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thesilmarillionblog · 9 months ago

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𓏲 𓂃 L o s i n g Y o u

Part: 8

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: Everything was good as a member of Payback and Soldier Boy's secret girlfriend until the team and your relationship with him began to fall apart due to a new member and her developing relationship with Ben right in front of your eyes.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: heavy angst, hurt , language, PTSD, mention of drugs, mention of torture

Word Count: 4674

A/N: English is not my first language.

* This story is inspired by the song "Losing You" by Dream Evil.

You asked Ben again, “What did you do to those people?” while he continued to look at your furious and angered look.

He avoided watching the news and simply replied in a dry voice, “I didn't mean to hurt them. Everything happened so quickly.”

Despite your hopes that, after all this time, he would change a little, you came to the conclusion that his appearance was the only thing that had changed. He was the same guy who hurt everyone around him like they were just insects, never thinking twice about it. He remained the same merciless man who just cared about himself.

You were too ignorant to believe that it was Crimson Countess had drastically changed him, but this was simply another lie you told yourself in defense of Ben's behavior. It was just who he really was.

You talked softly while Butcher continued to watch TV, “How can you even stay the same after all the things that happened to you?”

“I killed the doctor who hurt and tortured you. You already knew; whatever I did for him, he deserved it,” he angrily said, gesturing to you as though he were doing you a favor and somehow trying to convince you.

“Should I feel like a graduate and thank you?” You questioned him bitterly, glaring at him. “You are the reason I spent decades being imprisoned and subjected to torture in vain. You are the reason I am currently homeless and the state's number two foe. How come you're still so blind and self-centered?”

Ben grumbled, “Calm down, baby,” ignoring your inquiries as he roughly grabbed the remote control out of Butcher's hand and flicked through the channels. “We can talk about things at a later time. For now, take a moment to rest.”

Ben continued to stare at the TV and shifted on the couch in an attempt to make himself more comfortable, so you replied, “Don't call me 'baby.'”

“It looks like Tony Montana is going to bed alone tonight.” With a cunning grin, Butcher attempted to reclaim the remote control from Ben's grasp. “Also, don’t be dramatic and so upset, you have a place to stay, you’re not homeless.”

“Tony Montana—who the fuck is he?” Ben muttered, pushing Butcher's hands a little too hard while refusing to give up the remote control. “I’m in charge in here. What I watch, you'll watch too.”

“Hey, you remember our deal, don't you? I'm hoping you won't back down.”

You turned to Butcher and questioned, “What deal?” with a confused gaze on your face when he suddenly started speaking in a serious and mysterious tone.

Ben stepped in immediately and shot Butcher a quick glance, saying, “It's not so important.”

“All right, there's nothing to worry about. Your teammate just promised me that he would help me kill a cunt named Homelander.”

Ben kept shooting Butcher with a deadly look as he immediately spilled the beans.

“I'm not worried about anything,” you cut Butcher off abruptly, averting Ben's tough stare. “Whatever he's up to, he's alone in this. But tell me, what’s deal about.”

“Sweetheart, I don't need your help anyway. You simply stay at home and take care of things while you chill,” Ben said in an amused way, attempting to hide his tiny sense of hurt that came from your coldness.

He didn't intend to include anything that would distress you further, but he couldn't stop remembering the times you supported and fought alongside him. He would never ask you to get involved in the Homelander situation, though, since he knows you've already been through a lot of terrible things. He was also too proud to accept your assistance.

Turning to face you, Butcher added, “You don’t have to be so ruthless. He made the deal to get help from me to save you.”

Butcher believed that, given Homelander's strength, helping him would be beneficial and that it would be great if you would just soften and offer a helping hand. Butcher knew Soldier Boy would be happy to let you fight alongside him, as he was aware that he took your suit from Legend. You were once the strongest superwoman, after all, and he would have a better chance of finally killing Homelander.

Hughie, thankfully, returned to join you with a meal in his hands before you could ask Butcher any more questions. You were so hungry that you didn't even realize it until you smelled pizza. It was all about pleasure, yet even if you starved for decades, you wouldn't die.

Hughie smiled hesitantly and said, “Sorry, I didn't ask you before ordering, but I hope you're okay with pizza.” It's likely that he was the only decent person in the room. You wondered why this person was willing to work with a man like Butcher. He gave off an air of deception.

“Of course it's okay,” you said as soon as you smelled it. You then gave him a graditude look and said, “Thanks a lot.”

Ben quickly got up, tossed the remote control in Butcher's face, and grabbed the pizza from Hughie's hands as he sat next to you before you could move. Ben stepped closer, spreading his legs a little and making contact with your thighs, but you put some distance between you two right away. You didn’t understand why he was acting like that out of the blue, but you didn’t ask anything.

None of you spoke, even though you felt Ben's gaze briefly lingering on you. Although you were unsure of what Ben truly wanted from you, you were determined to learn from your past mistakes. Therefore, it was best to clarify it for him as well.

Upon seeing Noir's visual on TV, you exclaimed in shock, “Is Noir still working for Vought?”

That was the moment you understood. Earving never came to save you. If he just wanted to, you knew he could and would find you. You could understand why he might not have wanted to take the risk of going through the same things with you if he had a legitimate reason for not saving you. You had no right to be selfish. However, you were certain that you would behave differently if he were in your place. You therefore couldn't help but feel a little let down.

Ben angrily remarked, “Of course he does,” as he watched you devour the pizza. “He wouldn't even take his shit without the permission of Vought. Fucking traitor. He didn't even give a fuck about the things you went through all those years. I had no doubts that he was going to abuse your friendship. There was always something sneaky about him.”

You couldn’t left out a small hiss as Ben started to talk about loyalty.

“All right,” you replied, casting him a piercing glance. “I got used to being betrayed.”

He aggressively exclaimed, “Don't compare me with that son of a bitch,” and launched into a self-defense tirade. “I came to save you too as soon as I was free, and I looked for you everywhere.”

“How could I ever compare you with him while I know you are worse. And yes, Ben, you're quite considerate to have searched me in the Countess' home. Many thanks for it.”

“I payed a visit to her because I knew she was most probably the one tricked you. It was nothing else.”

“Whatever,” you said back harshly. “I don’t care anyways.”

Butcher interrupted you after making a brief phone call in the kitchen, saying, “Listen here, Bonnie and Clyde. Hughie and I need to get out and meet some buddies, but if you're not going to make trouble and if you don't want to fuck in peace all night, it's best if you don't stay at home. In every other case of emergency, you need to join us.”

You hurriedly swallowed the large slice of pizza and gasped, “We won't... I mean, we wouldn't,” to Butcher. Your cheeks flushed. “It's not like we're together or anything, so don't misinterpret and talk like this, please.”

Ben leaned back to the coach and said, “Well, I'm all in, baby,” pleased to see you flushed and in a panic. “Keep in mind that. Since I'm free, I didn't even fucking jerk off once. You can use me however you like,” he stated, stretching his legs and making an attempt to brush against you briefly while grinning genuinely and invitingly.

You grumbled, “I'm trying to enjoy my meal here,” ignoring the absolute filth that was flowing from his mouth.

“All right, that's OK.” Butcher urged you to complete your dinner, saying, “You can continue eating where we go. We must leave in five minutes.”

Ben growled, “Don't fucking order her around.”

“It's fine,” you stopped eating right away. “Where we're going to go?”

“We have to get some Temp-V from Hughie's friend. It appears that we will need to use it soon,” Butcher replied, glancing at Ben. “Unfortunately, you can't beat Homeland with just one guy.”

Ben did not even respond to Butcher's crap; he only rolled his eyes. He was aware that Homelander would be the easiest to take down. He was Soldier Boy, and someone of Butcher's age wouldn't fully get who he was.

You and Ben were seated in the back of Butcher's car, and Ben was covering the whole place almost as if he wanted you to lean into his body. He was always on the move, both his hands and his legs, and occasionally you would think he looked a bit bashful if you didn't know just how arrogant he really was. Somehow, you sensed the uncertainty, but you didn't look him up or ask him questions.

You couldn't help but feel confused and depressed as you gazed out of the car window at the enormous, gleaming structures. You no longer felt like you belonged in the world because so many years had passed in a tiny little cage. It seemed as though no one knew you, cared about you, or you had no place to stay. It's not your world, but rather other people's, that you see when you peek out the window.

You said, “Everything looks so different,” as a sense of melancholy took over you.

“Not at all,” Ben remarked in an arrogant tone, as if he had figured out everything in a single day. “I've learned many things; I will teach you all; don't worry.”

You challenged him, casting him a skeptical glance. “What do you know?”

“Well, I might teach you a thing or two because you're too eager to learn. For instance, GPS and the Internet were quite helpful in helping us learn about you and the place you were kept,” he added with pride as he smiled at you and waited for your reaction.

You whispered, “You're just making those words up,” unsure if he was trying to trick you.

“Those words are real words. I had said the same to that fuckface; believe me, sweetheart,” he continued, giving Hughie a harsh shoulder pat. “Hand over your damn android phone to me.”

Hughie murmured in distress, “Oh, God,” as Butcher nodded awkwardly and gave him an odd look. “Just don’t break it or something, please.”

Hughie handed his phone reluctantly to Ben, who took it with a swift move, and Ben used it like a pro, tapping the screen quickly. When he wrote down his name and yours on the screen called 'Google', your eyes widened open as you saw a ton of images and details about the two of you, Payback, and everything else.

Captivated by what Ben showed you, you muttered, “Everything about us is written down there.”

“See,” he declared with pride, chuckling at your bewildered response. “I told you I was very well-informed. The name of this one is Internet.”

You challenged him again, interested in learning more about this small device, which seemed to know a lot of things. The modern world is unquestionably something else, with easy access to knowledge at any time and about any subject matter.

“I am familiar with social media. If you don't want to be identified by your real identity, you can put up a fake profile and follow anybody you want. I made one for the two of us as well.” Ben responded, seeming proud of everything he had achieved with a cunning smile on his face.

You pretended to understand everything he said as you asked, “And what's your fake name?”

“It’s ‘soldierboyy/n69.' Pretty creative, isn't it?”

“Oh my gosh, Ben,” you said, pushing the phone and his hands in an annoyed tone as your face turned red. “Everyone will know that it is you. I shall be accused of having once again supported your actions if they find out the identity of your account. Why do you act so carelessly?”

“Everyone has those fake names,” Ben said, grimacing at how much you disapproved of what he had done. Nobody will find out because I'm not using it anyway."

He intended to show you that he never thought of himself apart from you and that he thought of you even while he was setting up the account, but all he managed was to distress and upset you once more. Observing your defensively crossed arms on your chest, he sighed and moved his strong arms to your seat in an attempt to get close to you.

“How are you so sure?” you asked as he handed over the phone to Hughie in a rude manner.

“Because that's the way the modern world works, sweetheart. Nothing and anyone are real when it comes to Internet.”

“Indeed,” Butcher said, glancing at the two of you through the mirror. “He is right; no one will find out. It's not really a big deal; trust me, if it were, I would have problems as well because of him.”

You cut it short, closing your eyes and lowering your head to the seat. “Okay,” you mumbled.

It was as though some odd numbness overcame your body, leaving you exhausted and unbalanced even after decades of sleep. It was most likely due to the quantity of sleep that your body became accustomed to, and it's also possible that you were experiencing a side effect from what you experienced in the lab. Nonetheless, it didn't concern you because you knew you still had your strength. You only needed to get a bit more rest. As you closed your eyes to give your body a break until you got there, you inhaled deeply.

You slowly opened your eyes, feeling Ben's gentle touch on your cheek, and heard him say, “You really turned into sleeping beauty, didn't you?” in a lighthearted manner.

“Have we arrived?” you muttered as you opened your eyes and noticed his intense gaze on you. The moment Butcher and Hughie slammed the car door, you immediately fully came to your senses.

Ben nodded, confused, not knowing how to react to your coldness as you gently moved his hands away from your face.

Ben and you had just followed Butcher and Hughie to the small, slightly desolate house. You looked around the room, and the other two women, who were glancing at you warily, exchanged glances. You could tell they were supes, just like you, from the whiff of Comp-V in their scents. You were a little nervous because you had no idea what their intentions were toward you. You had no friends or someone to rely on anymore, and you were a stranger to everything after all.

“Ladies, how are you doing here?” Butcher grabbed a glass of whiskey from the kitchen and inquired as he sat down right away on the closest couch.

“I can't believe you and you especially you Hughie,” the blonde remarked angrily. “You two really set them both free, and you forced me to take so much Temp-V; we're going to be caught. It's only a matter of time.”

“So you're the supe woman that bottom-faced guy pounding?” Ben aggressively exclaimed, pushing the short-haired man to the right while he snatched a cola from the refrigerator. “And the one who works for Vought when you're not getting off and doing other things.”

“Stop it, Ben,” you said in a warned tone as his abrupt aggression caused the air to thicken.

“Why don't we just sit down and have a nice chat?” Hughie looked at you anxiously, as if you wanted to soothe Ben before anything happened.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he said, flashing you a cunning grin when he spotted you approaching him, and you gave him a cold look while he sipped his coke in joy.

“Well, Annie, that it wasn't in vain. Soldier Boy and I struck very useful bargain, didn't we?” Butcher inquired, glancing back to Ben with a sly smile. “We're going to kill Homelander together.”

You felt uneasy, and your thoughts turned to the Homelander once again. Even if you didn't care about Ben at all, you couldn't help but feel concerned because you were both strangers to Vought and the outside world now that Ben had gotten into so much trouble. Not only did you not want to return to the lab, but you also didn't want Ben to go through the same painful experiences. Even though he had been vile to you, you didn't want him to suffer forever in Russia.

Annie replied, “You should have told me, Hughie,” casting a disappointed glare at her boyfriend. “You’re so acting strangely these days.”

Hughie insecurely responded, “I know, I know,” rubbing her cheeks. “And I’m really sorry for it. It won’t happen again.”

The man with short hair said, “You all know that they both are being searched by the government, right?”

Butcher shot back, “Of course we all fucking know that, Frenchie.”

Annie looked at you and said, “Well, I guess Y/N's situation is worse,” while you stood by Ben, watching him carefully to make sure he didn't suddenly lose his temper and start some serious drama. “Well, she's a known traitor after all.”

You immediately defended yourself by saying, “I'm not a traitor,” and you were enraged at her haughty demeanor. Despite her lack of knowledge, she was constantly talking about things she had no idea about. “Vought only spread lies and caused us pain in order to build up the next generation, which is your generation. They tortured me for years just because I wanted to quit.”

Annie's expression softened as she realized that Vought would do something like that and that she was having trouble as well in Seven. She then apologized to you by looking at you and sincerely saying, “I'm sorry to hear that.”

She went on, making an effort to get you to see how complicated the situation was, saying, “But you need to understand that no one will believe you. For all this time, you have been regarded as a spy for the entire world. The same remains for Soldier Boy.”

“What is your point?” Ben cut her off with a harsh voice.

Ben was becoming mad at those morons; they were just some stupid kids who liked to order other kids around, but he was a man, a true leader, the strongest supe to live, and they had no idea what him and you had been through or who had been in charge decades earlier. He was already becoming a little tense about that blonde's cunning ideas, so he realized he had to proceed with caution going forward. He had to watch out for you too, in order to keep you safe.

With defensive hands on her hips, Annie retorted, “The thing is, it's best if you don't see each other for a while. I can help you spend a week in various secure locations, separated.”

Ben abruptly tensed up, enraged that the blonde had already made plans in her cunning mind to keep him away from you. “No fucking way,” he said. He was certain that those fucked-brains would propose something so incredibly moronic.

Even if it made sense, you realized those new guys weren't to be trusted as they were strangers. It was true that you needed some alone time apart from Ben, but for the time being, it was preferable to ignore what you’re told.

“Everyone is talking about what happened in New York and Ohio,” Annie said furiously. “I’m just asking you two be hidden for a week. Everything’s already complicated in Vought and I have my own problems.”

“Look, sneaky woman,” Ben hissed, “I don’t give fuck about your problems or anything at all. If you ever suggest such thing, you won’t have a head to think such idiotic things anymore. I’m warning you.”

“Ben, you need to calm down,” you said. You scowled at the feeling that his chest was unusually heated compared to normal.

Frenchie agreed, saying, “Y/N is right; there is no need to fight each other.” The supe woman next to him smiled and patted his shoulders.

Butcher responded, “Annie is right too, though,” as he examined the Temp-V carefully on his lap. “Too much attention has been paid to Soldier Boy during the past three days. We are also doomed if he is seen soon enough.”

“They could be right,” you acknowledged, nodding to Butcher, understanding that his points were reasonable. Since you and Ben were currently the state's number one and two foes, you also didn't want to get into any sort of trouble.

Ben cursed, “Fuck that,” and he gave Butcher a menacing stare. He got offended at the fact that you instantly agreed with them but not with him. “I didn't realize I had done business with so many jerks. If you're that afraid of what's ahead, I might accept your suggestion, but Y/N is staying with me.”

“Calm down, buddy. Why are you so obsessed?” Butcher questioned, putting the bag down from his lap.

When you realized Ben was about to start an argument without reason, you asked him, “Why are you being like this?” in an irritated tone.

“Are you saying that you're prepared to follow those fuckfaces' instructions?” While you could tell he was angry, he inquired quietly, “What's wrong with you?”

Ben set down the coke and paid no attention to Butcher's irritating remarks. Instead, his attention was drawn to you. The fact that you didn't trust him but did trust the new people you had met most disturbed him. It was not them who saved you, but it was him who considered your safety and future. Still, you were ready to follow what they had to say. You'd been away from each other for a long time, so there was no reason to spend another minute separately.

“I'm not saying anything, Ben. I just want you to quit being irrationally dissatisfied and to be reasonable.”

Butcher sighed as he watched you start to debate, but Annie grasped Hughie's arm and guided him to another room to have a conversation.

Ben stated, “I'm not getting angry for no reason,” while attempting to stay controlled.

Despite Ben was desperate to touch you, he restrained himself since he knew that you two needed to have discussed the situation before acting on it. How in the world was he supposed to talk to you properly after a week apart? “I'm just saying, we don't have to spend a week alone and separated,” Ben said with a low voice.

Your eyes wandered around everywhere except for him.

“I'm not sure, Ben,” you teased him, feeling hesitant about his response. “Maybe we should.”

“How can you be sure that those people won't imprison you to a metal box once more? Do you really want to go back to that lab? You're saying you have faith in them, but not in me?”

You angrily gasped, “Don't you ever talk to me about trust. I would never make the same mistake by trusting you again.”

He tried to calm himself down, saying, “I'm the only one who saved you,” but the heat inside his chest kept growing.

“Will you stop arguing?” Butcher got up and asked, watching Ben trap you against the kitchen table while grinning at Ben and sipping his whiskey. “She obviously wants to be by herself for a while. Would you please just accept her decision and let her to enjoy herself?”

Ben angrily remarked, “Mind your fucking own business; we are fucking having a conversation here.”

You stopped disputing with him and cast a puzzled glance at his chest as soon as you felt the warmth in his chest increasing once more.

Butcher said, “It's like you're forcing her for something she doesn't want to though. Don't be such a drama queen,” ignoring Frenchie's warnings. “She might just want to spend time alone in a nice place and fuck with some hot dudes, savor the time she missed all those years.”

Ben snarled, turning to face Butcher and ignoring you this time. “Watch your fucking language," he growled. “If you say one more word, I fucking swear I'll rip your heads off.”

Ben's chest began to glow suddenly before he could finish his sentence, and your eyes widened, sensing the anxiety and the heat coming from his body.

“Ben,” you whispered quietly, uneasy with his rage and the anguish on his face, as if he tried to maintain self-control.

With an expression of fright on his face, Frenchie and the supe woman next to him also retreated a step. “Calm down, buddy,” Butcher muttered. “Let's not cause another accident. You've already done enough damage, huh. ”

But Ben's chest continued to glow, alerting you. “Hey, what's wrong with you?” you asked as you walked up to him, stroking his arms and then his face and making him to look at you.

He snarled, “I can't hold it,” and shoved your hands away right away. “Stay away from me.”

Instead of following commands, you remained in the same spot and continued to massage his upper arms in an effort to soothe him though you got extremely anxious. Then, in the hopes of calming him down a little, you put your hands on his burning, hot chest. Even if there was smoke slightly arising from his body, your hands felt chilly.

You whispered, “It's okay,” feeling his temperature drop beneath your fingertips gradually.

Next Chapter

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

A/N: Comments and reblogs are very appreciated! -`♡´-

Taglist: @mostlymarvelgirl @xmariakx @spnfamily-j2 @suspicious-stain-in-spain @atomicsoulcollecto @yvonneeeee @starryperson @mfnqueen1 @chaand-sitara @boywivlove @stilinskisthings @brynanna @delaynadee @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @yoyoanaria @n-o-p-e-never @ghostslillady @certifiedhaters @deans-spinster-witch @demodemo909 @stoneyggirl @cheynovak @libby99hb @moneyburner

Let me know if you want to be tagged for this series. -`♡´-

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anakinstwinklebunny · 5 months ago

Note

heyy idk if ur doing requests but id love if u could write a vibrator bondage fic w sugar daddy anakin or just any anakin 🫣

TW: stuff in the ask

Author's note: I do take requests, I just do them longer. Why does everyone think I don't take request? 😭 Ily because you've mentioned sugar daddy and I love me some sugar daddy. PLEASE GIVE ME MORE DILF!ANI OR SUGAR DADDY REQUESTS hope you like it :/

You bit your lip, eyes fixed on Anakin, who sat across from you in a perfectly tailored suit, his eyes dark and full of mischief. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he seemed to be very proud of it

"You like this dress, don't you?" voice was smooth, low, almost a purr as he lazily twirled the vibrator in his hand.

The dearest God

His gaze flicked from the hem of your dress to your face, watching every twitch of your body. "The one you’ve been eyeing for weeks…"

You shifted, trying to find some relief from the relentless teasing of the vibrator Anakin had strategically placed inside you earlier. It hummed softly, the silk cuffs binding your wrists to the armrests of the couch made it impossible to do anything about it. You were at his mercy--exactly where he wanted you. It felt incredible, yet, you.needed.more

"Y-Yes," you managed to whisper, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. "I want it. I---I need it."

Anakin leaned back, smirking, eyes gleaming under the light. "Oh, I know you do, sweetheart. And you know I always give you what you want… but you have to earn it this time"

He clicked the small remote in his hand, and the vibrator's intensity increased slightly, sending a delicious shockwave through your core. Your breath hitched, and your thighs clenched instinctively, but you couldn't close them--he had tied your ankles to the legs of the couch, leaving you open, vulnerable, exposed. The sensation was almost unbearable.

"Anakin, please," you whimpered, feeling the wetness pooling between your legs, your body aching for yet another release.

"Please what?" he asked, raising a brow as if he didn’t know exactly what you needed. He took a slow sip of whiskey from his glass, savoring your desperation, enjoying the power he held over you. "Do you want the dress? Or do you want me?" He emphasized the word

Your hips shifted involuntarily, the relentless pressure building between your legs and everything that was happening around you was making it impossible to think straight. The way he looked at you—so calm, so composed, while you were a trembling mess—only made the heat inside you burn hotter.

"Both," you moaned, voice shaking. "I want both."

Anakin chuckled, the sound dark and sinful, his fingertips brushed against your thigh - the touch light as air, making you shiver. He leaned closer you, his lips grazing the shell of your ear as he whispered in this awfully hot tone, "You have to be good, then. You know how this works."

His hand trailed down your body, fingers dancing over your skin, not quite touching where you needed him the most. He toyed with the hem of the dress, lifting it slightly, exposing more of your trembling hips.

You were so desperate for more—more pressure, more contact, more of him.

"You look so pretty all tied up like this," he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement as he slid his hand over the sensitive spot between your legs. "But I don’t think you deserve that dress yet. Do you?" He raised his brow, twisting the vibrator deeper

You whimpered in response, your back arching involuntarily as his thumb brushed against your already swollen clit. "Please, ani… I’ll be good. I promise."

His lips curled into a wicked smile, and he gave the remote another click (a teasing excuse of a man). The vibrator surged to a higher setting, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. Your body bucked against the restraints, and a moan escaped your lips. You were on the edge, so close, but still so far.

"You’ll only come when I say so. Understand?"

You nodded, biting down on your lip again, harder this time to stop the building orgasm

"Good girl," he murmured, leaning down to press a slow, deliberate kiss to your collarbone. His hand finally moved, fingers sliding down to stroke you in rhythm with the vibrator, building you up, driving you wild.

Your moans grew louder, your body trembling in his grasp. You could feel the tension in your body reaching its breaking point, your thighs shaking, heart racing. You were so close—just a little more, and you’d—

But then, with one swift motion, Anakin clicked the remote, turning off the vibrator completely. The sudden loss of sensation made you whine, your body still throbbing, desperate for release. And so sore of denied release

"Not yet," he whispered against your skin, his breath warm and teasing. "You haven’t earned it."

Tears of frustration welled in your eyes as you looked up at him, but all you saw was that smug, satisfied smirk on his lips. He loved seeing you like this—completely at his mercy, every nerve in your body begging for his touch.

"But," he continued, his fingers tracing slow circles around your clit, teasing, "if you’re very, very good, maybe I’ll give you what you want."

His hand moved with agonizing slowness, and you could barely think through the haze of desire clouding your mind. "Please, Ani," you whimpered again, willing to do anything to feel him inside you, to come apart under his hands. "I’ll be good, I’ll be so good—"

"That’s what I like to hear," he murmured, his voice soft but filled with authority. And with that, he clicked the remote again, the vibrator roaring back to life, this time at its highest setting.

Your entire body jolted with pleasure, and Anakin’s fingers began to work in tandem with the pulsations, pushing you over the edge. "Now," he whispered, "come for me."

And you did. With a cry, your body shattered beneath his touch, waves of pleasure crashing through you as your muscles tensed and trembled, bound and helpless under his touch, control and affiliation.

As you rode out the aftershocks, Anakin’s hand slowed, his touch softening. He pressed a tender kiss to your hot cheek, his voice low and soothing in your ear. "That’s my good girl."

In the afterglow, as you lay there, limbs trembling and breath ragged, Anakin stood up, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. "You’ve earned that dress," he said, his eyes gleaming with approval. "And anything else you want."

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @mistress-amidala @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet

(if you want to be removed or added then don't be shy and let me know 💋)

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worldlxvlys · 1 year ago

Text

complicated (part 1)

chris sturniolo x reader

matt sturniolo x reader

warnings: making out, mentions of sex, suggestive, angst, cursing

a/n: this one is longggg so i broke it up into 3 parts. i already wrote parts 2 and 3 so they’ll be up soonnn :)

matt, chris, and i were all chilling together in their living room.

nick had gone to his room to start editing a little while ago.

matt and i were seated next to each other on the couch, chris sitting on the loveseat.

my relationship with the two of them was complicated.

matt was my best friend, he knew me like the back of his hand. with one look at me he could tell what i was feeling.

we spent so much time together, we were often with each other longer than we were apart .

we were so close that we blurred the lines between friends and something more every now and then. but it never went further than lingering touches and almost kisses.

i’m not sure why, but late nights staying up talking have often led to our lips being mere centimeters apart lately.

i chalked it up to sleep deprivation and getting caught up in the heat of the moment.

chris, however, was different. i wasn’t as close to him as i was matt, but the few times where it was just us hanging out, i always had fun.

there was this unspoken tension between chris and i. we never said anything about it, but we were both well aware it was there.

he made flirty comments toward me whenever matt wasn’t in the room, finding joy in my flustered state that resulted from it.

i never let anything happen though, out of respect for matt being my best friend.

it seemed like chris made it his mission to get me to break, constantly testing my self-control.

the three of us had just finished watching a movie, watching as the credits began to roll.

immediately, matt stood up, patting my knee as he did so.

“alright, i’m gonna get food. you guys coming?” he asked.

chris stood up as soon as matt asked the question.

“no, i’m good” i answered, not feeling like getting up.

chris glanced at me for a second before answering, “actually, i’m not really hungry”

matt narrowed his eyes in confusion before shrugging and beginning to leave.

“alright, i’ll be back in a little” he said before leaving.

chris walked over to me, replacing matt’s spot as he sat down next to me.

“wanna listen to some music?” he asked as he grabbed the tv remote.

“sure” i answered, watching as his long fingers worked the remote.

“why didn’t you go?” i asked, watching him from the corner of my eye.

i watched as he clicked shuffle on a playlist, before the room was filled with the melody of a song.

wet the bed - chris brown

“chris, you’re not fucking serious right now” i deadpanned as the suggestive lyrics played out.

“i didn’t pick the song” he held his hands up in defense. “i just picked a chris brown playlist, i know you like his music” he said.

i just wanna take your legs and wrap 'em round

girl, you cummin' right now

my head to your chest feelin’ your heartbeat, girl

“how do you know that?” i asked, confused.

“you’re always listening to his music, so i assumed you liked it. i mean, unless you just listen to music you hate for fun”

“i didn’t realize you were paying attention” i said.

“of course i am. you make it hard to focus on anything else”

i don't want to be a minute man

baby, you're just like a storm rainin' on me

girl, your soakin' wet

i turned my body towards his as he caught my attention.

“what do you mean? do you find me distracting?” i asked, leaning forward slightly.

“you know i do” he said as his eyes traveled down to my lips.

i’ma kiss you right (yeah, yeah)

i'm gon' lick all night (yeah, yeah)

girl, when i'm inside (yeah, yeah)

“why’d you stay?” i whispered as i stopped myself from pushing my lips to his. “you know damn well you wanted to go”

“i did, but i wanted to stay with you more” he said.

“why?” i asked as he rested his forehead against mine. he placed his hand on my thigh, lightly gripping the side of it.

“because i want you” he breathed out, hooking my leg over his waist to straddle him.

yeah, girl, you heard what I said

i'm gonna make you wet the bed

i looked down at him, steadying myself by grabbing his shoulders.

“we really shouldn’t chris” i spoke as my lips brushed against hit.

“definitely not” he spoke against my lips, his eyes closed.

“it’s wrong” i whispered.

“but one kiss wouldn’t hurt, right?” he asked, his hands running up and down my waist.

“chris” i sighed.

“please, i need it so bad” his hands now traveled down to my ass.

“just one-” his lips were on mine the second i spoke the words.

i'ma put your legs behind your head

when I make you wet the bed

my hands found their way to his hair as his lips moved greedily against mine.

one of his hands found my jaw, holding it steady as he deepened the kiss, tilting his head.

after a while, we pulled away for air. “one more” he spoke before attaching his lips back to mine, barely giving me time to breathe.

one more turned into two more, two turned into three, and before i knew it i was lost in the way his lips pressed against mine.

his hands traveled to my ass, squeezing it, eliciting a moan from me.

when i let out a gasp in surprise, he slid his tongue past my lips.

“what the fuck ?” came a voice from behind us.

i pulled my lips away from chris, moving off of his lap.

“matt-” i began before he cut me off. “what? what excuse could you possibly give me right now?” he asked.

“look, i’m sorry that i hurt you, but i’m an adult. i don’t really need to give an excuse for anything i do” i spoke defensively.

“whatever” he scoffed as he shook his head, “ i brought you food for later, i knew you’d probably get hungry anyway. but i guess i’m the only one here who thinks about other people” he spoke in a low voice before walking away.

my face dropped at that, starting to feel bad about not considering his feelings at all.

“hey, if you wanna blame someone, blame me. i’m the one who kept pushing you, so please don’t blame yourself” chris spoke, practically seeing the gears turning in my head.

“yeah” i whispered in response, still feeling incredibly guilty.

“hold on, i’ll be back. i’m gonna go talk to him” he spoke, squeezing my hand before going off to matt’s room.

after sitting there in anticipation for a few minutes, i began to get nervous. not knowing what was going on was killing me.

my body moved quicker than my brain as i got up and made my way towards matt’s room. i pressed my ear to the door, listening to what they were saying.

“you know how i feel about her” matt’s muffled voice traveled through the door.

“you barely even hang out with her, you just want her because you know you shouldn’t” matt continued.

“you like the thrill of having to sneak around, and chasing after someone you can’t have. you never once showed any interest in her before i did, now suddenly you just have to have her?” matt asked.

“it’s not like that, matt. i don’t hang out with her often because whenever i do, you accuse me of stealing her away from you” chris started, but was cut off by matt.

“that’s not true, and you know it. you can’t just warp the truth to support the sorry excuses you come up with. just admit it, you don’t actually want her” matt said.

“that’s the thing, matt, i do want her. i just didn’t wanna make it obvious, since you obviously can’t handle that”

“what i can’t handle is the way you think you’re entitled to do whatever the hell you want. did you ever stop to think about what this would do to my friendship with her? or my relationship with you? do you ever think about anything other than yourself?” matt asked.

it didn’t seem like their conversation was going anywhere. the second they started to get somewhere, someone would throw an insult at the other.

deciding to intervene, i knocked on the door loudly. the arguing stopped immediately and the door opened a few seconds later.

i was met with an angry matt, but his face softened as soon as he saw me.

knowing i wanted to be let in, he moved to the side to let me pass. he closed the door behind me, watching as i went to sit on his bed.

“look, i’m sorry guys. i shouldn’t have kissed chris, it was a mistake. the last thing i ever want to do is break the bond that you guys have. let’s just forget this ever happened” i said to them.

“no” chris started, taking me by surprise. “i want you to pick”

“what?” i asked, my face dropping at this.

“chose who you want to be with. it doesn’t make sense for us to fight over you, it’s your decision. whoever you decide to stay friends with won’t take it personal, right matt?” chris asked.

“yeah, we’re not gonna force you into anything you don’t want. if the feelings aren’t there, then they aren’t there” matt agreed.

two minutes ago they were arguing uncontrollably and now they were able to come to an agreement in seconds? this was weird.

“so, who do you want?” chris asked.

who do i want? i had no clue.

i loved spending time with chris, but what if matt was right? what if i only enjoyed the thrill of having someone i can’t have ? was that worth jeopardizing my friendship with either of them over?

and matt? i had such a deep connection with him, i didn’t want to lose him. if i fucked up our friendship, i’d never forgive myself for it. the last thing i ever wanted to do was hurt him, yet that was exactly what i was doing in the moment.

“i don’t know, i don’t even think i can pick” i spoke honestly.

“then why not give us both a shot?” chris asked.

“wait, what ?” i asked, confused.

“well, you wanna see if this is more than just tension, right ? and you wanna know if you have feelings for matt?” he asked.

“i mean, yeah” i answered.

“well, there’s a way to answer both of those questions” he spoke as he pointed to the bed.

my eyes widened at the implication , “sex?”

“if it’ll help you decide who you want, then why not?” chris asked.

“that’s not really the first approach i would’ve taken, but he’s not wrong” matt hesitantly agreed.

“obviously sex isn’t the only factor that goes into a relationship, but you already know all of the other factors. you know how we treat you outside of the bed, so maybe the key to your decision is what happens in it” matt spoke.

“i mean, if you don’t want to that’s fine but-” chris started. “i’m in” i cut him off.

“so, who’s first?” i asked playfully.

“me” chris spoke eagerly, “i mean, we should finish what we started earlier, right?” he tried to cover up his excitement.

“alright, get out of my room” matt started, ushering us out. “and please don’t be loud, i don’t wanna hear that shit”

🌀🌀🌀🌀

next part

masterlist

tag list: @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @readerakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @rootbeerworshiper @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @sturniolololover @meg-sturniolo @mattsnymphette @leah-loves-lilies @vanteguccir @ineedchriscock @junnniiieee07

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nightwriter357 · 14 days ago

Text

Just Friends 13 - I don't want to be your friend

Okay I'm back with more Just Friends aaaaand more smut(18+).. After this one there is 2 more chapters left of this story(mixed felings about this). I hope you like it!!

Shayne had barely shut the apartment door before Damien turned to you, arms crossed, a knowing smirk playing at his lips.

"So," he said, "bad movie night?"

You grabbed the remote and plopped onto the couch, stretching your legs out. "Sure.. But just a casual, totally normal, strictly platonic bad movie night."

Damien scoffed. "Right. Because that's worked so well for us in the past."

You shot him a look. "It's on the list."

He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. "Of course it is."

You ignored the way your face warmed, pretending to focus on scrolling through movie options. One last thing to check off—spending time together as just friends. One last attempt at proving you could. If you could get through a couple of hours without slipping, without making it obvious that everything had already changed to much, maybe you'd feel less worried about what would happen if it didn't work out between you and Damien.

Damien dropped down next to you, his thigh pressing against yours as he got comfortable. He stretched his arm along the back of the couch, fingers barely grazing your shoulder. You told yourself you wouldn't lean into it.

Five minutes in, you were already failing.

You could feel his eyes on you, and when you turned to look, he was smirking.

"What?" you asked, trying to sound unaffected, but your breath hitched just a little.

"Nothing," he said, too quickly.

You narrowed your eyes, but he just shrugged, settling further into the couch. And then, like it was nothing at all, he said.

"Did you have to wear that?"

You blinked, confused. "What? Sweats?"

"Yeah, but—" He gestured vaguely at you. "It's obvious you're naked under them."

You laughed, but it came out a little tighter than you intended. "Isn't everyone naked under their clothes?"

"Yeah, but it's like—obvious." His voice had dropped, his eyes flicking down to where your hoodie had bunched up slightly over your waistband.

A warmth spread through you, something sharp and undeniable curling low in your stomach.

This was not going to work.

You pulled the hem of your hoodie down, as if that would somehow change anything.

"Well," you said, your voice forced casual, "I'm sorry for my very naked state."

Damien hummed, the smirk still present, but now something more in his eyes—something darker. "Yeah, sure you are."

You huffed and turned back to the TV, scrolling through options like your life depended on it. A distraction. That's what you needed.

"Pick something," Damien said, his voice a little closer now. You could feel the warmth of his breath near your ear as he shifted. His ankle rested on his knee, but his thigh was still pressed against yours.

"You pick," you shot back, trying to focus on the screen.

"You're the one holding the remote."

You groaned, clicking on the first movie that looked bad. Some Nicolas Cage film you'd half-watched before. It didn't matter. The point was to not think about Damien sitting so close.

The opening credits rolled, and you focused on the screen.

Or tried to.

Because now Damien was shifting. Stretching. His arm slipping down just enough that his fingertips brushed your shoulder, lingering there.

Casual. Totally normal. Just friends.

And yet, neither of you moved away.

The first twenty minutes of the movie passed in a blur of barely contained tension. You were hyper-aware of every small shift—his knee bumping yours, his hand ghosting over your shoulder, the way his fingers pressed lightly into the fabric of your hoodie when he laughed at something on screen.

It was too much.

"You know you're sitting a little closer than 'just friends'." Damien said suddenly, breaking the silence between you with a sly smile on his lips.

You shifted back, just slightly, but his arm shot out, catching you before you could go far. His fingers tightened around your waist as he pulled you back in.

"Hey, no," he murmured, his voice lower now, a teasing edge in it. "Come back here."

Your heart skipped. You looked at him, catching your breath, your pulse running wild beneath your skin. You could feel his warmth, his proximity. You sighed, more out of instinct than frustration, but it was an escape, even if it was just for a second.

Damien's gaze softened as he turned his head toward you, that damn amused look still playing at his features. "You seem so shy all of a sudden."

"I'm not��shy," you snapped, but it sounded weaker than you intended. "I'm annoyed." You tried to keep the edge, but your voice faltered as you turned your attention elsewhere, pretending the electric pull between you wasn't real. "This is supposed to be a just friends night, and you're looking at me like—" You waved vaguely in his direction, unsure how to finish the sentence without revealing too much.

His brow quirked in that way you hated, and yet you couldn't look away. "Like what?" His voice was low, deliberate. Every syllable felt like it landed just a little too close to your skin.

You swallowed, your pulse racing as you gestured to the space—or lack thereof—between you. "Like you—"

Damien's laugh rumbled from his chest, sending a wave of heat across your body. "Like I want you?" He leaned in a little closer, his lips curling into a smirk. "Too bad. I'll stare at you all night if I have to."

Your heart skipped, and you shot him a glare, fighting the way his words sent a rush of warmth through you. "Damien..."

Before you could say more, his hand slid onto your thigh, the weight of his touch both grounding and paralyzing. His fingers traced slowly, almost reverently, over the soft skin. The warmth from his palm was like fire against your cool skin, and every inch of his touch felt like a spark, too much and not enough all at once.

He tilted his head, studying you like you were something he could break apart and put back together. His gaze lingered for a moment, before his voice slid out in a low, smug drawl, "Is it hard for you?"

Your breath hitched, your chest tightening at the sudden question. "What?"

He leaned in just enough for you to feel his breath against your skin. "Being just friends with me," he said, the words dripping with meaning that sent a shiver down your spine.

You opened your mouth—maybe to deny it, maybe to lie—but before you could say anything, Damien shifted, his fingers grazing your jaw.

His hands tightened on your thighs, fingers pressing into your skin, grounding you. You barely had time to react before he shifted, letting one hand trail higher, his fingertips grazing the inside of your thigh. It was enough to make you shiver but not enough to make you break.

"You don't want this, right?" His voice was low, playful, but there was something dangerous behind it, like he was daring you to deny it. His fingers brushed higher, nearing where you ached for them, then retreated, leaving you wanting more.

Your breath hitched. "Damien—"

He hummed in response, his lips barely touching your jaw. "That doesn't sound like you asking."

You clenched your fists in his shirt, your body betraying you with heat and tension. "I—I didn't—"

His teeth grazed your skin as he chuckled, and when he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes were full of challenge. "You're not fooling anyone," he murmured. "Just admit it."

Part of you wanted to hold onto whatever control you had left, but his touch was relentless, his fingers moving again, this time brushing just shy of where you needed them to be. You gasped, eyes closing as you fought to not surrender.

You tried to ignore the rising heat between your legs, the thumping of your heart in your ears. You couldn't help but whimper when his hand brushed over the damp fabric between your legs, so fleeting, so cruelly brief.

You clenched your fists in his shirt, heat pooling low in your stomach. "I—I'm asking"

His teeth grazed your skin as he chuckled and his eyes flash with victory. "Finally," his hand moved again, this time letting his fingers barely brush over the damp fabric between your legs. The touch was fleeting, teasing, gone before you could even react.

A soft whimper escaped you before you could swallow it down.

Damien groaned, his grip tightening. "Fuck, you're already wet." He exhaled sharply, pressing his forehead to yours. "Tell me what you want."

Your breath came faster, your body thrumming with frustration. "Damien—"

"Use your words" His voice was smug, knowing. His fingers traced slow, lazy circles over your thighs, never quite where you needed them.

You swallowed hard, your pride warring with your desperation.

He kissed along your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "Come on," he coaxed. "You know I'll give you what you want. Just say it."

Your fingers dug into his arms, nails biting into his skin as another wave of frustration rolled through you.

"Damien—" you ground out, but he cut you off with another teasing brush of his fingers, making you jolt.

"Do you want my fingers?" His tone was pure sin, his breath warm against your ear. "Do you want me to touch you?"

You let out a shuddering breath, your last bit of resistance crumbling.

"I want your fingers," you finally gasped. "Please."

"See? That wasn't so hard," he murmured, kissing the corner of your mouth as he slipped his hand beneath the waistband of your shorts.

You gasped at the first brush of his fingers against your bare skin, thighs instinctively parting for him.

"Fuck," he exhaled, voice rough as he felt how wet you were. "All this from just a little teasing?"

Your nails dug into his shoulders, your breath uneven. "Please—"

He hushed you with a slow press of his lips, his fingers dipping lower. Then, without warning, he pushed one deep inside of you.

Your head tipped back against the couch, a shudder tearing through you before you could stop it

"There you go," he murmured, his free hand gripping your thigh to keep you spread open for him. He stayed still for a moment, letting you feel the stretch, the pressure. "You take my fingers so well."

You whimpered, shifting against him, needing more. But he didn't move.

"But you didn't want this, right?" He tilted his head, watching your reaction as he curled his finger inside you, dragging against that perfect spot.

A shudder ran through you as he curled his finger again, slow and deliberate, dragging against that spot just enough to make you ache for more.

"I want—" Your voice was breathless, desperate.

He hummed, dragging his lips down your jaw, his stubble scraping against your skin. "What is it?" His finger stilled inside you, making you whimper at the sudden lack of movement. "Tell me what you want."

Your hips bucked slightly, seeking friction, but his grip on your thigh tightened, holding you still. "Come on, sweetheart. You were so confident before. Tell me."

You swallowed hard, your pride warring with the need pulsing between your legs. He knew exactly what he was doing, making you ask for it, making you admit how badly you wanted him.

"More," you finally breathed.

He let out a quiet chuckle, pressing a teasing kiss to your lips. "More what? Game nights? fake dates?"

Your nails dug into his arms, frustration bubbling in your chest. "Damien—"

He smirked, thumb grazing over your clit just once, making you jerk against him. "Use your words."

Your breath hitched, your face burning. "Harder," you managed. "I want—"

But before you could finish, he slid a second finger inside you, pressing deep. A choked moan left your lips as he started moving, slow but relentless, filling you up in a way that made your head spin.

"That's better," he murmured against your ear, his voice all smug satisfaction. "Next time, don't make me wait so long."

He kissed you deep as his fingers were working you. Your arms franitcly grasping at his shoulders then tangeling in his hair.

His dark eyes locked onto yours as his free hand brushed you lips. "I still can't belive I get to have you like this."

You grinded against his fingers desperately, feeling so close already. "You can have me in what ever way you want Damien. I'm all yours, please just let me cum."

His fingers stopped, and when his eyes met yours they looked hazed. "Say that again."

You tried to push yourself down on his fingers but he wouldn't let you. "Please let me cum," you repeated.

He shook his head, Pushing his fingers in but then staying still again. "No, not that part."

You met his gaze, realising he was just as desperate as you were but for something else. "I am yours, Damien."

His fingers picked up the pace, slamming harder and harder into you as the noises you made seemed to drive him wilder. "Fuck, you're pretty." He whispered as his thumb pressed on your clit.

You gasped, "Yes, Damien please. I only want you, I need to feel you. Your orgasm crashed over you, his fingers relentless as they worked you through it. Your moans came in breathless gasps, your words of encouragement tumbling out between them, only spurring him on. The intensity of it sent tremors through your body, leaving you shaking beneath him.

Damien kissed you again, carrying you into his bedroom and sitting down on the bed on top of him. That's when you felt it, His bulge pressign through his pants againt your core giving you the friction you still so desperetely craved. His cock twitched against you and you could hear his breath getting caught in his chest.

"Do you want to put you cock in me, Damien? Do you like the feeling of me squeezing around you? Do you want to hear me moan your name when you make me cum again?

He flipped you over and hovered over you as he took of his clothes. His hard cock wet with precum as he leaned closer. He postitioned himself by your enterence letting the tip trace your pussy and get soaked in your juices.

Just when you where bracing for him finally enering you he leaned in closer and whispered in your ear, "Still want to be my friend?"

Your eyes widened as you let out a long breath, "fuck no."

His fingers curled under your chin, tilting your head toward him as he slowly pushed inside, inch by inch. The stretch still made you gasp, your body shuddering as he filled you. He moved deliberately, savoring every second, watching every flicker of emotion on your face.

"You always take me so well," Damien murmured, his voice thick with restraint. His forehead rested against yours, his breath warm and uneven as he watched you adjust. "I swear, every time—" He cut himself off with a shaky exhale, hands gripping your waist as he bottomed out.

Your breath hitched, the sensation overwhelming, your hips twitching on instinct. He caught the movement, groaning softly as he steadied you. "You're so sensitive tonight," he murmured, fingers grazing your skin, teasing, soothing. "Trying to rush me?"

A desperate whimper slipped from your lips. "No—"

"Mm, I don't believe you," he teased, dragging his fingers lower, stroking you in slow, lazy circles that made your body tense. "You're clenching around me like you want more."

Your nails dug into his shoulders as he pulled out almost completely, a cruel tease, before sinking back in just as slow. Your moan broke into a sharp inhale, thighs trembling.

"Damien," you gasped, voice shaking.

That was all it took. His restraint cracked.

He groaned, his grip tightening as he snapped his hips forward, burying himself deep before pulling back and slamming into you again. His breath turned ragged, his hands gripping your waist as he set a desperate, hungry rhythm.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he gritted out, dragging his lips along your jaw, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your skin between heavy breaths.

Your body arched into him, overwhelmed, your fingers tangling in his hair. "Damien—"

"Look at me," he murmured, voice softer now, but no less intense. His hands slid up your back, pressing you closer, his lips ghosting over yours. "I wanna see you."

His words sent a shiver through you, the weight of his gaze grounding you even as the pleasure threatened to unravel you completely. Your hands fisted in the sheets, your body rocking against his as he thrust into you harder, deeper.

"Fuck, Damien—" you whimpered.

"I know," he soothes, lips brushing against your temple. But he doesn't stop. Doesn't let up. Just keeps pushing, working you open, savoring every shaky exhale, every little gasp.

You're breathless and desperate, your voice breaking as he rolled his hips just right, hitting that spot that made your vision blur. He caught your reaction immediately, a low chuckle escaping him.

"Right there?" he teased, but there was nothing smug about it—just admiration, reverence, like he was addicted to the way you came apart under him.

You nodded, unable to form words, your nails dragging down his back as you clung to him.

Damien didn't make you beg—he never did. Instead, he gave you exactly what you needed, angling his hips to hit that spot again and again. His hand slipped between your bodies, fingers stroking in time with his thrusts.

"You're so close, aren't you?" His voice was raw, strained. "I can feel it."

You could only nod, the coil in your stomach tightening with every movement.

His forehead pressed against yours, his breath mingling with yours, rough and uneven. "Let me see you cum for me," he murmured.

And you did—shattering beneath him, your body tensing, back arching as pleasure flooded through you. He groaned at the feeling, his grip on you bruising as he followed, thrusts turning erratic before he buried himself deep with a low, shuddering moan.

For a moment, neither of you moved, tangled together, skin slick with sweat, chests rising and falling in sync.

Damien's arm draped over your waist, fingers tracing over your bare skin. Neither of you moved much since collapsing back against the mattress.

You swallowed, staring at the ceiling. The reality of it all was sinking in now—not just the sex, not just the way you'd fallen right back into each other like it was impossible not to, but what it meant. This was supposed to be your last attempt. One night to prove you could still be just friends, to go back to how things were before.

And yet, here you were.

Damien shifted beside you, his fingers stilling against your side. "You're thinking."

You blinked, turning your head to meet his gaze. His face was closer than you expected, brown eyes soft but focused, watching you like he already knew exactly what was on your mind.

"Yeah," you admitted.

Damien hummed, his thumb grazing over your ribs. "That's dangerous."

You huffed out a quiet laugh. "Shut up."

He but just kept looking at you, waiting.

You exhaled. "This was supposed to be our 'just friends' night."

A flicker of amusement crossed his face. "Yeah."

"We failed spectacularly."

"Mm." He nodded, lips twitching like he was holding back a smirk. "But, you know... kinda feels like a win."

You bit your lip. "Yeah?"

Damien's hand slid up, fingers curling under your jaw, tilting your face toward him. "Yeah." His voice was softer now, more serious. "Because let's be honest—we were never gonna pull that off."

Your chest tightened. He wasn't wrong.

You'd spent weeks pretending. Spent months—maybe even years—dancing around this, convincing yourself you could keep it casual, that if things didn't work out, you could go back to the way things were.

But it was never really about that, was it?

You exhaled, pressing your forehead against his. "So what now?"

Damien's thumb brushed over your cheek. "Now," he murmured, "we stop pretending."

Your heart stuttered.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes again. "Because I can't be just your friend," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "I've never been able to."

It hit you all at once—the weight of what he was saying, the truth in it, the fact that this wasn't just a moment.

This was real.

You swallowed hard, fingers gripping his arm like you needed to ground yourself. "Me neither," you admitted. "I don't want to."

Damien exhaled, like maybe he'd been holding his breath waiting for you to say it. Then, with the kind of certainty that made your stomach flip, he murmured, "Good, I don't want to be your friend either."

And then he kissed you again—slow, lingering, like he had all the time in the world now. Like you were never gonna be friends again.

At some point, the quiet settled around you both, the weight of the night pressing in. The exhaustion was there, creeping in at the edges, but you didn't want to close your eyes just yet.

Not when you were here. Not when you were back in his bed.

It had been weeks—weeks of sleeping just on the other side of the wall, forcing yourself to get used to the empty space beside you, to the cold sheets, to the way the apartment suddenly felt too big at night. It was stupid, really. You had your own room. Your own bed. And yet, every night, you caught yourself staring at the ceiling, listening for any sign that Damien was still awake.

But this—being wrapped up in him, feeling his warmth around you, the slow rise and fall of his chest against your back—this was what felt normal now.

Damien shifted slightly behind you, fingers dragging lazily over your ribs. His voice was thick with sleep when he murmured, "Missed this."

You swallowed, willing your voice to come out steady. "I missed this too."

Damien hummed, pressing his face into your neck, his lips brushing against your skin in a way that felt more instinct than thought. "Then don't go back," he murmured, his voice slipping closer to sleep.

For a second, you almost wished you could stay like this forever, tangled up in him, no words needed. Because, for the first time in weeks, sleep came easy.

The night passed in a blur—soft breaths, steady heartbeats, the occasional shift of his body against yours. For the first time in a long time, you didn't wake up in the middle of the night, didn't overthink, didn't wonder what came next.

You just slept.

Until the morning light started creeping through the blinds, the distant sound of the city stirring beyond the apartment walls.

You sighed, stretching slightly, the movement making Damien tighten his grip around you, pressing his face into your shoulder with a sleepy hum.

It was peaceful.

Until—

Click.

Your eyes snapped open.

The handle to Damien's bedroom door was being pushed down.

Not the front door. His door.

Before you could react, the door cracked open with a soft creak.

Your stomach dropped.

Damien tensed behind you, instantly awake, his grip tightening around you.

And then—

#smosh #damien haas #smoshblr #damien haas x reader #damien haas x you #damien haas smut #fanfic #smosh fanfiction #smosh squad

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ltbarnes · 1 year ago

Text

Back to December (1/2)

Summary: Your new job as an assistant for the CEO of a big, shiny company was supposed to be a good thing. Instead your ex from uni who completely ghosted you out of nowhere several years ago happens to be one of your superiors. It doesn’t help that he’s only gotten more handsome over the years. But you hate him for leaving without an explanation, and he seems to hate you too. Everything is just fucking great.

Pairing: ex!Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

Word count: 6.9k

Warnings: OFFICE AU (Ghost is not ceo but he’s up there in the company somewhere), exes to enemies to lovers, harassment, past emotional violence/threats, ghost was a rugby player in uni lol, blood

A/N: I’m finally dipping my toe into another fandom 🫣 I’ve been obsessed with the cod men for months now so I suppose it’s time. this is the first part of two, maybe three. we’ll see where my imagination takes me!!

Part 2

Masterlist

So many years spent wondering what the hell happened that night, and there he is on the opposite side of the meeting room table gathering his papers into a neat pile. Simon always was organized, you remember.

He hasn't seen you yet. Or maybe he doesn't recognize you. You don't think you have changed that much, but you never know. More as a person than your appearance, you guess.

Maybe that's why you haven't fell down to the floor crying yet—you would have just a few years ago. Seeing your ex-boyfriend for the first time since you were 20 might do that to you.

But you just feel anger. Anger over the fact that Simon has the audacity to have grown into his looks that way, and that he's successful and has this great scruff on his face and that he just left and never said a word to you again. How dare he have a good life when he just abandoned you and your relationship that night all those years ago without giving you a reason for it.

Your new boss clears his throat, sitting down at one of the ridiculously expensive chairs right next to you. You didn't notice him come in, and you certainly haven't gotten used to his intimidating presence yet.

"Garcia, you have about...fifteen minutes to go through your presentation. I have another meeting with Hill soon." Mr. Price pauses to look down at his wrist watch for two seconds in the middle of his sentence, before nodding towards the beautiful redhead standing with a small remote in her hand.

For some reason this company seems to be where models who get tired of their careers come to work. You didn't exactly get that memo. It's only your second day here, and you feel intimidated by everyone. Maybe that's the way an assistant should feel.

"Y/l/n, you keeping notes for me?" Your head tilts up dangerously fast at the mention of your name, taking a few seconds too long to process his request, before nodding obediently.

"Yes, sir."

Your fingers click too loudly against the keys as you frantically try to draw up a document with the correct font and size. It's too quiet in here. You haven't done anything wrong, yet it feels like everyone is waiting for you to misstep. Your anxiety is a bitch.

"Riley. Riley, what the hell?" you hear someone whisper angrily. It's not until you hear a pen clatter to the floor that you dare to look up his way.

Honey brown eyes stare right into your goddamn soul. Your breath hitches, speeding up the pace of your anxiety-ridden heart even further. More than what's acceptable for sitting still in a work meeting. But your momentary weakness over catching his attention soon disappears, to be replaced by your anger again.

You look away with a clenched jaw, focusing on the keyboard right beneath you. Simon is still staring at you. You can feel it. Feels like it always used to do, but this time you don't want it. In your ideal world Simon Riley would not sit opposite you, would not stand up to join the beautiful, model redhead to hold a presentation where he keeps stumbling on his words all the time because of your presence. At least you think it's your presence, but you're not sure if it's in a good or bad way. For you it's bad.

But it does make you feel good that he keeps having these space outs—tripping over his words, forgetting them all together. It is not a good presentation on his part, and Ms. Garcia is getting increasingly more irritated at him for his lack of delivery. You hope she scolds him for it afterward. God knows you would like to throw every curse word you know at the man.

Should you be this angry after all these years? Should you have let it go a long time ago? Should you have stopped acting as if being with another man after him is betrayal? Probably. The last question is probably the answer to why you haven't really moved on from your hurt.

It just makes you so mad—for a year he was your entire world. Simon hugged you from behind each time he encountered you out in public and played with your hair as you fell asleep in his arms and woke you up with his fingers tracing patters on your hip. He fucked you until your bed broke and made love to you so gently you might as well have been made of glass to him. Two weeks from your anniversary he stopped talking to you. Not one thing of his was left in your dorm the next morning, and you didn't see him on campus even once during the term he had left of school. The few friends you had in common didn't talk to you anymore.

It broke your heart, to be abandoned like that. That night was already shit, and Simon just decided to make it ten times worse. You were in shock and all you wanted was his comfort. To find out he had left? You barely made it through that next semester.

For years you have pondered over what part of you was so unlovable that Simon couldn't even bear to say another word to you. Maybe his inability to function properly during this meeting wasn't due to shock, but instead disgust over having to be in the same room as you. Fuck, you are mad, and yet so scared that you have to meet him every single week from now on. You're not strong enough for that.

"That was...something. I expect you to be better prepared next time I see you, Riley," Mr. Price says, clicking his pen while pointing it towards Simon. "Don't know what the fuck that was," he mutters under his breath while rising from his chair.

You follow swiftly. The chair is too loud as it's pushed back. You cringe. Gathering your laptop and your papers is ungraciously done. Price still waits for you though, for some reason, but he sighs and puffs while doing so. Everyone else is quiet, besides the slap to his arm Simon receives from Ms. Garcia. They're probably dating. Two perfect, good looking people having perfect sex in their perfect apartments. You hate them both.

You try not to look at him as you walk out behind Mr. Price. But you still say a 'have a good day' that is too quiet to the room, answered with a few nods and some 'you too' back.

A small squeak of surprise escapes your lips when your boss comes to an abrupt halt in front of you. A millisecond is all it would take for you to have crushed into him, and that squeak leaves heat travelling to your face. He turns around, facing the room once again, with his usual glare.

"Don't bloody stare at my new assistant. I don't want another HR-situation with this one. Especially talking to you, Riley."

Price pins his glare on Simon, who gives him an equally harsh glare back. You are just about ready for the floor to break so you can fall through to the bottom level and run out of here. But you're frozen in your place, clutching your belongings to your chest tightly enough to make a computer-sized dent in your skin.

Without another word, your boss turns around and heads out of the room. You couldn't have moved any faster if you wanted to—already tight on his heels while your heart rate desperately tries to calm down. Oh my god. Oh my fucking god. What the hell are you going to do? Ignore Simon and hope that you manage to avoid him for however long you'll work here? It feels kind of impossible, but the last thing you want is to talk to him. You couldn't.

You've just put down your things on your desk right outside of Price's office when he speaks again. His voice always manages to make you jump in your place, head flying up to meet his gaze.

"If Riley, or anyone else, gives you any trouble—you tell me," he says, unflinching and stoic.

You gulp, frozen in your position. "Oh—I, okay. Thank you." The words come out quieter than you wanted to.

"You seem like a good kid. Don't want these fucking fools to chase away 'nother one of my assistants."

The door to his office is closed the next second. You just stand there, dumbfounded and a little confused, but still flattered in some way. A good kid—you'll take that.

Popcorn crunches underneath your sneakers as you push yourself past the people going up and down the stairs, trickling out of the stadium with happy smiles on their faces and lively conversations exchanged now that the game is over. They won. The players are still out on the field, celebrating their victory with slaps to each other's backs, jumping up and down, impromptu attack hugs. You are giggling too, watching them.

Simon has torn his shirt off, sweaty, blond hair a mess as he shakes his head. Johnny just poured water all over him—the guy always gets so overexcited. And goddamn, your man looks good as he has that rare smile on his face.

The game was a really good one on his part. Everyone in the team calls him 'Ghost' because of how quickly and seamlessly he moves despite his size. And the big tattoo of a man wearing a skull mask on his arm. But once he's out on the field, the players never expects his speed. At least one player during each game runs right into him, as if he was invisible. A ghost.

He hasn't noticed you yet, where you stand leaning against the railing. It's freezing out. The first really cold September day, and you didn't think to bring a proper jacket. But you don't really care, because seeing Simon and your friends this happy has plastered a permanent grin on your face.

"Riley, your girl!"

Someone shouts and points at you, alerting your boyfriend of your presence. His head whips in your direction, brown eyes pinpointing you in your place before a 6'2'' man starts barreling towards you. Simon throws the water bottle in his hand away carelessly as you giggle furiously over his excitement.

"Fuck, love," he says as he reaches his hands out, lifting you over the railing within a second. You yelp in surprise.

"Wha—Simon! Put me down!"

Simon just holds onto you tighter, pressing you close to him with your feet still in the air. How is he this strong? "Not a chance, Princess. We fucking won. I'm celebrating with my girl."

You chuckle, holding onto his shoulders while looking down at his sweaty face. "I know. I'm so proud of you."

A shy grin grows on his face, slowly setting you down onto the fake grass. "Really?"

"Really. It's the best you've ever played. Wanted to shout to everyone that it was my boyfriend doing all the best throws out there," you tell him, now looking up at him instead. God, he's tall.

Simon's mouth comes crashing down onto yours, giving you a sloppy kiss that makes you laugh.

"I lov—I loved having you here." Simon pauses in the middle of the sentence, as if he was supposed to say something else. "You're my fucking lucky charm, you know that?"

"I'm not so sure about that. You have lost quite a few games with me here as well," you tell him, ruffling his messy hair with your hand.

"Don't matter. I feel lucky anyway." A boyish grin adorns his face as he leans down to press a kiss to your head. "Now, tell me why in the hell my little lady is out here freezing her arse off 'cause she didn't bring a jacket? Like I told her to do?"

You groan, giving him a glare. "Stop. I should have listened to you, you were right, and all that. I know."

"Well, better for me, 'cause I get to rub my sweaty arms all over you now to warm you up."

"Go shower, you idiot." You push at his chest gently, rolling your eyes. He pretends to stumble backwards, holding his hands up.

"I will. Just wait a few seconds here, will you?"

Simon keeps walking backwards, waiting for your nod of confirmation, before breaking out into a jog towards the locker rooms.

You embrace your torso with your arms, rubbing up and down with your hands to warm your skin. There's so many players left on the field, still messing with each other like rugby teams usually do. Some you recognize—like Johnny and Gaz. They're your friends too. Others you have seen in passing at parties, in class. Some you only know because Simon complains about them to you. The fly-half never was his favorite. Graves, something? They're constantly at each other's throats.

Simon comes running out onto the field once more, this time with his jacket in hand. You sigh, scratching the skin above your eyebrow with a small smile.

"Si—you didn't have to. I'm fine," you say as soon as he's within earshot.

"Shut up. I'm being a bloody gentleman, just like my mum taught me."

The jacket is laid gently around your shoulders. You tug it tighter around you, because despite your words it is cold. And you love his jacket.

"Look at you. So fucking adorable."

You smile up at him, scrunching your nose. You love this fool. You love Simon Riley, have done so for many, many months. Haven't told him yet though. But it can wait—you have all the time in the world.

Simon is avoiding you. A week of not seeing him even once, despite the fact that you work on the same floor. You haven't attended any more meetings since your second day, but you still would have expected to run into him in the break room, or in the hallway. Hell, you've even delivered paper copies to his office and still haven't seen him.

You don't know what you feel about that. You are mad at him and you definitely don't want to be forced into an awkward encounter with your ex-boyfriend, but still not knowing why he left has chipped away at every ounce of confidence you had in yourself. Even now at your grown age. It's been several years since. It's pathetic. Maybe Simon realized that on a Friday night in December during his senior year of college—you are pathetic.

God, why are you still that 20-year old girl? Why are you sitting at your desk, 3:30 PM on a Wednesday, obsessing over every flaw you can come up with all because of a stupid man?

The anger you held towards him last Tuesday has morphed into deep self-hate. You begin to understand his perspective. He doesn't want to interact with the silly little girl he broke up with ages ago in her silly little assistant job. Simon is a senior executive in this company, for god's sake. He doesn't even have to send a second glance your way.

"Y/l/n! Coffee!" your boss yells from within his office. But the yelling and cold tone still doesn't offend you like it would any other person—it's just the way he is. Price has actually been pretty nice to you. You like him as your boss, despite his less than chipper attitude.

"Yes, sir," you shout back, rising from your seat.

You smooth down your dress, fiddle with your hair in the reflection of your laptop, before taking a deep breath. It's just a short trip to the break room. No big deal. Nobody actually cares that you are the new girl.

It's practically empty as you arrive, besides a man reading his newspaper in the corner while seemingly on an important call. Seems a little arrogant, but you know he's high up in the company. At least you think he is. Price doesn't like him. He told you so the first day.

A sigh of relief escapes your lungs as you walk to the expensive, Italian coffee machine. You press the double espresso button. No sugar, no milk. Just straight, black coffee for your boss. Kind of reflects his personality. It buzzes loudly as coffee drips into the cup, you standing there waiting patiently. It has started raining outside. You'll probably be soaking wet tonight once you come back to your apartment.

Someone comes standing beside you, taking a mug off the highest shelf. You catch a glimpse of his expensive suit before glancing upwards. Your lips part, almost just as shocked as you were last Tuesday. You can't catch a fucking break, can you?

"Johnny?"

The now bearded man, with a full head of hair as well, which he definitely didn't have when you last saw him, turns around towards you with a stoic expression. It doesn't change once he gets a good look at who said his name.

"You work here too?" you ask before gulping.

"Y/n," he says, a frown growing in between his eyebrows. "I work here, yes." The Scottish accent that you used to like listening to is now impossibly deeper.

"Uh, I—how you doing? It's been...a while." You glance away, cowering under his gaze. Soap always used to be so kind to you, treated you as if you were one of the boys. Insisted you call him Soap, something only his friends were allowed to call him. Now there is a hidden undertone of distaste in the way he looks at you. "See you've gotten rid of the Mohawk."

"I'm alright. Good to see ya', Y/n, but I gotta go back," he tells you. For some reason you feel like he's actually not all that happy to see you.

"Oh. Okay." The disappointment in your voice is clear. "We'll probably see each other again soon, I guess."

Johnny has already started walking away when the words leave your mouth. You hear him mumble a halfhearted 'Take care, lassie" before leaving you there dumbfounded and upright hurt with your boss's coffee cup. What was that?

You always knew Johnny was as loyal of a friend you could be, but...you didn't know he hated you that much. Especially when you didn't actually do anything against him. Not that you did anything against Simon either. That you know of. But, you know.

The short interaction leaves you jarred for the rest of your work day. You still get things done, but the look on Johnny's face is in the back of your mind the entire time. What did you do that was so bad that John goddamn MacTavish hates you for it?

It wasn't enough to work with the man who broke your heart, but your ex-friend as well. His best friend. You will never be welcomed here if half of the company leaders consist of people who have a grudge against you spanning years.

When the clock strikes 6, Price sends you home. He will probably stay for another few hours, you think, because there has been empty takeout containers in his office the morning after every day this week. You tell him to have a good night, he answers with a grunt, and then you and your bag take off through the hallways.

Your heels click against the floor as you walk through the mostly empty office space. Some rooms still have their lights on, casting shadows over the mahogany desks and the important people sitting behind them.

You halt your steps as you hear two voices wrapped into a conversation with each other. Someone must have left their door open. You don't want to eavesdrop, but it gets hard to resist when you recognize Johnny's voice from earlier.

"You can't avoid her forever," he says.

"Well, don't you think I fucking know that?"

You freeze as you instantly recognize the deep, rumbling timber of Simon's voice answering Soap. Fucking hell—they're talking about you. You can't not eavesdrop now.

"It's just—it's fucking hard, you know? She just walks in here all..."

"Met her in the break room earlier. Making coffee for Price."

"Yeah? She said somethin'?" Simon's voice sounds curious, eager almost.

"Asked how I was doing, the usual. Didn't know I worked here, it seemed like." A sigh sounds from the room, and you press yourself even closer to the wall. Please, for the love of god, don't let anyone walk by. "I couldn't just act like normal. I can't be fuckin'...nice to someone like that. When I know your past."

"What—you were fucking rude, or what? Just ignored her?"

"No, for fuck's sake. Left pretty quick, though. I just don't have any respect for things like that. You know that."

"Yeah." Simon lets out a bitter chuckle. If you could see him, he'd probably be shaking his head now. "I'm still fucking angry, you know? Can barely stand to be in the same room."

You bite down on your lip, shaking your head to yourself. You can't listen to the two of them talk about how much they hate you. How they don't have respect for 'things' like you. It's nauseating. Your limbs shake with poorly contained anger, but still the urge to cry is even stronger.

But there's no other way out than past his office. So you brave it—practically sprint by with your hand covering the side of your face in hope that they won't see who it is. You don't think they do. The blinds were down.

A single, pathetic tear slips down your face as soon as you exit the building. Cars fly past you, lights blaring everywhere, noise unending. You just want to go home. But you know the overthinking won't stop there.

As the obnoxiously loud alarm disturbs your sleep that finally came about three hours before, you groan into your pillow and wish for it to be anything else but Thursday. You want the weekend. You want to sleep in and wallow in the fact that you probably won't have this job for very long after what you heard Simon and Johnny say about you yesterday.

You don't even bother putting on heels this morning. An old pair of ballerina shoes and a thick, fuzzy sweater over your dress is what you drag yourself to the office in. It's cold and you're exhausted and sad. You can't stand people not liking you—it takes over every part of your being. And when it's Simon...

There's a meeting going on. Price gave you a list of everyone's coffee orders and made you run over to the shop across the street. You see Simon's name taunting you at the top of the list. A cortado, extra sugar. Fuck, he's still the same.

It takes twenty minutes of queuing before you manage to get to the counter. Another ten to have everyone's order ready. The bag is ridiculously heavy as you carry it out of the coffee shop. The meeting will probably be over by the time you arrive, and then Price will curse you out and you will cry, because today you cannot handle even the smallest criticism.

You're a little sweaty by the time you reach the fourteenth floor of the building, which is fine, but the panting doesn't exactly add to your charisma that somehow seems to repent your coworkers from your person. For a minute you stand outside the meeting room, gathering yourself enough to be somewhere near presentable. Not entirely, but as close as you will get.

The door is shouldered open with a little force. More than you thought it would take. Nobody really gives a thought to your presence—they continue the meeting as if you weren't there at all, and you like it that way. You try to match each coffee to the right person on the list. But there's thirteen of them, and you have yet to learn everyone's name.

You feel Simon's eyes on you the entire time you spend in that room. He's anything but subtle, staring right at you without shame. He doesn't even answer as someone calls him by name. And it's pure spite leaving him for last. His order is the only one you know by heart, but keeping him waiting for a few extra minutes is deserved, you think. Maybe it just gives him more fuel to hate you, but if he's going to hate you, you might as well give it right back.

His ring-clad fingers clasp around the paper mug, slowly bringing it up to his lips as if taunting you with the existence of them. God, they are so full and pink and—no. Don't even go down that route. It'll all make it so much harder to live like this if you keep thinking about how fucking attractive Simon has become with his still blond hair slightly unkept from running his hand through it during the day and how his shirt strains against his muscles and the fact that he is still so, so tall.

"This is cold."

The room falls silent, at least you think it does, as Simon's harsh voice echoes throughout the confines of the four walls. The coffee belonging to the person sitting beside him is steaming. You know he's lying. He sets down the mug on the table, glaring up at you with such distaste in his eyes. You never thought that look would be reserved for you.

"Can't even get a bloody coffee order right, can you?" Simon's chuckle is deprecating, shaking his head to himself as if his irritation almost amuses him.

But you just flinch. He doesn't see it, but you think the rest of the room does. His tone fucking hurts. And that he would publicly humiliate you like this?

"Oh, uh..." You want so badly to have a good comeback, something that will make him shrink in his chair, but all you can get out is a stupid 'oh'. Standing there all small and speechless makes you feel dumb. "I'll get a new one."

Your response seems to catch his attention. His gaze flickers up, back to you, and the cruelty falters for a few seconds to be replaced by something likened to...regret? Probably not.

"Riley can drink his cold goddamn coffee. He'll survive," Price chimes in, waving with his pen as a signal for whoever was speaking before to continue.

You nod, clenching your jaw to stop the trembling, before escaping out of the room as quickly as possible without it seeming suspicious.

A shaky, deep breath is inhaled and exhaled as soon as you get out. It was already a bad day, yes, but nearly crying because Simon told you his coffee was cold? That's just childish. You need to pull yourself together if you're going to keep this job. Price clearly doesn't like weakness.

The rest of the day is calm. Mostly you're reviewing Price's schedule, emailing people back and forth about changing meetings and setting them up. He even gives you an extra break, which is so well needed and probably out of pity, but you'll take it.

You realize that you are so fucking petty when your final task of the day, once again, is to deliver some kind of contract to Simon's office. You know he's out on a meeting with a client—you heard him walking past earlier, talking to that client on the phone. You gather your belongings, say goodbye to Price, before heading towards Simon's on your way down.

Stepping inside feels like walking right into his arms. His cologne hangs heavy in the air. Fuck him for still using the same scent.

The entirety of his office is neatly organized, everything in its place. So you move things. A sharpener gets to change its designated spot from desk to shelf. Files labeled under 'F' gets shoved in between 'S' and 'T'. You even go as far as taking out some of the files from one folder, placing it in another. The printer gets unplugged.

Doing something to his old copy of The Fellowship of the Ring that stands proudly on display in his bookcase crosses your mind, but you do want to stay alive long enough to see the end of the week, at least. You remember one time when he slept with it as if it was a stuffed animal. You're being petty, not suicidal.

Your final masterpiece in your rampage is the unscrewing of a wheel on his desk chair. Just the thought of Simon pushing his chair back only for it to suddenly tilt makes you giggle. God, you really are a child.

Any sane person wouldn't even notice half the things you've done in here. But Simon is not sane. This can throw off his entire day, week even. You know from firsthand experience.

Yeah, Simon goddamn Riley broke your fucking heart and now has the audacity to punish you for it. You won't take that.

Simon has been in such a bad mood the entire day. You heard him cursing all the way from his office. Some poor intern got yelled at in the hallway (you really are sorry for that), and you overheard a few of your colleagues mention that he didn't speak to anyone during the entire morning meeting. Price apparently cursed him out for it in front of everyone. That's a little funny, at least.

On one hand you feel proud of your ability to still piss him off without him knowing. On the other hand, you're not too happy yourself. Your situation hasn't exactly changed—half the office still hasn't talked to you, and the ones that do keep strictly work related conversations. You're lonely.

Despite it being Friday, you get off when the sun has already set. It's pouring rain outside and you don't have an umbrella. You really don't have the energy to deal with that as you gaze warily out of the window from your desk. You could take the subway instead of walk all the way home, but you would still get soaking wet during the trek to the station.

"Goodbye, Mr. Price. Have a good weekend," you say, popping your head into his office with a sweet smile on your lips.

"Call me John," he answers without even looking up from whatever report he's reviewing. Still that monotone voice as if he's always tired of hearing people talk.

"Oh. Uh—okay, John," you stutter out. What? He never lets anyone call him by first name.

"Get home safe," Price tells you. Has he grown soft? What's happening? "Have a fuck load of reports needing organization on Monday." There it is.

You smile to yourself, shaking your head lightly, before mumbling another 'bye' to your boss. He lifts his head in a subtle nod as answer. Actually, you might have a chance to stay here if he likes you. He is the CEO after all.

The hallways are dark except the few offices still lit up like every night. These people barely have a life outside of work, it seems like. It's kind of sad. Then again, you don't either, if what counts as a life is having friends and significant others and people who care about you. But at least you have time for doughing in your couch and taking a walk around the neighborhood.

But your daydreaming and overthinking of course leads you into trouble. Rounding the corner forces you right into another person, making you stumble backwards a few steps before a clammy hand grabs your arm to stop you from falling.

"I'm so, so sorry," you say, looking up at the man standing in front of you. It's that executive-something Price doesn't like. Shepherd? An American.

"Don't worry that pretty little head of yours, darling," he says, without backing away from you. He keeps that close distance, letting you feel his dank breath properly.

You gulp, before attempting to release your arm from his grip. He doesn't budge. Your heart rate speeds up instantly.

"Haven't talked to you properly before, sweetheart. Just seen you strutting 'round these hallways in your dresses." He looks down at your wide eyes, before they slowly rake over the rest of your body. Your chest starts to heave up and down as if you've just come back from a run. It's clear he wants something more than just a simple conversation with the new assistant.

"I'm—I'm sorry. I have to go. Train," you stutter out, attempting to tear yourself away from his harsh grip around your arm. You can't.

"Don't be like that, darlin'. I just wanna have a talk, that's all," he tells you, his warm breaths hitting your face.

"Please, sir, I really have to go. We can talk on Monday."

Shepherd raised an eyebrow, gaze flickering down to your chest again as if you can't see it clearly, before tapping your cheek condescendingly with the palm of his hand.

"Alright, sweetheart. Come into my office on Monday. Appreciate it if you'd wear one of those pretty dresses. Makes my day much better, having somethin' sweet to look at."

A wet kiss is pressed to the back of your hand—something that he might think is gentlemanly, but sends shivers down your entire spine out of disgust. You're frozen still as he squeezes your hip before he leaves, leaving you to hear his dress shoes clink against the floor.

The further away he gets, the harder it gets for you to breathe. Panic grows in your chest, tears already threatening to fall as you finally get yourself to move, rushing towards the elevator and pressing the button too many times.

He was so close. And the way his grip tightened as you tried to step away, the squeeze of your hip. It's too much like last time. Too much like that fucking December night all those years ago.

Clear pictures of Philip and his friends flashes past the forefront of your mind as you rush from the elevator, already heaving from your tears. It's empty, thank god, since the guards are posted outside of the main entrance. Philip morphs into the man from just a minute ago. Pushing you against the wall at that party, grinning right in your face as you tell them to stop.

The backdoor leading into the alleyway beside the building is where your feet leads you towards without consulting you. It's better, maybe. You don't want anyone to see you like this.

But those goddamn revolving doors acting as the main entrance starts to move, you hear that, and soon enough someone steps inside with haste in their walk.

"Y/l/n!" someone shouts angrily. You know exactly who it is. "Why the fuck did you move all my stuff? I swear to god—"

Your back is facing away from him, but maybe he still sees the way your shoulders shake from behind. Maybe that's why he falters in his steps. Maybe that's why he decides to cut the first real sentences he's said to you directly since you started working here short.

The last crumb of composure turns to dust, and your hand flies up to your mouth to muffle the first real sob from your lips. You escape through the door, out into the cold, rainy alleyway as your cries turn too forceful to stop.

It's wet and dirty and crawling with grovel as your knees hit the ground harshly. You manage to turn yourself around to lean your back against the cold brick wall instead. It'll all bring you grief later, but right now your legs can't carry your weight.

With a bang, the door flies wide open once more. Long legs bend down, big hands on your arms.

"Y/n. Y/n, c'mon. Why are you crying?"

Simon's voice is drowning in urgency, his shakes of your shoulders almost forceful. But you can't stop crying. And you're still so fucking angry with him.

"Don't touch me," you sob, pushing his hands away from you. The rain grows heavier the same second, soaking the entirety of you as you sit there on the dirty ground.

"Alright, alright. I won't," he breathes out, holding his hands up beside him. Those big, veiny fucking hands that you have missed every day since he last put them on you. "But you gotta tell me what's wrong."

"Why?" you almost yell, tilting your head up, away from the palms of your hands previously hiding your face. You get raindrops right in your eyes. "You hate me, don't you? Can't even stand to be in the same room as me!"

"Y/n," he growls, as if he's scolding you with the simple mention of your name. "You know bloody fucking well I don't hate you. Now tell me what the hell's making you sob like this. You're sitting on the ground, for fuck's sake."

You dry away your tears, despite it being so futile in this rain, while letting out a bitter chuckle. "All due respect, you're the last person I wanna talk to."

Simon lets out a shaky breath, one filled with frustration. "So fucking stubborn..."

He shakes his head. "Just—just let me drive you home, at least, okay? The trains from this station are cancelled. Blowing up to a storm."

The words you were about to force out through your tears disappear completely. Instead you just stare at the man now looking down at you with something likened to concern. Still has that frown in between his eyebrows.

"I'm not going to get in a car with you, Riley," you mumble out. If you had your way it would sound angrier, more assertive, but your voice fails you.

"Riley, huh? That's where it's at?" Simon scoffs, as if he didn't call you by your last name a few minutes earlier. "Just get up, c'mon."

"No." You shake your head, looking down in your lap. In reality you're not just apprehensive because of your anger towards him—he's a man at the end of the day, and you are his ex-girlfriend who he dislikes very strongly.

"Are you—for god's sake." He shakes his head again. "I'm not going to hurt you, Y/n. I would never harm you. Not any woman," he tells you. How can he still read you this well?

You don't answer. Just take your wet sleeve to dry away even more tears. How to stop crying in front of your ex seems to be an art you haven't mastered yet.

"Okay, I'll make you a deal. You let me get you a taxi home, after you get out of this fucking rain and step inside. That alright with you?"

You nod with a sniffle, reaching for your bag beside you.

"C'mon."

Simon nods towards the door, reaching his hand out. You take it, because there's no chance you would manage to get up all by yourself. But that's the only reason.

He holds the door open for you, letting you slip inside again. Exactly how much the rain soaked you hits you as you step inside, instantly freezing cold and uncomfortable. And goddamn your right knee hurts. Falling down to the ground did come with consequences, it seems.

"Fucking hell," Simon mutters under his breath as soon as he gets inside, dripping water down onto the shiny floor. His suit is entirely soaked too.

You see a glance of yourself in a mirror as you take off your heels. There's mascara underneath your eyes. You try to remove it furiously with your fingers.

"Don't have to do that. Nothing that I haven't seen before," Simon speaks up from behind you, looking at you as well through the mirror.

You glance up at him, just for half a second, before lowering your arms slowly. And then you rummage through your bag with trembling hands, finding a napkin you kept from a restaurant. You dry away the mascara with that instead.

Simon looks at you, really looks at you, as you stand there dripping water onto the floor and makeup ruined and your clothes dirty. You feel so vulnerable underneath his gaze. What is he trying to find?

"Bloody hell, Y/n. You're bleeding for fuck's sake. That's a fucking gash."

He points at your knee. You look down, seeing the outpouring of blood running down your leg from the open wound right below your knee. It does look very, very bad. Like, you're slowly becoming nauseous by looking at it. How didn't you notice it earlier?

"Oh."

"I'm driving you wether you like it or not." Simon stalks up to you, grabbing a hold of your arm to put it around his shoulder. His arm sneaks its way around your waist. Fuck.

"Do I get a say in this?" you ask. You know what the answer is, but you also don't understand. What is this? Why is he doing this for you? A few days ago he was talking shit about you with Soap and humiliated you purposely in front of your co-workers. Now he's getting worried about you crying and driving you home from work?

"No."

Part 2

#cod mw2 #cod fanfic #simon ghost riley #ghost fic #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #back to december

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miryum · 3 months ago

Text

"The Fugitive"

Summary: Detective!Jason Todd x detective!Reader based on Jake and Amy’s relationship

Series Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of violence (but nothing descriptive), guns and other police stuff

Chapter Warnings: someone held at knifepoint and Leonardo DiCaprio (sorry, I know he's a pedo)

Series Masterlist

Leonardo Dicaprio had his headphones on and he wore a large white sweatshirt, even against the Gotham heat. He was crossing the street as he took a bite of his burrito. A large armoured truck was driving on the street behind him, when suddenly, the truck veered off the road and up onto the sidewalk, slowly tipping over. Leonardo scoffed and looked down in his takeout bag. “What? Damn it, they forgot my pico de gallo.” An old Eastern European lady next to him shrieked and pointed at the truck. Nine men in orange jumpsuits jumped out of the truck, but Leonardo didn’t notice anything on account of his obnoxiously large headphones that were blasting music. The nine men scattered into the winds and Leonardo tsked.

Y/n strolled into the precinct, yawning and stretching. Jason was already at his desk and he looked up, his gaze not holding the same love and affection that it usually did. “Love the shirt, L/n,” Tim said sarcastically.

“Thanks, man,” Y/n said, sporting a raggedy old Hogwarts Alumni shirt. “Hufflepuffs are underrated and Slytherins are amazing,” she voiced halfheartedly. “However, Drake, this is not my shirt.” She slumped in her seat. “I slept at Jason’s and spilled ketchup over my shirt. So, unless I wanted to look like that murder victim from last week, it wasn’t gonna happen.”

“Why don’t you two move in together already?” Dick asked, munching on a doughnut. “I thought you were planning to, no?”

Jason cut in, running a hand down his face. “We are. We are. And I would love to, but we haven’t decided whose apartment to live in. I think Y/n should move in with me cause it’s bigger and has nicer amenities.”

“However,” Y/n interrupted. “My place is cheaper and closer to work.”

“How many times have I had to kill spiders and insects for you?” Jason asked Y/n bluntly.

Y/n scoffed and spluttered and eventually stuttered out, “well. How many times have you killed spiders at your place?”

“None,” Jason replied smoothly. “That’s my point.”

Captain Wayne interrupted the little spat by announcing, “alright, everyone. Listen up. We have a situation. Ten minutes ago, a prison van overturned on Nevins Street. It was carrying nine convicts who are now at large. It's our job to bring them in. Ladies and gentlemen, this is a manhunt.”

Y/n’s eyes widened and she gasped dramatically. “A manhunt!” She straightened her back and marched up and down the bullpen. “Okay, what I want from each and every one of you is a hard-target search of every gas station, residence, warehouse, farmhouse, henhouse, outhouse, and doghouse in the area!” Y/n cried out. “Your fugitive's name is Dr. Richard Kimble.”

“There must be some sort of error.” Wayne frowned and flipped through the file. “There are nine fugitives, and none of them are named Kimble.”

“I didn't kill my wife!” Y/n suddenly screamed out.

“What?” Jason reacted.

“You're supposed to go, ‘I don't care!’” Y/n mimicked, slapping Jason lightly on the arm.

“I don't care,” Jason repeated in a monotone voice.

“Let the manhunt begin,” Y/n grinned, raising a victorious fist.

Wayne rolled his eyes and led everyone into the briefing room. “Patrol officers have secured a ten-block perimeter,” he explained. “All civilians are being evacuated. Here's what the convicts were in for: arson, kidnapping, racketeering, assault and battery, forgery and counterfeiting, and triple homicide.” He clicked a button on the remote and pictures of nine men appeared on screen.

“Whoo!” Y/n raised her hand, looking for a high-five. Steph looked over at her best friend, aghast. “What?” Y/n shrugged. “I'm not excited about the murder. I'm excited about the chance to avenge them.”

“Cain, I want you here with me interviewing witnesses,” Wayne automatically ignored Y/n. “The rest of you will search the secured area in the following teams: Todd and Brown; L/n and Grayson. Get to work.”

“Okay. We'll start south of Nevins,” Jason instructed once the four detectives were all suited up. “You two start at Bond and we'll rendezvous in the middle, assuming, of course, Brown and I haven't already caught all the fugitives by the time you two show up.”

“Jason, there are nine hardened criminals running free in the streets,” Y/n said firmly, brows furrowed and arms crossed. “This is hardly the time for childish trash talk.” She paused and then added, “it's time for a bet.”

“What are you thinking?” Jason asked as if this was a normal thing in their relationship.

“Whoever catches the most fugitives gets to keep their apartment,” Y/n proposed, smirking.

Jason smirked back and held out his hand to shake. “Prepare to die, and by ‘die,’ I mean move in with me and marry me and have some beautiful children assuming that’s what you wish to do and either way I’m completely fine with your decision because I love you so much but I’m gonna win this bet.”

“Here we go,” Dick muttered, rolling his eyes as Y/n jumped into a police cruiser. He hopped in after her, barely having time to buckle his seatbelt before she floored the gas. Dick screamed out, “I get that the streets are empty, but slow down, man! I forgot my Dramamine.”

“Stakes are high, Sarge,” Y/n replied, screeching the wheel to the right. “Not only have I totally wanted to be able to go over the speed limit in a really cool car chase, but I also really wanna beat Jay.”

“Look, I am completely on board,” Dick said, clutching the grab handle and thinking that if his daughters ever turned out to be like Y/n, he would never take them to practise driving. “You need your own space. I had a little bar in my old apartment with all the best gin and vodka.” Dick smiled wistfully, thinking of his lovely hobby as a bartender. “But then I moved in with Kori. And then the kids came along.” His smile disappeared and he sucked in a breath through his teeth. “You wanna know where I have my bar now?

Dick shuffled around a closet and knocked over a shelf of expensive bottles. “My alcohol!” he screamed out.

“I am not gonna let you lose this bet,” Dick grumbled.

“Cool. So, basically just telling me not to get married and have kids…” Y/n side-eyed him awkwardly. “Anything from dispatch?” she asked after a moment.

Dick checked in and reported, “based on security footage, two fugitives ran North toward Shadowcrest. Looks like the arsonist and counterfeiter.”

“Fantastic,” Y/n grinned, the car revving underneath her.

Stepanie and Jason sat in a squad car, cruising down the streets as Steph reported, “Apparently, one of the fugitives is heading south on Lincoln Place. Also, why do we have a street named after Lincoln? He has a lot of stuff named after him. Why don’t we have a street named after Rutherford B. Hayes?!” She threw her hands up in the air while Jason wished he had more coffee. “He has a wicked name, helped civil service, and basically forged the nation back together after the Civil War! And, he has a super cool beard.”

“I’m not even going to ask,” Jason mumbled, white-knuckling the steering wheel. After a moment of silence, he awkwardly began, “so, I know you're Y/n’s best friend, and all…”

“Hell yeah I am,” Steph agreed, ripping into a protein bar. She was struggling with the wrapper.

“I know you really want her to win this bet,” Jason said, “but could you please–”

“Are you kidding?” The detective wrinkled her nose, cutting him off. “That's the last thing I want! Y/n/n moving in with you is my dream come true. Your apartment is only three blocks away from mine. She’ll be able to pop by any time.” She let out a loud gasp and Jason nearly swerved off the road. Thankfully, all the streets were empty. “Imagine it,” Steph painted a picture, “she’s been having a tough day. She’s fighting with Jason. You know how you bottle things up and act like a typical man. So, she just walks over to my place, brewskis in hand, and we just talk it out. Maybe watch some chick-flicks. Paint out toenails. Invite Cass over and clean our weapons. And by the time girl’s night has finished, you've come to your senses and apologised!”

She grinned at Jason who sighed, “maybe I don't want to win this bet.”

Wayne stood by Damian’s desk, briefing Cass. “We need to figure out whether this crash was an accident or part of a deliberate escape plan,” he said. “Damian, I need you manning the tip line.”

“No.”

“Okay. Cain, there are only two witnesses close enough to the crash to see something. One's on his way already.” Wayne flipped through some papers before presenting, “his name is Leonardo DiCaprio.”

Cass let out a small squeak of excitement, making Bruce raise a brow at the blatant show of emotion. “Leonardo DiCaprio?!” Cass clarified, “Leonardo DiCaprio the famous actor?”

Wayne shrugged and gestured to his notes. “I don't know his frivolous hobbies.”

“We're not getting anything out of him,” Cass declared, crossing her arms. “He doesn’t do many interviews. Admittedly, it could be because of his pedophilia, but you have to admit he tugged on everyone’s heartstrings with Titanic. Whatever the reason,” she explained, “you won’t be able to get anything out of him.”

“Well, it may be tough, and it may take a while, but I'm sure we'll get him to open up.”

“Sir,” Cass smirked, “with all respect, there are some vaults you just can't crack.”

A while later, the famed actor Leonardo DiCaprio sat in Wayne’s office and said bluntly, “I didn’t see anything. I was eating my quesadilla. It was a good one. Chicken, cheese, guac. But they forgot my pico de gallo. Have you ever wondered why they don't make quesadillas with sausage? Or, you could throw some tomato sauce in there and call it a pizza-dilla... What do you think?”

Cass stood there, a pained look on her face. “What is going on?” she grit out.

Leonardo DiCaprio kept talking. “Speaking of tomato sauce, a couple of nights ago, I spilled some on this really nice grey sweater I had while I was watching West Wing. You know, the show that Martin Sheen is in? I feel like no one talks about that show anymore! A total banger, you know. Honestly, with the way everything’s been going, I’d totally vote for President Bartlet right now. Or any of the other characters. Who’s your favourite character? Not a popular opinion, but I love Mrs. Landingham!”

Wayne held up a pleading hand, brows mashed together in pain. “Stop. Stop talking, Leonardo DiCaprio. Did you see anything after the van crashed?” Cass held her head in her hands, wanting to die.

“Nope. Like I told you, I was just eating my quesadilla. Have I talked to you guys about my pizza-dilla invention?”

“Yes, well,” Wayne cleared his throat and stepped towards the door. “I have other matters to attend to. So, Detective Cain, just take down everything Mr. DiCaprio has to say.”

“Captain…”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Y/n announced to the precinct, arms spread wide in victory and a victorious grin on her face. “Please welcome to the precinct… Escaped convict number one!” she sang out. After a small pause, she turned back to Dick who was struggling with the arsonist. “Dick! Where's the music? That was the cue.”

“I didn't have that ABBA song on my phone,” Dick said. “I wasn't gonna pay a dollar ninety-nine for it.”

“How the fuck do you not have every single ABBA song?”

“Nice work, man,” Cass gave Y/n a head nod of approval. “You can put your perp in holding with the other three convicts.”

“Wait. Other three?” Y/n asked.

“Todd and Brown brought them in,” Wayne entered the bullpen, a clipboard in hand.

Jason swung around in his chair, smirking gleefully. “That's right,” he praised himself. “It's three to one!” He held up a flyswatter that he had bought after using too many tissues and shoe soles to kill creepy crawlies at Y/n’s apartment. “Guess I won't be needing this anymore since you'll be moving in with me.”

“The sacred bug killer!” Y/n gasped. “The only thing you said doesn’t make them feel any pain so I don’t need to feel guilty about killing them!”

“Exactly,” Jason said as the other detectives shared a look of ‘how stupid are these two idiots and why do they love each other so much?’ Jason bent the flyswatter which should’ve, with the combined effort of poor manufacturing and Jason’s sheer strength, broken easily.

But it didn’t. Causing Y/n to shout out, “the bug killer lives and so do we! Albeit ironically! Woo!”

An old lady sat nervously at Cass’ desk as Wayne and the detective tried to cross the language barrier and communicate. “Excuse me, ma'am. I was wondering if you could answer some questions about the accident you witnessed this morning,” Wayne asked before the woman started speaking a rapid Slavic language.

Cass and Wayne exchanged a glance. “What’s she saying?” Wayne asked.

“The fuck should I know?”

Wayne shook his head with disapproval before sliding a map out of his jacket pocket. “All we have to do is figure out what language she's speaking so we can find a translator. Here, ma'am. Take a look at this map of the world.”

“You just keep one of those on you?” Cass raised her brows.

“Of course. In case I ever need to prove my point in an argument.” The captain turned back to the woman. “So, where are you from? Where did you grow up?” Wayne set the map down and began by cupping a hand up by his shoulder, his other hand making rhythmic pats midair. “Where were you born?” he enunciated.

After a moment of wondering what happened to her life, Cain asked, “what are you miming there, sir?”

“A parent burping a child,” Wayne said simply. “Something you have to do for months after an infant is born. See, you must do this after every feeding, your hand moving up and down the back. This clearly shows a babe, Cain. How clearer could I be?”

Jason and Steph barged into a small convenience store, guns drawn at a man in an orange jumpsuit. “GCPD! Get down!” Steph shouted out. “Freeze!”

The man instantly ran out the back door, knocking over a pile of toilet paper in the process. “This way,” Jason urged. “Come on.” The pair ran after the man only to find Dick cuffing the perp in the adjacent alleyway. “Oh, come on!” Jason grumped. “Where did you guys even come from?”

At that, a loud horn honed twice. The sound came from a large, obnoxious vehicle that had the GCPD logo plastered to the side of it. Y/n poked her head out of the driver’s window, grinning maniacally. “Your nightmares,” she said dramatically. The detective hopped out of the vehicle – which was bigger than a city bus. “Hey, Jay, allow me to introduce you to Big Bertha.” She patted the side of the bus. “Given the magnitude of the situation, we were given full access to any and all department resources.”

At that, Steph groaned, realising what her friend meant. “That's right, y'all!” Y/n crowed. “We went to Homeland Security!” Channelling Vanna White, Y/n showcased Big Bertha. “This beauty comes fully equipped with thermal imaging, a satellite link-up, and she plugs in to every surveillance camera in the city. She's also got a holding cell, which is big enough for three perps!”

Dick piped up, asking, “Y/n, counting this guy, how many perps have we caught and placed in the three-perp perp cell?”

“Well, Sarge, we've placed three perps in the three-perp perp cell,” Y/n replied.

“So, the three-perp perp cell's full?”

“Full of three perps is the three-perp perp cell!”

“Okay, stop saying ‘perps’ and ‘cell’ and ‘three!’” Jason demanded, whipping a hand through the air.

“You sound irritated,” Y/n pouted. “I wonder why. Would it be that, perchance, your darling girlfriend is now beating you by one?” She batted her eyes and gave Jason a coy smile as her and the sergeant climbed back into the bus and drove off.

Bruce Wayne, esteemed captain of the sixty-sixth precinct of Gotham City, was sitting in a chair opposite his Everest. Which was an old European woman. Wayne, Cass, and Tim sat in the break room, the latter with a glazed, coffee-induced look in his eyes. “What are you trying to tell us?” Bruce asked desperately, after the witness had repeated her phrase for the umpteenth time. The woman stood in front of a whiteboard. She drew a circle with numerous smaller circles in it. “Is this some kind of clue?” Wayne pleaded.

The woman repeated her Slavic phrase and Cass groaned. “Draw better!” she commanded. “We have no idea what this is.”

Tim stared at the whiteboard for a long time before mumbling out, “I think it's a cookie. Wait. No. It's a pizza.” He then gasped and slapped his hands to his cheeks with an epiphany. “It's a cookie pizza!”

He stood up, dusting his hands off. “Another case solved.” Marching out the break room, he commented, “really, capitan, I should be getting a raise for how good I am at this.”

“No. Detective,” Wayne stuttered. “We’re not–”

Cass shushed her superior. “Let him go,” she advised.

The old woman exclaimed something else in Slavic and waved the two officers out of the break room and through the bullpen.

“She's taking us somewhere,” Bruce exclaimed, hurriedly following his witness. “This is good. This is good. We're gonna crack this, Cain!”

The woman said something else in her native language, gesturing to Cass and Bruce. She then turned and entered the bathroom.

“Nope,” Cass pressed her lips together into a thin line. “She just needed to take a shit.”

Y/n sat in front of Big Bertha’s computer console. “Satellite images showed one of the two remaining convicts entering this building,” she told Dick who was standing behind her, eating a muffin. “If we catch him,” Y/n continued. “That's five. I win the bet. Jaybird moves in with me. I lord it over him forever. He's miserable. We live happily ever after!” she cheered. “It’s fool-proof!”

Dick shot her a confused look, but decided not to get involved in his detective’s love lives. “But that’s thirty floors of office space for the perp to be hiding,” Dick said.

Y/n typed some things onto the computer and said, “nuh-uh. We can use Big Bertha to tap into the security cameras.”

Soon later, Dick was in the building, gun drawn and bullet-proof vest strapped on. He moved throughout the rooms as Y/n concentrated on the computers inside Big Bertha. She manoeuvred a joystick that moved the security cameras around. Meanwhile, Dick entered a new room. Y/n spoke inside his earpiece, “Okay. This room is clear, but check that closet.” Dick stepped forward and Y/n chuckled. “This is like playing the coolest video game ever! My character is Richard Grayson.”

Dick interrupted her thoughts. “It’s locked,” he declared.

“Ooh, kick it down!” Y/n exclaimed. “Front kick! Front kick!” Dick sighed and did as she dictated. He signalled the all clear and moved onto the next room. Y/n paused and her brows furrowed as the cameras skipped a chunk of the building, leaving her in the blind. “Wait a minute, Sarge. I don't have eyes on that room.” After skipping through a couple more camera angles, her blood ran cold as she saw her sergeant being held by the criminal, a sharp razor to his throat.

“Shit,” she muttered. “Hold on, Grayson. I’m coming for you.”

“Drop the weapon,” Y/n commanded, gun drawn right at the perp’s heart. Unfortunately, the perp was using Dick as a human shield and Y/n struggled to get a clear shot.

“ You drop your weapon,” the criminal countered.

“Okay, hey, stay cool,” Y/n raised her hands. “We can work this out. I’m a trained hostage negotiator. I saved some hostages from my best-criminal-friend when he robbed a bank to save his daughter.”

“L/n!” Dick shouted out, struggling with the criminal to try and keep the blade away from his neck.

“Right. Sorry,” Y/n gritted out. “What do you want?” she asked the man.

“You let me walk out of this building and get into a car,” the perp began. “And if anyone tries to stop me…”

All of a sudden, Jason came out of nowhere and thwacked his baton at the criminal’s legs. The convict cried out, knees buckling and subsequently releasing Dick. Jason was quick to slap some handcuffs onto the man. “Got him,” Jason grunted. He flashed a grin towards his girlfriend and said cockily, “I think that makes it four to four.”

“No. No!” Y/n wagged a finger towards Jason. “You don't get credit for this guy! I was in the middle of negotiating, and he was about to give up... Tell him, guy,” she exclaimed.

The criminal shook his head. “No,” he shrugged. “I was probably gonna kill him, then let you kill me.”

Y/n’s expression dropped, lips parting with shock. “Holy fuck,” she muttered. “I should’ve been way more scared.”

Stephanie took the perp from Jason and began shoving him towards Big Bertha’s holding cell. Jason stepped towards Y/n, brushing a thumb over her cheek. He carefully lifted her chin up to meet his gaze. His eyes held an undeniable amount of love. “Well, there's just one convict left,” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss against Y/n’s forehead.

With a much more calm and loving voice than the situation called for, Y/n replied softly, “may the best detective win.”

The old European woman finally exited the bathroom and when she saw Bruce and Cass still standing there, she huffed out a sigh. She gestured again for them to follow her, leading them out of the precinct doors. Stopping at a seemingly random place on the sidewalk, she pointed down and repeated her phrase.

The two officers looked down and realisation dawned on their faces. “The sewers,” Cass whispered out. “She saw a perp go into the sewers.”

“Her drawing,” Wayne connected the dots. “It wasn’t a cookie pizza. It was a manhole cover.”

They turned to each other and yelled out the woman’s catchphrase. The old woman slapped her hand on her forehead and said her words again, relief coming over her face.

Soon after, Bruce clicked on his walkie-talkie and called for, “L/n, Todd?”

“Yeah, we’re here,” Jason responded immediately.

“Us too, Captain,” Y/n agreed, not one to be forgotten or outdone.

“We have a lead,” Wayne announced. “One of our witnesses saw the last convict, Waylon Jones, the murderer, go down into a manhole and escape into the sewer near the crash site.”

“Copy that,” Jason said firmly. “We're on it.”

“Yeah, so are we,” Y/n added quickly. “We are also on it!” She turned the steering wheel of Big Bertha all the way to the right, but realised that the street was much too marrow. “Back it up a little bit,” she narrated as she threw the bus into reverse. A loud beeping filled Dick’s ears as Y/n was able to reverse the vehicle only a metre or two. “Forward,” Y/n muttered as she pushed Big Bertha forward again. “Back,” she reversed again. “Forward. Back. Forward. Back. Forward. Back. And we’re good to go!” she crowed, barrelling forward and knocking a city mailbox down in the process. “Oop. Almost clipped the mailbox. Heh. Close call.”

At that point, Dick wondered silently what he had done in a past life to deserve this.

In their respective teams, Dick, Y/n, Jason, and Steph all were in the Gotham sewers, each with their nose wrinkled up with disgust. “I can't believe Leonardo lived in this,” Y/n muttered to Dick. “I mean, Michelangelo I get. He's kinda a sloppy dude. But Leo is so fastidious.”

“Y/n, shut up,” Dick commanded.

“Sarge, we're in a sewer,” Y/n scoffed, smirking. “I'm gonna to talk about the Turtles.”

“No, Y/n,” Dick reiterated, “shut up. I hear something.”

The pair turned a corner and came face to face with Waylon Jones. “GCPD!” Y/n yelled out. “Freeze!”

Barely a second later, Jason and Steph came from the other tunnel and Jason shouted, “GCPD! Freeze!”

The lovers shot aghast looks at the other before turning back to Waylon Jones and rapidly reciting his Miranda Rights, “you have the right to remain silent! Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law.” Y/n’s eyes flicked over to Jason. His jaw was tense and his muscles were taut as he held his gun. Even though his eyes were narrowed, Y/n knew of the window into his emotions that they were. The hands on his gun held her too, but with such care and softness. And his heart, that was surely beating quickly at the holdup of a convict, beat just for her. He had told her many times when they laid in bed together, his arm wrapped securely around her waist. Jason was a cuddly sleeper. It was one thing she loved about him. Another thing she loved was how his bed was pushed against a wall, furthest away from the door. And he had no intention of changing that. When she had complained once about having to crawl over him, he had shut her up with a swift kiss on the lips and the murmured confession that it was because he wanted to be able to protect her from anything that might barge through the door. The rest of her complaints were pushed aside that night when he showed her how much he loved her in his bed.

“You have the right to an attorney,” Jason continued. His gaze shot over to Y/n when he didn’t hear her honeyed voice along with his gruff one. “If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you…” he trailed off. After a pause, he asked quietly, “why’d you stop?”

“I'm done,” she said simply. “You win.”

“W-what?” Jason stammered.

“I love you,” Y/n smiled up at him. “I wanna move into your apartment.”

“Really?” At Y/n’s confirming nod, Jason’s face broke into a grin. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her long and hard. “I love you too,” he muttered against her lips.

“Oh, my God, what a beautiful moment,” Steph beamed, interrupting the pair. “Too bad we’re in a sewer…”

Dick shoved Waylon Jones to the three-perp perp cell. “Alright, head to the back. You're going to jail.”

“Hey,” Jason came up and stood behind the driver’s seat where Y/n was guiding Big Bertha back to the precinct. “Why did you decide to let me win?” he asked softly.

“I don't know,” Y/n admitted. “When we were back there, racing through the Miranda Rights, I just looked over at you and thought, ‘you're awesome. And you're utterly fantastic at doing things.’”

“Are you sure about this?” Jason whispered. “I don’t want you to do this if you don’t want to. I want you to be happy.”

“Oh, yeah,” Y/n waved his concerns away. “Your apartment is better than mine in every way imaginable. You wanna know what my first thought was when we dropped into the sewer? ‘Smells like home.’”

“She's lying, Jason,” Dick called from the back. “Her first thought was about the Ninja Turtles.”

Jason scoffed and shot Dick an incredulous look. “Come on, Grayson. We were in a sewer. She's gonna think about the Turtles.”

“Yeah!” Y/n exclaimed, beaming at her boyfriend. “I'm gonna, Grayson!”

#title of your sex tape #jason todd x reader #jason todd #dc x reader #dcu #b99 #slow burn

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ms--lobotomy · 5 months ago

Note

40k Lion being an an absolute freak. A slutty old man. A whore. Anything will do really.

Normally I don't answer requests while they're closed, but @kit-williams has a long overdue birthday gift involving Lion of either type. I was already going to do 40k Lion, but this is the kick in the ass I needed to finally write the fic. Thank you, Anon!

Summary: Lion reunites with an old lover.

Word Count: 649

Content Warnings: This one's real soft but like. Armor kink and breeding and vague NSFW

Image Credit: @squishyowl

You were going to become a mother. At least, that's what he had promised you. Before Horus lost his mind, before the man you loved vanished without so much as telling anyone where he'd gone. Ten thousand years had gone by. Despite your nature as a Perpetual, it was a long and accursed wait for something that might not even happen. Ten thousand years, and you'd not given up for a day.

Someone who'd been the lover of a Primarch would have had to go into hiding for the foreseeable future. So hide you did, moving from planet to remote planet and never staying for more than a few Earthen years. It was late at night while you worked. The noises you heard were like small earthquakes, but rhythmic as one thump superseded another. Right after the last one, you heard a knock.

"Shouldn't you be...?" you asked, words failing you.

"What in the galaxy do you mean?" you heard a familiar voice respond.

It all clicked in your mind. Perhaps the footsteps of a Primarch were so unfamiliar to you nowadays, so otherworldly that you'd mistaken them for something else. You hadn't looked out of any windows, but you saw a familiar shade of green. And you'd recognize the voice anywhere, if it was a little huskier and a little more worn.

"Lion?"

"Indeed," he replied, "now if you could invite me in, that would be quite welcome."

You tilted your head. He was never one to announce his presence, and the Lion you knew would open the door himself if he'd wanted to see you. Oh, well, you've reasoned with yourself. Most people change in ten thousand years. As you approached the door, you saw the familiar etchings in his verdant armor. You opened it and craned your neck up to look at him.

"You've aged," you said softly as he ran a hand along your cheek. His wrinkles were far more pronounced, and his hair was silver instead of the blonde you remembered. His forest-green eyes were the same, and he made rare eye contact with you as the crows feet grew deeper with his smile.

His smile widened. "You haven't," he replied, kneeling down. He slipped a hand behind your knees and lifted you up, his armor cold against your skin.

You relaxed. Despite the metal armor, his hold was as comfortable as your remember. He stood up. You hadn't felt that rush of air in a long while. You were now higher above the ground than you were tall.

He lifted you to his mouth, and you bared your neck as he pressed kiss after soft kiss into it. His whiskers were still rough against your skin, but that was a welcome feeling after going so long without it. Your eyes met again, and you let out a light giggle.

"I've missed you," he mumbled before resuming his activity.

"I've..." you started. How were you even going to begin to describe how you felt, those ten thousand years of sleepless nights waiting for him? That empty feeling of waiting, of not knowing whether your efforts were for nothing. Relief didn't even begin to cover how you were feeling. "I've missed you t-!"

He set you down and knelt before you again, pressing his lips onto yours and pressing you into the side of your house. The straps of your sundress were pushed up and to the side, and your eyes widened as his closed. After a minute, he pulled away.

"Too soon?" he asked, concern in his voice.

"N, no," you whimpered. You made no effort to pull the straps of your dress back up, thanking your lucky stars that you had no neighbors.

"Good," he said. "Now, help me take off my armor. I want to keep my promise to you."

"What-?"

"You're going to become a mother when I'm done with you."

Taglist: @bispecsual @justeverythingnothingelse @bleedingichorhearts @nekotaetae @historitor-bookshelf

#warhammer 40k x reader #primarch x reader #lion el'jonson x reader #lion el'jonson #reader insert #warhammer lobotomy #sry all mine have been short i really wish i could be Wordier but i am Not

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vctrvn-ls · 1 year ago

Text

You cuddled into Sharky's sweater, smelling the faint and almost faded signs of the cologne he always used in the morning.

You had a cup of warm tea in your hand, waiting for it to cool down before you could drink it.

It was pouring outside, your windows were covered in a thin layer of fog that built up because you had turned the heater on.

Typical London weather.

Just this morning it was bright and sunny, now it's dull and grey.

You were on the couch, watching a Kdrama called Blind.

Honestly, you were surprised by your own self, considering the fact that you'd always called all the shows "cheesy, corny and annoyingly similar to almost each kdrama that existed".

All of that quickly disappeared after Sharky finally convinced you to watch Blind.

It was a drama, but a thriller and detective story as well. And after getting a taste, you couldn't get enough of the plot. You liked it so much that you happily rewatched the episodes you and Sharky had already seen together, not wanting to watch anything without him.

You sighed, as the last episode, you both had already watched finished, picking up the remote and pausing the tv. You glanced at the window, seeing the sky light up.

Where the hell was he?

You picked up your phone.

10:34

No calls, no texts, no nothing. He said he'd be back late, but he didn't say how late. You wanted to call him, find out if he was ok and make sure he's on his way home.

But, on the other hand, you didn't want to come off as clingy or needy. You'd only been dating for half a year…Didn't really make sense since you moved in together. And you knew that it didn't make sense, but you'd rather not risk anything that might push him away.

Like being too clingy, so with another sigh, you put your phone down and clicked on a different show to kill the time.

Soon, after finishing your tea, you dozed off and fell asleep with Big Mouth playing in the background.

Your eyes opened to the sound of your front door squeaking open, followed by a series of ruffles that sounded like a coat being taken off.

"Baby?" You heard a whisper "You asleep?"

You blinked a few times before sitting up and seeing the hallway of your apartment lit up behind the living room wall.

"Sharky?" You groaned, getting up and making your way to the door.

"Heeyy," you were greeted by a big grin and smiling eyes "Did I wake you up?"

You looked him up and down, seeing a a wet umbrella on the floor and a puddle on the mat beneath Sharky. He was soaked.

You let out a tired chuckle.

"What?" He murmured with a smile, leaning down to take off his boots.

"You look like you've just got out of the pool."

"Have you seen the weather? It's been raining since noon!"

"What was the point of your umbrella then?"

He put his shoes on the rack and looked up at you, shrugging innocently. You shook your head before tiptoeing over to him, making sure not to step on the puddle, and pull him into a lazy hug.

"Oh I missed you too," he snickers, closing his eyes and resting his chin on your head for a couple of seconds. "I'm a bit offended you didn't call." He says as you step back, letting him finish undressing. "It's almost midnight and I've just come home."

You remembered your previous thoughts from today "I didn't wanna..." you paused "I mean I knew you were gonna come home. I didn't wanna like," you shrugged.

"Distract me?" He jokes sarcastically.

"Yeah..."

He saw the uneasy expression on your face.

"You know," Sharky began "I like it when you call me out of nowhere." He pulled off his hoodie.

Your eyes widened hearing his words "Really?"

He smirked "Yeah. It makes me feel wanted."

Wanted? Not annoyed?

"Oh." You felt a small smile tug at the corners of your lips as you realized something. Maybe Sharky didn't mind you being a little...clingy.

"I'm gonna go take a shower." He says, picking up his bag off the floor "We gon watch another episode? Or are you tired-"

"No!" You replied quickly "I really wanna know what happens next."

"Aha, alright. Don't fall asleep though."

"I won't."

That was the liest of the lie lies.

You went back to the couch, and while waiting you stared at the window, droplets of water hypnotizing you as they trickled down the outside of the glass.

"Hey, ba-" Sharky cut himself off as he stepped into the living room, seeing your eyes closed and head rested against a cushion.

"Oh, girl," he whispered, taking the blanket from beside you and covering you with it. He switched off the hallway lights and the tv, before sitting down beside you, closing his eyes and drawing small swirlies on your arm as he dozed off after you.

#beta squad #youtube #sharky #sharky oneshots #sharky x you #sharky imagines #sharky x reader #betasquadfanfic

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kittartz · 4 months ago

Text

I'm making a BillStan Fanfic right now but I'm not sure if it's ooc or not so uh here's a sneak peak (WIP):

He walked around the house as he reached the gift shop's door, slowly opening it. He peeked outside and saw a pinkish, round headed creature that's standing. Wearing a lab coat and glasses while holding a clipboard. “Stanley Pines?” it asked, turning its head slightly to its side. “Yes?” Stan replied, wondering why an axolotl was here, then again, anything can happen in Gravity Falls.

“Ah! Lovely to finally meet you, you can call me Ax, Bills doctorー”

“Bill Cipher!?” Stan exclaimed, did I not hit him hard enough? He was burned, reduced to ashes.

“Yes, I know some of you and your family's history with him. Not a lot, only his therapist knows. And they recommended Bill to have a summer with you and your family. It would help his healing process.” the salamander explained. It moves to the side and reveals Bill, only, he was not a triangle anymore. He had a human form. Almost human―he had a lanky build, pointy ears, yellow-ish skin, shoulder length blond and black hair, and a cyan slash against his face. He wore a bright orange suit, like the ones in prison and he had a collar around his neck.

“We’ve completely stripped his powers so you don’t have to worry about him suddenly bursting into flames. Oh and, Before I forget, here's the remoteー” a small black remote was pushed into Stan's free hand, “ーfor the collar around his neck. It shocks him, it doesn't do much damage, just enough to control him. I'll take my leave now, buh-bye!” The salamander then disappeared.

Stan presses the button his finger was hovering on. “Fuckー” Bill said as he held the collar. “What are you actually doing here? I don't know if this is some sick joke to get back at usー me but i'm uninterested.” Stan spat out, his finger lingering on the button again.

“Wait, wait, wait! I swear this isn't a trick, if it was, I wouldn't let that thing near me.” Bill said, sitting on his knees on the porch. A long silence fell before Bill realized Stan would listen to his explanation.

“After you “killed” me I shattered. And that was the only time I was scared that I’d actually lose my life so I called out to the Axolotls’ name. But in return for me living again, I went to theraprisim. Time over there is different from here, I was there for 1000 years. Some time for me but a lot for you.”

They hear footsteps approaching them.

“Grunle Stan, who are you talking to?” Mabel asked, standing at the corridor separating the gift shop and the house. “Don’t worry about it pumpkin. Just some homeless man.” Stan says as he shuts the door. Bill sees this as an opportunity and runs for it—click—he falls to the ground groaning.

Mabel stares blankly at Stan, reading his body language, one hand behind his back, forced smile, his eyes looking at anywhere but her. “You’re lying.” she said, staring blankly.

“What? No..” dragging the o, “..yeah but let's talk about it later. Let's eat first, you go sit, I'll be there.” Mable then turns to go to the dining room. Stan watches her until she is completely out of sight.

He turns around and opens the door again, seeing Bill on the ground, “I don't trust you around my family but I’m not letting you roam free.” He took a fistful of Bill's clothes and dragged him as he took a rope from the shop and tied his hands behind a tree. “Don’t think about escaping, I have your remote.” he threatened. “I know Pines.” Bill said, saying the family's name bitterly. Click. “Shitー why do you keep using that? Do you feel some sort of revenge? Being able to control me?” Bill asked genuinely but it sounded like taunting to Stan. Stan stayed silent, tightly tying the rope around his wrists. Once he finished, he stood up and went back into the house.

Let me know if this is ooc or bad writing, I'm new to this so sorry, please leave criticism :3

edit;This is just the first part btw, it's a oneshot. They get to know each other of course

#bill cipher #gravity falls #stanley pines #billstan #five years later #au? maybe?#writing #fanfic #wip

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aihoshiino · 2 months ago

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So I actually only just found out that OnK ended and I think I only read up to where S1 of the anime finished, so imagine my horror when I learned that not only did AquaRu happen (technically? I know there was a kiss, at least), but that Aqua dies after coming up with what's probably the stupidest plan I've ever heard of. I'm going off of this from the wiki, btw, so feel free to correct me if I'm missing anything, but I thought this story was going to be a critique on the entertainment industry mixed in with a "catch the killer" plot when I first started, yet it just looks like nobody learned anything by the end of it and the villain's defeat was underwhelming.

Good news! AquRuby did not really happen.

Bad news! AquRuby did not really happen.

Honestly, to this day, I have no idea wtf Akasaka was cooking when it came to the AquRuby stuff... my best guess is that because Oshi no Ko was influenced pretty strongly by Mengo's past works & Aka was trying to emulate some elements of it (to good effect, sometimes!) the AquRuby stuff was inserted to appeal to her and it actually playing out on page was them being like "lalala, playing with our toys" and wasn't ever something the two of them took really seriously.

By coincidence I ended up rambling about this off tumblr the other day, so I'll just grab what I said and slap it here so I'm not just repeating myself;

I'm gonna be so real, I don't think an AquRuby ending was ever something anybody on the series including Mengo ever took all that seriously as a direction the series was going to take. Despite what a lot of people will try and tell you, Ruby and her relationship with Aqua were just never really written remotely in the sort of way you would build up your endgame heroine. Prior to 123 it wasn't really something the series tabled in any meaningful way and even past 123, Ruby's apparent attraction to Aqua is largely just played as shallow brocon gag fodder. It's only when the manga talks about her love for Gorou that it takes her remotely seriously and even then that's dropped like a rock past 150 and never addressed again. The biggest red flag for me though is that the series never actually addresses the concept of incest in the context of Aqua and Ruby's relationship. It is the one big major roadblock to a hypothetical romance between them but the roadblock that is actually, textually floated by the narrative is Gorou and Sarina's past life age gap which is, as Ruby repeatedly asserts, no longer an issue. It's honestly bizarre to see a series have a whole ass subplot about a character falling in love with their blood related twin and pursuing it to the point of forcing a kiss on them and just... never ever address the concept of incest??? It ends up feeling kind of deliberate - like, Akasaka knew that the second the obstacle that is the social taboo of incest came up on-panel it would be the death knell for being able to shiptease AquRuby (and thus, get clicks and attention from hyping it up for better or worse). So we get the... whatever the hell he was cooking that happened on page.

[In response to a comment asserting that Ruby was "absolutely written as the main heroine" as refutation to the above;]

When I say that Ruby was not built up as the main/endgame heroine, I mean moreso in the sense that for over half of the manga, she and Aqua just... don't really have a relationship that is given weight and consequence in the story in comparison to their individual relationships to the other characters. Even before the story was seriously teasing the idea of a romance between them this was always a point of critique in the fandom - hell, if you go back and read comments on it from around 2022 onwards, Ruby's sidelining and the lack of meat to her and Aqua's relationship is always something people have (imo, rightfully) had issue with. And like, sure, maybe Akasaka just wanted her status as the final/true heroine to be a surprise but even if that's what he was going for, there were tons of opportunities in the first 120+ chapters of the manga to properly sow those seeds. I know this is The low hanging fruit to point at and I know we're all aware that Aka deliberately orchestrated this moment to make sure Aqua and Ruby wouldn't discover each other's past identities before he decided it wanted to happen, but it's still characterization that Aka chose to put on the page and informs Aqua's character - Akane and Ruby found a literal dead body and instead of checking in on his sister, Aqua chose to spend time with (and kiss!) Akane. It would've been extremely easy to include Ruby more prominently in moments like chapter 68 when Aqua thinks about living a normal life free of revenge, or when Gorou confronts him in 65 about his 'happy life filled with love'. Even in the anime which makes a point of emphasizing Ruby more in Aqua's 'happy memory' montage from chapter 50's material fails to do this. Or hell, maybe even have it be a point of conflict during the AquAka 'real dating' period, that he ends up prioritizing Ruby more than Akane to a degree that it causes conflict in the relationship and clearly betrays where his real feelings lie. But none of that really happens. Hell, even after 123, Aqua and Ruby still barely interact and all the newfound intensity in that relationship comes primarily from Ruby doing brocon gag bits every time they make eye contact. Even the kiss is difficult to really take seriously because it has absolutely zero impact on Aqua and Ruby both individually and as a duo. It does not affect any change in the series whatsoever to the point where I legit don't even know whether it's been retconned out of continuity or not. That just doesn't feel to me like a 'main heroine' whose feelings and relationship to the main character are being taken seriously by the author. That's why the whole "btw i was reincarnated to be ruby's attack dog them kms" resolution at the end of the series feels so jarring and would have done with or without any AquRuby ship teasing. It was the story trying to cash cheques vis-a-vis the twins' relationship it hadn't bothered to write.

#oshi no ko #oshi no posting #onk spoilers #onk asks #sorry this ended up being mostly aquruby litigation again #i just had it on the brain

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bun-z-bakery · 11 months ago

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A/N: whooo finally posted everything I've written so far for this story ^^ ofc there's more I gotta post BUT we're getting somewhere!

My Angel Doesn't Need Wings (6)

The feeling of pain courses through your body, forcing you to wake from your unsolicited slumber. You instantly realize you're not in the same area as before or even remotely close to it. It took you a few seconds to remember how you got here, once you remember, the image of that creature watching you from the shadows sends a shiver down your spine.

It brought me here

At this point, it feels like you're wandering aimlessly. Home Sweet Home wasn't exactly welcoming, and the chill in the air made you feel like you were being watched.

So many eyes were on you and this time you knew you weren't imagining it. Sighing happily you open the door, leaving home sweet home the same way you came in, you only managed to take two steps before you're tackled onto the floor and pinned down by a pink blur.

"H-hey it's me!"

Kissy Missy holds you down as you try to squirm away, she was stronger than you had thought.

"NO! NO! LET THEM GO!"

That familiar voice fills your ears, you weren't exactly too happy with her but you're glad she was there to help you.

"THEY DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WRONG!!"

Kissy Missy moves off of you and helps you stand

"You're alive?! That train situation wasn't cool. What even happened?!"

You ask as you dust yourself off and straighten out your filthy and now-tattered outfit.

"It... It's a long story"

"Well I'd like an explanation"

It was more of a demand, your guard was up once again.

“You’ve been through so much… you deserve an explanation. Come on.”

She explains what you should've been filled in on a while ago. Nothing in this place makes sense and this just made it worse, you had more questions but little time to spare. Catnap, Ollie, and the prototype were new names you've never heard before, one was a friend but the other two sounded like more trouble for you.

‧₊ ๑˚.・

The sound of a phone ringing catches your attention, hesitantly you answer

"Hey... Hey can you hear me?"

A kid?!

"H-hey kiddo, ya lost?"

You're concern for him was evident, how could a child survive down here? Especially in a place like this?

"You look kinda lost. I don't want you to die- so I'm gonna help you!"

His cheerful attitude made you smile, it made you feel something after being trapped here for who knows how long...

‧₊ ๑˚.・

Ollie was able to aid you the best he could from wherever he was. If anything he helped you get further than you would've on your own. The thought of a kid being trapped down here for who knows how long makes you shiver, it makes you wonder how he even got here or managed to survive for so long on his own.

‧₊ ๑˚.・

"Crap!" Your blood rushes as sweat runs down your face. You thought the schoolhouse would be a safe place to rest if you found an empty room, but you were far wrong.

Ms.Delight was the one who roams around the school and she was horrifying; her damaged condition made the sight of her even worse.

The clicking of heels echoing behind you is hot on your tail.

"I'm gonna make it! I'm gonna make it!"

You chant as you bolt towards the room just ahead. As soon as you make it you notice there's a lever next to the entry you have no idea what it did but you pull it in hopes it still works.

You gasp and cover your mouth, gagging at the terrible crunching sound that fills your ears.

Ms.Delight was crushed under the heavy metal door. The disgusting sound of metal and plastic being crushed would haunt you for a long time.

You move your trembling hand from your mouth and stand there, staring at her destroyed form. You back away hesitantly from the scene and sprint away.

At this point it felt like you were walking in some sort of endless maze, the hallway you found yourself in was odd, it was eerily quiet and the smell of blood was as strong as a freshly painted room.

Did they use these...as prisons?

You scan what you believe to be cells, slowly making your way through the halls, until a voice stops you.

"You..." The voice made you whip your head around, you weren't sure what you were expecting but it wasnt this...

"You're Poppy's angel, come to save us." His voice rasped. He was strung up by belts, he was mangled, filthy, and obviously left for dead. The state of him made your heartache.

"Nothing left to save, not here–" he was abruptly cut off by the weight of his arm hitting the floor. You cut the decaying belt with your switchblade.

"Angel, please–" he pleaded as you cut the other belt and snapped.

"NO!" Your response came out harsher than expected, but it caught his attention. He tries using his arms to sit up and stares at you; the despair in his eyes is as clear as day.

"The amount of death and suffering I've seen here is enough to last all of us a lifetime," you begin as you crouch down to meet him.

"I've been helped this far by those who are tapped as well."

You gently pet his matted ear.

"So now it's my job to do the same. No one gets left behind."

The dog sniffled as if he were holding back tears.

"We have to go, now!" He pointed back at the little toys you both were familiar with.

"Hold on to me!"

"Wha–"

"Please there's no time!"

He cuts you off and you quickly hop onto his back, you two just barely escape the small critters.

You felt terrible that he had to drag part of himself on the floor but it couldn't be helped. You took note of his arms, they were trembling, but he did his best to keep moving.

"HOLD ON!"

You had no time to react, your body jerked as he took a sharp turn, it was difficult for you to properly take aim and use your flare hand to ward off the toys but somehow you managed to hit a few. The tight squeeze of the tunnels gave you flashbacks to when you first got here, you hate being in such a tight space and being chased through them.

"They're gaining on us!"

You shout as you try to shoot another flare at them.

"A jump is coming! Hold on!"

You brace yourself for the jump and your bodies bounce as you both make contact with the platform.

The landing was rough but you're glad you both made it. You two try to catch your breath and you make an attempt to stand, but suddenly you're back on the floor and entrapped in a tight embrace.

"Angel, you're amazing, you freed me, you... You saved me!"

His hug becomes tighter once you wrap your arms around him. "Angel" seems to be a nickname they gave you upon arriving. If it gave them even a sliver of hope, then you didn't mind being their "angel". The giant dog sobs onto your shoulder as you carefully pet him, gently reminding him he's safe now.

"What's your name?"

He perks his ears up but remains silent for a moment.

"My name... is DogDay..." The hesitation in his voice made you question his intentions, but once you recognized him, you hug him tighter and smile into his chest.

"Nice to finally meet you, DogDay!"

As much as you hate to admit it, he was a bit terrifying compared to his animated counterpart that you grew up hearing stories of. But you put aside your fear to comfort the giant dog, you're his angel after all.

#bun z writes #dogday x y/n #sunnyangel #dogday #dogday x reader #poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #guess you could say we rode him

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crunchystarz · 3 months ago

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"A Distant Memory I Used to Know"

Chapter - 2 EyelessJack x GNreader

Previous - chapter index

CW- none

Summary: After you drop your brother off at school you run into that same masked man from a few days ago.

Word count: 2429

“We've been looking more into the recent rise in the numbers of murders taking place in our ci-"

With a click the TV powered off. You needed to not listen to the news, for your own sake you told yourself. Placing the remote back on the counter you let out a sigh.

You don't need anything else to feed your paranoia. You haven't been able to sleep much after the convenience store incident. You felt like you were going insane. It was just some random guy, so why was it driving you crazy?

You hated that one small thing that messed with your head so much.

It's just one guy. One weird masked guy. You felt as if you saw that mask before. Like you know it from somewhere.

Who are you kidding? You needed to call your therapist and see if any spots opened up sooner than your initial date.

"What do you think would happen if a fox were to drink an entire can of soda?" A chirpy voice said from behind you.

Hunter rested his head in his hands. You chuckled and ruffled through his scruffy black hair still slightly damp from his shower. He swatted you away while laughing.

“Foxes don't have opposable thumbs. How would they drink from a can? " You playfully questioned swiftly turning around and flipping the pancake to cook it on the other side.

“Well I never said it had to come from a can just it was the amount that was in a can! Plus it could have knocked it over” The boy playfully bantered back.

You let out a fake hurt gasp before putting your hand on your hip giving him a glare. “Getting sassy with me now Mr, Bold maybe I shouldn't add chocolate chips to your pancakes”

“Nooo” Hunter said, flopping his upper body on the counter, head down.

“That's what I thought” You chuckled gently hitting him on the head with your spatula.

Hunter was one of the only good things in your life that came from your past. You were adopted into a middle class white family when you were 4. Your parents weren't really in your life much however. Growing up you were convinced they only had adopted you for tax benefits.

They weren't physically abusive however they played a massive part in your poor mental health growing up. They didn't go to things like school graduations or after school club things. They never got you anything for Christmas only every other birthday you'd get a happy birthday card as a rushed gift.

They never knew how to take care of things like your hair which you learned all by yourself through lots of trial and era and almost killing it tons of times.

Things like this led to your already poor social skills dropping so low they were basically non-existent. You hated talking to most people and your friends never lasted long.

Except for one boy. You don't remember much about him because a lot of your life is a blur but he was nice and stuck with you throughout highschool as you recall.

Hunter was their golden child. Their first blood child. He was spoiled for the first two years of his life until your mom passed due to unfortunate circumstances.

Your mom was always the more responsible one. She worked a ton and did a lot of the financial work. She tried more with you yet wasn’t super active in your life.

Unlike your father who was always a complete snob. He was a college dropout who stayed home. Sometimes you'd even wonder how any one can put up with that man

Your dad got a new girlfriend pretty fast after your mother's death. Things got worse and your father payed no attention to Hunter after that.

You adored your brother however, he was a good kid with a kind heart. So you were more than happy to basically be the one to raise him for a little bit until you went off to college.

You and Hunter had a 15 year age gap but you two were still extremely close. Your brother got you and helped you stay grounded.

With you having your own place and all you could take care of Hunter more often. Unfortunately for legal reasons you couldn't keep the kid all the time and you've sometimes debated on trying to get full custody over him but you knew it probably wouldn't end well.

Despite only being 12 Hunter was extremely smart. He for the most part understood your weird traumatized brain and was a big help when it came to calming you down other than the pills. He really was your only family.

"Who do you think would win million Pikachus or Godzilla?" The raven hair asked, reaching for the syrup bottle that was on the farther end of the counter. You put the plate of hot pancakes on the surface before pushing the maple syrup closer to the boy.

"How about we stop talking and eat ,hurry before you're late for school" You chuckled to yourself. Hunter pouted but started to dig in anyway.

You went to clean up your batter mess you made in the kitchen. You'd need to change before you left the apartment because your shirt was now covered in dried up pancake mix. You usually didn't make big breakfasts like these but you'd do anything for your brother.

You went off to get changed while Hunter finished up breakfast. It was getting significantly colder so you made sure to put it on your mental list to get Hunter a new winter jacket.He was tall for his age.He had a huge growth spurt a few months ago yet his voice was still as squeaky as can be. His new height difference meant he needed new clothes and you wanted to make sure he stays warm during the upcoming winter.

You two left your apartment after two checks to make sure he had everything. Hunter went on ahead before you, skipping down the steps that led to your apartment which was on the second floor.

You locked up your door, again making sure to lock both the bottom and the top. A familiar meow from a few days rang through your ears. You looked down to see the kitten from before under your legs. It meow and rubbed your leg. Your heart basically melted.

"Hey buddy nice to see you again...I hope you're keeping warm- I can't stay long though" You said to the cat who obviously didn't understand what you were saying just appreciated the chin scratches it received from you.

You realized you should head off before Hunter got inpatient and threatened to eat your entire kitchen again. You gave the chestnut colored cat one last pat before hurrying to catch up with your younger brother.

Hunter's school is luckily in a good distance for you to walk from and back to. This helps save gas whenever he was over on days he had school. You smiled as the younger boy walked on the sidewalk occasionally kicking a fallen leaf.

When you two got to middle school you made sure to do your little "don't get into any trouble" speech before shooing the boy. He gave you a hug before sprinting off when he saw one of his friends. You smiled to yourself as you went to walk in the direction you had came from.

You hummed a random tune as you slowly strolled along the concrete. You weren't in a rush to go anywhere so you could take in the calm scenery. It wasn't an extremely pretty sight as you were just walking through your neighborhood but it was an early morning in the beginning of fall. You were allowed to appreciate the small things.

Your body tensed up but you never stopped walking. There it was again. You couldn't catch a break could you? The feeling of eyes on you was back. It made your skin itch. It made you want to sprint home and get under your covers where you felt safe.

You're just being paranoid again [ name] just like you always are there is no one watc-

Your brain circuited as you felt something hard bump into you. Well more so you bumped into it. A person. Once you collected yourself from your mini shock. God you were all over the place, You fully realized you bumped into a person. A person. A human being.

"Holy shit I am so sorry I wasn't paying attention I-" You blurted out an jumbled up apology. Embarrassed, you cleared your throat. Just like the first time your heart skipped a beat. It felt...sickly. A discomforting feeling of familiarity washed over you.

You were met with silence from the same hooded man from the other day. The same masked weirdo that was like a plague to your mind. That mask. Against you felt as if you've seen it before. The thought made your stomach twist. You soon realized how tall the brunette was exactly. You had to basically step back to look at him properly. He was so tall it almost felt... unnatural.

You got a better look at the man from last time. He was lanky and scruffy looking. You couldn't make out any facial features as he wore a mask. A blue mask covered in some unknown goop. It looked more dried out than the last time you saw it. Maybe it was paint. He wore the basic black hoodie like before and tattered jeans. His shoes were beat up and definitely have seen better days.

The way he looked at you made you cold. You swallowed and subconsciously made yourself look bigger. That damn mask. It would make any normal person uncomfortable but man it felt as if the empty sockets of the eyes were just staring into you.

You were snapped out of your trance when you heard him clear his throat. "No its fine I wasn't paying attention as much as you were..." That british accent called out.

The second time you heard him speak. His voice didn't match his creepy appearance. While it was extremely monotone it was strangely calming. You wanted to say something so bad.

You didn't know why just something made you want to. Maybe you thought talking to him would make him leave your brain completely and you'd give your mind some closer that we was just some weirdo walking around. Just as he started to continue his way down the street.

"Hey um uh-"

You didn't know what to say. He stopped. That's good. You hoped anyway. He turned on his heel and faced you again. He tilted his head in an almost animalistic way. As if he was showing you he was listening, waiting for you to continue. While he stared at you, that weird feeling of being watched came back. You swallowed a lump of air.

"Do you live around here?... I haven't seen you around here is what I meant-" You stopped yourself from talking you sounded like a mess. You felt embarrassed. You honestly didn't know what to say. You started rethinking why you even stopped him. You really had no reason other than you couldn't get this stranger out of your head. You felt absolutely insane.

He's literally just some weirdo that you so happened to run into twice. A weirdo that you for some unknown reason feel like you know. A stranger. A stranger in a mask. Calm yourself.

"Do you…remember me too?”

Your thoughts halted when he spoke up again. You didn't get to catch what he said because you were so wrapped up in your own head. You felt bad and gave him a weak smile.

" I'm sorry, what was that?"

…

" It was nothing I just had said you're that same person from the other day is all. It's funny running into you again especially because I don't necessarily live around here" He supposedly repeated with a shrug. You let out a sigh of relief and chuckled a little to yourself. You really are getting yourself worked up over nothing.

He is just some weirdo.

"sorry for um you know stopping you out of nowhere i just don't know i couldn't get you out of my head- wait no that sound creepy it's just you have a strange.... appearance? I'm just making this worse for myself aren't I" You awkwardly laughed. To your surprise the masked man let out a laugh. This calmed your nerves a little bit.

"I get it not everyday you see someone who looks like...well me I guess. Just walking around in broad daylight like some kind of freak " He replied in his monotone voice. You two just stared at each in silence for a bit. He cleared his throat before nodding his head.

"I should go...stay safe out here with all these murders and all"

"y-yeah um you too"

The brunette walked away with a quick wave goodbye. Maybe he was some psychopath your brain tricked you into thinking you knew after all.

You ran your tongue across your bottom row of teeth before taking a deep breath. You needed a nap, or an entire tub of ice cream. Both. Both would be needed.

You turned on your heels before making your way home. You listened to your footsteps as you walked up your apartment stairs.

You were stopped yet again but a now familiar fur ball. The tiny cat watched you as you unlocked the door to your home. You thought it was going to run off again but instead it let it into the building. You blinked as it turned to you and let out a meow.

"This is not your house, all though I might have to just name you if you keep showing up like this" You basically scolded the kitten.

It meowed at you again as if it was talking back to you. You put your hands on your hip and stared down at the creature. "You're adorable but you need out" You said as if it understood you, you pointed to the open door.

It just meowed again and walked farther into your home. You let out a sigh. You were to mentally and physically exhausted to chase a kitten out of your home. You shut your front door and promised yourself you'd deal with the kitten who was now rubbing itself all over your couch later.

—

"What happened to you?"

....

"stay back"

"please..."

#crunchystarz #eyeless jack x reader #ej x reader #ej creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #x reader #creepypasta #creepypasta fanfic #eyeless jack #jane the killer #ben drowned #reader is gender neutral

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witchysniffles · 8 days ago

Text

that old familiar feeling

These gays. They're trying to murder me.

This was meant to be a short little prompt fill for the prompts 😘: kissing things better, 🍓: homemade food/treats, and 🗓️: working late. (Thanks @snezus-christ-risen for the prompts!!) 4.4k words later, I do think I technically checked all those boxes.

A/gathario ft. sick A/gatha (and R/io who's not immune to irritation...)

Please don't reblog to non-kink blogs! Minors DNI.

Rio wasn’t sure what the hell the Scarlet Witch had put in that TV spell she’d locked Agatha in, and she definitely wasn’t sure what was or wasn’t intentional at this point, but she had to admit, she respected the hell out of whatever power had made the bold choice to turn the grand finale into a sick episode.

She’d noticed it from the first moment she saw Agatha in her ‘office’, which was really just a cluttered living room that was in serious need of a good dusting. Or maybe not. That would probably just make things worse.

It had been a long time, but Rio still knew Agatha better than she knew herself and the little signs were all there: the tired, watery eyes; the scratchy voice and dull congestion she couldn’t quite shake; her reddened, irritated nose that she kept rubbing in a way that had Rio suddenly very aware of the seam in her slacks as she crossed her legs.

And then there was the sneezing.

Despite a couple of quivering breaths and one rather promising false start that quickly fizzled out, Agatha had managed to keep it together during their initial meeting, but Rio had hung around the ‘station’ for a while after, which was a nicer way of saying she’d lurked around Agatha’s garden to try to get a better read on the situation. It wasn’t her fault Agatha left her windows open so that Rio could hear her fighting an increasingly frustrating battle against her nose for the better part of the afternoon.

So now here she was, standing on Agatha’s front step in the dark with a bag from the local pharmacy loaded with tissues and canned soup and anything that had looked even remotely useful from the cold and flu aisle. It had been a very long time since she’d had cause to buy cold medicine—the last time had been 1893, if memory served, and back then it had mostly just been a question of what flavor you preferred your cocktail of tranquilizers—but the guy at the cash register who rang her up said she clearly had all her bases covered, so she figured that was good enough.

She wasn’t sure Agatha would actually take any of it, but it wouldn’t hurt to give her some options. This Detective Agnes character didn’t seem like the type to take care of herself very well. But then again, neither was Agatha.

With a deep breath to calm her nerves, Rio reached out and knocked on the door. For a long moment, nothing happened, but then Rio heard footsteps coming closer, unintelligible grumbling, a lock clicking, before the door was wrenched open and Rio was face-to-face with a thoroughly disgruntled Agatha.

“What?” Agatha growled. She had a scowl on her face, clearly intending to send her unexpected guest packing, but once she noticed it was Rio, something in her expression shifted.

Her eyes widened in surprise, her lips parted; maybe it was just wishful thinking on Rio’s part, but she seemed almost…softer. Or at least as soft as this prickly version of her could look with a flushed face, tired eyes, and a frizzy halo of flyaways. She still looked grumpy and frankly sick as a dog, but for an instant, Rio almost caught a glimpse of her Agatha beneath the hexed shell. It tugged at something deep inside her, and she found herself biting the inside of her cheek to keep her expression neutral.

“Did you know,” she started evenly, “that it is a universally-acknowledged truth that a lady cop cannot be good at her job and have a healthy personal life at the same time?” Rio held up the pharmacy bag and jiggled it enticingly. “I brought the good stuff.”

Agatha narrowed her eyes and sniffled.

“What is this?”

“A peace offering, since we got off to such a rocky start,” Rio said with a shrug. “You seemed out of sorts at the station earlier, and I know there’s something nasty going around right now, so it didn’t take much to put two and two together.”

“Huh.” Agatha crossed her arms and leaned against the door frame. “Nothing gets by you, does it?”

“Nope,” Rio said. “That’s how I earned the big badge. Now can I come in? Your canned soup is getting cold.”

The corner of Agatha’s lip twitched at that, but she played it off with an irritated grumble even as she stepped aside to open the door a little wider.

Well that was easier than Rio had expected. Maybe the Detective Agnes model wasn’t so bad after all.

“Kitchen?” she asked.

“T-to the left,” Agatha said. “Wh-hh-what do you need the-hih-the kitchen for?”

“The soup,” Rio said, valiantly ignoring the way Agatha’s breath kept snagging on the edges of her words. “It might not be home cooking, but I promise you I can doctor up a mean can of Campbell’s.”

“You don’t hah-have to d-do that.” Agatha’s eyelashes were starting to flutter. She ducked her head to the side as she closed the front door with one hand and pressed the side of the other against the underside of her nose. Her red, irritated nostrils quivered as her breath hitched again, and she switched to pinching them to try to stave off the inevitable.

Rio didn’t say anything; she just watched Agatha’s war with herself with bated breath. Agatha was putting up a hell of a fight, but her body was fighting even harder. With one final, fluttery inhale, she pitched forward and squelched a sneeze into a near-silent shudder. She released her nose with a heavy sigh and a wet sniffle, subtly wiping her hand on the hem of her shirt. Rio thought she’d call that round a draw.

She turned away before Agatha could catch her looking, but she couldn’t resist calling a soft “Bless you!” over her shoulder as she headed towards the kitchen.

She glanced towards the dining room as she passed, and had to do a double take when she noticed the spread on the table: file folders labeled ‘EVIDENCE’, photographs of the neighbor’s flowerbeds, typed forms and handwritten notes that proved that at least the hex was still providing Agatha with more than enough mental stimulation.

“Burning the midnight oil, detective?” Rio asked, looking back and raising an eyebrow at Agatha who at least had the sense to look a little sheepish as she pressed a knuckle to the underside of her nose.

“Case doesn’t stop for the sniffles,” she said.

“No, but it does take a break,” Rio said sternly. “I’m gonna start on the soup. In the meantime, pack this up and get comfy somewhere. You’re not to think about it until at least tomorrow.” Agatha started to open her mouth like she was going to protest, but Rio was quick to cut her off. “That’s an order.”

She knew she was pushing it by trying to pull her fake rank, but she was pleasantly surprised that it…worked. Agatha didn’t look happy about it, but she busied herself clearing off the table as Rio set about unpacking her haul on the kitchen island.

Her attention was only half on her work, though. Apparently looking down at the table was enough to shift the congestion in Agatha’s sinuses and set her nose running. She sniffled once, twice, and swiped at her nose with her sleeve. By the third desperate, snuffling inhale, Rio rolled her eyes and tore open the tissue box she’d brought.

“Here.” She waited until Agatha lifted her head and tossed the box so it landed on the table next to her. “Blow.”

Agatha nodded her thanks as she traded her sleeve for a handful of tissues and cleared her nose with a couple of forceful blows. She didn’t lower her hands right away, though. Rio could tell from her shaky breath exactly what was happening, and she watched as sure enough, Agatha’s eyes closed as she pinched the tissue tight around her nose with one hand, bracing herself on the back of a chair with the other, and sneezed again.

“Hh-g’tx! H’gXHT! Ugh,” Agatha wiped her nose and sniffled again. She lowered her hands, but at the last second, another sharp inhale overtook her and she only just managed to get her elbow up in time. “Heh’ESSHhew!”

Huh. Interesting.

That was the first time Rio had heard a truly let out sneeze from Agatha all day, and she was pleased to learn that despite the new butch affect and that ridiculous accent that seemed to come and go the more time Rio spent around her, Agatha still sneezed exactly the same.

“Bless you,” Rio said casually.

Agatha rolled her eyes. “You’re gonna get tired of that real quick.”

Rio flashed her a grin. “Try me.”

Agatha chuckled and shook her head as she turned back to her work.

Rio, meanwhile, dumped both cans of chicken noodle soup into a saucepan and set it to warm on the stove while she raided the rest of Agatha’s kitchen.

“Wow.” Agatha had wandered over to the island and was pawing through the various boxes and bottles of cold medicine that promised to reduce fevers, ease congestion, soothe coughs, and knock you the fuck out to fix everything else. “Did you stick up the pharmacy on the way over?”

“Invoked eminent domain, actually,” Rio quipped. “No one ever seems to want to argue when you flash the badge.”

That made Agatha chuckle, and Rio smiled to herself as she grabbed a carton of half-and-half out of the fridge.

“You kndow,” Agatha sniffled hard and cleared her throat in an effort to regain control of her consonants. It didn’t really work, but it was cute that she tried. “You did’t have to do all this.”

“I know,” Rio said. “I wanted to.”

“Why?”

Now there was a loaded question if Rio had ever heard one.

It wasn’t like she could tell her the truth, at least not outright. The layers of this spell ran deep, and Rio was terrified to risk ripping through it all at once. It was better to be gentle, take it slow, guide Agatha towards the light on her own. If she had to tear her love’s world apart once again, Rio at least still wanted to be kind about it. Even if Agatha didn’t always see it, Rio had only ever tried to be kind.

Then, there was also the selfish part of Rio—a thing she never had before Agatha came along—that very much did just want to spend as much time with her as she could in whatever form she could get. And it didn’t hurt that she was frankly kind of loving the show that Agnes was putting on. She’d seen Agatha undone like this plenty of times over the years, and it was a sight that she could never grow tired of, but there was something about this particular performance that had Rio captivated. The essence of Agatha was still there in the thinly-veiled frustration, the reluctance to rest, the abuse of her irritated nose, but it was all just slightly off so that Rio never quite knew what to expect. It was almost thrilling that even after all these years there was a new way to watch this all play out.

And then, of course, she'd be lying if she said there wasn't a hint of self-preservation involved. Rio was fairly certain at this point that even in her human form she, herself, couldn’t be killed. If there was an exception to that rule, though, she was also fairly certain that Agatha would be angry enough to find it if Rio woke her from the spell and she found out that she was sick on top of it.

The soup was boiling now, and Rio poured in the cream and brought it down to a simmer before she realized she still hadn’t given Agatha an answer.

“Would you rather I kick you while you’re down?” Rio asked. “Because I could definitely do that instead.” She swapped the cream for some chicken bouillon and a few plastic spice jars that were all well past their best by dates. Black pepper, garlic powder, onion powder, thyme, and oh, red pepper flakes. “How do you feel about a little bit of spice?”

When she didn’t get an answer right away, Rio turned to find Agatha leaning heavily on the island, one hand on her forehead while the other was rubbing up and down the bridge of her nose.

“You ok?” Rio asked.

“F-fine,” Agatha said. “It-hih-it’s fide. S-sometimes they ju-h’huh-just get stuck and I…” She trailed off as her breath hitched once, twice, and she dropped her hand as her lips parted in anticipation and she—

“Ah, fuck’s sake!” Agatha dropped her head onto the counter and sighed.

“Oh come on, don’t tell me your nose has performance anxiety,” Rio teased.

It did. It was a horrible irony that Agatha’s nose could be so sensitive, but paying it too much attention could leave her breathless and frustrated, and not in a way she enjoyed. Rio knew this, but she had to admit that she was rather enjoying watching Agatha squirm.

Agatha didn’t lift her head—to hide her flushed cheeks, Rio presumed—but she grumbled a toothless, “Fuck off, Vidal,” as she flipped Rio the bird.

“Ok, sorry,” Rio said. “I’m not paying attention. Just pretend I’m not even here.” She turned back to the soup. Agatha hadn’t answered her question, but Rio knew the spice was probably still a yes. She measured with her heart, stirred everything in, and valiantly ignored the sounds of Agatha’s breath hitching desperately behind her again. Somehow not seeing it made it feel like even more of a distraction.

“Hh’hih…hh-hih—HH’heh…hH’HEgxtCH! HEh’xsh!”

“Salud,” Rio said as Agatha blew her nose with a congested sigh. “You know, you shouldn’t stifle like that.”

“Who are you, mby mother?”

“Thankfully no,” Rio said. She looked back and smirked over her shoulder so that she could watch Agatha’s cheeks flush even redder as she added, “I doubt we’d be having near as much fun if I was.”

“Is that what we’re doi’g?” Agatha asked, raising an eyebrow as she rubbed at her nose again. “Havi’g fud?”

Rio shrugged. “Could be.”

“Sure,” Agatha scoffed. “I bet I’b real fud all stuffed ub a’d gross.”

Rio didn’t say anything, just hummed lightly as she gave the soup another stir. It was just about done now, and Rio turned off the heat as she reached for a spoon to taste it. It looked nearly homemade, and it smelled like it too. She inhaled deeply, relishing the warm, spicy scent on the steam and she…ohh fuck. Rio just managed to drop her spoon on the counter and get a hand vaguely in front of her face before the burning tickle in her nose reached a crescendo.

“Hh-HAH’ESHhoo!” The first sneeze erupted out of her with little more than a shuddering gasp as a warning. She just barely remembered to turn away from the stove so she wasn’t directly spraying the soup, but the persistent itch didn’t give her much time to do anything else. “H’ASHhu! Oh-hh fuh-fuck I c-can’t AESHtshu!”

“Oh, shit! Are you…fuck, hold on.”

Rio was vaguely aware of Agatha scrambling around in the background, and under almost any other circumstances it might have made her laugh, but right now the only thing she could think about was how badly she still needed to sneeze. Her breath hitched once, twice, and then suddenly there was a hand on her upper arm, and Agatha was at her side, pressing a piece of fabric—was that a dish towel? Hadn’t Rio just given her tissues?—into her hand.

“HehEASCHoo!”

Rio was far too preoccupied with the persistent itch that was still smoldering deep in her sinuses to think about covering, but thankfully she didn’t have to. In the split-second she had between her breath stuttering and the next sneeze, Agatha took it upon herself to press the dish towel against Rio’s nose.

“AETSHhu! Ohh-hh g-god I hih-hESHH’hoo!”

That last one seemed to finish the job, but neither Rio nor Agatha moved for a long moment as Rio gave an experimental sniffle into the damp dish towel. With a sigh of relief, she straightened up, taking the fabric from Agatha and blowing the last remnants of irritation into it. When she was finished, she tossed the crumpled-up makeshift tissue onto the island. The actual tissues, she noted, were still on the dining table, and she felt a smile tug at her lips at the thought of Agatha being so panicked she hadn’t even thought to look behind her.

And on the subject of Agatha, Rio noticed that she was still hovering anxiously in front of the sink, not saying anything, just watching Rio closely.

“What?” Rio sniffled. There was a strand of hair that had come loose from her bun at the edge of her vision, and she tucked it back behind her ear. “No manners?”

“Oh, shit, sorry. Uh…bless you?” Agatha pointedly looked down at the stove as Rio casually scratched the side of her nose. “Sorry, that was just…that was a lot.”

Rio shrugged. “Spice always does me in like that. Guess I was just a little distracted.”

Agatha’s cheeks flushed impossibly redder and her hands twitched at her sides, so she just crossed her arms over her chest and exhaled heavily.

A devious smirk curled at the edge of Rio’s lips. If she wasn’t here on a mission, she’d have loved to get to play around with this a little more. Agatha’s…enjoyment of Rio’s sneezing had initially been a bit of a surprise to them both, but fuck if it wasn’t one of the hottest things Rio had ever experienced. She was pretty sure based on this reaction that Agnes had gotten that trait too, and Rio was willing to bet the good detective could be a real freak in the right light.

But she couldn’t think about that now. Every moment she was here was nothing but borrowed time for Agatha; Rio could be horny about it later.

She hip-checked Agatha out of the way of the sink so she could wash her hands. Agatha stepped back, but was still watching Rio with a strange expression on her face now. She looked pensive. Curious, even, like she was fitting together pieces of a puzzle without getting to see the picture on the box first.

For the briefest of moments, Rio considered that her own sneezing might have been jarring enough to at least rattle the bars of the spell Agatha was under, and if that were true, she was never letting Agatha live it down.

But then Agatha’s nose scrunched up again, and she pressed her knuckle hard against it, closing her eyes as the congestion shifted audibly. It didn’t go any further than that, but when Agatha opened her eyes again, any hint of recognition was gone. Rio supposed she’d just have to try harder next time.

She stirred the soup and tasted it. Perfect. She turned back to Agatha and nodded in the direction of the table.

“Wash your hands, then go sit down,” she said. “I’ll bring you a bowl.”

Agatha did as she was told without protest, and Rio busied herself rummaging around in Agatha’s cabinets until she found a mismatched set of bowls. She portioned out the soup and turned around to see Agatha flipping through a file folder at the table.

“Hey!” Agatha jumped at Rio’s sharp tone. “What did I say about working right now?”

“I kndow,” Agatha said. “I won’t, but just…would you do mbe a favor while you’re here and look at a couple of pictures?”

“You’re really asking for my help with your case?” Rio tutted as she set the steaming bowl on the table. “Have we checked your temp yet? Because that sounds like a fever talking to me.”

Agatha looked up at her, and it was clear that she was trying to look formidable, but all Rio could focus on was her pale skin, her watery eyes, her little halo of frizz from the messy ponytail that had no business looking that good on anyone. The steam from the soup in front of her was making her nose run and she scrunched it up as she tried to sniffle before resorting to using the edge of her sleeve pulled over her thumb to wipe it away. She looked so pathetic and adorable it damn near made Rio’s heart melt in her chest.

“Alright, fine,” she said, settling down in a chair across from Agatha. “I’ll look as long as you’re eating.”

“Ok, just gimme a second to find it.” Agatha licked the thumb and forefinger of her left hand as she started flipping through pages of crime scene notes and photos, picking up speed as she went until—

"Ah, shit," Agatha hissed. She dropped the folder as she shook her hand reflexively and stuck her index finger in her mouth.

Rio winced. "Papercut?"

Agatha nodded.

"Can I see?"

Agatha narrowed her eyes uncertainly, but still held out her hand. Rio didn't miss the way Agatha flinched when their hands met, but she didn't pull away. A little dot of blood had welled up again on the tip of Agatha's index finger. Rio held it up to the light, and studied the lines of Agatha’s face as she considered her next move.

"May I?” she asked before she could second-guess herself.

Agatha's brow furrowed in confusion, but even through the sleepy haze of the low grade fever Rio could feel on her skin, those sea-blue eyes were curious and hungry and desperate to know what happened next. She nodded once, and Rio smirked.

Slowly, gently, Rio guided Agatha's hand closer to her, keeping her eyes on Agatha the whole time until she could press her lips feather-light against the tip of Agatha's index finger, parting them just enough to press the tip of her tongue against the cut. Agatha sucked in a breath and Rio pretended not to notice.

Agatha had always described the sensation of Rio's healing magic as a dangerous sort of pleasure, like holding her palm just above a lit candle and letting the flame lick at her skin in the instant before it burned. For Rio, the push and pull of her own magic against Agatha's had always made it feel more akin to a static shock: electric and exhilarating. But here, now, in this ordinary house with Agatha's purple under someone else's lock and key, she could feel for the first time the warmth of her own magic as it melted against Agatha's skin and knit the minuscule cut back together.

Rio kept her eyes on Agatha as she held her hand back up to the light.

"Look at that," Rio said. "Didn't even break the skin."

Agatha's gaze dragged from her healed finger to Rio's eyes, and for just an instant, something like recognition flashed across her face before the confusion took over again. Agatha’s eyes went unfocused, her brow furrowed, her lips parted, and Rio was so caught up in watching her this close up that she was caught completely off-guard when Agatha snapped forward with a sudden harsh sneeze.

“hh-hETSHhoo!”

Agatha wrenched her left hand free of Rio’s gentle hold, and cupped it over her nose just in time to cover another harsh sneeze as Rio lunged for the tissue box. She held it out to Agatha who nodded her thanks as she replaced her hand with a couple of tissues and blew her nose.

If the heavy sigh that followed was anything to go off of, this cold was really starting to catch up with her. Feeling brave, Rio reached out to tuck a stray curl behind Agatha’s ear. Agatha flinched at the initial touch, but she didn’t pull away, and Rio let her nails drag lightly along Agatha’s scalp. That earned her a congested moan as Agatha’s eyes fell closed.

“How about this,” Rio said gently. “I’ll come back over and check on you tomorrow and we can talk about the case as much as you want then. But for now I think you need to eat something and then get your sorry ass to bed.”

“Fuck off,” Agatha grumbled in a tone that said she knew Rio was right and she was gonna listen, but she had to be kind of a bitch about it first. With that out of her system, though, she picked up her spoon to try the soup and her face instantly changed.

“It’s good, right?” Rio asked with a grin.

“It’s great,” Agatha said. “They teach you this shit at Quantico?”

“Nope, I'm self-taught,” Rio said. “I mean, I learned the basics from my ex.” Not a lie. “She’s a pretty decent cook, and I could barely even feed myself when we first got together. She taught me a lot, but I feel in love with the process and the rest is all just years of trial and error."

“Ex, huh?” Agatha scoffed. “Her loss.” She shifted in her seat, cleared her throat, scratched at the side of her nose before taking another spoonful of soup.

Rio laughed lightly and shook her head. “You have no idea.”

Agatha glanced at Rio and caught her eye for a moment before slowly, hesitantly reaching her right hand out just a little bit. She didn’t even make it halfway across the table, but the gesture was heard loud and clear: Agatha was reaching out. She was asking Rio to stay.

Rio thought about the rest of the soup on the stove that she’d have to put away sooner or later. She thought about the mess she’d left on the island that she’d have to find a place for when Agatha inevitably refused anything stronger than Tylenol. She thought about following Agatha up to bed, tucking her in, leaving water and tissues on the nightstand before leaving her alone when really Rio wanted more than anything to get under the blankets and just hold her.

Rio thought about all of this as she looked back at the hand she knew as well as her own. She’d have to leave soon. One way or another, she always had to leave. But right now she didn’t let herself dwell on that. Instead, she let her own hand creep closer to Agatha’s until they could fit their fingers perfectly together. Rio squeezed lightly, and when she met Agatha’s eyes, there was a shadow of an old familiar warmth in them.

Sooner or later this would be over, but for right now, it felt like enough.

#hello once again from 4:30am on a work night :)#i'll probably go back through and edit this again tomorrow at a normal human hour but what am i gonna do NOT post it immediately??#better note and maybe title and all that to come later when the insomnia no longer has me in a death grip #witchywrites #snzfic #sneezefic #a/gathario #a/aa #and with that i bid you all goodnight 🫡#ETA: ok spent my lunch break editing this and i am pleasantly surprised by how few typos there were!!#round of applause for 4am-and-half-a-gummy me for catching most of them last night ig lol #i'm sure i'll notice more later but for right now i'm pretty happy with this

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