

“Second, you will not share his information with the other girls in the office. That includes his photoshoot timing, the PR being sent to him– anything. I’m tired of having to file reports to Milan about my girls fighting.”

The command was followed by another nod, this one more genuine. You had no intention of getting within 100 meters of either Tania or Sylvia, who were still not speaking but had also telepathically decided that you were a common enemy. You had been stepped on a suspicious number of times while collecting their pins from the floor, and you always caught them whispering to the other girls in the office about “la naranja podrida”. Didn’t take a detective to put those pieces together.

You were still in a state of agitation regarding the whole ordeal. In your fit of anger, you had done the mental calculations of how long it took Pedri to text another girl. He had left just as the sun was rising, so about 5:30 am. Google maps said you lived 25 minutes from the stadium, but he would have gone home first, because that’s where the damned boots and more damned note would have been. That brings us to 6 am to account for wherever the gremlin lives. By all your most optimistic estimates, he had waited at most a hour between leaving your bed and texting your coworker.

“Hey Silvia” was the text heard around the world. After the report (and a few hair samples) was filed away, a company-wide letter from HQ was sent out reminding employees of professional boundaries with clients. The giddiness and satisfaction that had come from a harmless prank had dissolved, leaving a queasy feeling in its wake. Day damn one. You lasted 4 hours before you crumpled like a convenience store receipt over a boy at work. Ignoring every caution sign, you dove head first into a pool of prospective romance - and promptly hit the concrete.

The worst part was that you couldn’t tell anyone. Bryce had responded to your gushing sonnets in the worst possible manner: with logic. You had brushed aside every one of her very appropriate questions, looking through your rose-tinted lenses at your life. You had gone as far as to tell her she was being a bad friend for trying to find any possible negative in this situation, causing her to pull back.

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt, that’s all.”

The words of her static-garbled voice memo never left your head. There you were, only a few hours later, stomach turned and heart shredded, completely and utterly hurt. And you weren’t ready to face the sting of “I told you so” that was waiting for you, so you just… never said anything else. When she asked about Pedri, you responded formally with his upcoming campaign schedule. Lucky for you that she was too busy with her own life to keep pestering.

The upside to the current tragedy in your life was that you were working in fashion. It was hard to cry when you spent hours upon hours looking at some of the most beautiful clothes in the world, getting full creative freedom to bring your visions to life. Not impossible, because there were definitely a couple of wet spots on the Margiela from yesterday, but harder. Barca Femini had been in and out of the office for fittings, and it was a relief to be able to work with something other than khaki trousers and blazers. There were seemingly hundreds of hangers carrying vintage sports pieces, colorful jackets, and silky skirts. It sparked little moments of happiness, knowing that you were so good at playing dress-up that now you were getting paid for it.

It had been a week since your unfortunate altercation, and though the evening (and unfortunate following morning) had never left you, it had seeped from the front of your mind to the base of your skull, a dull throb that could be ignored during the course of the day. That was, of course, until you received an email from Adidas.

~

"Okay, Pedri, I hate to be the one to break this to you, but this means you're blocked."

There was a snigger that floated through the lunch room that, had he been able to pinpoint the source, Pedri would have promptly quieted with a slap to the head. But it whizzed around like a gnat between some of the younger players.

"How could I be blocked, Fermin?" The question was met with a raised eyebrow from Fermin, who was mentally cursing his college education.

"Maybe it has something to do with you sleeping with her and then disappearing?" Gavi offered up that brilliant hypothesis between bites of grilled chicken.

"No, it couldn't be. She's American - they don't take sex so seriously. Besides, we just met! What was I supposed to do? Propose?"

Pedri resisted the urge to shrink back from the judgmental stares he was receiving. He was used to being questioned by Gavi, who believed in the "stare at her intensely until she falls for me and confesses" method of romance. But now that he had roped in Fermin (the most tech-savvy of the squad), he couldn't handle the intensity of the silent disapproval.

In all honesty, Pedri was tired of the emotional rollercoaster that had plagued the entire day. The previous night had been incredible. He wasn't quite sure what to expect when La Naranja stepped through her front door, but she surely exceeded expectations. Pedri believed he was happy in his normal routine: DM an Instagram model, engage in the little cat-and-mouse game where she pretended she wouldn't bend to his every will, and go back to her place for a decently fun time. But there was something about the way you walked, so coy and bashfully, looking up at him through delicate lashes with wide eyes, that warmed the most primal part of his being. His heart quickened at the sudden desire to chase, to capture, to consume. He wanted to protect this pretty little thing from the sharp eyes and sharper teeth of his friends. He was ready to savor everything you offered.

Over the course of the evening, the feeling gnawing at the inside of his chest became harder to ignore. The soft grip you maintained on his bicep to keep him close, the warmth of your fingertips searing his skin. He wanted to bark at Ferran to never look your way again. To sink his teeth into your neck, have you cry out his name so every man would know to never come near you again. Your hand, so delicate and soft in his own, maintained a firm grip as he dragged you out of the club, and a firmer grip on his hair once he was finally able to kiss you senseless. He felt like a wild animal unleashed in bed with, unable to slow or take pause. You were so hypnotizingly innocent, and he was going to destroy that.

The warmth in his chest remained till the following morning. As he kissed your cheek and whispered his goodbyes, he allowed himself to imagine what kind of arrangement the two of you could have. He was more than eager to feel the caress of your soft lips again. Maybe you would be open to picking up his late night calls, spending long, tedious days together talking and fucking and laughing at nothing in particular. He thought about the flush in your cheeks that would arise whenever he came into work, dropping subtle hints about your activities in the days before. He could really make you a permanent part of his rotation with little difficulty, facilitated further by the fact that you had been assigned as his personal stylist. Filthy as it may sound, he contemplated not showering upon his return home. He would have to later in the day following practice, but until he could secure a second audience with you in a bedroom, he wanted to savor the scent a little longer.

His front doorstep was littered with packages once again, about half from Adidas and the other from Springfield. He was not a designer by any means, but he appreciated that he was at least sent the collections that were meant to be his. Fer was sipping on a coffee when Pedri walked in, and expertly avoided ay questions of where he had been the previous night. He was a concerned older brother, but he was also a guest. He instead asked to see the piles of PR that his younger brother had hauled through the door.

"I don't understand why they bother sending you all this stuff. Why wouldn't they just send it to the styling team."

"Because I actually have to play in the boots, hermano." Pedri said, lifting the lid off his newest pair. He was excited for another Adidas campaign, or any campaign really that would bring him closer to you once again. Oh how he wished he could have captured the way you looked in that dress forever, immortalized it in an oil painting and hung it on his wall (right beside the ripped remains of the dress, which he so desperately wanted to destroy). His daydream had been broken by a crisp white envelope contrasted against the bright orange of the boots. There was a feminine wave of scent in the air, and the heart pumping in his ears drowned out the sounds of his brother’s whistles and taunts. Had you done this? Had you been planning ahead to send him a note had he neglected to ask you out while at the office?

He tensed his forearms to disguise a slight tremble, ripping open the envelope and scanning the page only to find-

“Ay dios mío. Silvia.” He allowed his head to thud against the counter, Fer’s tittering laugh clear as a bell now.

“Is she the scary one or the weird one?” His brother asked, prying the crumpled letter from Pedri’s dejected form.

“Both are fitting adjectives. She’s the shorter one with the silver hair. She kind of looks like our Tia Marisol?”

Another tittering of laugher, and this time Pedri joined in with a cracked smile of his own.

“She wants to tell you how much she admires you, how much you make her … quiver? Ew.” Fer squinted at the note further.

“Listen to this line. Ehem: ‘I am ready to serve you, worship you, give you my body and soul because I love you.”

Pedri groaned so loudly he was sure the neighbors heard. Honestly, what were these girls thinking?? That he would start blushing and giggling at the mention that they would sleep with him? That was the least most girls would do. It turned his stomach, constantly fearing that he would be trapped with a child.

“Let me text this girl. I have to go in next week and I don’t want her bent over a table spread and waiting when I arrive.”

He typed in the number on the note, drafting a long text before deleting everything but the “Hey Silvia” at the top.

“It’s too forceful to say ‘hey I don’t want to fuck you’ right off the bat, no?”

He hit send, reluctantly heading off to shower away his escapades before he went into training, waiting for a reply before he asked not to receive any more erotic letters from his stylists. Oh how he wished she hadn’t.

~

“So run us through it one more time.” Gavi said, Ferran deciding to stifle his groan. The last thing he needed was to enrage Gavi further, as he suspected it would result in him finally getting the punch that was coming to him. Ansu and Fermin were nodding along vigorously, eager to hear all about Pedri’s first experience having feelings.

“We went out, we fucked-“

“Pedri!”

He rolled his eyes at the indignation from the boys. Kids these days.

“Okay. We went out, we had a magical lovemaking experience, and then I had to come to training. I texted her about her being my stylist to ya know break the ice. And I found myself in deep shit and promptly blocked on like everything.”

“I think your first mistake,” said Fermin, “was not texting her about last night. Why would you start with her working for you?"

Pedri dragged his hand down his face in frustration.

"What was I supposed to say? Good morning linda, great pussy last night?"

Gavi stood promptly with his hands up, leaving the room.

"I don't want to hear about another girl's vagina."

"Yes," Ferran muttered, "God forbid he cheat on his crush by listening to a story."

"Whatever happened to 'Hey, I had fun last night'? Is that not a normal thing to say?" Ansu asked, as shaken as Gavi but remaining planted by his desire to be in the loop.

"I think my agent is texting SDF to get her to unblock me. Not super easy to talk to my stylist if I have to do so through messenger pigeon. Where did Gavi go?"

Pedri followed his friend out of the locker room, watching as Gavi stared dejectedly at the Doctora’s office.

“Are you done moping?” Pedri asked, clapping him on the shoulder.

“No. She might lose her job and we play her stupid boyfriend’s team tomorrow. I just want to keep her safe from that asshole.”

For a minute, something sparked in Pedri’s chest. Was that jealousy? He had never before felt that there was something missing in his life, content with being surrounded by friends and family and teammates. But there was something about watching Gavi pine, listening to the way he spoke of this girl, and it caused him an ache. He was in awe of this foreign spectacle: loving someone so deeply, so intensely, that it led to begging for crumbs of their time and attention. He almost wished to be in the Doctora's position, always having someone waiting around the corner for him.

"I have a styling meeting today. Do you want to come and keep me company?"

~

"Naranja, the bastard is here."

You didn't even lift your head when Maria informed you of the arrival of your client. You had worn all black to mourn the death of your self esteem, prepared to ass-kiss as much as needed to preserve your job. Unfortunately, it was difficult to push down the burning rage in the pit of your stomach when you had to kiss the ass of the man who has hurt you so intensely.

Pedri strolled into the room clad in the ugliest jeans known to man, his doe-eyed teammate (Gavin?) trailing behind him. At least the littler one knew how to dress. He was in baggy jeans and an Amie Paris t-shirt, clean sneakers in the same shade of blue as his top. Pedri, on the other hand, was an abomination. His black hoodie was far too baggy on his frame, making him look somewhat inflated. It was made worse by the tight and ribbed denim hugging the (admittedly stunning) legs that ended suddenly in some chunky clompers.

"Good morning, Naranja."

God. Even the sound of his voice was like swallowing razor blades. You wished that you could hear the lilt in his speech without remembering the soft whispers against the column of your throat, guiding you to ecstasy at his command. The way that he encouraged you, coaxed the gentle sighs and high moans with just an ask.

"Let me hear you, pretty girl."

And who were you to deny? But now, looking at his soft eyes and confident stance, you wish you had resisted. Pretended you didn't speak Spanish that first godforsaken day in this office.

"Good morning Pedro."

A stifled laugh and wide eyes from the boy behind Pedri (God what was his name? Gustavo?). Pedri's shoulders had dropped significantly, his thick brows coming together in confusion.

"No one calls me Pedro. Not even my mother."

"Well, maybe it's a good time for you to learn what disappointment feels like. Especially since you're so comfortable giving it out to others. Do you have your boots?"

You could tell Pedri was lost for words, and it caused you a mild spark of satisfaction. You had spent the last week boiling silently, unable to unleash all the rage simmering in your chest. He nodded silently, pulling the box out of his bag.

"Great. Gabriel, there is a coffee shop on the second floor if you want to grab a drink while I'm fitting Pedro. I'm sure you've seen him naked plenty of times but-"

"No, no, I'll go. Would you like anything?"

After shaking your head, he exited the room, and you began frantically grabbing different sweat pants and shirts for Pedri to put on.

"His name is Gavi by the way." Pedri said to break the silence, and you turned so he could strip off his shirt.

"Come on, Naranja. Don't pretend you haven't see it already." He smiled somewhat earnestly, softer than he did at the other girls. You were a gentle thing, and he wanted to be gentle with you.

"How many other girls in this office have seen it as well, Pedro?" You asked with as much venom as you could muster, turning to face him and eyes locking as he unzipped his jeans.

"You think that sleeping with me is a company welcome gift, Naranja?"

"That's not my name."

"And Pedro isn't mine. But if you want to poke at me, I'll poke at you right back."

He was now in only his boxers and his socks, and it took everything within you not to glance downwards, a reminder of the sight from one week and one night ago. He took a defiant step forward, the heat radiating off his body.

"You know, Pedro," You began, steadying your voice. "Texting my coworker mere minutes after leaving my bed is a sin on it's own."

"Wait, what? Hold on-"

"But in those mere hours of bliss, I googled you. Looked at your name on Twitter. Saw who you were. And you're just another slimy athlete that uses girls and throws them away."

Your face broke when you heard him laugh loudly at the revelation. It made you angry, expecting him to feel ashamed of his behavior.

"I despise miscommunication, Naranja. So don't go jumping to conclusions and acting foolish. Your coworker sent me a letter essentially begging to fuck me, but I suspect you knew that already. Hell, you might have even been the one to switch the names around."

Your cheeks grew warmer, and a part of your brain registered that Gavi was now lingering in the doorway.

"But beyond that, linda, is that I was texting her to say I wasn't interested." He began dressing, joggers defining his legs in a way acid-washed denim never could. "But I don't like being judged based on rumors on Twitter. I want to be your friend-"

"Again with that word!" The outrage was finally seeping from you, and now that the lid had come off there was no containing it.

"How am I meant to be your friend, Pedro? You hit on me, you sleep with me, and then you moved on to the next girl. How am I supposed to be your friend after everything you've put me through?"

"What did you expect of me exactly?" He shoved his shirt over his head, a sweet bit of relief in a tense situation. "I like you, Naranja. More than a lot of other girls I've met. And I want to keep seeing you," he let his eyes burn a path down your body, "as a little more than a friend. If that's something you're into."

You took a step back, hand over your chest in shock. Did this man just ask you to be a friend with benefits, mere minutes after you asserted your disgust for his very being.

"You must think so highly of yourself." You couldn't raise your voice out of fear of it cracking. Just how much had you deluded yourself into thinking you found something special?

"I don't actually," there was a tone of laughter in his voice, "quite the opposite actually." There was suddenly not enough air between you. You simultaneously wished someone would interrupt you and that the moment would last forever.

"You're a sweet girl, Naranja. Too sweet for someone like me. I know who I am and what I want, and a girlfriend is not on that list currently."

"So what? I'm good enough for you to fuck and not to date?" You asked, the question heavy between the two of you. He remained silent, lips unmoving, the wheels turning behind deep chocolate eyes.

"I like you enough not to want to hurt you, Naranja. So, what do you say? Friends?"

"Go fuck yourself, Pedro."

~

The high pitched noise of the camera going off repeatedly was starting to get to your head. You leaned against the wall, rubbing at your temples to try and stave off the impending migraine. You opened your eyes briefly to see Gavi also leaning against the wall, gnawing on his lip and staring at his phone. Propelled by boredom, you shifted slowly along the wall to peak at what he was doing, desperate for any form of entertainment.

Thank God for the lack of Gavi's vertical blessing. A quick peek revealed that he wasn't actually typing any words, only rereading text from a contact that was saved as...

"Holy shit are you fucking your doctor?" You asked, probably a little louder than appropriate.

His eyes went wide as frying pans and he began to go visibly red. He started babbling out denials, explaining that the two of them were just friends.

"I mean she has a boyfriend and even if she didn't she would never go for me because she's so much older than me and cooler than me and she's way out of my league but all I want to do is keep her safe and make her happy and-"

His brain finally caught up to the words he was letting loose, and he abruptly suspended his word vomit.

"Does she know that you like her?" You asked, back against the wall, shoulder to shoulder with Gavi.

"God, I hope not. I don't want to do anything to make her life harder than it already is."

"Maybe telling her how you feel will make it easier. Maybe she feels the same."

"Yeah," he sighed deeply, looking wistfully at his phone again, "That's what Pedri keeps telling me."

The disgust was evident on your features. "I wouldn't really take Pedri's relationship advice."

"Now now, turning my best friend against me because you want me is a little extreme, Naranja." The voice behind you was too much to bear.

"Someone needs to give your best friend advice on how to not transform into a heartless user."

"Ironic. I remember one of us chanting 'use me, use me, use me' just last week." The response died in your mouth as Pedri's publicist approached. Where did this guy get off? Even if you believed his bullshit excuse about not wanting to fuck Silvia, the teen drama explanation as to why he doesn't "do" relationships compensated plenty.

"Alright you crazy kids! Ready to go shopping?" You spun around so quickly that you almost smacked Gavi with your hair.

"I beg your pardon? I am a stylist, not a personal shopper. I get pieces sent to me."

That was the truth. You weren't in charge or brand relations, and the purchasing department was an impenetrable fortress. Each week, a soulless intern wheeled a rack into the room, and you worked with what you were given. You had several ideas for how you could modernize some of these stuffy athletes, but that wasn't your place. Not yet anyways.

"Yes, of course. But we are redoing Pedri's wardrobe entirely. We have received communication from the team that his tunnel outfits are - what was the official wording? Oh yes, 'a detriment to the team's public image and an offense to the eyes of culers globally'. Springfield have also asked us to film some content during the journey."

"I don't think this is really part of Naranja's job description."

Of course Pedri was the one undermining you. Of course it was his voice speaking out only to call you incapable. You forced on your biggest smile, turning to face the agent directly.

"Oh, there's no issue at all. It would be an honor to makeover Spain's worst looking footballer."

~~~

Okay end of part 2!! I have decided that I want to post more frequent, smaller parts for this story rather than giant updates every three months. Please let me know what you think in the comments and in my ask box, and potentially where you want this dynamic to go! Thanks cutes xoxo gavisuntiedboot <3

(also if you would like to be on the taglist for this story, pls lmk!!)

Taglist:

@girlidekanymore

[captain039]

PART 4 He’s Grumpy, I’m sunshine

Alpha!Logan x omega!reader

Warnings: AOB, age gap (legal), light swearing, grumpy/sunshine, anxiety, mental health issues, m violence, torture, plus size reader, medication usage for anxiety, depression and sleeping, heat pills, scent blockers

Set at Charles school

Your mutation: fire creation and control

Previous part <-

My mind is just horny for Hugh Jackman it’s bad xD

The next day you wait till around dinner time to head to the bar, you put on a fancy dress and some low heels, throw on some makeup and sigh. You stare at your reflection poking your stomach, hips and waist, you had put on one of those slender shapewear things too. You rolled your eyes opened the bathroom door a little harshly and grabbed your small purse.

“Let’s go” you grumbled hating this plan already.

“Actually, no, why the hell am I here?” You turn making Logan almost run into you.

“Never been on a mission before?” He asks.

“No?” You say frowning and he falters.

“You’ve been itching to get out the school” he says.

“How do you know that?” You ask, you’d only just gone to speak with Jean about it when you walked in on them both in her lab.

“Because-“ he growls a little pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Stay here” he says moving out the way.

“No, you said to come, so I will go” his lips curls up showing the two fangs he has.

“Omega” he grumbles as you walk out the motel door and to the car.

You had thrown on some perfume to go over your dulled scent, like hell you could flirt your way into a secret fighting ring. Better off getting your ass caught and thrown in there. You stare out the window till you arrive. When you enter you already hate it, your whole body tenses and you feel eyes. You forced Logan to wait at least ten minutes before coming in. You sit in a small booth finding yourself ready to flee and your hands overly hot. Logan walks in, cigar in his mouth, leather jacket over his shoulders. You take a small breath as he heads over to the bar. You didn’t look at him properly when you left the motel, jeans, plain white shirt and a leather brown jacket with boots. He orders so naturally and you wish you took the keys for yourself. You know he’s appealing, the few other women in the bar getting an eye full. You don’t blame them but the heat dancing on your palm says otherwise.

“Can I get ya something doll?” A older woman asks.

“Just a smoothie?” You ask and she smiles and nods. It was a bar cross restaurant you think from the dining tables to one side with the register and small display of foods and the bar and pool table on the other side. Logan starts talking around, grabs a pool cue and joins the game. You were truely going to hell for your thoughts as he bent over the table and striked the ball. The waitress comes with your juice and you thank her. You relax a bit, nobody’s on this side of the restaurant, the smoothie is nice and cold too though your head feels a little funny. You look out the window to the dusty car park figuring Logan could handle majority of this mission. You sigh a bit glancing back to Logan seeing a brunette woman by his side. She’s gorgeous, slim waist and body, nice sized boobs and ass, the dress complimenting her every curve and just the right amount of makeup on her face. She’s faking not knowing how to play, or she genuinely doesn’t know how to play as Logan shows her. He doesn’t do the whole get behind her thing and lean with her though, which makes her disappointed even if she gets one of the pool balls in the shoot.

Logan hates himself, he hadn’t realised you had never been on a mission and Charles sure as hell didn’t ask you and him to go. It was supposed to be Jean and him, but when you walked in shoulders tense and looking ready to burst again he decided you and him needed to get out. You’re quiet the whole ride, awkwardly trying to act normal as he forces himself not to smile at it. You don’t know how to act around him, he doesn’t blame you, he’s always been a cold hard bastard. When you have a shower he stares at the door wondering if you’d let him join you, he wants to fell your body so bad, feel those thighs around his head, sink his teeth into your flesh while you moan his name. He’s worked up even more now he swears, you’re too shy and kind for someone like him. Once the shower stops he sighs a little missing his opportunity, he frowns though when you take a long time in there and your anxiety peeks. It’s like he’s in tune with you and he gets up and knocks. Your response has him on edge and opening the door without permission. Seeing you in a towel, flushed and fresh out the shower has his dick hardening. Fuck he wants to smell you, breathe in that sweet scent he knows you have. He sees the syringes in the counter though and his face turns hard. It looks like something Hank cooked up which probably means it’s for your mutation. He gets snappy for no reason and growls when he does leaving you confused. He smokes even though it does nothing before going back inside and seeing you already tucked in your bed. He slides his shirt off and kicks off his shoes before he’s in bed too.

He lays awake, one hand above his head one resting on his chest, he hears you whimper a few times and frowns before you start to mumble panicked and your scent spikes. He’s up quickly and sitting on the edge of your bed, your over heating, he sees small flames dance on your face as it squints. He shakes you gently and you’re up quickly hands out. You burn his chest and he hisses. He hates how you instantly worry and sadden tears in your eyes. He heals easily though, he’d get burnt a thousand times if it meant to be this close. He curses your scent blocker, wants to set it on fire and throw the ashes far away from your reach. He wants to lean forward feel your lips against his, feel your heated body against his.

Watching you now sip whatever the hell that was in your cup and look outside a little calmed in that perfect black dress. He forgot breathing was a thing till his lungs demanded air. Your hips looked so grabable, the way your hair sat was perfect. You were safer over there than here while he talked and tried to gather information. A beta woman came up to him though, flirted with big brown eyes and innocence. He played along for a bit hoping to gather information, but he doubted she’d know, she wasn’t a mutant, nor did she smell like anything related to violence. He showed her how to shoot properly and she lost interest thankfully. He looked back to you, your eyes hard on the woman and pride swelled up in him. He saw small flickers of flame along your skin as you caught his eyes and looked away with red cheeks. He walks over, he doesn’t think anyone here has information. Slides in the booth while you frown a little still blushing.

“Come play” he cocks his head a small smirk on his lip’s and you choke a little on your drink.

“No thank you, I’m happy here with my smoothie, pretty sure the blonde wants a go” you gesture vaguely to the other side.

“Come on” he’s teasing, seeing if you’ll break as his nose flares a little catching something sweet that isn’t your perfume.

“Fine” you sigh.

This was a bad idea, agreeing to whatever evil plan the alpha conspired. You hate the looks the women give and think about going back.

“Logan-“ you say hesitantly but he’s already grabbed two pool cues and set up the table.

“Do you know how to play?” He asks.

“Vaguely, whoever shoots first, if they get a high or low in that’s their numbers, first one to get all there numbers in and then the eight wins” you shrug and see him with a small look of awe on his face.

“You shoot” he cocks his head to the table as stands casually.

“I’m not good at this” you grumble. You lean down and aim, hitting the ball harshly, too harshly, it ends up bouncing and you wish the earth would swallow you up.

“Too much force” Logan says.

“You go first” you get embarrassed and hurry away feeling your head spin a little again.

“Hey” the alpha holds your arm and you jolt a bit. You gulp a little feeling like everyone’s watching you with hatred that this handsome alpha is focused on you.

“Logan-“ you sigh looking to his face. He’s got some puppy dog look going on and you almost choke again. You take a small breath a small frown on your face, you could pick up more of his scent now.

“Just- you go first” you say quietly and he nods. He rearranges the balls and hits them easily, a high going in first.

“Guess I’m highs” he’s says and you nod going around the table. You lean down a little thankful this dress is below knee high. You aim a bit till Logan’s voice makes you jump.

“You won’t hit there” he says and you huff turning to him a small smile playing at his lips. He walks to you and your heart rate picks up as he slides his body easily around yours. Your cheeks flush instantly and realise he’s going to really show you how to shoot. Your mind kicks into override and you scramble out of his hold breathing quickly and he frowns.

“This was a bad idea, keys? Keys where’s the keys” you say rushed body hot as he hands you the keys. You rush outside letting the cool air calm your body and small flames flickering on your arms. You feel like crying and curse softly as you hang your head.

“You ok there doll face?” You frown looking to your left seeing an alpha leaning against the wall smoking.

“Yes, sorry” you say shuffling away a bit as you catch his scent with a small frown. Why was everyone’s scents stronger? You think back to last night body going ridged as you remember in your hastiness to put the serum away you forgot your anti-heat and scent blockers. Panic rises up in you, sure you’ve forgotten them before at the safety of the school where you had access to your room and a locked door.

“Logan” you mumble needing to get inside till the alpha nearby blocks it. You frown not use to this kind of treatment as he a smirk plays at his face. He looks ok you guess, bear a little messy, teeth a bit too yellow for your liking. You feel your hands shake and feel the heat of your flames along your skin.

“Sir I need to get back to my alpha” you lie and he glances to your neck scoffing.

“What alpha?” He leans closer as you back away, but he follows.

“This one” Logan growls behind him, pulling the man away from you and punching him. The man’s knocked out instantly and you take a small shaky breath.

“You ok?” He asks a frown on his face as you shake your head. Gods his scent, it flares with worry as he comes closer nose flaring, eyes narrowing.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t take-“ you take a small breath hugging your body, flames dancing across your arms.

“Hey, hey it’s ok” Logan comes closer large hands on your heated skin.

“You barged in and I panicked with the serum I forgot to take them” you feel tears in your eyes, you feel stupid. Logan has a frown on his face but he tugs you to him, arms going around your shoulders, a hand cradling your head. You shudder forced to breathe him in a small noise leaving your throat. You can’t help your arms going around him and nuzzling closed, wanting his scent all over you. You feel something prick your neck then and jolt.

“Logan” you slur as your body goes limp.

Next part ->

Taglist:

@beanhardy

[wandascrush]

Ambushed

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x f!reader, Natasha Romanoff x f!reader, Avengers x f!reader

Warnings: Fighting, injuries, punching, choking, ambushes, cursing

Part 3 to my DIWK series

Sick. Every morning you woke up sick. You should be used to it by now, being a double agent and all for a few months, but you never got over that distilled anxiety. Bottled up, saved for the quietness of your room at the end of the day. It settled like a cold, heavy, pit in your stomach. Too heavy to move or swallow, so it just sat with you. 

You remember being in therapy a few years ago, having this pretty blonde stare across at you from the comfy-looking leather couch, tapping her pen against her gray slacks and bouncing knee. “And how does that make you feel?” Her voice was light as if it was a suggestion more than a question. “The same as it always does. There’s no flavor of the month for this thing, it’s the same every. single. day.” You groaned out the last word. 

Therapy never worked for you anyway. 

You couldn’t tell if it was an emotional thing or the fact that you slept with your therapists nearly every time, but it just wasn’t your vibe. 

So now here you were, for one reason or another, gently knocking your head on the wall as you thought about the kiss(es) you shared with Agent Romanoff, and how her lips felt like the best place in the world. And also how stupid it was. How idiotic. Get semi-involved with someone on your team, especially when you’re a double agent. Sort of. More on that later. 

You checked your watch, five minutes till go time, your first huge mission with the team. The stomping of boots in unison was all you focused on as you and the rest of the team boarded the Quinjet, strapping in and resting your head against the cold metal. You breathed out heavily, trying not to focus on the green-eyed witch sitting next to you, jaw clenched and obviously uncomfortable. 

A few hours later the ship bumpily landed in a flower field, shaking everyone’s head a bit too much for comfort. 

“Peter, Y/N, and Wanda- you two will take the North tower and get the hostages out from Cell blocks A-C.” Tony went down the list calling out different groups for the other 4 areas that needed to be covered. “Last but certainly not least, Romanoff and Rogers- you’re blessed with my presence on this mission.” 

“Our fearless leader.” Steve groaned as he got up and walked out of the Quinjet.

Peter, shaggy brown hair, a nervous smile, and a spider suit on- that was the guy who was supposed to help defend you in case of an enemy ambush. And Wanda. Brown layered hair, bite with every word she said to you, and a red leather jacket- your other line of defense. Great. You might as well be fighting with your little brother considering the small age gap between you and Spidey. Truth is, you liked the kid. He had heart, and you felt bad for him too. Everyone treated him like a lost puppy, but you’ve seen him train. Peter’s definitely not as seasoned of a fighter as everyone else, but damn he did not give up. 

Your group was supposed to clear out cell blocks A-C of an abandoned prison, supposedly harboring kidnapped engineers. You kicked the first exit door open, gun in hand and a flashlight being held by Peter right behind. Wanda trailed slightly behind you guys, ensuring no one snuck up from the back. The stairs cracked and groaned with each step, and cold metallic air whipped through the large facility. You crinkled your nose at the smell. Making it up the stairwell safely, you were met with the boring site of rusty old cells…and empty. You looked around, opening up the cells, peering in, and stepping out. Where the hell was everyone? “You guys might want to take a look at this,” Peter called out, sticking to one of the walls and pointing at a sealed door in the corner. Oh. Without being asked Wanda stuck one of her arms out, encompassing the sealed cement door with beautiful scarlet swirls causing it to crack, and shatter. Behind it was a pitch-black hallway.

You looked up at Peter, shrugging, “Ladies first, you’re up kid. Lead the way.” 

He smiled…until he got the joke, “Sure Miss- wait what’s that supposed to mean?” 

Wanda turned away to hide her smirk from you, covering it with a cough. “Don’t mind her, Peter. She thinks it's comedy hour.” 

“Awh you think I’m funny witchy?”

“In your dreams, Y/N.” 

Peter jumped down from his spot, taking a step forward into the hallway and flashing his light around. It seemed to go on forever the longer you three walked, with no turns or hidden rooms. Just a hallway. Huh. 

Meanwhile, Tony, Nat, and Steve were walking the rest of the grounds exploring every nook and cranny. The last cell block, D, was pretty much empty too with light pouring in from the broken windows. 

 “It’s too quiet Tony.”

“Kinda nice right?”

“You completely missed my point on that, but okay. Quiet doesn’t mean empty it means-”

Steve cut in, “Hiding. Look at the door in the corner, it’s completely sealed off.” In an instant, Tony blasted it. 

One thing you’d learn about Peter Parker was that he talked a lot when he was nervous.  

“Did you know that the subways under NYC have been around for hundreds of years?”

Then you all heard it, the click-clack of slow but steady footsteps. You held your hand up, signaling silence and stopping your movements. The steps were out of sync and loud, not just one person but maybe two, or three. 

Your steps got closer, their steps got closer, yours got closer, theirs got closer, yours got closer, theirs got-

“FUCK TONY!”

“FUCK WANDA!”  

You all nearly shot each other to death thanks to your jumpscares. “I thought you were supposed to be in cell block D?” you asked him, quietly trying to stop the hum of your heart against your chest. 

“We were, but this tunnel led us here.”

“Yeah, same with ours.” 

Peter sat on the floor, arms resting on his knees,  “Okay so we all made it here but- where are the hostages?”

“We were gonna ask you guys the same thing,” Tony scoffed. And in an instant, it dawned on all of you. Oh shit. “AMBUSH- GET OUT OF THE HALL!” You all started running towards the entrance your group came out of, everyone following behind you. The floors started rumbling and the overhead of planes could be heard above you. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. All of you ran out of the cell block, barely in time an earth shattering boom sounded. All of you were thrown at least 20 feet onto the cement, hitting your head and skidding. Blurriness filled your vision when you tried to get up, stumbling to your feet and falling back down. You looked around and your breathing was ragged, it felt like a fire had been set in your lungs. Everyone was down. Nat- thrown into a wall from the explosion. Out cold. Steve- barely waking up. Tony- banged up and crashed into the ground but slowly got back up. Wanda- right next to you with blood dripping down her forehead. And Peter- shit where’s Peter? 

You heard him yell and when you turned around- there it was. An entire squad from HYDRA, at least 20 of them, marching towards you and the knocked-out Avengers. Peter,  Steve, Tony, and yourself regrouped immediately. And standing there, smiling happily, was Samantha. 

“Y’know, a simple explosion taking out the world's mightiest is really so disappointing. Kind of glad it didn’t work.” The leader of the group spoke first. You swore you saw his face before. 

“I’m gonna guess there’s no hostages?,” Tony stepped forward, raising his arm and opening up the blasters.

”This should be fun.”

In moments, punches, kicks, and blasts were out in every direction. Peter already knocked five senseless, Steve was working on his set, and Tony was-  well, Tony. Lots of blasting.Then came your turn, and taking out the four that had reached you was comfortable enough, aside from a few scrapes and the gentleman who attempted to pistol whip you. The real party came when Samantha stepped up to the plate, cracking her neck and taking her jacket off. “Y/L/N. We made this so easy for you, leave them in the cell block and you get out safely.”

“Yeah well, it would’ve been a lot easier if I had been aware of the fucking plan.”

“God, I’ve been waiting to do this for a long time,” she threw a right hook that cut you square in the jaw, and immediate pain exploded to your face. You tackled her to the ground, pinning her with your legs on each side of her waist, blow after blow to her face. Her nose was bleeding and she kicked you in the stomach. Samantha flipped you over and started pressing down on your throat, “I wish you had never come to Hydra- never come to take my fucking place.” Her grip tightened and you saw emptiness in her eyes. 

You tried to dig your nails into her hands, desperately grabbing at skin or anything painful enough. “- stop. We’re on the same team,” you whispered, kicking at anything. Fuck- you couldn’t even flip her over with your legs as much as you kicked and squeezed. Your eyes started to go blurry once again and your head was pounding too much for you to think. Then webs attached themselves to either side of her waist, picking her up and slamming her against the farthest wall. Peter quickly jogged over to you, picking you up and letting you catch your breath. 

“We need to keep moving, come on. They’re all gone.”

Everyone climbed inside the Quinjet after Peter webbed up all the HYDRA members, strapping them to the walls like Christmas ornaments. Natasha had woken up and was feeling fine, Wanda had woken up and fallen asleep on your shoulder accidentally. You tried to ignore the Black Widows' fiery gaze at the redhead who was asleep across from her, but the message was clear. Even though Wanda was a Grade-A asshole, some part of you felt bad for her. Maybe that was what compelled you to dampen a tissue with some water and gently clean the blood off of her forehead, or the way you checked her pulse every few hours. 

A whole day later once every Avenger had rested up and healed their sore muscles, you heard a knock on your door. “Y/N, it’s me. It’s Wanda.” You opened the door to find her in a matching hoodie set, cluttered with the words “Screw off.” She dawned a small smile, moving past you and sitting on your bed without a word. Hi there.  You sat next to her, conscientious of the space, and gently cleared your throat, “So, are you feeling better? You got hit pretty hard. ”  

“A whole lot better, thanks to you. It was nice of you to take care of me,” her hand touched yours softly. A gentle smile played on your face. 

“It’s what teammates do.”

Wanda gave you a silent nod. She glanced down at her lap as her expression changed. Apprehensive, she quietly spoke, “But I want you to know that I know. About you, your secret.” With that, she leaned down to your ear to whisper, “Sooner or later, everyone will know,” and left. 

Oh.

[slrprki]

SK8TR B0Y

skater keeho x male reader

tags/cw: flirting ofc, suggestive undertone, keeho’s kind of desperate, m/n usage, he/him pronouns, i guess a plot twist??

authors note: this is for sure gonna be a series. i’m doing this with all of the idols i write!! cause i just need skater idols flirting with m/n. THATS IT THATS ALL! enjoy pookies.

the night sky shined its glory while the soft autumn wind blew along a slight cool breeze. m/n zipped up his jacket, tucking his hands into his pockets. he promised his friend that he’d finally take up his offer and go to the skate park with him.

the male walked on the sidewalk, his boots crunching on fallen leaves within each step. where could this park even be? they had many of them around town. it wasn’t helping that his friend wasn’t responding to his texts either. every question sent still shown up as delivered. m/n let out an content sigh as he came up towards another park. his legs practically ached from the journey he’s made on foot.

the park wasn’t as packed as he thought it would be. maybe this is one of the less popular ones. he made his way inside, observing the people around him. no sign of him. oh well, he suppose he could sit down and take a small break. just as he turned around to find somewhere to sit, he heard a noise. someone whistled.. was that towards him? “is it my birthday or what? didn’t think I’d be getting free eye candy tonight.” a voice spoke up, walking towards m/n. he whipped his head around, giving the male a confused stare. “excuse me?” he said, turning his body to the male completely, taking more a defensive stance.

“relax, baby. just couldn’t help but notice a thing like you.” the blue haired man said, shamelessly looking the other up and down. “what’s someone like you doing out here, cutie?” he questioned, licking his teeth and keeping his deep gaze on m/n. “i’m just looking for a friend.. did you need something?” “is your number too much to ask for?” he asked with a wink. m/n’s eyes widened. the man in front of him was attractive and quite tempting. he’s been told many times that he shouldn’t trust skater boys. they’re all known for being hoes, but the way this man looked into his eyes.. no. he can’t just give some dude his number like that. he has to earn it.

“i don’t just do flings. if you really want to get with me, you got to prove yourself.” this only made the male in front of him smirk. “oh so you’re a feisty one, huh? i can easily break down those walls.” he moved closer, starting to observe the others facial features. “i don’t even know your name.” m/n crossed his arms, standing back. “keeho. yoon keeho. you’ll learn it easily. soon enough, you’ll be screaming it.”

the males face flushed. who just says that to a stranger? “well, yoon keeho, i have to go find my friend now..” m/n trailed off, feeling his phone buzz in his pocket. he instantly pulled it out, answering quickly.

“hello?”

“hey! sorry m/n for dodging your texts. i’ve been at the park for a few hours and i don’t see you.” his friend said.

“oh.. i’ve been to 4 different ones. i’m at the one near this school.”

“oh!” m/n suddenly heard laughter.

“what’s so funny?”

“i’m there as well. i’ll come find you!”

m/n was about to say something before phone suddenly hung up. he then groaned. “look, it was nice talking to you.. i guess? my friend’s actually here so i’m going to go.” the male was about to walk off until the sight of his friend came into few. the male skated over, smiling brightly. “hey m/n!” he said, coming to an abrupt stop, giving him a quick side hug. “m/n, i didn’t know you knew keeho.” m/n brought his gaze over to keeho who stood right next to him. “i don’t. i just met him a few minutes ago.” “i see. i’ve been meaning to introduce you to him. he’s my cousin!”

“WHAT?!”

[juustokaku]

Confidentiality - Chapter 4. - yandere!ATEEZ OT8 x f!reader

Introduction: Joining a peer support group for mentally ill was a good idea for the last two times you were there. Then it's only natural for the third time to go well too, right?

Pairings: yandere!Hongjoong x reader, yandere!Seonghwa x reader, yandere!Yunho x reader, yandere!Yeosang x reader, yandere!San x reader, yandere!Mingi x reader, yandere!Wooyoung x reader, yandere!Jongho x reader

T/W: This story will include talk about mental health struggles such as body dysmorphia, paranoid thoughts and more. Possessive and obsessive behavior, stalking. Dark themes are to be expected. A mention of a dead animal in this chapter.

A/N: I don't know why every chapter I write is longer than the previous one, I'm sorry. Hongjoong and Mingi biased people, be patient; their time to shine is yet to come! As always, I love feedback, so if you feel like you want to share your thoughts on this, you're very welcome to do so <3 A big thank you to everyone who has read and enjoyed this story!

Word count: 4 658

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Your palms were sweating. If the man broke in, your hands wouldn’t be able to hold a weapon. 

Your legs were trembling. There was no way for you to be able to run when they barely held you standing. 

Your heart was beating fast. Feeling dizzy, you didn’t know if you’d be able to even stay conscious. 

It was a paralyzing feeling to be trapped inside your own home. The man kept knocking on your door like he was a zombie trying to get inside your base to eat you. That’s how desperate he was to get his teeth on you, to take a piece of you or swallow you whole. 

“Open the door, love. Do you want me to force my way in?” 

You wouldn’t let him in no matter what happened. There was no guarantee that he could get in, but it was sure as hell that letting him in would be the biggest – and probably last – mistake of your life. 

The best choice now was to pretend you weren’t home at all. It was unlikely the man would be stupid enough to believe your act, but he’d get bored eventually. Or he’d break in and do whatever he wanted to you, if he really was serious about getting in one way or another. 

His attempts to open the door were futile, but that didn’t discourage him. 

You stood there, eyes locked on the door, fully prepared to see it fling open and reveal the man behind it. Who would it be? Who would take your life and everything that was dear to you? 

“Make your choice already.” 

It felt impossible to move your limbs. They stayed in the same spot almost like they had never been yours in the first place. You should have already obtained a weapon, but you just stood stock-still. 

“Choose me. Choose you and me. Choose us.” 

There were no more knocks after those cryptic words. Only the sounds of your heavy breathing and soft hum of air conditioner could be heard in your apartment. 

Then an envelope dropped in from the mail slot, the sound startling you. Your mind rushed instantly to the worst-case scenarios of what it could contain. 

You didn’t dare to move your eyes from the door, waiting what else could still happen. The envelope would be for later, for when the immediate danger was far away. The danger would never end though before either you or the man was dead. 

Receding footsteps behind the door could be heard, as the man was probably leaving. He surely knew you were still there. But he also knew you wouldn’t give up that easily. 

A few minutes went by as you just stared at the envelope silently. It felt threatening; what else could it contain than something meant to drive you crazy with fear? The envelope tried to present itself as so innocent, laying there on the floor, but you knew better. 

Hesitantly, you finally approached and picked it up. The floor was quite moist. The snow from your boots had melted into a tiny puddle of water and made the envelope wet. You didn’t know whether to hope the letter inside was still readable, or that the most likely threatening words on it would be complete nonsense to your eyes. 

But against your expectations, a photograph could be found inside. 

You wanted to throw up once you saw it. 

The picture was of a dead sparrow on a road. You had seen dead animals before, sure, but this bird had been run over with a car, left mangled in a mess of fresh blood, broken bones and ruined feathers. The poor sparrow was barely recognizable, but what confirmed your suspicions of the bird’s species was a feather you found from the envelope as well. 

Dry blood was spilled on it, making it even filthier than it already was. You felt like you were holding evidence of a crime in your hands. But who would care about a dead sparrow? Although it was a sign that you could be the next victim, there wouldn’t be much the police could do. 

As if finding the sparrow’s feather and a photograph of the gruesome fate the bird had faced wasn’t enough, you found handwritten text on the backside of the picture. 

“I’m sorry. It’s too late to stop the car now.” 

It was no surprise that you thought about that envelope and its contents for the next days. 

Days flew by like on wings, and it didn’t take a long time until you were sitting on one of the ten armchairs again. The therapy room wasn’t full yet, only Seonghwa and Hongjoong chatting quietly in the other side and Mingi sitting near them, bopping his head while listening to music on his headphones. They were probably the most harmless people in the group, being the only ones you hadn’t interacted with, but there was still a possibility. Possibility that one of them had been following you. It surely had to be one of the group members who was tormenting you and making you fear for your life. 

You watched as Jongho came in. With the usual unamused expression on his face, he scanned the room with his eyes. It didn’t take more than one second for his eyes to find you. 

“Hi,” you gained courage to greet Jongho as he sat down next to you. It was for the best if you got on everyone’s good sides so they wouldn’t have a reason to kill you. 

You hadn’t expected or even hoped to start any conversation but a greeting back would have been nice. He couldn’t even spare you an acknowledging glance, just ignored you completely. Having had enough, you swore to yourself silently you would never talk to him again. 

“Did you save this seat for me or were you hoping someone else would take it before I could?” Jongho finally replied, not to your greeting but it was a reply nonetheless. 

His gaze was suddenly on you. The way his eyes tried to break through your barriers, and find out all your darkest secrets and deepest fears, made you feel like you were naked. Not naked in a way that he would desire you, but naked in a way that he would think of you as disgusting if he found out what kind of a person you really were. 

“Neither. I don’t really care who sits next to me.” 

“Don’t you remember I told you last week to sit next to me today?” 

Why was everyone so focused on who was sitting next to you? Last week Wooyoung, San, and Yunho had gotten into an argument over seat arrangements, and now Jongho was pressed about you being open to sitting next to anyone. Well, you were definitely not open to sitting next to Yunho, but like Hell you were going to say it out loud. That could only end up in the said man losing his composure and shooting you with a Glock 22. 

“O-Oh, I’m sorry. I had a rough week so I think it slipped my mind.” 

Jongho’s face was surprisingly neutral unlike in the horrifying scenarios you had come up with. He just nodded, but it was likely he knew you were lying. 

“Why do you want to sit next to me?” you presented a question that had been occupying your mind since last week. 

His expression didn’t even falter as he leaned closer to you. As he whispered, his warm breath tickled your ear. 

“Stay here after the session. It’s not safe to tell you when we’re this near to other people.” 

If his closeness didn’t already send shivers down your spine, his threatening words definitely did. The tone of his voice was unreadable. You had no indication of what words were about to leave his plump lips after the session. 

You could barely focus as the session started with everyone finally in the room. The hem of your shirt was crumbled up inside your fists, as you pondered about all the possible things Jongho could tell you. 

“Valentine’s Day is approaching, and to honor that, we will write each other short, anonymous letters of appreciation today!” 

Hongjoong sighed in frustration at Charlotte’s words while everyone else seemed somewhat intrigued. Even Jongho’s ears perked up at the mention of letters. 

Seonghwa had a question, “Should I write one letter to everyone?” 

“Yes. It’s to show we all care about each other,” Charlotte smiled, “You may even find out about a possible secret admirer.” 

You understood Hongjoong’s frustration. He was clearly here to receive help to his workaholism yet now he had to write letters to eight different people he couldn’t care less about. 

“Remember: only nice things. We don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings here.” 

Hongjoong looked like he wanted not only to hurt Charlotte’s feelings but her physically too. That’s how dark his expression looked, left eye almost twitching from annoyance. 

When everyone had eight little pieces of paper and a pen in their hands, they found places to write at. Some had hidden in the corners of the room, unlike San and Wooyoung who were next to each other, cackling together at the things they wrote. 

“Do you think Jongho would take this well?” 

“I don’t recommend writing that to him. He doesn’t seem like the type to understand jokes,” San answered to Wooyoung as he took a look at his paper. 

You had stayed on your chair and decided to start with writing to Seonghwa. He seemed like a normal person, and you had pleasant things to say about him. 

“Your facial features are like a god had crafted them,” is what you truly craved to say to him, but instead of that, you just wrote, “Your hair is beautiful but your face even more so. Don’t cover it.” 

Glancing at him, you noticed how he was hiding behind his quite long, black hair again. A thoughtful look on his face, he was writing a letter, and you wondered who it could be for. 

You decided to write for Yeosang next. The letters were supposed to be anonymous so you couldn’t reveal too much. 

“You make me feel more comfortable here. Also, I love your birth mark.” 

Next letter was for San, “You clearly take good care of your body. Would you take good care of me as well?” 

You were insane already according to your psychiatrist, but this just made you feel even crazier. Letter by letter you were getting bolder, having fun with the fact that nobody could pinpoint you as the letter’s writer with complete certainty. 

“Do you make love songs as well? I could be your next muse,” as you wrote your letter to Mingi, you almost giggled to yourself. 

“If I kissed you, would that shut you up for a second?” read in the letter for Wooyoung. 

You were having way too much fun with writing these until you realized you’d have to write for Hongjoong, Jongho, and Yunho. The men that scared you the most. Hongjoong was stern, Jongho secretive and cryptic, and Yunho unstable. That was the end of your playful, bold letters. 

You pondered what to write for Hongjoong. It had to be something lame and not too affectionate. 

“I find your work ethic admirable but don’t burn yourself out.” 

Was that too personal? You did not care. It felt anonymous enough, so if he got mad, he wouldn’t be able to direct his anger at only you. 

“I’m interested in finding out what you’re like,” was what you wrote for Jongho. 

It would be impossible for him to guess who wrote it. You didn’t lie in your letter; Jongho was intriguing though intimidating. 

But what to write for Yunho? That was the question. 

You raised your gaze from the paper to look at him and consider what words would you write on the paper. As you looked around, your eyes found him in the corner of the room. Surprisingly, he wasn’t looking at you unlike usually. He seemed very invested on the writing process. 

It had never gone unnoticed by you how handsome he was. How handsome all of them were. His presence and looks reminded you of a friendly golden retriever, but you knew he was in fact not like that. His eyes that always lingered on you were more like of a hungry wolf that has gotten too comfortable with seeing life leave its preys’ eyes. 

“Your hair is black. I like the color black.” 

Your letter to Yunho was nothing but lame, but that was exactly how you wanted it to be. 

The timer rang indicating time was up, just as you had finished writing all the letters. 

“Give all the letters to me and I’ll deal them to their correct receivers,” Charlotte guided. 

After you had handed the letters to her, you remembered San’s shirt, which he had lent you at the cafe. You had to give it back to him. 

As you returned the shirt to its rightful owner, you mumbled sheepishly, “I’m sorry. I forgot to wash your shirt, so it may have my scent on it.” 

Something flickered in San’s eyes at your words. He took the shirt from your hands, his fingers brushing against yours. 

“No worries. I don’t mind,” a delightful look he couldn’t hide was on his face. 

The whole interaction made you feel weird. Why did he seem so happy although you returned him his shirt used?  

You didn’t have much time to analyze his actions, since Charlotte started sharing the letters to everyone. 

As you received the eight letters in your hands, you were getting surprisingly excited. Of course, you were scared of what other people thought of you, but the chance of a letter complimenting or wishing you nice things felt inviting. 

“Seonghwa may start reading his letters.” 

You listened intently as Seonghwa started reading his letters out loud. 

“You seem soft-spoken and respectful.” 

“Your voice is soothing.” 

Seonghwa read a few letters before finally seeing the letter you had written. 

“Your hair is beautiful but your face even more so. Don’t cover it.” 

A pretty, flustered smile spread on his lips. Despite the letter’s guidance, he covered his face with his hair like out of a habit, as he blushed. 

“The writer of this is lying.” 

You almost screamed out “No, I’m not!” when you heard Seonghwa’s words, but he had already moved on to the next letter. 

Hongjoong’s letters were comments about his clothes, and you realized you should have written those things as well, when you heard his reaction to your letter. 

“Burn myself out? I can take care of myself very well, so no-one has to worry about my state,” he spoke, clearly irritated. 

It was too near, that your face would have flushed in embarrassment and revealed everyone the stupid letter had been written by you. 

The round continued with Yeosang reading out compliments about his calm nature, looks and the birthmark. Like Seonghwa, he seemed shy and flustered to receive such kind words. It was like he had never been appreciated the way he should be. 

“Stay away from her.” 

As Yeosang read those words out loud, everyone, including Hongjoong who had looked bored, turned to look at Yeosang, shocked. 

“I told you guys, only nice words,” Charlotte scolded everyone gently, like she did not care that much about the ominous words on the paper Yeosang was holding in his trembling hands. 

“Does it say anything else?” you asked before you could stop yourself. 

Yeosang shook his head, lips pressed in a tight line. 

“Who is the writer talking about?” Seonghwa wondered. 

“Who else than Y/N? She is the only woman here.” 

You had suspected that immediately when Yeosang had read the paper, but hearing Hongjoong say it, made the clenching feeling in your heart tighten. 

“It’s not April’s Day yet, the writer should not joke like that,” Charlotte just chuckled light-heartedly, “Let’s move on to Mingi.” 

The said man smiled excitedly, more ready than ever to look through the letters. 

“You look like a duck.” 

Mingi tilted his head at the letter, not quite sure if it was a compliment or insult. 

“I don’t think it was an insult. Ducks are cute,” Yunho smiled. 

Mingi smiled back, relieved that the letter for him wasn’t meant to insult. 

“Do you make love songs as well? I could be your next muse,” Mingi read the next letter out loud, voice wavering more and more at every word he said. 

He casted accusatory looks on everyone around the room. You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at his reaction to your letter. It was so cute, but unclear if he was happy or mad about the flirty words. 

“Well, to answer the question on the letter, I haven’t found my muse yet so there are no love songs.” 

The next turn was Yunho’s after Mingi had read everything. Yunho seemed to be enjoying the letters, but it was almost like he was searching for something. 

It was the last letter he read, that was the one you had written. 

“Your hair is black. I like the color black.” 

Yunho smiled confusedly at the words directed to him, “Thank you. I was thinking of dying it, but I’ll keep it black just for you.” 

What was terrifying was that he turned to look at you when he said that. Did he somehow know you were the one who wrote the letter? It shouldn’t have been even possible. Anyone could have written those words, yet he still decided to be a creep and stare at you like he always did and would continue doing. 

San started going through his letters, most complimenting his muscles and kindness. A slight smile decorated his lips as he thanked for each and every letter he received. It was adorable and admirable how respectful he always was. 

Suddenly, his smile turned into a frown. It was not only of concern. You could swear there was a hint of anger deep inside his eyes. 

“Who is writing these pathetic threats?” 

“What do you mean, San?” Charlotte asked. 

“I got the same letter as Yeosang. Telling me to stay away from Y/N.” 

Something was wrong. This couldn’t be just a joke; you were sure of that. You had no proof, so it was easy for Charlotte to play it off just as a stupid joke, but this was a threat from someone inside the group. 

“I also have it!” Wooyoung chimed in, taking out a letter he had received. 

Your heartbeat was accelerating as you thought about who could have written those threats. It had to be Yunho. He was the only one who seemed crazy enough. 

“Jongho and Y/N, check if you have those letters as well.” 

At Charlotte’s demand, you started checking the letters you had gotten. It was difficult with trembling hands which were barely able to hold onto the letters. One of them even slipped out of your hands onto the floor. 

“I don’t have a letter like that,” you heard Jongho say, as you were picking up the piece of paper you had dropped. 

The paper wasn’t the only thing that had dropped. Your heart dropped as well, once you saw the last letter you hadn’t gone through yet. 

It would have seemed innocent in anyone else’s eyes. They would have said “aww, cute!” when they saw the drawing on the paper, but you knew better than to think of it as harmless. 

The drawing wasn’t that good, on the average side actually, but you recognized what it was. It was a bird. 

That bird was alive and well, even had a smile on its face, unlike the bird on the photograph you had received a few days ago. But anyone with a brain would have been able to put two and two together. The bird was clearly meant to be a sparrow despite the drawer’s lacking skills. 

You didn’t want to read the text next to the drawing, but it was inevitable. 

“This time the bird is alive. Do you want to stay alive as well?” 

Immediately after reading the words, you burst into tears. It was not a beautiful sight, a grown woman crying and hyperventilating. 

You honestly felt like you were going to suffocate. The fear was pulling you deeper underwater, threatening to drown you. You couldn’t breathe. No matter how many breaths you took in in just a couple seconds, they were too shallow and short for you to get in the air you so desperately needed. You needed air. You needed to get out of here. You needed someone to touch you soothingly, but at the moment, you despised the idea of any of those men getting close to you. 

Still, one of the men walked to you and got on his knees in front of you. 

“Deep breaths. Don’t focus on anything else but breathing and my voice.” 

You closed your eyes as the man took your hand. The way your nails dug onto his hand probably left marks, but he didn’t seem to care, because he knew you needed to hold onto something in this moment of vulnerability. 

“I-I’m going to die!” you sobbed, keeping your eyes tightly shut, as if it could have protected you from the reality. 

“Everything is going to be fine. I’ll take care of you, angel.” 

The feeling of embarrassment, that was surely going to arrive later if you didn’t die now, didn’t even cross your mind. You were too focused on surviving this moment. You were in danger, you knew it. First the photograph and feather of that dead bird, and now an indirect threat. The stalker was here in this room with you, analyzing your every move and taking pleasure in seeing your terror. 

You opened your eyes again. The once comforting lights in the room felt suddenly too bright, like you were on stage, forced to perform for thousands of people. You could almost hear the laughter of the audience in your ears. They were all mocking and observing you. 

“Look at me, Y/N,” the man in front of you said softly. 

The man was mocking you too. He was just crueler than the others, wanting to see you fall for his comfort and then crush you with his bare hands. 

“I’m not going to hurt you. Look into my eyes.” 

Slowly, you forced your gaze to look at the man. It was Seonghwa. He didn’t have a cruel smile on his face nor was he looking at you with danger. Just a genuine, compassionate look as he held your hand. 

“What happened, Y/N?” Charlotte asked. 

“Are you alright?” San worried. 

“Of course she isn’t. She had a panic attack,” Wooyoung slapped San’s shoulder. 

You felt dizzy, finally realizing that everyone had their eyes pinned on you. It felt like you were an animal at the zoo, only meant for everyone to observe you. 

“I want out...” you tried to breathe, “I need air.” 

Seonghwa nodded instantly and helped you up from your seat, “Come, I’ll help you.” 

If anyone else than Seonghwa or Yeosang had done that, you would have screamed and ran away – that is if your legs would have worked in their shaky state. You let Seonghwa lead you away gently. 

Once you were sitting in the hallway, out of the therapy room, Seonghwa opened the windows to let in fresh air. He didn’t care if the electricity bills leaped into astronomical prices; Charlotte deserved to pay a bit more anyways, since she hadn’t done her job as a therapist and helped you. 

Seonghwa put his own jacket on you. 

“Breathe in through your nose and let it out through your mouth.” 

You listened to Seonghwa’s guidance. After a while, you just felt exhausted. You had gone through a panic attack, and it had taken a toll on your body. Only now you noticed how sweaty you were yet chills still shook your body. 

“Can you tell me what caused you this distress?” Seonghwa asked, tracing circles on the back of your hand. 

As you explained the envelope that had slipped in through your mail slot, and what the letter said, Seonghwa’s eyes grew concerned. 

“Have you considered telling the police?” 

“I don’t know if there’s anything they can do in practice.” 

“You could ask Yunho. He probably knows.” 

Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of Yunho. That man was most likely the one behind all of this! If you told him that you were going to snitch on him to the police, he’d kill you faster. 

“I can’t. Please, Seonghwa. Don’t tell anyone about this.” 

Seonghwa looked worried but gave a reassuring smile and a nod, “I won’t. Your secret is safe with me.” 

Once you two came back to the therapy room, everyone looked grim. 

“Y/N. I don’t want to worry you even more, but I think you need to hear this.” 

You gulped and nodded your head, giving Charlotte your permission to continue. 

“We noticed that the handwriting in the letter you received is same that in the threatening letters to San, Wooyoung and Yeosang.” 

Was that supposed to surprise you? The stalker, who had followed you home, and given the envelope and letter, was clearly trying to isolate you. He was trying to have you all alone, at his mercy, cornered like a mouse. 

“I understand your reaction, since this letter seemed quite scary, but I think there’s nothing to be afraid of,” Charlotte continued. 

“But this-” 

“It’s just your wild imagination playing tricks on you again. There’s no danger. Those letters were nothing but a stupid joke.” 

The rest of the session, you stayed silent, staring at the floor. Others were exchanging stories and experiences of their lives, doing what you should have done as well. 

But it wouldn’t be safe for you to tell anything more about yourself. The stalker was among the group, gathering more information about you every second. 

Every breath you took was pained, lungs feeling like they would rip from the massive amounts of air you took in to stay calm. 

The session went on and on, everyone seemingly relaxed. It was so unfair. So fucking unfair that you had to be the one, shaking in fear, when no-one but Seonghwa took your concerns seriously. 

After many excruciatingly slow minutes, the session ended and you were able to leave and go home finally. Although you weren’t completely safe at home either, it was the one place you could barricade yourself in. 

“Did you forget something?” Jongho’s voice startled you as you were walking out. 

Realizing you were supposed to talk to him after the session, you stopped in your tracks. That didn’t stop your shaking though. Even Jongho himself had said that everyone was a possible threat, including him. 

“Do you want to know why I wanted you to sit next to me?” 

“Yes, please,” you nodded, trying to keep your voice steady. 

You shouldn’t show any weakness in front of him. 

Jongho looked around, making sure everyone was out of earshot. Sounds of Wooyoung and San’s loud conversation somewhere echoed in the house but it seemed like they wouldn’t hear Jongho’s words. Jongho had a serious expression, a slight frown on his handsome face. He then turned his eyes on you, a hint of sympathy flickering in them. 

“I want to protect you. I know someone from the group is following you.” 

It scared you how observant Jongho was. What else did he know? 

“I have a proposal to you which may help.” 

Your ears perked up although you had already been listening almost too intently. 

“Go ahead.” 

Jongho’s voice was careful yet firm, like he knew what he was going to suggest would be difficult to hear yet a clever idea, “I’ll pretend to be your boyfriend.” 

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<- Chapter 3.

Chapter 5. ->

Masterlist

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Taglist: @devilzliaison

[xxemiexx]

Kidnapped & Birthing

1970 words

— Request — :)

Kidnapping, pushing the baby back in, birth denial, clothing birth, dark storyline

.

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You took deep breaths as you were bouncing on the birthing ball, the deep ache in your stomach as a contraction built up.

You'd read online about how masturbation was good for relieving pain during labour and you were up for any help.

Letting out a sigh as you rubbed the vibrator over your clit stretching your arms around your heavily pregnant, low stomach, moving in time with the bouncing and bringing yourself to orgasm just as the contraction hit.

"Ohhh! Yes right there!" You rode out the high, feeling the baby wriggle around inside you.

You couldn't let the labour get too far as you still had to go to the bank to open an account for savings for the baby. You'd promised yourself you'd do it before the baby comes so it was now or never.

You heaved yourself up from the ball and pushed the vibrator inside yourself, moaning as it rubbed your g-spot.

You quickly pulled on some tight panties and some leggings before getting your bag, the contractions were coming around every 20 minutes now but it was a 10 minute drive to the bank.

You used the remote control for the vibrator to turn it to a slow buzz inside you as you got in your car, grinding yourself against the seat searching for friction.

You start the drive, reaching a hand into your leggings to rub your clit, you got close as you pulled up to a red light.

"Yes!" You arched your back and threw your head back, thanking your tinted windows no one could see you orgasm.

The light turned to green and you were soon on your way again, getting to the bank in good time. When you move to get out your car a contraction takes your breath away. Only 12 minutes apart!

"Fuck come on baby, give mama a chance!" You hiss as your rub the contracting bump, you notice the feeling of pressure sitting lower in your hips as you stand up now.

"I hope the line is short!" You say under your breath. When you get in there only 4 people stood before you and a worker, why is only one window open? You groan internally but reach into your pocket to distract yourself with the vibrator.

You turned it to a rhythmed buzz, it got stronger as it went on, you bit your lip to keep the moan inside as you rubbed your thighs together.

The little pressure was enough to get you just close enough, leaving you right on the edge, but you had to step forward as the next person was served.

You felt the same pressure building up as you stood there again, the edging from the time before making the need to cum feel primal.

You were getting close again when the bank doors flew open and 5 men with masks on and machine guns in hand came running in.

"Get on the fucking ground now!" They screamed as they pushed people down.

You gasped and got on your knees, wrapping your arms around your stomach protectively.

"Everyone's gonna stay nice and calm whilst we do this, no sudden movements, no noise, no cops, no death!" One explained, like it was simple as they started getting money from the person at the window.

A contraction took a hold of you and forced a whimper out of you, drawing a masked man's attention.

"Did you hear what he said? No noise sweetheart, are you in labour? I've always wanted to watch a bitch struggle to give birth." He smirked as he put his foot on my stomach, his big boot digging into your skin and pushed you back to a sitting position.

"We could have fun here sweetie." He smirked under his mask and applied a heavy pressure onto your stomach making you open your mouth in a silent scream.

You groaned as you felt the baby move suddenly, a lot of the pressure you were feeling was now much lower down and was pushing against the vibrator.

You panted as the man bent down to pull your leggings down to your knees, he left your panties up but moved them to the side as he moved his fingers to your clit, gasping as he rubbed in small circles.

This paired with the vibration was enough to make you cum in 20 seconds, your back arching as a moan left you.

He moved back to your opening and pulled the vibrator out.

"Using this in public, naughty girl." He tutted and shoved 2 fingers into you he didn't get far before they hit something.

"Well well well." his fingers moving around inside you roughly.

He pushed his fingers deep inside you, taking your breath away.

"I can feel the head, don't you need to push?" He taunted, "I bet it would feel so good to relieve some of the pressure by pushing." His fingers kept working inside of you whilst his thumb played with your clit.

The overwhelming sensation made you cry out as you pushed with the next contraction.

The man chuckled at your efforts.

He removed his fingers and you pushed again, desperate for some kind of relief.

You felt something at your opening, something coming out! You reach around your stomach to feel the sac full of water, still intact and bulging out of you.

"Shall we keep the waters or would you like me to break them?" The man ran his fingers over the bulge, pushing it back inside you.

"Please break it!" You beg and reach for the vibrator, holding it to your clit, desperate for release.

The man dug his fingers into the sac roughly, trying to tear through it but mainly just pushed it back inside. "It's too strong, I can't break it." He said, giving up without really trying.

Another contraction forced your knees up and made you bear down hard, the head coming to your opening as you cry out grabbing everyone's attention.

"Hey shut the fuck up! Plug her up if she can't keep quiet!" Another suggested.

You threw your head back as your came mid contraction.

"Please help me up, the baby needs to come out!" You beg frantically.

"For fuck sake!" One of the men huffed and pushed the one at my knees out the way. He pushed your panties to the side and roughly pushed the head back away from your opening, forcing the baby back inside your womb.

You open your mouth to scream but a cloth is clamped over it instantly blocking your scream.

"Can I take this one?" The guy covering my mouth asked.

The man at my knees rolled his eyes. "If you really want to."

The man shoves the vibrator back inside you but your vision is blurring and you see him reach into a bag but don't see what he gets before you black out.

——————————————————

When you wake you're overwhelmed with sensations, needing to push, feeling the vibrator and being on the edge of cumming.

You rub your thighs together, searching for friction as the feeling overtakes you and the orgasm hits you so hard your head spins.

You take some deep breaths for a few seconds and open your eyes, they dart around the dark room you don’t know.

You can’t see over your bump but you can’t open your legs, and there is tape over your mouth.

You come to a harsh realisation you’ve been kidnapped, you need to push and your legs are taped shut.

Your screams are muffled as you struggle, you manage to roll onto your side, your hands are taped behind your back so they are of no use.

You scream as you roll onto your front, the pressure pushing your baby down.

You took a deep breath and pushed yourself to your knees, taking a minute as a contraction pulled you from your thoughts.

You use your head against the wall to push yourself to your feet the gravity making the urge to push feel primal.

You scream and push, bending your knees and praying the tape breaks.

Against all odds, you feel the vibrator slipping allowing you to groan a relived sigh.

You look around to see the door and try to take a step, your legs are too taped to take even a tiny step so you have to hop, the first hop shoves the baby’s head between your pelvis and you suddenly feel very full.

The second hop dislodges the vibrator into your panties.

The sigh of relief is short lived though as on the third hop, it slips forward through your arousal and nestles against your clit.

“Mmmmm!” Your moans are muffled as your legs almost buckle under you.

By the 6th hop a contraction crashes with your orgasm.

You cry out, all the feelings are far too much for you to cope with.

You get ready to take the next hop, but you land with a pop.

Fluid trickles down your legs and you need to push.

You squat down with your legs taped together the head making its way to your opening with this push.

Your mind is racing.

You hop to the door, lurching forward with the pain, this seems to give the head more room, the baby crowning in your panties.

A scream rips out of you and you decide you can’t hop anymore. Your hands are working to wiggle the wasteband of your leggings down, but you can’t get them down far enough.

The vibration on your clit is building you closer once more as the struggle brings a lot of friction.

You use the door handle to hook your leggings onto and pull up.

You don’t get much room but with the next push the head bulges.

You’re panting through the pain, allowing yourself to stretch just as an orgasm hits and you push accidentally, the head popping out into your panties.

You know you don’t have room to birth any more of the baby out but you push again, feeling a shoulder start to emerge but go straight back inside when you stop.

You turn around and use your hands behind your back to open the door, hopping forward to pull the door.

Before you can turn around you feel something press against the head bulging in your leggings.

You gasp and tears fall down your face.

“That was beautiful sweetheart!” He chuckles and reaches inside your leggings to the vibrator at your clit, he rubs against it in small circles through your panties.

The action making your underwear tighter, forcing the head back inside you.

You shake your head but can’t hold back the moan as the orgasm barrels into you, the force making you contract involuntarily.

The baby comes out to the elbows.

“Oh god that’s good!” The masked man rubs himself through his trousers.

“I want to push that thing back inside you and watch you do it over again!” He moaned but you can’t stop yourself from pushing again.

Your panties are full, there is no more room.

He reaches inside his trousers and moans, “When I get close, I’ll let it out.” He continues to rub himself, picking up the pace after a few minutes.

He reaches into your leggings and pushes the vibrator to your clit, this is enough to have you on edge instantly. The orgasm washing over both of you has he pulls your panties to the side and you push the baby fully out into your leggings.

The crying hits you straight away and you cry with relief.

“Well that, sweet girl, was beautiful.” He took the baby out of your leggings and cut the cord with a pocket knife.

“I’m gonna keep you.” He kissed your cheek and retreated back out the door and up the stairs.

[charlietheepicwriter7]

V The Ghost in the Manor

Dick Grayson V Gotham - Chapter 4

Danny was not lost. He was… momentarily disposed. 

It certainly wasn’t his fault. All the halls looked the same, with walls covered in paintings and a red runner down each hallway. At least he knew he was on the second floor–peeking out a window showed a garden that he did not see from the entrance, so maybe he was in the back of the house? 

Reasonably, he could probably yell for help. He’d only run off ten minutes ago, and there had to be someone around to hear him. Even if it was only the ghost. 

But considering he’d been tracking the ghost with no sign of them yet, he didn’t think that likely. 

He wasn’t sure about it at first. There’d been no trace of a haunting when he arrived, but the sensation of a ghost–a tickle in the back of his throat, like a cough that refused to come–got stronger and stronger as breakfast concluded. It wasn’t attached to the building. Even as weak as Danny was, he’d still be able to sense a proper haunt, so that meant there was a free-roaming spirit loose in the building. And it felt a lot stronger than a Shade. 

Danny cracked open a door to see another library. In his search, he’d moved past the bedroom area and onto the business-related rooms. There had been multiple libraries, and earlier he’d found a room with multiple computer monitors on desks covered in snack residue; Tim’s room, he presumed, and didn’t touch it. But as he looked further into the manor, the stronger the ghost felt. He was getting close. 

He wished they’d just show themselves. He wanted to go back to working on Tim’s case. 

At the end of the hallway he found a grand study. Danny wrinkled his nose. All dark hardwood and beige, the room was centered around the giant desk facing towards the door, a computer chair tucked underneath with a window behind it. At least there was a computer on the desk, with a sleek and modern monitor. 

Passing the grandfather clock, Danny hoisted himself up into the chair when suddenly, a cold puff of air escaped his mouth and a voice behind him said, “Wow, burglars are getting smaller and smaller every year.”

Danny swiveled the chair around. Leaning against the window was the ghost, far more colorful and substantial than any of the Shades or Wraiths he’d gotten used to seeing. Her skin was a light blue with black freckles and her hair was a firey purple that flowed out from under her hood. She was wearing a superhero outfit–jumpsuit, utility belt, boots, cape, and hood–comprised of white, ectoplasm green, and hints of yellow, with a white neck gaiter over her mouth and throat, and a green bat over her heart. Her eyes glowed bright yellow. 

She was a hero. She was a Phantom. She was a ghost hero.

Danny wanted to be sick. 

“You can see me,” she realized. She crouched down in front of him, their gaze never breaking. “You can see me.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Danny spat, tramping down his own instinctive urge to cry. Stupid, worthless baby body, this was not the time! “Why don’t you take your sterling silver deduction and shove it up your ass.”

She reared back. “Whoa, kid, you kiss your mom with that mouth?”

“Ain’t interested in necrophilia, hoe-bag, sorry you can’t get your rocks off.” He swiveled back around. He didn’t want to look at the dead teenager. It hit too close to home.

Laughing, Danny felt her drape herself across the back of his chair. “Holy shit, kid. Bruce really keeps adopting them crazier and crazier.”

“Who the fuck said I was that bastard’s kid?” Danny wiggled the computer mouse and the monitor immediately woke up to the home screen. “He doesn’t even have a password,” Danny said, shocked. 

The hero peeked over his shoulder. “If you’re not Bruce’s kid, then you’re a thief. And Brucie probably didn’t think he needed to defend against corporate espionage in his own home, little baby thief. He’s not too bright.”

“I’m not a thief,” he grumbled as he clicked on Bing. There were no other search engines on the computer, not even Google. That, more than anything, is what convinced Danny that Bruce Wayne was secretly a monster. “I’m just living here for a few weeks, that’s all.”

He typed “Bruce Wayne Wikipedia” into the search bar and started reading. 

“So you are Brucie’s kid!” The ghost concluded, snapping her fingers. “Or his ward, at least. Come on, squirt, there’s no reason to lie to your pal, Spoiler–”

“Not his kid,” Danny hissed, his voice warbling and resonating with the ectoplasm of the room. Wayne had a wiki page a mile long. The majority of it was compiled under the label Scandels. “Dick’s”

She laughed. “You’re Dick’s kid!? God, out of all B’s kids to inherit his adoption thingy, I didn’t expect Dick of all people.” 

Danny looked up from the computer. He’d only just gotten to Wayne’s Guardianship over Dick. “You say that like he’s got more than two.” Dick and Tim. “Does he have more?”

Spoiler shook her head, chuckling. “You haven’t met Bruce’s daughter yet, have you? And then there’s all the kids he hasn’t adopted. Wayne loves kids.”

 “...In a weird way, or…?”

“Normal way! He loves kids the normal way!” She laughed again. “Geeze, kid, you’re a riot. What’s your deal, anyway? You a medium?”

“Something like that. I work as one, at least.” He said with a shrug. “Why are you hanging around the Waynes? Were you investigating him when you died?”

“Nah, just doing my regular patrols. Nothing else I can really do. Ghost on ghost crime is at an all-time low.” She sighed. “The name’s Spoiler, by the way.”

“You can call me Danny.” He stopped reading for a second before turning the chair around so he could look at her. “Is there anything I can help you with? Unfinished business, arresting your murderer, messages to loved ones?”

“Is that what you normally do as a medium?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes I fake seances to scam stupid people out of their money. Not everyone comes back as a ghost, but a lot of people feel entitled to the dead’s time, and I still need to eat.” 

“And you just automatically assumed I was murdered just because I’m a ghost? I’m mean, you’re right, but I’m pretty sure that’s stereotyping, punk.” She leaned back against the window, crossing her arms. 

“I’m sorry. I’d assumed that because you’re a hero, not because you’re a ghost. You don’t have to tell me anything more about your death; I know how much that hurts.”

Spoiler studied him for a moment. “You’re a good kid. Dick got lucky with that.”

Danny opened his mouth to respond, but his ears pricked. Someone was walking down the hall. Danny quickly closed out of the wiki page and searched for “ice cream near me.”

Dick poked his head in. “There you are! I was worried you’d squireled yourself away in… somewhere you weren’t supposed to go.” Danny cocked his eyebrow, and Dick rubbed the back of his neck. “Bruce has some… adult things lying around that I don’t want you to get an eyeful of.”

How incredibly suspicious. Dick was clearly protecting Wayne out of love for him. In a deadpan voice, Danny said, “you don’t have to worry; I already found Wayne’s sex dungeon.”

An incredulous laugh escaped Dick as Spoiler howled with laughter. Danny did his best to tune her out as Dick walked around to his side of the desk. He rustled Danny’s hair. “You really intend to make me get you ice cream? After all those reporters this morning? You’re cruel, kiddo.”

Danny shrugged. “We can go in disguise. And Tim’s coming with us, so while they’ll be looking for a group of two, we’ll be a group of three.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “He is? I don’t recall inviting Tim.”

“Tim’s lonely.” Smart or not, Tim still willingly spent over an hour voluntarily hanging out with an 8-year-old. Danny couldn’t imagine doing the same when he was Tim’s age. “You really so cheap that you can’t treat your brother to some ice cream?”

“Cold-blooded,” Spoiler scolded, unheard by Dick but unwilling to be left out of the conversation. “Honestly, Dick, I am ashamed.” 

“So ashamed,” Danny agreed. Dick shot him a confused look. “Tim would cry if he heard you say that. Do you want Tim to cry?”

“I think he wants Tim to cry!” Spoiler gasped. 

“Stop!” Dick held up his hand. “Danny. Is there a ghost in the room?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy.”

“It’s ‘weather man-’ You know what? It’s not worth arguing. Danny, I thought we had a deal; you need to tell me whenever there’s a ghost in a room, understand?” Danny scoffed. Dick pressed on, “Do you understand?”

“It’s a stupid rule.”

“It’s an important rule,” Dick countered. “I can’t protect you from ghosts, and they can hurt you, Danny. Not every ghost is a good person.”

Danny rubbed a scar on his arm, a souvenir from a particularly nasty poltergeist he’d tried to deal with on his own. Dick had a matching scar on his back from stray glass; he’d found Danny in the middle of the storm and dragged him to safety. Then gave him a two hour lecture about handling things on his own and that Danny was only a child while Dick had years of experience and blah, blah, blah. Danny refused to admit that Dick had a point–he was 18 in mind, if not body, and he’d dealt with infinitely more dangerous ghosts than one barely material poltergeist. Just because he didn’t have most of his powers didn’t mean he was useless! 

“...There’s a ghost,” Danny admitted. “But she’s just passing through; this isn’t even her haunt.” 

“And does she need help?”

Danny looked at Spoiler. His offer from before had never been answered. She shook her head, looking genuinely regretful. “I’m good for now, kid. My murderer is way above your paygrade, and the Bats are already gunning for him.”

“She’s fine, just chilling. Can we go get ice cream now?”

“It’s still–” Dick checked his phone– “9:30 in the morning, kiddo. We’ll go after lunch though. Now!” He clapped his hands together. “I came up here to get you. The detectives finally got to Mrs. Bennett’s apartment and we set up a video call for you to consult with them.” 

“Really!?” Jumping up from the chair, Danny rushed to the door, almost falling flat on his face. “What are we waiting for!? Her son-in-law is going to get away with it if we don’t hurry! Come on, Dick!”

“Wait! Danny, you don’t know where you’re going, come back!”

“Then come on!”

@starlightcat04 @maeashryver @widderwise @darkstarsapocalypse @sisma @luminanightfall @storm-fire98 @amyheart19 @collectingthegoods @redhoneysugarorange @lordfirecat2004 @screechingnoises @meira-3919 @dannyphannypack @satisfactionbroughtmeback @rowanaway-fromthisbs @i-always-say-yea @avelnfear @some-rotten-nest @ark12 @heirxofxtime @akikkobara @blep-23 @skulld3mort-1fan @markus209 @stargirl1331 @onlyhereforthechaos @inth3world @awkwardmaiden @fantasticbluebirdfan @currant-owo @alice-hazelwood @screamingtofillthevoid @crystalqueertea @gaelicholiday @gmkelz11 @mattybook1987-blog @bytheoldwillowtree @apointlessbox @chemical-pepis @ghostface3100 @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @bathildaburp @boo-ghosties @bubblemixer @halfalix @lyra689 @dragon-dancer16 @lunadoll36 @mimilikey @hellomygay @frogs-are-pretty-awesom @overtherose @cyrwrites @your-emo-nightmare @lexdamo @roman4517 @a-slytherinish-gryffindor @raginblastocyst @thegatorsgoose @fisticuffsatapplebees @olivethetreebitch @vixen-uchiha @ae-vixrose @joseph557 @kisatamao @gin2212 @thewondersoflebanon @d4ydr34min9 @malice-of-the-sunrise @tiblii @that-awkward-fae-nerd @aph-mable @dolfay @ghostreblogging @wackyattack @writer-extraordinaire @boo-ghosties @coruscateselene @emergentpanda-blog

[kechiwrites]

decided to break it

toxic baby daddy!ghost x reader

part 4/?

synopsis: babies change everything, and neither you, nor simon handle change very well at all.

wc: 2.2k

cw: afab!reader, angst, hurt with no comfort, language, break up fic, abandonment issues, no gendered language, discussions and depictions of pregnancy. no use of y/n ever.

author’s note: im back <3, more tomorrow, or perhaps later tonight if i feel up to formatting on this hell site. for kitten, shia, nori, 👩🏿‍🍼 anon, and everyone else who cheered me up when i felt super down post-holidays

new to baby blue? start here.

"Fuck." You murmur, maybe for the fourth time since the 15 minute timer had gone off on your phone. The word doesn’t seem heavy enough to sum up how you’re feeling, but you give it a few more tries anyway, “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” The word 'pregnant', however, is the heaviest you’ve ever seen, latching onto your limbs and skin and dragging you to the floor beneath you. ‘Pregnant’ stares you in the face from the stick in your shaking hands, punctuated with a little smiley face you can barely see through tears. In the back of your mind you kind of wished you'd gotten the kind with the little ambiguous pink lines, just so you could pretend you didn't understand what two lines instead of one meant. Just for a little bit. Alas, the pharmacist recommended the slightly more expensive test, the kind that gives you a week estimate. The kind that tells you you've been fucked for 3-4 weeks now.

Every emotion you'd been feeling up until then cedes to white hot panic. It's hard to breathe in your little blue bathroom.

You wonder what he'll say. 

No. 

You dread what he’ll say. 

It’s nothing you two have ever talked about, not in the cold blackness of night, when he’d sat in your arms with his face bare to you and murmured every gory detail of his upbringing to you and not a goddamn therapist. Not the following morning when you’d sobbed your terror of the future, and losing everything you had into his lap. And certainly not when you had mutually decided you were “getting serious”.

And now you have to. You have to tell Simon you’re pregnant.

There's a pit in your stomach when he comes by that night, mask off and eyes warm, considering like they always are. You get swept up in how it feels to be near him, to have him crowd into your space, soaking your senses in his scent, his warmth. He kisses you gently, so soft it makes you want to cry. He used to say he wasn't capable of being like that. Not with you. Not with anyone. 

Instead of sobbing into his chest like you’re desperate to, you chide him about wearing his boots in the house. You take the time he needs to unlace them to memorize what being with him feels like in this moment, the last time things will be easy. 

He levers up and nudges his boots over to yours, where they sit side by side. Tears choke your voice again, and you’re praying it’s just a pregnancy thing rather than a ‘you being an unstable wreck’ thing.

“Sit.” You turn to the kitchen, setting your kettle on the stove and turning the knob to high. He hunkers down on the worn cream leather of your couch. You linger in front of your stovetop as long as you can, fussing with the mug Simon uses almost always, an ugly misshapen pink thing you’d made at a beginner ceramics class four years ago. It’s chipped at the lip, rose coloured glaze cracked, exposing the beige clay underneath it. Your hand glances over boxes of tea, back and forth over colourful labels that may as well be written in gibberish for all the luck you're having reading them. 

It feels like there's no air in the room, like the secret under your t-shirt is taking it all, vacuum sealing your room until your chest burns and your head feels like it's going to pop. You tear open a brand new box of earl grey, stuffing it back onto your shelf when the tea bag is sat securely in the cup. 

"What's wrong?” He grouses from the couch, and it’s only then that you realize your shoulders are hunched up around your ears. 

“I..” your stomach rolls and sweat begins to bead on your forehead. You can hear him stir in his seat behind you, shifting forward so he can peer at you from your living room. Saliva gathers in your mouth, and oh god, maybe you actually will throw up, it’s too early for morning sickness right? Unless the stupid tests were wrong and now you’re going to cover your countertops in the stew you had for lun-

“Hey.” Simon is standing behind you now, his hands gripping your shoulders, shaking you lightly until you whip around to face him. The kettle is screaming now, filling your home with that shrill, high shriek of steam from the boiling water whistling through the appliance's tiny spout. 

Somehow it’s still quieter than your pulse pounding in your ear.

“I’m pregnant.” You choke out, if only to stop yourself from retching over Simon’s socked feet. God, it’s like time stops, then it splits and cracks in clean halves. Into before and after he knew. Before and after his concerned expression crumbled into disbelief, before and after he schooled that disbelief into placid nothingness. And it’s not like you’d entertained the delusion that he’d be happy about it. But the silent hang time before he reacts is this terrible, hollow, unknown that tears up your insides and relishes in the shiny, red viscera. 

A gruff, quiet "Are you sure?" is what you get from him, when he finally recovers, and you try so hard not to let it bother you. It's a shock. A surprise. A loud bang in the middle of a serene night, a cannon going off in your face, a gunshot into the sky when you thought the race was an hour from starting. 

You try to give him a bit of grace. Still, the pit in your stomach grows.

Now it's a bit of a sinkhole.

"Baby, I wouldn't be telling you if I wasn't sure." You move to snag your fingers into the fabric of his shirt, to tug him close so you can hold each other, support each other, but he take a small step backwards, letting his palms slip from your shoulders. 

The sinkhole is a cavern, yawning wide, open and empty. 

You toss your hope and love inside.

“I need…some time.” He mutters, slinking out of your space, out of the kitchen and back into your entryway. 

'Time to fucking what?' you think, but hold back. You know Simon. You love Simon. And you remember where he's come from. What he's come from. You realize a second too late you should be following him, and when you stumble over the kitchen threshold, he’s tying up his boots, his broad back facing you. You try to peer around him, try to get a look at his face, desperate to gauge where he’s at. But when you notice he’s knocked your shoes over in his scramble to get away, to be anywhere but here, you stop moving..

“Y-yeah. Okay. Just..uh, get back to me soon okay?” you stutter, and wrap your arms around yourself, like you know Simon won't. Not with the way his hands are shaking. 

He doesn’t even respond this time. 

The soldier just stands. He opens your front door. And walks out. Leaving you in your entryway. Water past its boiling point in the kettle.

You don’t see him again until you’re four, nearly five months along, the bump under your clothes now impossible to hide. When you stumble into your home, exhausted from working, he’s in your living room. Sitting there in his mask at your tiny dining room table. Like no time has passed at all. Like he should be there. You realize you never did get your spare house key back.

“Get out.” you spit, blood boiling under your skin. 

"I know you're upset-" He begins, like he’s about to deliver a practiced speech.

"Get the fuck out!" Your tone is caustic, and you hope it burns him, hope it strips off all the facade on the rotting structure he is underneath.

"I never meant to leave it so long. This." He won't even say it. Can't even refer to you, let alone your baby. He stands up and becomes this big, dark mass in the bright space of your living room, black mask, black shirt, black boots, just a huge black hole that sucks up every good feeling you’d had in his absence, every ray of light that’d shone through the dark gloom he’d left behind. Nothing escapes his pull. 

He peers at you from the gap in his mask. The stark white skull stretched over his face mocks you, maliciously whispers in your ear; ‘Did you think you knew him? That he was honest with you? Open to you?’

And you had. You did. You thought you were making progress, building some semblance of a future, falling in love.

It makes you sick to your stomach to think of it.

"You want to apologize, take the fucking mask off Simon." Your voice breaks, and part of you hopes he hears it for the plea it is. Hopes he understands what you’re asking of him. Hopes he feels how bad you missed him, under the hurt and pain and bitter, bitter loneliness. If he would just take it off, just pull the stupid fabric over his face and show you he was still yours under there, that he’d make a mistake and he’s ready now, then maybe the two of you could fix it. This.

Instead, his silence, his stillness cracks open your ribcage and pours black ink over your heart.

Humiliation and anger simmer on your tongue. What comes next is shockingly easy. "Oh you can't do it, huh? Can't be a fucking person with me, huh?" You shove at his chest, and he takes it, staring at you with pain in his eyes. Like this is hurting him.

"I shouldn't have waited so long, but I-" he steps towards you and it feels so good to rip away from his touch. To step back from his advance.

"No!” You shout, and your face is so hot, skin ablaze with righteous anger. “Shut up! Three months? Are you out of your fucking mind?"

And yes, one month of that was deployment, you’d known that, you’d talked about it, together. One month of no contact. One month of sand and heat and blood. But the other two months had been that white hot panic you'd felt on your own, in that tiny bathroom with the peeling blue wallpaper he'd promised he'd help you strip and replace. The other months had been missed calls, and ignored texts and you getting bigger under your sweaters because unlike him, you couldn't just take a break from the situation.

“Get the fuck out of my house!” You shove past him, deeper into your home, spinning around so he’s closer to your entryway than you are. “Don’t you ever show your face here again, do you hear me?” You’re screaming now, much to Ghost’s visible discomfort. Good. You hope your nosy ass neighbours call the cops. You hope they physically remove his pathetic ass. You hope they embarrass him. (It isn’t very likely, of course. But God, could you dream).

“You can't just keep it from me.” He steps closer and you lament that he has you on the backfoot. It’s your space, your home and yet it feels as though you’re the one who’s out of place, off kilter and uncomfortable. You glare at him. 

“It’s mine too.”

‘It’ he says, and that bothers you. Irks you. Him calling your baby an ‘it’. 

“Give me a fucking break, it wasn’t yours when you left me, you couldn’t wait to get your sorry ass out of here when I told you. Now you wanna play daddy? I don’t fucking think so.” You dig your fingernails into the meat of your palms, leaving aching crescents in their wake. 

“And you know what? Maybe it’s my fault for wanting to be with someone who is so fundamentally fucking broken that he couldn’t fucking bear to show me his goddamn face until I’d begged him. Maybe I’m the idiot for thinking you could ever be capable of love, of decency. I needed you. And you abandoned me, Simon. You are a fucking monster.” 

The word hangs in the air, hovering between the two of you where it can’t be taken back, and it sure as hell can’t be forgotten.

“You are good at distancing yourself, you are good at killing your feelings. Keep doing that. Stay the fuck away from me and my kid.” You’re panting when you finish, and everything hurts, one of your hands is bleeding, your eyelids prickle with the pain of unshed tears, your throat feels strained and tight. He nods once, jerky and quick, before he takes an unbalanced step back. Then another and another, his eyes never leaving yours, like he’s looking for something, anything other than hurt and hatred.

But there’s nothing else to find.

He turns, opening your front door and trudging out, heavy footfalls bracketing short moments of gut wrenching silence. It feels final. But it doesn’t feel good. Not like you thought it might.

He’s halfway into his SUV when you scramble out your front door, shouting over your porch railing to him in your driveway. “And get rid of my fucking keys!” He stares at you, standing stockstill, before he gets in the driver’s seat and pulls away.

whew, nice to post ghosty-poo again

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[mentionally]

Could you make a headcanon of what Gary would be like after having a fight with his girlfriend?

gary after a fight with his s/o

yall were probably fighting over his behavior or grades and eventually broke out into a fight

things were said...!!

you're cooling off, probably talking to some friends or in your room

at first gary is really mad. hes punching walls and is seeing red. he'll be in this phase for about 2-4 hours but it will eventually fade out. if anyone tries to talk to him hes more of a dick than he is, whether it be him making fun of people or beating them up. it's unhealthy but he's using it as a place to take out his anger and express himself.

after this phase hes kind of quiet. still a dick. but still quiet. yall haven't talked or even seen each other today. he's probably brought it up to jimmy but he's not going to genuinely talk to someone. it's not in him. if he did it would be you, but you're gone. he's not picking on people as much, hes thinking now.

gary has been seeing you in the halls, seemingly unbothered. you're with your friends and it's like he doesn't even exist. hes mad again, but like a jealous-hurt mad. this feeling is kind of new to him and it's confusing.

it's been a few days now. still no sign from you. he's a bit fed up now. he gave you time and you're just going to leave him like this? when he sees you in the halls he makes a direct, almost piercing, type of stare at you. you notice but don't acknowledge him.

after his best efforts, he finally works up the confidence to say something to you. it's almost been a week. hes nervous and his hands are sweating, his face is flushed and gary is thinking of turning back.

he sees you in the courtyard, with some stupid clique, and hes approaching. his hefty boots are barely making a noise against the concrete, but his walk is still stern and firm, his eyes set on you.

you know he's there but dont acknowledge him truly. you're just trying to piss him off, fulfilling the petty thought residing in your head.

he comes up to you and asks why you're not talking to him. after looking around in a confused way, you decide to take the conversation somewhere more private.

while yall are walking, his hand grazes yours every now and then. you cant tell if it's a desperate cry for attention or a true mistake. his pinky roughly running up against the side of your hand sends tingles through your arm. you've missed him.

you start to talk to him. hes clearly upset, but the steel wall he puts up. y'all talk for around 10 minutes, somewhat resolving your issues. you can tell his guard is up.

after your talk you walk back. for some reason, you take the long way back, cherishing your time with him. you start to graze your hand across his while you're walking, hoping he'd catch the hint.

hes glancing at you every few times your hand touches his.

in almost in instinct type of way, he snatches your hand up, sighing. he squeezes your hand, his way of apologizing.

[outsideratheart]

On a Night Like Tonight (Alex Scott x reader)

Retirement. A word that had been playing on your mind for a the past 12 months. After Australia, Team GB went on to win gold in the Olympics and it left only one trophy missing from your cabinet. The World Cup.

2027, Brazil. It was the day that you gave the fans the thing you promised 4 years ago. You lead your team to their first World Cup star and did so by beating the United States on penalties.

Unlike last year Alex was pitch side with Fara eagerly waiting for you to come over and when you did she welcomed you like the champion you now were or at least she gave you the PG version given you were live on TV.

You were overcome with emotion as Alex held you in her arms. To the outside world the tears you were clearly shedding were that of happiness but between you and Alex you knew they were sad tears too.

The celebration awaiting you back in England was unlike anything you could have imagined. It put the euros one to shame. The whole country showed up to celebrate you and you made sure to savour every moment.

Each player had their turn on the microphone and the fans loved it but when it was your turn to speak the fans took one look at your face and went silent. You could hear a pin drop in Trafalgar Square.

“You all know I hate being a bench warmer and I don’t want to be one of those players the play long after their time is up. It has been my greatest honour being your captain for over ten years but it is time that I pass on the torch and hang the boots up”

It was announced the following day that England’s match against Germany at Wembley in one month’s time would be you final game in an England shirt. The match sold out in minutes and it set the perfect scene for your send off.

The days leading up to it was hectic, you barely had a second to yourself and most of all it was extremely overwhelming. You questioned if you had made the right decision. You were still playing world class football, why stop now? Your question was answered one night at St George’s Park. It was the night before your final game and the entire team could tell you were having an hard time. It’s the reason Sarina allowed Alex to stay in your room even though it was against the rules.

“I don’t think I can do it”

Alex looked up from where she was laying on your chest.

“Can’t or don’t want to?”

“Football is all I’ve ever known Al, I’m not sure I can give it up”

“You’re not retiring completely. In a week’s time you will be back at Cobham with Chelsea”

“I’m going to be home a lot more”

“You make it sound like a bad thing. Remember the reason that made you consider retiring in the first place?”

It was a night you remember well. You and Alex spent over an hour talking about the future and what it could look like. You got so caught up in the hypotheticals that reality became disappointing. It made you want to skip the next few years so that you could start the next chapter of your life, the one where being captain was no longer the highest responsibility you had.

You feel asleep that night dreaming of the future and when you woke up you were ready to say goodbye to the team that you loved so much.

It was a bitter sweet feeling as the final whistle was blown. The entire England team, both the players on the bench and on the pitch, came running to you. It that moment you felt loved and appreciated. It was a moment that you would remember for the rest of your life. As you take a lap around the field you try to take in as much as you can.

���You know you don’t have to retire” Leah appears by your side.

“It’s my time. I have loved playing for this team and every time I wear this badge it is a great honour but this is my final curtain call Leah, my swan song” You pull the blonde into your side and kiss the side of her head.

“Don’t be getting soft. Save that for Alex because we need to go do media” Truth is Leah didn’t want you to leave, she had told you this much but your mind was yet.

“I know but before that there’s something I need to do”

You pull Leah towards the middle of the pitch, away from the shouting fans, the centre circle becoming your own little bubble.

“I have been captain of this team for almost ten years. I have lead them to the highest highs and the lowest lows. It takes a lot from you when you wear this band but it can also reward in the best possible way. I have spoken with Sarina about who I want to be my successor and that person is you Leah”

With a heavy heart you take the armband off and pull it up Leah’s arm. You were passing the torch, this was a changing of the guard and you were doing it for the whole to see.

By the time you reach Alex and the BBC team you are on the very line fine between keeping it together and breaking completely.

The world now knew about the two of you but with a camera pointed straight at you, you felt the need to stay professional but Alex soon changed that.

“We’re not rolling. It’s playing her career highlights” one of the camera men tells Alex.

“Come here” The BBC presenter pulls you into her arms and for a brief moment you allow yourself to feel, feel everything that you have been bottling up since you woke up.

“It’s over. I’ve played my last game as a lioness” you could feel tears falling down your face and you were aware that there were multiple people watching the interaction but no longer had to strength to bottle up your emotions.

The same man who told you that the cameras were rolling informed you that they would be live in 5, then proceeded to count down using his fingers.

As a way of regaining control of your emotions and in attempt of staying together you move away from Alex and closer to Jill and Fara. As if knowing that you still weren’t ready to answer the unavoidable questions Leah takes charge of the interview and the presenters follow her lead. It is when she is asked a question only you can answer do you need to get involved.

“Jill asked what’s next for you?” Leah nudges you.

“I go back to Chelsea. As for the next international break, well I have no idea. Maybe go on holiday, what do you say Al, fancy the Maldives?”

“Sure, why not. Fara can cover for me”

“Seriously though Y/N. What’s next? When asked about retiring you said that you have given over 15 years to your country and that it’s time to prioritise your personal life. I think I remember you saying it’s what our dear Alex over here deserves”

Leah switches places with you when Alex is mentioned. Sensing that being next to your person may bring you more peace and encourage you to answer the question without making jokes.

“If the song is right then I believe I hear wedding bells” Jills says.

You wonder what song she is referring to and upon turning to Alex you see that she is also at loss.

“You know the song. The one about kissing in a tree. I won’t sing it seen as though we are live on air and I am a professional”

With Jill’s clue you know exactly the song she is talking about although you think you may have been in high school when you last heard it.

“Since when are you a professional?” You scoff. You refused to bite.

“I get what you’re saying. I believe it says first comes love”

“Check” Alex plays along.

Before Leah continues you turn to Alex. Your hand sat on the small of her back and unknowingly to the women around, you tap you ring finger which was missing a very important piece of jewellery. Alex leans into you with her head on your shoulder and tells you to go for it.

“Then comes marriage-“

“Check” you were proud to finally announce that you had in fact married Alex but up until this moment it was only your immediate families that knew.

The faces of your friends were priceless. In that moment you wish you had a camera to take a photo but then you remember you are on live TV. Oh god, you were live on the BBC. Not only had you told your friends about your nuptials, you had told the entire world.

“Shit”

“Y/N” Alex playfully slaps your arm “We are live”

“I am now aware of this Al”

“I would like to apologise for the language made by Y/N Y/L/N”

“Don’t you mean Y/N Scott?” Jill asks.

“No she does not” you say rather defensively “Alex took my name, she is Alex Y/L/N”

“How about we discuss the details of our marriage when we are not live on TV.” Alex tries to get the interview back on track which you are happy to do.

You then proceed to talk all things football. Jill recalls your first training session as a lioness, Fara tells her favourite Y/N Y/L/N stories, Leah brings you to tears once again when she tells you about how you showed her what is possible and Alex grins ear to ear when she explains all the ways that you have changed the game and how a lot of people have you to thank for how far the game has come.

Almost an hour later you are in one of the hospitality suites at Wembley. The news of you and Alex had spread to rest of the team and the party that was originally planned for your retirement has now turned into a retirement / wedding party.

It doesn’t take much for you to get overwhelmed, how could you not. You escape to one of the boxes near the suite, the cold air grounds you and the silence is welcoming. Looking out at the pitch you are filled with nostalgia as memories flood your mind, it’s as if a highlight reel is playing.

“People are asking where you are?”

You feel your body relax upon hearing your wife’s voice. It is one of the things you love most about her.

“You found me. Any chance I can persuade you to stay here with me for a moment?”

“I can think of a few things”

“Can one of them be a hug? I could really use one”

Alex’s eyebrows furrow. You were a cuddler, Alex learned this very early on in your relationship but there is something about you asking now and the way you did it. You sound so vulnerable.

Your wife doesn’t say anything, instead she opens her arms and you melt into her hold.

“You know a lot of people are in there waiting to celebrate you, with you. Yet you are out here alone or at least you were until I found you”

“I want to celebrate with you though and everyone keeps stopping me from doing that. They want Y/N the England captain or I guess now it’s former captain but I just want to be —“

“Y/N, my wife”

Her wife. It sounds cliche like something that would be said in a movie or a line in a book but you loved hearing her say that and even now as you both wear your rings, you couldn’t believe that she had agreed to marry you.

“Can we go home?”

Alex knew that you liked to party and it didn’t take much to persuade to celebrate something no matter how small. It wasn’t like you to leave early and Alex knew that you might be feeling more than you are letting on if you want to leave a party that was honouring your international career.

“I didn’t tell you this but Ella and Alessia have wrote a speech. They read it to me and you’ll want to hear it. If after that you still want to go home then we will, I promise”

You stayed for the speech and boy are you glad you did. It was one of the most heartfelt yet hilarious speeches you have heard. You did end up going home but not till hours later. After hearing your plea, Alex stayed by your side the entire night and her presence allowed you to relax and have fun. A chapter of the book you called life was over and the chapters that followed would go on to be some of your favourite because each and every one of them included you wife Alex Scott.