#and not 3 full days like 3 5 hour days no breaks down to the last minute

[cozzyplace]

.

[piknim]

Ugh my manager said something yesterday thats making me so nervous to go back to work tomorrow and its nothing thats a big deal just makes me feel like im doing a bad job at my job

[wandaslittlebird]

That’s What Mama’s Do

Stepmom!Wanda x Reader

An early Christmas gift from Wanda encourages you to indulge your curiosities, and Wanda learns she can be a bit rougher with you than she originally thought.

CW: Stepmother/Stepdaughter, guilt, sexual exploration, flashbacks, anal (R receiving), spitting, strap ons (R receiving), spanking, inexperienced reader, mentions of videos taken during sex, dirty talk

Word Count: ~4.7k

A/N: It’s back and I’m so excited! I’ve extended this series to be at least 6 parts now, so get pumped everyone. I just kept having more and more ideas.

A/N: So definitely not 48 hours but like kinda close?? I was struggling with this part and I still think it might have worked better as a drabble, but I think it works anyway. This part isn’t nearly as Freudian, but there’s more of that to come in future parts! I hope you all still enjoy!

Thank you @marvelwomenarehot0 for reading this like 5 times and reassuring me I’m FINE

Part 3 of Her Special Girl

The days were filled with peppermint hot chocolate, soft blankets, Christmas movies by the fireplace, and lots and lots of cuddles. You and Wanda were practically velcroed to one another, completely inseparable. The two of you preferred to stay mostly at the house together, seeing as you couldn’t be nearly as affectionate when there were other people around in public.

What had started as an unpleasant fluke in your Christmas break, had turned out to be the best Christmas present you could ever ask for.

One this particular afternoon, you and Wanda were dancing together to Christmas music in the living room. She had you pulled close to her chest, gently swaying you back and forth to the jovial holiday music. But louder than both the music and her heartbeat, one thought came blaring through your mind.

How could you ever leave this? How could you leave her, alone? How could you ever be so selfish?

You leaned back so you could see her face. “Mama?” You interjected. Your eyes searched her’s, looking for a way to ease the guilt in your heart.

“Yes, little love?” She smiled down at you with a heart full of love and admiration. If she was holding resentment against you for leaving, she was doing a very good job of hiding it.

You swallowed nervously. “Could I give you one of your Christmas presents?” You asked. You hoped experiencing her joy upon receiving your gift would quell the aching guilt. “I have more to give you on Christmas. I just wanted to give you a special one while it’s still just the two of us.”

Her smile widened. “Of course, sweet girl. How about we do a special little gift exchange with just us. You know how hectic it gets on Christmas Day.” She bent forward and whispered into your ear. “Plus, I have a present for you that no one else is allowed to see.”

Your heartbeat quickened. She chuckled as she watched a blush rise to your cheeks. She smirked, drawing a medium sized box out from behind the tree. You followed suit, picking out a small box placed carefully on top of the pile of presents. You’d taken extra special care to wrap it nicely for her. You’d been excited about giving her this gift for a while now.

“You first,” you insisted, setting her gift down on the couch after she handed it to you.

You handed her the box, chewing your lip nervously. She unwrapped it meticulously, slowly pulling away the tape without ripping the paper.

Inside was a rectangular jewelry box, off white with a golden W.M. pressed into the center. She opened the lid and gasped as she revealed a gold chain necklace with three stones pressed into the center. The biggest one, in the middle was your birthstone, and on either size shone two aquamarines, the twins’ birthstone.

“Honey this is beautiful,” she said, pulling the necklace from the box. “But this must’ve cost you a fortune.”

You shook your head. “Not a fortune. I promise it wasn’t exorbitant. The gold was a gift from dad from a couple years ago, but…”

“You only wear silver,” Wanda finished for you. She chuckled at the general cluelessness of her husband, thinking he could just buy the most expensive thing on the shelf and you’d love it.

You nodded, smiling a little at the thought that Wanda remembered such a detail. You gently took the necklace from Wanda’s hands, clipping it around the back of her neck while she held up her hair.

“It’s perfect, darling,” she said, putting her hand affectionately over the stones. “Thank you, so much.” It sat perfectly on her neck, level with her collarbones. It looked beautiful on her.

You picked up your own present from where you’d set it on the couch. It was a bigger box than the one you’d given her, but it was light. You didn’t take the same care as she did with the wrapping paper, simply picking a corner and tearing off the paper. You unwrapped and opened the box to reveal a harness. It was very similar to the one you already had, except, instead of one O-ring at the base, there were two.

You tilted your head in confusion, examining the object. Wanda watched you nervously, slightly afraid the gift was unwanted.

She chewed the inside of her cheek. “Do you know what it is?”

“It’s a harness,” you answered. “But it has two rings for two…” the realization dawned on you as you spoke the words allowed. You stood in shock for a moment.

Wanda’s heart sank, thinking she’d gone too far. “It… it’s okay if you don’t wanna use it. There’s no pressure to try anything, of course. I just thought… you used to really enjoy…” she rambled.

You cut her off, still too caught up in your own thoughts to be paying attention to her nervous rambling. “Can we use it now?” You blurted out, excitedly.

She smiled. “Of course, little love. I thought you might like it. I remember you being rather fond of… playing like this.”

—————

You were standing in the doorframe of her home office, anxiously playing with your own fingers.

Wanda had been furiously typing away at her desk. The sound of keys clacking filled the silent room. Her face was focused, emotionlessly concentrated on the task in front of her.

You stood there awkwardly, trying to build up the courage to ask her your question. You certainly didn’t want to interrupt. You didn’t even like to interrupt her work when you weren’t about to ask embarrassing questions.

She was never upset with you, for interrupting her work. “Nothing that comes across my desk is more important to me than even your silliest queries,” she had told you. “Anytime I get to be talking to you, my work day has improved tenfold.”

Still, you stood in the doorway a little longer, hoping she would manage to notice you first.

After a few grueling minutes of going unnoticed, you finally decided to speak up.

“Mama?” You asked quietly.

Her face of pure concentration broke out into a wide smile. “Yes, my little love?” She responded, beckoning you into the room.

You exhaled in relief. She wasn’t upset with you for interrupting, at least. Now it was just a matter of trying to ask the question that brought you here in the first place. “I-I have a question,” you announced anxiously, cautiously approaching her desk.

“Ask away,” she instructed, leaning back in her car and swiveling it to face you. You had her full attention.

You looked down at the hardwood floor, unable to meet her gaze. Maybe this would actually be easier if she was still focused on work and you were simply in the background. “I… it’s embarrassing.”

Her face tilted, morphing into one of soft sympathy. “It’s okay, sweetheart. There’s no need to be embarrassed. It’s just you and mama here. You can tell me anything.” She reached her arms out, beckoning you closer so she could gently pull you into her lap. She sat you down and wrapped her arms around your waist, kissing you on the temple.

If she were anyone else, you wouldn't dream of asking her what you were about to ask. You lived in a world where questions, especially ones that may be considered taboo, were discouraged. Your curiosities had always been diminished and shut down, even since you were a child. And yet, Wanda was different. “You’re still growing up and learning about the world,” she’d once said. “It’s an honor to get to teach you about all the things you want to know. That’s what mama’s do, after all.”

You steeled yourself. “I… um… do you know how sometimes when we… play together you put toys inside of me and it feels really good?” You asked, trying to frame your question.

“Mhm,” she hummed affirmatively, trying to hide her growing excitement. She loved how flustered and embarrassed you got when you asked her questions about sex. It was almost as arousing as the “hands on” learning experiences themselves.

“I was wondering if… maybe you’d ever had toys in… the other hole,” you asked, looking down at your lap.

“Mmm,” she hummed again. She almost couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Were you really asking her what she thought you were asking her? God, you were more perfect that’s she could’ve imagined.

She kept calm, trying to contain her excitement. “I have. Mama doesn’t like to have things in her ass so much, but,” Her tone dropped lower and more sultry. She leaned over so close you could feel her breath on your ear. “I would love nothing more than if you’d let me play with yours.”

“R-really?” You stuttered. “You don’t think it’s… gross?”

She chuckled and shook her head. “No, sweetheart,” she assured. “It’s just another part of your body, little love. I don’t think any part of you is gross.”

“O-okay,” you said, leaning your head on her shoulder.

She pulled you tighter into her side, squeezing you in her arms and kissing your head repeatedly. “I love you so much,” she praised. “I’m so proud of you for being such a brave girl, and asking mama all your curious little questions about your body.”

“I love you too, mama,” you responded. You curled up in her lap, burying your red face in her neck.

“How about I forward all my calls to Natasha for this afternoon, and mama can show you all her toys and we can pick out some for you to experiment with, huh?” She whispered into your ear, voiced laced with excitement and seduction.

Your eyes went wide, and you nodded. It wasn’t the first time Wanda had dropped everything to fuck you, but you were shocked that seemed to be equally as excited about this as you were.

She led you to her closet, letting you peruse her collection. For someone who didn’t like to use them, she had a lot of butt plugs. She explained in depth their uses, the sensations of the different shapes and materials, and helped you make an educated choice of which one you’d like best. In the end, you both decided to start with a small metal plug, as well as a smallish strap. When you asked if she’d be pegging you with it, she chuckled.

“I don’t think you’re ready for that quite yet, little love,” she explained. “We’ll just use the strap like normal, but you’ll have the plug in this time. Does that sound good?”

You nodded. You were a little confused as to why she chose such a small strap if it wasn’t going in your ass anyway, but you trusted her judgment.

“One more thing,” she said, grabbing your favorite toy, the wand, before turning off the lights and leaving the closet. As always she took you to your own room rather than leading you back to her own. You both preferred to keep the sex out of the bed that her and your father shared.

She had you lean over the edge of your bed while she plugged the wand into the outlet. She handed it to you. “Alright love, I want you to make yourself feel good, okay? Can you do that for mama? Can you touch yourself while mama plays with your ass?”

“Mhm,” you hummed affirmatively, taking the wand between your legs and turning it on. You immediately shivered at the sensation.

She ran her nails softly up your back. “That’s it, good girl. Now just relax for mama.”

Her fingers moved down to circle your exposed asshole, watching the muscle tense in anticipation. You jumped at the unprecedented feeling.

“Shshsh,” she cooed. “Relax baby. You’re okay. Mama’s gonna take care of you. I’m just going to put a little lube on you, okay? It’s gonna be a little cold.”

You shivered again as you felt the cool liquid run down your untouched ass. She pressed her finger against your hole, gathering the liquid there before slowly starting to push into you. To her surprise, her first finger slid in rather easily.

You groaned at the sensation, muffled by the mattress. “Are you sure you’ve never had anything in here?” Wanda asked, suspicious but not judgmental. “It’s okay if you have, baby. You can tell mama. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

You whined into the mattress. “I-I… in the shower sometimes, I… explore a little bit.”

Wanda smiled, chuckling affectionately as she rubbed your back, slowly moving her finger in and out of your tight hole. “That’s okay, honey. You’re always allowed to explore your own body. Do you just play with your fingers? How many have you had?”

You nodded. “Just my fingers. And only ever one. I-I tried to do two, but… I couldn’t.”

She nodded, circling her finger around inside of you to get you comfortable. “Mama’s gonna try to add another finger now. Is that okay?”

You nodded. “Is… is it gonna hurt?”

She shook her head. “No baby, it shouldn’t hurt. If it hurts just tell mama and we’ll stop, okay?”

You nodded. “Okay.”

“Good girl. Now, just try your best to relax. Take a few deep breaths.” You felt a second finger at your entrance, slowly pushing past your muscles. You squirmed, at the uncomfortable sensation, but Wanda’s hand on your lower back kept you still.

“Good girl,” she praised as her two fingers fully pushed into you. “That’s a big stretch isn’t it?”

You whined. It didn’t hurt, per se, but there was an intense, unfamiliar pressure. You turned up the setting on the vibrator between your legs, keeping the discomfort at bay.

She spread her fingers out inside of you, stretching the muscles further. You moaned, the discomfort morphing into something more pleasant. The pleasure, oddly, didn’t override the discomfort, but rather existed beside it. “Mama…” you moaned, starting to slowly buck your hips back into her hand. “Feels… funny.”

“I bet it does feel funny, doesn’t it?” She said. “Do you like it? You wanna switch over to mama’s plug?” Typically, she would’ve insisted on taking things a bit slower, but, likely due to your own ‘self-exploration’, you were handling it a lot better than she’d expected.

You nodded. “Yes please.”

She slowly pulled her fingers out, watching your muscles tighten back up and close. She fantasized, for a moment, about opening you back up so she could spit inside of you, watching your muscles close as little bits of her saliva leaked out. But she’d save that thought for later. You were far from ready for that.

She took the metal plug and poured a bit more lube onto the end. The plug was a bit bigger than both of her fingers, but not terribly so. She pushed the cool metal against your asshole.

You jumped and whined at the sensation. She shushed you, putting a firm hand on your lower back to keep you in place. “Just relax honey, just like before. Keep playing with yourself.”

You did as instructed, taking a deep breath and focusing on the sensation in your clit. On your exhale, she started to push the plug in. She carefully pushed through the resistance forcing the plug into place.

“Mama!” You cried out. A range of sensation shot through your body all at once. Pain, pleasure, discomfort, pressure all came to a head in a sudden orgasm you hadn’t expected.

Wanda eyes went wide, seemingly taken as off guard as you were. She smiled and rubbed your back affectionately. “Aww,” she cooed, “did my sweet girl just cum just from mama’s plug in her ass. It’s okay, baby. You’re doing so good.”

“I’m sorry, mama,” you apologized. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as sensations overwhelmed you. Unlike your usual orgasms, this one only made you hungrier for more. You turned up the setting on the wand again.

“It’s quite alright, darling,” she assured. “Do you still want mama to fuck you while you have the plug in? It might feel a little different than it ever has before.”

You nodded eagerly. “Please mama!”

“Okay, sweetheart,” she chuckled affectionately, surprised and amused by your eagerness. She lined herself up with your pussy, pulling your hips back to meet her own.

You cried out, suddenly acutely aware of why she’d chosen such a small strap. With the plug in your ass, your pussy felt so much fuller than you would’ve expected. Your hands shot out in front of you, gripping the bed sheets for dear life.

Wanda made her first few strokes slow, watching as the base of the plug shifted with her movements.

“Mama!” You cried again. “Feels so… so full mama. Please!”

“Does it feel good baby?” She asked, rocking into faster. “Do you like having mama in both your holes? Do you like it when she fucks you with a pretty plug in your ass?”

“Yes mama!” You breathed. “It hurts, just a little, but it feels so good mama.”

“Aww does it make your ass feel too full baby?” She cooed. “That’s okay, honey. You can cry while mama fills your holes. That’s it. Cry for mama baby.”

In an almost Pavlovian response, you started to cry. The pain was bearable, even surprisingly pleasant, but Wanda’s command allowed your body permission to let the tears flow. You were glad your admission of pain didn’t seem to deter her, even when it was paired with tears. In fact, the sound of your cries only seemed to spur her on further, nearly pulling out of you and pounding back into you with every stroke.

“Mama I’m gonna cum again,” you sobbed.

Wanda ignored you, continuing to fuck you through your orgasm. You came harder this time, having to turn off the wand between your legs to keep yourself from overstimulating.

You tried to squirm away from Wanda, but she grabbed your hips harder and kept you in place. “No baby. Keep crying for mama. Keep making those pretty noises. I’m so close.”

You felt her hips start to falter before she pushed herself as deep into you as possible. She groaned, near collapsing on top of you before catching herself on the bed.

“That was so perfect, angel,” she soothed, pulling out of you while she gently ran her fingers through your hair. You whined at the sensation, lying limp on the bed. “Let’s get you all cleaned up and in some jammies, and then you can sit under mama’s desk while she finishes working. Does that sound good, little love?”

You nodded, groaning as she pulled out the plug and set it on the nightstand to be cleaned. Your head spun. All you could think of was your mama. You were so lucky to have someone who cared for you so deeply. You were so thankful you had her to guide you, to indulge all your curiosities. “Thank you, mama,” you mumbled tiredly.

“For what, sweetheart?” She asked, playing with your hair and looking down at your blissful face.

“For being here to teach me new things,” you tried to explain. Your head was so floaty you couldn’t get your words quite right. “And… and trying new things with me. And not thinking I’m gross or weird when I get curious about… certain things.”

“Of course, angel,” she said, kissing the top of your head. “That’s what mama’s do.”

—————

Wanda stood next to the bed, this time in her own room: the room she shared with your father. With him gone all week, her previous rules about keeping sex with you out of their shared space had gone as well. Unlike when you were young, it didn’t bother you much anymore. After all, you hadn’t seen him in years. In many ways, he wasn’t so real to you anymore.

So you held no discomfort about your current position, naked on your hands and knees in the middle of their bed.

Wanda was almost equally as naked, wearing nothing but the harness and the necklace you’d just given her. She was working on preparing and securing the toys you two had picked out in the appropriate O-rings. It she wasn’t so goddamn beautiful and you weren’t so goddamn turned on, she might have looked ridiculous.

But you suppose that was part of the gig with sex in general. It’s a little ridiculous, and, actually, mostly rather unsexy. But something about love and arousal morphs your perspective just enough to change everything: to make it a magical experience.

You’d chosen a smaller, blue dildo on the top. It was only about 6 inches long and less than an inch in diameter. On the bottom, you chose the first strap she’d ever fucked you with. It seemed fitting that the first time she’d use the strap on you in three years, she’d use the same one she’d used for your first time ever.

You felt the bed dip and she crawled onto the mattress behind you. She ran her nails down your back. “You are so beautiful, you know that?” She asked in a low sultry tone. She ran a finger up your slit. You’d been practically dripping since you’d opened her gift.

You shivered at her touch, instinctively buckling your hips back against her hand. “Please mama,” you whined. You were already so needy for her.

She wanted to hold out for a little longer, circle you while she toyed with your perfectly displayed body. But one look at your ass had her impatient. She needed to be inside of you, urgently. She lined the bottom toy up with your pussy, slowly pushing into. You were all too inviting, practically swallowing her. She was met with little resistance even in the first couple strokes. Then she pressed the top toy into your ass.

Instinctively, you tensed. “Shh, baby. It’s okay. Relax for mama. I’ve got you.” She rubbed gently at your lower back.

You relax, allowing her to push the toy into you. You whined as she pushed past the initial ring of muscles.

“Mama’s got you,” she reassured. “I’ll go nice and slow.”

The overwhelming full sensation immediately made your arms collapse, pushing you face down into the mattress. It was so much different than having her fuck you while you wore a plug. Rather than a static thing shifting inside of you, there were two things, moving simultaneously in rhythm with one another.

The stretch was overwhelming. You could feel both of the toys from both holes as they each pushed you open. Your eyes rolled back in your head and your mouth fell open. She’d hardly been in you for a minute and you were already losing your mind. “Mama… mama please,” you pleaded.

She leaned over to wipe the hair from your face. “What is it baby? Tell mama what you need,” she said, concerned. It had been a while since she’d fuck you. Maybe this was too much for your first time back. “Do you need mama to stop? I can take the blue one off and we can just use the pink toy,” she suggested anxiously.

You gripped the sheets under your hands, jaw slack and mouth opened. Once again, her anxious rambling fell on deaf ears as your mind was consumed with pleasure. “Faster,” you said unexpectedly. “Please, mama, go faster.”

Her eyes went wide at the unexpected request, but she hesitantly started to build to a moderate pace. She gripped your hips, pulling them to meet hers with each thrust.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” she praised. The sound of your skin hitting hers alone was driving Wanda crazy. She took a few deep breaths, willing herself to calm down. But when your weak little voice cried out from underneath her, she lost all semblance of control.

“Mama, please, harder.”

She tilted her head, giving herself a moment to process what you were saying.

She remembered you at 18, meek and trembling under her. She recalled the way you stuttered when you asked her even the simplest questions about sex. You were so ashamed and afraid to ask anything of her back then. It would’ve taken you weeks to muster even a simple request.

And here you were, years later, underneath her once again, shamelessly begging for her to fuck you harder. She couldn’t be more proud.

She slammed her hips into yours, gripping you hard enough to leave marks. “Did you miss mama fucking you like this? Did you miss her toys filling you up until you couldn’t think anymore?”

You nodded. “Yes mama!”

“You’re taking me so well, little love,” she praised. Her eyes darkened as she watched the strap disappear into you again and again. She was fixated with the sight. “Mama’s gonna have to get the camera out so you can see what a little angel you look like from up here, taking my straps all the way to the hilt. Would you like that baby? Would you like to watch yourself get fucked by mama?”

You nodded. “Mhm,” you hummed, biting your bottom lip. Her words took you slightly off guard, but that didn’t stop them from further turning you on. It seemed your boldness was rubbing off on Wanda.

“Mama could record you a little video and then you could watch it while you touch yourself later, huh? See what a good little girl you are for me.”

You moaned, nearly screaming into the wadded up sheets. “M-mama…” you stammered. The way she spoke, telling you her fantasies so unabashedly, made your head spin. You supposed this was as good a time as any to bring a fantasy of your own into fruition. “S-spank me. Please. Spank my ass.”

Wanda’s eyes darkened with lust at the request. She placed a cautious spank on your right ass cheek. It wasn’t hard enough to actually hurt. It was more just for the sensation.

“Harder,” you requested timidly. “Please, h-hurt me.”

Wanda slapped your other side, harder this time. You cried out, involuntarily clenching around the toys. She spanked you again and again, becoming obsessed with the sensation of you tightening around her. “You like it when mama hurts you?” She asked. Her voice was deeper than usual.

You nodded. You sniffled back tears, desperate not to cry. You were so afraid she’d stop or ease up, thinking she’d hurt you.

“Are you gonna cry for mama?” She asked, picking up on your stifled sniffling. “Go on and cry for me, love. You know mama loves to watch you cry.”

The floodgates opened as you started to sob underneath her, nearly shaking. “Feels so good, mama. I love being stretched with your toys. I love when you hurt me. I love you. I love you.”

Wanda smiled. God you were a vision, crying and trembling underneath her, and asking her to hurt you while you told her you loved her. “I love you too, darling. Fuck. I love you so much.”

“Please make me cum, mama. Please let me cum with you inside me,” you cried.

“You can cum whenever you want, baby. Go ahead and play with yourself for me. Mama’s got you. I wanna watch you cum on my toys, honey. Show mama how much you love her present.”

You reached your hand back and played with your own clit. She started to spank you again. “Mama!” You shrieked as you fell apart under her. She continued to fuck you and spank you, grabbing your hands at the wrist when you moved to push her away.

“Shshsh, angel,” she soothed gently. “I’m just making sure I get it all out of you, baby. Just let mama take care of it, honey.” She took both of your hands, positioning them on either side of your ass. “Be a good girl and hold yourself open for mama, okay?”

She pulled out of you, leaning over to spit in your open asshole. She watched in awe as the muscle closed back up, leaving her spit inside of you. She’d waited years to see this. Had she had a bit of foresight, she would have brought a plug she could stuff you with after, making sure it stayed inside. Oh well. There was always next time.

She moved your hands away, spanking your ass one more time for good measure. You groaned.

She grabbed a cloth off the side table, carefully wiping your clean. You squirmed under her gentle touch, but she held you in place before gently laying you on your side.

Much to your chagrin, she climbed off the bed. “Mama…” you called after her, reaching out for her.

“It’s alright baby, I’m just gonna take this off and then I’ll get all cozy with you in there okay? Wait just a second for mama.”

You pouted for the whole ten seconds it took her to get the harness off. She crawled into bed next to you, pulling you under the blankets with her. You curled into her side while she gently played with your hair.

“You’ve never asked me to spank you before, little love. What was that about?” She asked kindly and nonjudgmentally.

You shrugged. “I don’t know,” you replied hazily. “I was always too embarrassed to ask before, but… I’m not so scared anymore.”

She smiled and kissed your head. “I’m glad you asked,” she admitted. “I enjoyed it. And I’m so very proud of you for being so brave. You made mama braver too, you know.”

You cuddled into her closer, looking up at her from her chest. Your eyes begged a silent question.

She giggled. “Ah, I thought we were asking for what we want now? Now you’re getting all shy on me again?”

You whined. Asking for things was hard, and you thought you’d done quite enough for one day.

She chuckled at your stubbornness. “Do you wanna suckle for mama? You earned it little love, being so brave and asking mama for what you want. Go ahead sweet girl.”

“Thank you, mama,” you say before taking her nipple into your mouth.

���Of course, baby,” she whispered, kissing your head. “That’s what mama’s do.”

Taglist: @wandanatsgirl @jordy-12 @snowy12 @wandamaximoffsbadgirl @wandaslovey @alicentsbunny @theloveweholdtohigh @inarayofmoonlight @boredandneedfanfics @hikyiwid @mrskatemaximoff @redheadsinmybed @wandaslamb @marigoldenblooms @emiliaisdead @lizziefor @virginiatcm @kittercandy

[celestiallymar]

| September goals

1. Daily Self-Care Routine

Start small by adding one or two self-care habits to your daily routine, like stretching for 5 minutes in the morning or writing down three goals for the day ( like drinking more water ).

2. Be kind to yourself

Tip: Create a habit of switching your mindset and words. Try saying “I am capable of achieving my goals” or “I deserve to take care of myself.” instead of discarding your needs and feelings.

3. Add little challenges to your day

Try a 30-day personal challenge, like journaling every morning, starting a workout routine, or reading 10 pages of any book you like each day.

4. Dealing with burnout

Reserve one day of the week for self-care and doing things you enjoy. Even if you can't take the full day for yourself try to make it at least two hours for a good and relaxing shower, taking care of your skin, hair and body. Maybe you can even treat yourself to your favourite meal!

5. Productivity Hacks

Break tasks into smaller, manageable chunks, and set a timer (like the Pomodoro technique—50 minutes of work followed by a 10-minute break) to stay productive without feeling overwhelmed.

Tip: If a task takes less than two minutes to complete (like answering a quick email or tidying up your desk), do it immediately. This prevents small tasks from piling up and becoming overwhelming.

That's all!! Tell me if you'd like more tips.

Stay healthy, stay happy and be kind!

[ja3yun]

Stitch Me Up | L.HS

underground fighter!heeseung x nurse!reader

warnings: smut (mdni), ex heeseung, unprotected sex, cream pie, weapon and blood mention, if i missed anything lmk!

wc: 4.5k+

synopsis: after a tough shift in the hospital all you wanted was to rid yourself of the tension and your ex turns up just in time

a/n: hi! hope you're all doing well. a quick one shot from me so i hope you like it. not much to say on this one <3 ilysm

Dragging your feet behind you, you unlock your door. Everything that went wrong today could have gone wrong; first, you caught your fingers in the mobile hoist, a patient spat in your face, and you spent the last 30 minutes of your shift cleaning shit from the toilets.

No one ever said being a nurse was a glamorous job, but on days like these, you wish you picked something a little more dignifying. 

You kick your shoes off and head to your bedroom to grab some pajamas. Every bit of you is emotionally and physically drained, this past month has been exhausting. Working 70-hour weeks and being underpaid for it was starting to take its toll on your fragile body.

Nights like these you miss Heeseung, you shouldn’t but you do. 

Picking up scattered clothes that made a mess of your bedroom floor, you groan when your lower back aches. Someone in their 20s shouldn’t be in this much pain. They should be living their best life, staying up late, going out at the weekend, and having a healthy social life. 

You love your job, it’s rewarding and you love to take care of people. Seeing people who are in your ward get better makes your heart feel full like your life is actually worth something and doing some good in this shitty world.

You used to have balance. Heeseung was your balance. 

Sifting through your drawers you find some pink shorts with white love hearts and a cropped white tank top. Usually, you would settle for a set of sweats and a baggy t-shirt but after practically spending 3 days straight in unflattering scrubs you wanted something pretty.

When you walk you can feel the pain in your feet, and blisters start to form. You needed this shower asap. Luckily the bathroom is less than 5 steps away from your bedroom door so you can keep your hobbling to a minimum. The shower is so enticing as you switch the button on and set the temperature just right, or in your case, scolding hot.

A roasting hot shower is what you need to forget today. You need Heeseung’s hands to melt away the pain.

You miss him.

Heeseung and you have been broken up for precisely 1 month and 13 days. For some reason today you can’t shake him off your mind. 

The water cascades down your skin, tiny droplets sit on your face as you wash your hair. The smell of coconut fills the tiny box bathroom and for the first time today, you feel content.

After you rinse the conditioner from your hair and wash your body with a matching scented soap, you pull the shower curtain back and step out carefully - the last thing you need is to fall and break a bone.

Wiping the mirror to rid it of the steam you stare at yourself. The dark circles under your eyes and the redness of your cheeks showcase just how tired your body is. Nothing an overpriced and overrated skincare routine can’t fix. You grab the cleanser and start your regime. It reminds you of him, how he used to always help you, the pads of his fingers gently rubbing the product into your skin, and when he had any left over he would use it on himself. He looked so cute and sweet during those times.

What is with you today? Why do you keep thinking about him?

Quickly, you dry your hair and body with the towel and get ready for bed. Typically, you would sit up and watch an episode or two of Brooklyn 99 but honestly, you’re too burnt out to enjoy it.

As you leave the bathroom there is a knock at the door and you freeze on sight. It’s late and none of your friends would come over, so your brain goes into panic mode. Being a girl alone in her flat was scary enough these days never mind taking in the factor of the time. All the lights are off so hopefully if you just stay still, they’ll leave.

Another knock.

Grabbing a coat hanger from the clothesline in the bathroom you arm yourself with it, it would do enough damage to the person on the other side of the door if you had to escape. 

So you couldn’t second guess yourself, you briskly tiptoed to the door and swung it open, hanger tightly in your grip ready to swing.

The figure turns around and jumps, backing up when they see the coathanger ready to be lobbed at their face.

“Woah, Y/N. It’s just me.” He puts his hands in front of him in defense.

Heeseung.

You breathe out and relax, dropping your arms to your side. Although your exterior seems to have gotten over the fright, your heart is thumping still. That could be because when you look him in the eyes finally you register who he is.

“Heeseung it’s past midnight, what are you doing here?” 

He steps forward and you see his face battered and bruised, his lip has been bust open and a black eye forming on the left side of his face, he was a mess. There have been countless times he’s looked like this, it’s how you two met.

A year ago there was a knock on your door, not unlike tonight, except that time your friend Jongseong was carrying a half-to-life version of Heeseung. The boy couldn’t stand on his own two feet.

“Y/N, sorry, I didn’t know where to go, he didn’t want to go to the hospital,” Jongseong explained, although it didn’t clear anything up.

“What the fuck, Jongie, who is this?” You grab the other side of the spent boy and sit him down on the couch, “What happened to him?” Looking at the guy in front of you, you see the blood on his t-shirt, slash marks on his arms, and his face is blown out.

Jongseong rushes to get the first aid kit from your bathroom, “He was fighting tonight and some arsehole pulled a knife on him, and got him in the stomach a few times,” You lift the fabric covering his torso and see wounds bleeding, “I tried to pull him out of the fight but he wasn’t having it.”

You don’t know a lot about Jongseong’s work life, all you know is that by day he’s a simple office body, filling, paperwork, a pen pusher of sorts. But when night came he was an underground fighter, all of it illegal, but he fell into it with some guys at the gym. From what you hear he is pretty good at it.

“Heeseung, buddy?” Jongseong slaps the boy's face a few times, “Stay awake, this is Y/N, she’s a nurse.” So his name was Heeseung.

“Jongie, these are pretty serious, he needs to go to the hospital.”

“No hospital.” Heeseung coughs out. You suppose if you take him to A&E how could any of them explain what happened? 

You rub his legs to soothe him, “Okay, no hospital.” 

That night you stitched his wounds and cleaned him up. Obviously, he survived, and you took him in like an injured winged bird. Let him stay at yours for 2 weeks, and by the time he was ready to fly away back into the world, you wanted him to stay forever.

You look him up and down to take in his outfit, he wasn’t wearing sweats so this wasn’t a scheduled fight, instead, he was clad in jeans, a White Stripes t-shirt, and a loose-fitting leather jacket, “What the fuck happened, Heeseung?” 

“Is it lame if I say you should see the other guy?” He laughs but nothing is funny. 

Stepping aside you let him into your flat which he does like second nature, his shoes left exactly where they used to go, “Heeseung you can’t just come here looking like this and not tell me what happened.” On autopilot, you go to get the first aid kit.

He takes a seat on your kitchen counter and looks around, “Nothing much happened, some guys being dicks.” 

You come back from the bathroom and see him atop your kitchen, “Eh, get down from there. Now.” He always perched himself on anything but a seat. It didn’t bother you too much but right now after your shift, you couldn’t be arsed to pander to it, “Try and treat my place with a bit of respect please.”

Heeseung jumps off and walks to take a seat on the edge of your couch. It might be wrong of you to think it but he does look beautiful like this. You blame Leon Kennedy in Resident Evil for your attraction to busted up men.

As you open the first aid kit you feel his eyes on you, “Why did you come here, Heeseung? You could have treated this yourself.”

“I missed you.” He confesses and it’s true he did miss you. 

For the past month he’s been throwing himself into fights he knows he won’t win just to feel something other than heartache. In spite of his cold attitude and reckless behaviour, he held your love so gently in his heart that he couldn’t even act tough around you. From the first day he laid eyes on you, he knew you had to be his, and if that meant opening up his heart, that’s what he did. 

A first he thought it was because you were fixing his wounds and he owed you something but that thought quickly vanished when you fixed more than that. 

“Heeseung, we broke up. It’s done.” You say coldly. With the thoughts of missing him earlier still fresh in your brain, you had to nip this in the bud.

When you broke up with Heeseung it wasn’t exactly because you wanted to, it was to protect yourself. His lifestyle and yours don’t mix, he was always getting into trouble and you were trying to avoid it at all costs. But more importantly than that, you couldn’t see the man you love come home every night exactly how he is now, broken and beaten. 

The deeper into the fight circuit Heeseung got, the more dangerous it was. People were pulling knives, guns, and bringing back up, all for the sake of making sure their bosses won the bets. Your ex-boyfriend was a great fighter - or so you’ve heard, he never let you come to any of the fights - but these other guys played dirty and it was a threat to his life. 

So when you asked him to stop and he said no, you did what you had to and called it off. You lost sleep, precious never to be taken for granted sleep, every night he fought and it was taking its toll on you. You tried to compromise with him and pleaded with him to go back to the regulated (if you could even call them that) fights, the ones where the stakes are lower.

However, Heeseung was above that now, too much of a hot commodity. 

“Baby, I’m making us enough money so you don’t have to do so much overtime.”

“Seungie, I’m a nurse, all we do is overtime. Plus, this shouldn’t be about the money, it’s about your safety.” Your voice is cracking with every sentence you have uttered tonight, but he still won’t listen, “I’m not asking you to give it up, but please stop taking these high-stakes fights, you’re going to get killed.”

Heeseung scoffs and places a hand on your shoulder, “I won’t die, I’ve got you to stitch me up.”

“No, Seungie, you don’t. I can’t do this anymore.”

It was a brutal way to end it, none of you walked into that conversation expecting that outcome, but for you, it was the only thing you could do.

Soaking a cotton pad with some anti-septic, you place it gently on his lip, a hiss from him following your action, “Sorry.” You whisper. A sorry for the pain but also for breaking up with him. No matter how much you knew it was right for you, you knew it was hard on him. Opening himself up to love you wasn’t easy for Heeseung.

“I’m used to it, baby.” Your heart cries as he calls you baby, it always sounded so perfect coming from him.

“What did the guys do?” You ask and he looks at you with those beautiful eyes, masked behind purple and blue, “You said guys were being dicks, so what did they do?”

He didn’t want to waste energy on it, the fight being over in a flash anyway, “Just stuff. They got a jump on me hence the mess.” He moves his hand to gesture to his face but while his hand is already there, it engulfs yours, the one that’s cleaning the blood from his mouth, “Baby, I didn’t start it.”

“I know, Seungie.” You feel yourself falling back into how it used to be, his thumb running circles into your hand. 

Once you finish up, you place a skin closure strip on his mouth, your thumb rubbing gently to secure it in place. He takes the opportunity to take your thumb into his mouth and you nearly moan at the intimate act. 

But this isn’t how it is now.

“Heeseung.” You warn him. 

He releases your thumb and sighs, “Habit.” He was a man of few words, you knew that, so there was no need to say anything more.

“You should go. Keep it clean, and put some ointment on that black eye.”

“I miss you so fucking much, Y/N.” Ignoring him, you walk into the bathroom to return the first aid kit, “Don’t you miss me?”

It almost makes you laugh. You missed him more than anything, so much so that after the shitshow that was today all you could think about was him. All you wanted was for him to wrap you in his arms and tell you everything is fine, but that is a wish that can’t be a reality anymore. 

“It’s not about missing you Heese-”

“I’ll quit.” 

You turn the bathroom light off and brush past him, “No, you won’t. We both know it so don’t lie to me, don’t start that now.” 

Heeseung is a beat behind you when you walk into your bedroom, “Y/N, believe me.” He knew you didn’t need to believe him, there wasn’t even a reason to believe him because he had said this before. But this time is different, “If you just listen to me,”

“No, I don’t think I will.” The stare you have on him is angry, “I offered you a solution for all of this, and honestly? I am so tired of this conversation now. I need you to go.”

Hurt flickers in his eyes, “Baby, I’m miserable without you.”

Agitation builds up inside you. He’s acting like this is solely your fault, like you were the one that caused all this. Granted, you broke up with him but it was after giving him every solution to stop it, “This is not my doing, Seungie, okay?” He wants to retaliate but you snip in before he gets the chance, “You love fighting those losers more than you ever did me, you made that clear.”

He sees red at your allegation. How dare you even think for a second you weren’t his number one. Sure, he didn’t want to give up fighting, it was who he was, but he also didn’t want to lose you, he sees that now. He has to prove to you just how much you mean to him.

Heeseung takes two long strides to you and kisses you hungrily. It’s been so long since he felt your lips in his. The stinging from his wound is dull compared to how he feels to have you like this again, he has a whole month of kisses and fucking to catch up on and nothing will stop him.

“I love you so much don’t you dare fucking say that.” It was a rarity for him to say that he loves you out loud. You knew he did, it was his actions that showed his love more than words, but hearing it made your eyes well with tears. Because he didn’t say it much, you cherished every single time he did.

You fall onto the bed behind you, his weight crashing onto you as you both lose yourselves in the kiss, all that anger and hurt dissipated each of his kisses.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders you try and deepen the kiss but he pulls away. He takes off his jacket and t-shirt and that’s when you see the bruises dispersed along his chest and torso. This fight must have been a lot more brutal than he let on. 

Sitting up you kiss each bruise while he straddles your lap, gently showing love for each one. The nurse in you wants to tend to them right away, they really did a number on his stomach and you’re slightly concerned about the damage done to his insides. But right now all he needs is a few kisses to make it better.

“They don’t hurt, promise.” He assures you, but if you kiss him too hard, which isn’t hard at all, he winces. To fixate on something other than the pain he whips off your tank top and just the sight of your breasts has him feeling a-okay, “Missed you so much.”

You could laugh at his obvious ogling but with your burnt out body and his just the same, you just needed to feel him, “Seungie, please,” You whine into his right peck as you kiss him over his darkest bruise again.

Heeseung understands your pleas and pushes you flat against the bed before undoing his jeans and not so gracefully kicking them off, “What do you want, baby? I’ll do it all.” 

To quit fighting. That’s what you want to say, but you can’t risk the idea of an argument, not when you’re so close to having him inside you again, “Fuck me, Heeseung. Please.”

This is all he’s been dreaming about since you told him to go. Your love wasn’t the only thing he craved. 

Dipping his head down to yours he kisses you again, his hands dipping into your cute pajama shorts to pull them down, “Can I eat your pussy baby?”

You would love nothing more than to feel his tongue all over you but you are truly exhausted, “I have had such a hard shift Seungie, just need your cock to make me feel better.” You’re lifting your hips into his as you say this, staring into his eyes to let him know he has to do this soon or you’ll crash.

“Okay, baby.” He brings two of his fingers to your folds to assess how easy you could take him. You’re wet but you could be wetter for him. Heeseung is an average size but if you’ve been without sex for a month like he had hoped you’d need a little more. 

He clambers over you to reach the top drawer and grab some lube. His cock is basically in your face so who were you to not have a taste of it? You sit up on your elbows and your mouth engulfs his member. He's so shocked by the sudden action he nearly drops the bottle, “Shit, baby.” His free hand finds its way into your hair as you bob up and down his shaft, “Missed that mouth of yours.” He breathes out, “Missed it sucking me off, missed it saying my name, fuck I even missed it bossing me around.” 

Pulling back you look at him with an unamused look but he uses it as an excuse to kiss you once again. 

Slithering down to his previous position he coats his cock with some of the lube, sparing some for your hole, slipping a finger into you to slick your inner walls with it. You turn into a moaning mess as you feel his fingers for the first time in so long, your hips involuntarily buck up.

“I’ll only be a minute, baby.” Once he feels satisfied you won’t feel any pain, he slides his finger out and rubs the head of his cock on your pussy. He isn’t even teasing you but you feel like he is with how long he is taking.

Abruptly, he pushes into your heat, the feeling of you around him makes his head spin. No one will ever feel as good as you, that’s why he’s willing to do anything to have you, “So good,” he exhales, “So fucking good, baby.” Bottoming out, he can’t stop a loud groan from erupting out his mouth. You’ve missed the sound so much.

He starts to thrust into you at a fast pace once he knows your walls have settled, each hit making the room fill with sounds of skin slapping and curses. With the way he’s fucking you, you would think you hadn’t seen each other in years, but he craves you so much that even one day without the option of you around his cock was unbearable. 

“Shit, Seungie please go faster.” He listens to you and picks up the pace, knowing how tired you are he needs to get you off quickly. 

Between your thighs, his hand finds your clit as he starts to rub it harshly. You look unreal right now, with your mouth open and head thrown back into the mattress.

Lifting your right leg over your shoulder he reaches a deeper spot, his cock pounding into you with ferocity it makes you squeeze around him, “Oh fuck, baby, do that again.” You squeeze his shaft with your walls again, “Fucking pussy feels like heaven.” He whispers to himself.

His hips keep a harsh rhythm, the sharpness of each thrust sending you more and more over the edge, “Close.” Is all you say.

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me, baby?” he smirks, happy knowing that he’s about to feel your ecstasy around him, “Cum for me, Y/N.”

And just like that your pussy comes undone on his dick that is still mercilessly pummeling into you. A loud mewl draws out your mouth and your hands grab onto the duvet under you, he’s making you feel bliss right now. 

Heeseung can feel himself getting closer and if he wants full satisfaction he needs to cum now while your walls are contracting thoughtlessly, he needs you to milk his cock dry.

Feeling him lose his rhythm a little you know he just needs a little something to bring him over the edge, “Seungie, need your cum so bad.” He loved it when you begged for his seed.

“Yeah? How bad?”

“I’m starving for it.”

The last few words have his hips stuttering and ropes of his cum shooting into you, filling you up just how you like it.

You’ve finally regained composure from your own high and just in time to see his slack jaw and eyes screwed shut. He was one of the few people that looked good when they orgasmed and you loved when you got to see him in all his glory.

Heeseung falls onto you briefly to catch his breath, the pain from his stomach coming back slowly but that doesn’t matter right now, “Let me clean you up.” He slides out of you and goes to get supplies to look after you.

Because your job requires you to look after everyone around you, it was nice how Heeseung would do aftercare so well, making sure you’re okay.

He takes a while but as he comes back he’s holding a damp cloth and bottle of water in one hand and a cup of tea in the other, “Sit up for me baby.” 

After placing the tea and water on the bedside table he starts to run the cloth along your sensitve area. He loved to see you full of his cum, every time the white substance would leak from you he felt a bit of pride so washing it away like this was mourningful.

“I have quit.” He says lowly, “Fighting, I mean. I quit this morning.”

“But you only said you would quit earlier?” You question, recalling the previous conversation.

“I wanted to see if you would believe me.”

You’re dubious, not understanding what he’s saying, “You can’t just quit like that, Seungie. You told me it wasn’t that easy.” 

And it wasn’t. It’s not like you can hand in a two week notice and call it a day, there are too many stakeholders involved, too much money being thrown around to just up and off.

“Yeah, you can see it wasn’t so painless.” He finishes cleaning you off and goes to place the rag in the washing basket.

“What do you mean?” As he walks into the room you see his bruises again and it all hits you at once, “The guys being dicks…”

Heeseung nods and jumps back into his boxers but not anything else with the hopes you want him to stay, “Told them I wasn’t doing it anymore and next thing I know I’m on the floor.” He laughs embarrassed at the memory.

This was technically your fault, you asked him to stop the high stake fights and this is what happened. 

Seeing your face, Heeseung sits on the bed next to you and cups your cheek, “Hey, no, I know what you’re thinking but you didn’t make me quit. I chose too. This is my doing”

“But I asked you to.” You look down and trace over his bruises lightly.

“Yeah, but I said no at first.” His hand runs into your damp hair, “I decided to quit this morning because losing you isn’t worth it. I meant it when I said i’m fucking miserable.” 

Sighing you fear this happiness in your chest is going to disappear at any moment, “It’s what you love though, Seungie.”

“I love you.” He hates that you have this preconceived notion that somehow he loves fighting more than you, “And I know I should have said it more when we were together but, baby, give me another chance so I can keep saying it.” 

You want to cry again, “Have you actually quit? No more fights?”

He places his hand on his heart, “I quit, promise. The only fights now will be with guys who stare at you too long.” 

Laughing, you remember a time he clocked two guys out for even offering you a drink. Heeseung has always been protective of you, that’s why you missed him so much today. Coming home after a grueling shift made you want nothing more than for him to hold you.

He’s offering you that chance again and you can’t turn it down, “I love you, Heeseung.”

“Fuck, baby, I love you too.” His lips are on yours again as he pours his love into you, his devotion.

Heeseung wasn’t letting you go again. Not for any fight in the world.

[amjustagirl]

Chapter 1

pairing: hoshina soshiro x f! reader

genre: romance, angst

wc: 4k

summary: you've loved soshiro since you were seven. he will always place his duty above you.

chapt 1 / chapt 2 / chapt 3 / chapt 4 / chapt 5

Once a month, Hoshina Soshiro drops by your apartment for tea with you. 

It isn’t often that you both get the same day off. Him, with his vice captain duties that never end because Kaijus don’t deign to give him a break, as he often complains. You, spending hours if not days buried in the blade forgery at Izumo tech so much so your parents remark dryly that they’ve forgotten your face. But every so often, the universe smiles upon you and you get to spend an afternoon sitting on your narrow balcony with your oldest friend. 

It always begins like this.

He drops a plastic bag full of fizzy drinks on the table that only he drinks, whilst you brew a pot of tea. There’s dessert in the fridge that you get to feed his sweet tooth, and he’ll consume both because you’ll claim you have no appetite. After a few perfunctory questions about your wellbeing - the same as always, nothing’s changed, he’ll turn his mind to the sole focus in his life. 

“You gave the latest tech to my brother?!” he yells, outraged. “His main weapon isn’t even a blade.” 

“Orders are orders”, you respond. “Besides, didn’t I just tweak your katanas last month?” 

“About that”, he grins at you, somewhat sheepishly. “I’ve got more ideas -” 

“Not again”, you groan. 

He’ll rattle off a long list of things he wants you to work on next month. Blades made out of some kaiju bone, just to test its mettle. A blade to be worked into his boots - an idea he cheekily admits stems from some stupid shounen manga he reads in his spare time. So many of his ideas belong in the trash bin, but you entertain him anyway, studiously jotting down each of his requests. 

“You’re lucky I put up with you”, you tell him. 

Lazily, he flops onto the floor, rolling to lie his head in your lap. “As if you wouldn’t”, he laughs, poking up at your cheek. 

You don’t get the chance to answer him. His phone goes off, as it always does, and he has to go. 

“Seeya next time”, he waves, without leaving you another glance. The sliver of sky between the buildings surrounding yours is dark when you get up from your seat to clear the cups. 

Your cheek still stings. 

Your family always had close ties to the Hoshina clan. The clan of swordsmiths sworn to the Hoshina clan of swordsmen. A tie that can be traced centuries back to the Edo period to today. Your father crafted his father’s blades in the fires of your family’s forge, yet another in your family’s lineage who were born to serve the generations of Hoshina swordsmen. 

Even though you were born a girl, you never accepted that it should be different for you.

You were only seven when you accompanied your father on a delivery to the Hoshina estate. Your stockinged feet echo in the wooden corridors that stretch out before you, seemingly without end. There are portraits of imposing swordsmen in every other room, blades displayed, their former owners’ eventual fate captioned beneath. You are too ashamed to admit that you’re afraid of one such painting with kaiju-like yellow eyes that seems to glare at you that you bolt when your father leaves you aside to talk business with the Hoshina patriarch.

Foolishly, you forget that the Hoshina estate dwarfs your family home. After the fifth rock garden you come across (which admittedly to your seven year old self, seems to blend into each other), you are well and truly lost, so you sit on the porch of some courtyard and wait to be found for a stern reprimand by your father. 

Clang. 

But you’re drawn by the sound of steel clashing, so you follow your ears, and your eyes thank you as you watch two boys spar with dull blades. 

The older, with silver hair, has a clear edge. He’s taller and stronger, so he bullies his younger opponent into a corner. The younger, with dark hair, doesn’t seem daunted, standing his ground with precise swings and savage slashes that his older opponent only manages to parry with difficulty. 

Though you hide yourself behind a pillar, the older boy spots you anyway, breaking off the fight to grab you by the front of your top. 

“Intruder”, he shouts, waving his blade at you.  

“I’m - I’m sorry!” you squeak. You panic, fearful that he’ll throw you out of the estate, because if you can’t even figure your way out around the compound, there’s no way you’re going to find your way back home across half of Osaka, so you hiccup and cry and beg to be let go - 

“Hey! You’re just looking for an excuse to get out of a losing fight.”

Courage has never been your strong suit. It’s easier for you to hide behind your father or older brother’s legs, so you’re taken aback by how quickly the younger boy jumps into the fray on your behalf, defiant even in the face of a larger opponent.  

Your captor’s nostrils flare. “What did you say?!” he demands, but he lets you go with a sneer. 

“Another round then”, the younger boy says, as he tugs you to your feet, brushing the dust off the pretty kimono your mother took the effort to dress you up in. “Maybe this time you’ll actually be serious -” 

His brother brandishes the blade at him. “I’ll beat you to a pulp, you insolent brat.” 

You spend the afternoon watching them from a safe distance until your father finds you, apologising to Hoshina-sama for his wayward daughter. 

You’re formally introduced then to the brothers - Sochiro the elder, who doesn’t even acknowledge you with a nod, and Soshiro the younger, who smiles like the sun when you tell him that he’s amazing in a fight. 

“I’ll show you more next time!!”, Soshiro says. His eyes remind you of violets blooming in spring. 

Your mother hears of your adventures in the Hoshina estate. 

She comes to brush your hair after your bath. “The Hoshina family sees ours as a vassal clan”, she states baldly, as the comb sticks on a particularly tricky tangle. At your noise of confusion (and pain, because she’s none-too-gentle at getting the snags out of your mane), she explains. “That means our family is bound to them by our usefulness in making katanas, the instruments of their success.”  

She clucks her tongue at your obtuseness, as you stare at her, uncomprehending. “We supply swords, not brides to them. There are no engagements between their sons and our daughters. If you wish to associate with the Hoshina boys, you must be of use to them.” 

Perhaps, in her ungentle way, your mother was trying to do you a kindness. 

But you took her warning as instruction instead. So, though you’ve always been afraid of the loud forge your father and older brother work in, you badgered your father for enough lessons in sword making, hovering over him every minute you have out of school so you can learn everything you can.  

It’s worth it, when Soshiro comments on the shiny scars on your forearms the next time you visit. 

“I’ve been learning how to make katanas”, you explain, suddenly shy. 

“Wow!” you catch another glimpse of violets through wide eyes. “You must’ve worked really hard!”  

You peek at the blooms of bruises on his shins, the angry red scratch across his face. “So have you”, you reply. 

He beams, dragging you off to play.  

More often than not, that devolves into him showing off his latest moves, and you applauding his every action. He revels in the attention, which you find strange because surely everyone with eyes should be able to discern that Hoshina Soshiro is wildly talented, even at the tender age of eight, but then whenever his brother surfaces with taunt regarding Soshiro’s swordsmanship, you can see the chip of his shoulder grow, an invisible burden that drags him into the ground.

As an outsider, it’s not your place to comment on the unfairness of being knocked around by a boy five years his senior, so you try your clumsy best to bandage Soshiro’s wounds and slip in an encouraging word or two. You never want to see the violets in his eyes wither and die. 

“I’ll make you the best blade in the world when we grow up”, you bump your elbow against his. “So you can beat him.” 

“Promise?” 

You loop your little finger around his. Half moons brighten into stars. 

// how abt a blade that can separate into 2 // 

// or or or // 

// maybe three?! // 

// would your ancestors roll in their grave //

You wake up to a text. Or three. 

<Gremlin>. You text back. <Soshiro-kun, go to sleep.> 

// you wound me // 

// seeya later // 

// visiting Izumo tech for my new suit!!! // 

// make sure you lend me your lunch discount at the cafeteria // 

You snort.

<Cheapskate>. The rhythm of your conversation thrums. <are you asking me to have lunch with you> 

// someone needs to keep me safe from my fangirls // 

// don’t leave me in their clutches // 

An eye roll. 

< Die >. You turn your phone facedown, resolutely refusing to respond. 

Despite your complaints, you end up eating lunch with him anyway. 

It’s difficult to concentrate on your meal when your childhood friend turned the most eligible bachelor in the Japan Defense Force sits across from you in a skintight uniform, your giggly co-workers sitting two rows down watching his every move. So you push your tray away and just watch him as he chatters away through a mouth full of food (something he’d never do back home because he’s been raised with manners befitting the second son of the esteemed Hoshina clan, but around you he seems to turn into a demented manchild), but you’ve always found it endearing how he’s his chaotic true self around you - 

“New recruits are coming in next month so I don’t know when we’ll have time to catch up -” 

“There’s nothing to catch up on when you keep text me in the middle of the night with your train of thoughts - “

“That’s all work related”, he says. “I want to know how you are doing.” 

You’re not about to tell him that your parents have informed you that they’re tired of you mooning after a man who’ll never love you back, and have started haranguing you via text to get your ass back to Osaka so you can meet suitable men your age who’d be willing to accept an unladylike wife with burn scars trailing up her forearms.  

“As if you really want to know”, you grumble. “You’re only interested in talking to me when it’s about your weapons and tech.” 

“You wound me”, he dramatically claps his hand to his chest, miming hurt. “You don’t believe that I care about my oldest friend?” 

“Nope.”

“Rude”, he sing-songs. “C’mon.”

“The only reason we’re even lunching is because you wanted more upgrades - plus, now you want a shield against your fan-girls, who, by the way, are going to mob me in the bathroom and make me recount for the thousandth time, why and how I know you, the - I quote - cutest guy in the Japanese Defense Force, though they really should get their eyesight checked out in my opinion -” 

“Oohhhh - people think I’m good-looking?” He runs his fingers through his hair like he’s in some 80’s shampoo commercial, throwing an exaggerated wink over his shoulder to the nearest fangirl. You hear a thump on the floor. You hope she didn’t hit her head too hard (but perhaps it might make her sole brain cell work a little better if she did). 

You tap his knuckles with the back of your chopsticks. “Get that ego on a leash.”

His grin is cheeky. “I can’t help it if people think I’m good-looking.” Your heavy sigh makes him pout. “You don’t think I’m good looking?” 

The lunch bell comes to your rescue. 

“I have to get back to work”, you tell him, all too ready to make your escape. 

“So do I”, he gobbles down the rest of his lunch. “Seeya around.”

“Stay safe”, you add. “Don’t let a Kaiju eat you up.” 

“Eat me up?!” he squawks with mock outrage. “Don’t you know I eat Kaijus for breakfast?” 

As if you don’t. In Tokyo, the third division is exceedingly popular. Captain Mina Ashiro of course, takes up most of the attention with her long, dark hair and prowess as the nation’s foremost sniper, but once in a while, the newspapers and magazines run features of Vice Captain Hoshina Soshiro, and you dutifully keep cuttings in a scrapbook that you hide under your bed. 

In every interview, he talks about how it’s patently untrue that there’s no space in the Japan Defense Force for those who prefer to wield a blade rather than a modern gun. “Captain Ashiro believes in me”, he says, so seriously that it’s hard to recognise your usual jovial friend. “For that, I’ll be thankful for every day.” 

He said the same thing to you the day of his promotion. 

“She believes in me when no one else did”, he tells you in disbelief. 

That’s a lie, you want to shout. You reminded him that there’s a snowball’s chance in hell that he’d fail the entrance exam into the Japan Defense Force, and he’d indeed pass with flying colours. You calculated his unleashed combat potential from your lab in Izumo Tech, saw him exceed and excel so much so that an exception was made for him to carry katanas which you spent sleepless nights crafting for him. He won his first promotion as platoon leader nary a year in after a stunning victory decapitating yonju across Tokyo, and your congratulatory text to him was ‘See, I knew you’d do it.’ 

So no, Mina Ashiro was not the first person who believed in Hoshina Soshiro. You are. 

Unless, in his eyes, you don’t count. 

<okaa-san>

<Yes, I’ll be glad to meet your friend’s son>

< No promises on anything more>

The date your parents arranged for you is a man with a pleasing smile who has as much romantic interest in you as you in him - which is to say, very little at all. “I’m too busy with my job, but my mother insisted”, he confesses.

You like him all the better for his honesty. “So did mine”, you respond with a wry chuckle. 

Yamamoto-san is good company, nonetheless, even if his only interest in life other than his demanding job as a corporate slave is tending to his houseplants, so since you both share an interest in getting your overbearing mothers off your backs, you agree to have lunch once a month just so you can say to your parents without lying that you’re seeing someone. 

A part of you that you tuck deep into your chest hopes that word gets around to Soshiro, who’ll come beat your front door down, demanding that you, instead, turn your eyes to him (as if you’ve ever looked elsewhere for as long as you’ve known him). And when Hoshina Sochiro, Captain of the Sixth Division, pops into your office for his own tweaks to his tech and rounds upon you with a wicked twinkle in his eye, you’re sure that whatever you share will be conveyed as salaciously as possible to his younger brother. 

“Soooo”, he drags each word out obnoxiously. “Your older brother mentioned that you’re seeing someone now who isn’t my younger brother.” 

You smile blandly. “Soshiro-kun and I have always been just friends.” 

“Just friends my arse”, he retorts. “You’ve had a planet sized crush on him since you were seven. It just can’t be helped that my brother’s got a katana up his arse.” 

You try your best not to wince. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Captain Hoshina?” you gesture at the door. “As you can see, the mountain of work that’s been piling up ever since you stopped by my office needs to be done, and I really don’t have time to sit around and gossip like old women.” 

“So grumpy”, he hops off your desk. “So, should I tell him that he’s missed the boat?”

“Tell him whatever you want.” You begin to type furiously on your laptop. “As if he’ll care.” 

Five minutes later. 

// u have a bf?! // 

// and i had to find out fr Sochiro?! // 

// AND u said there’s nothing to catch up on? // 

You lock your phone in the drawer beneath your desk. 

// are u ignoring me???? // 

“You ignored my texts!” 

This is a first. Hoshina Soshiro, cranky even when a stack of golden brown pancakes soaked in maple syrup wobbles enticingly in front of him. “I was busy at work”, you say. A flimsy excuse, one that fails to placate him as he continues to pout, childlike at you.

“So?” he demands, slicing right through the pancakes with his butter knife. “Is it true?” 

“Is what true?” 

His eyes narrow as he waves his knife accusingly at you. “You decided to tell Sochiro that you got a boyfriend before me?” 

You take a sip of coffee to steady your nerves. “You know I don’t talk to your brother unless he decides to invade my lab. But I guess he and my brother still text from time to time.” 

“Hrm.” he puffs out his cheeks, blows out a breath heavy enough to flutter his bangs. You restrain the urge to reach over and straighten his hair. “Fine.”

“I’m just seeing a guy that my parents set me up with.” You rehearsed exactly what you wanted to say, but your insides churn, the coffee you drank not doing you any favours. “I guess they’re just worried that no one will ever want me as I grow old and unmarriageable.” 

His chuckle is blithe, uncaring. “Parents are all the same, aren’t they? Just last week, my mother called me to ask if I’m interested in being set up on a date with someone - as if I’d ever be interested, I barely have time to sleep, let alone date, and besides, she probably just called because my older brother’s a master at dodging such calls -” 

You let him ramble on as you gather the remnants of your courage deep within your guts for a final advance. 

“Soshiro.”

“Hm?” he looks up, mid-chew. “Sup.”

“If I really did get a boyfriend, you wouldn’t mind, would you?” 

“Why would I mind?” He laughs, reaching over to prod at your cheek. “I mean, I guess as long as you don’t stop making me awesome katanas, and as long as he doesn’t mind that I text you my brilliant ideas on improvements -” 

Unknowingly, he cuts right through your heart. But in fairness to him, you offered your heart on a silver fucking platter, even handed him the blade to stab it with.

“I was just worried you’d be unhappy”, you mumble, blinking back tears furiously. 

Thankfully, he’s too focused on clearing his plate. “I thought you were going to ask me something serious”, he laughs. “What a silly question.” 

“Yeah”, you manage to croak. “What a silly question.” 

He goes on to fill the rest of the afternoon with chatter about his new recruits. You sit numbly and listen to his tales of a Shinomiya slip of a girl who blows all recorded numbers for a recruit out of the window, an old man who confounds his techs by registering a big fat zilch on their combat scales, but he entertains his candidacy because he’s a great source of entertainment. 

“You okay there?” he frowns, stopping mid-story. “You kinda look down.” 

“Indigestion”, you lie through gritted teeth. “Never you mind.” 

“You shouldn’t take milk in your coffee if you’re lactose intolerant, silly”, he teases, confiscating your iced latte. 

“I’m just an idiot”, you try your best to smile. Fortunately, he accepts a pained grimace. 

Your mother was both right and wrong. You know that Soshiro cares for you as a friend, because he could never be callous enough to reduce you to your usefulness to him, but it’s true that he has no space in his heart for you. 

A year or two ago, you piled yourself in a car with both Hoshina brothers to brave the Obon traffic to get back to Osaka for the holidays. You hadn’t been able to afford the jacked up prices for the shinkansen, and Soshiro only found out yesterday that Captain Ashiro took pity on him for missing consecutive New Year holidays that she gave him Obon off as a consolation price, so their parents nagged Sochiro into ferrying you both home. 

“Shouldn’t you have your own car?” Sochiro groused. 

“Why would I need a car if I’m on base 24/7”, Soshiro replied. “Why do you need a car? Unless the sixth division is slacking off -”

The car screeched to a halt. Sochiro kicked open the door, yanked Soshiro by his collar and shoved him into the driver’s seat. “To keep your smart mouth occupied, you can drive us the rest of the way to Osaka.” 

“Aren’t you scared I’ll crash?” 

“If you do, I’ll skin you alive.” 

Your forehead nearly split open from all the bickering. “Guys, I can drive -” 

“No!” Both brothers yelled at you in unison. It’s the first time they’ve probably agreed on anything in their life.

The bickering finally ended when Sochiro fell asleep in the back, head pillowed against the window glass on one side in a way that he’s bound to wake up with a neckache. Still, you’re forced in close proximity to Soshiro, the puffs of warm air from the overworking air-conditioner blending with the scent of steel and citrus, from the shampoo he probably uses, you mused half dizzy, head heavy - 

“If you puke in the car, Sochiro’ll make you lick it up.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut. “Talk to me so I don’t focus on your terrible driving.” 

By the time Soshiro’s done with his recounting of the last four fights he’s been involved in, the massive disappointment of this year’s recruitment exercise and his admiration for Captain Mina Ashiro (which made you want to scream, kick your foot through the windshield, perhaps), the afternoon sun is low to the ground, streetlights along the expressway flickering on. 

You couldn’t help but ask. “Do you ever think about anything other than your job?” 

“Nah.” he chuckled. “I don’t have time for anything else. I gotta spend time to train y’know, otherwise I’ll really die on the job.” 

“Soshiro!” 

“That’s why I got good life insurance”, he deadpanned. 

“I guess that was a silly question”, you slump back in your seat. 

“It really is”, he teased. “So, what else d’you wanna hear about my all consuming job?” 

The memory stings your eyes. 

You make up an excuse to return to your apartment without haste, waiting until he disappears around the corner before you give in to the tears that you’ve been keeping at bay all afternoon. Strangers on the train ride home give you a wide berth, because they certainly don’t want to catch whatever malady you’re clearly suffering from with your swollen eyes and hiccuped sniffles. You stumble into your shoebox apartment, kick your shoes off at the genkan.  

Tonight you’ll give yourself the grace to mourn the death of a dream.  

You crack open the beers he previously brought, one after another. Drunk, you sit on the balcony, the half-moon reminding you too much of a certain vice captain. You let your mother’s words flood your mind. You are meant to offer him blades, not a bride. In another lifetime, in every lifetime, perhaps, the noble born son of a samurai clan would never open his heart to the lowly daughter of a swordsmith. He would be raised to always put duty before love. 

You don’t know why you hoped for anything different. 

So when you roll off your sofa in the morning, you glare at yourself in the toilet mirror, eyes rimmed red, a hangover in full effect. 

“You are an idiot.” you slap your cheeks so hard it turns pink. 

You will not allow this to continue. Hoshina Soshiro is not yours, has never been yours, and will never be yours. You are pathetic for hoping otherwise, stupid for living in hopes that he’ll look at you some day, an utter idiot for letting every choice you’ve ever made in your life be guided by your infatuation with a boy who doesn’t have space in his heart for you.

You could’ve been like your older brother, been content with sticking to the family business of sword making instead spending every spare minute on your engineering studies so you’re well positioned to be snapped up by Izumo Tech as a weapons specialist. You had the leeway to be based in Osaka near your family, but accepted a position in Tokyo just to be closer to where Soshiro’s based. You could’ve had a social life, perhaps even friends outside of work, if you’ve not dedicated your life to your job, working after hours tirelessly, just so you secure promotion after promotion, cementing yourself as Izumo Tech (and by extension, the Defense Force) go-to for anything blade related, just so you fulfil the promise you made to Soshiro all those years ago. 

You cannot live the rest of your life this way.   

a/n: so...i know i've only ever written for the hq boys but the way hoshina soshiro grabbed my throat in a chokehold in that gym training scene just forced my gremlin brain to start typing and get to work on this story for him.

hope you guys like it <3

[mo-aiki]

Duke Augustus Swanson of the North

Summary: Your fiance and how he had reacted to your sudden change in behavior. As he looks back on the past, he wonders how long has he seen your smiling face with content and affection.

Warning: obessive behavior, mentions of violence, obvious implications of bullyin, I don't condone it, I just write it

A/N: ART NOT MINE, IT'S THE MALE LEAD OF THE MANHWA SECRET LADY

Connected to Yandere Isekai M. Characters x F. Reader

For as long as he could remember, Augustus never liked you.

Not a single bit.

The daughter of a count and a generational promise between his grandfather and yours that didn't suffice. His parents were both dead from a carriage accident, and as such, his grandfather took him in and forced him into this marriage. The first time he had met you, he was enchanted by your looks (even if both of you were 8 years old). Your (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes enchanted him, but it soon all came crashing down onto him once your parents left the room, and your true personality was revealed. Even at a young age, he was already being tugged on by young ladies and their families wanting to up their status or rank in noble society, no matter the age. And you were no different in your affections.

Seducing him with sweets.

Yelling at ladies in your way.

"Accidentally" spilling a dark grape juice on a lady's ballgown because he had conversed with her for an hour and found her remotely interesting to talk to.

Trying to talk to him about anything.

Being near him and showing public displays of affection.

Clinging onto a promise, he vowed to break.

He was bored of someone like you. You who were no different than the other ladies who had tried to seduce him. Your mannerisms, your personality, and your ideas, they were all the same to him.

No matter how many times you'd court him, even if it took 5 years to reach, he felt absolutely nothing.

His heart didn't pang, his cheeks and ears didn't flush, his breathing was perfectly normal, and the words out of his mouth cut through like usual.

Nothing would change in your relationship with him. He had planned to break it off and just die alone with no heir or find someone he had mutual interest in.

Nothing will change and he was certain nothing will ever change between the 2 of you.

Until the day you had contracted a deathly high fever.

Augustus was surprised to hear about you 3 days after getting the envelope from your family. He had thought it was you, sending it like you were your father. But his butler forced him to open it.

Dear Young Master Augustus,

I am here to inform you of the cancelation of next Thursday's meeting with my daughter. You see, my daughter has contracted a high fever due to the flu season being prevalent. She is unable to attend the meeting and I would like it if you visit her in order to wish her as speedy recovery. I know that is rather a selfish thing to ask for, but my daughter has been requesting your presence ever since she contracted it. I would like to ask you to please see my daughter and wish for her speedy recovery.

Sincerely,

Count (l/n).

He thought, why not visit. To see you die and his engagement to be break off, would be a euphoric day for him.

He visited you, and was by your side in your room. Pink, frilly and full of girly stuff. He disliked it, but somehow found it cute. You in your lace nightgown, and your face all red but with a cold towel on your head. He had received the news that your fever had been so high, that you had been in a coma now.

He left, because he had nothing else to do there. 'I hope she dies so I can get out of this wretched engagement...' he thought with the coldest stare imaginable.

Your behavior has changed after that fever.

Augustus was not the first one to notice such a change in behavior. Your once smug and arrogant expression, was replaced with a confused and softer one.

It was more bearable.

Everything about you became toned down. Spending time together was less of a pain in the neck, and over time, he started caring about you, little by little.

He started noticing your favorite things, like, for example, your favorite desserts, flowers, places to converse, color, toys, and even down to the accessories you liked to adorn yourself with.

Your cute mannerisms and habits that he can't help but lightly tease at. "Why do you do such things..?" He said, a bit too loud.

"Do what?" You asked, confused.

He wiped away a spot of whipped cream on your cheek and licked it. Watching your face blush in embarrassment was sure worth the move he pulled. Even if he was 13 at the time.

As both of you grew up, he'd soon see how people reacted around you. He sure saw the difference. You turned more beautiful as you matured in age. Your personality grew, and your smile was more bright. He wanted to be the only one to notice these changes and monopolize it for himself, but everyone else around you could now see it. First, your childhood friend. The son of a low ranking Earl. He thought of nothing with him, but he did annoy him. His consistent pestering and hopeless looks made you always include him in your dates.

He absolutely took in the fact that the boy always looked at him with disdain and envy. And he did as well. His close bond with you, and how close he could get to you without you making a fuss, fumed him.

But once you got older, everyone, and he felt everyone started to take notice of you. Men staring at your maturing body with eyes full of lust, women staring with jealousy, children taking notice of your pretty face, and the consistent flirting from everyone, and he felt like everyone.

Men bumping into you, "supposedly on accident," and striking up a conversation, you looked bored in. Women stealing your attention with the gossip of the nobility and even flirting themselves. Children always begging and crying for attention if you did not provide enough for them. He was sick of it.

The son of a small count was always consistently flirting with you. Asking about your day, favorite color, favorite jewels, hobbies, it was almost as if he had forgotten you had a fiance right next to you.

He couldn't help but say a couple of threats towards him, and when that didn't work, he planned for his carriage to be ran into, paying the driver to run away to another country with 10,000 gold paid for him.

But he wasn't the only one. Many men of lowly rank kept on coming, and he threatened them. If that didn't work, they mysteriously died in the next few days. All evidence of the perpetrator, erased from sight.

He could get rid of all of his enemies, but 2. Her childhood best friend and the war hero turned personal guard.

The son of an Earl was sneaky, cunning, and someone whose death would greatly affect her. She would be broken before he ever got the chance to be with her. And the personal guard. A war hero. Someone who is well versed in strength and is not shaken by mere threats he could ever make.

Nothing ever seemed to work to get rid of them, other than the fact that he was your fiancé. So all he needed to do was shower you with love (which he already did and is currently doing). He gives you gifts of jewels, books and stuff for your hobbies, he always has his hand around your waist when out and about. He is always watching what you do. He listen in on your conversations, whether they be rants, boring or awkward small talk. And most of all, he is always here when he can be.

But he was surprised when you all of the sudden brought up annulment.

You had wanted to annul your engagement with him.

He spent all night after such a ground-breaking announcement, awake and thinking of all the possibilities of why you would ever want to break off your engagement with him. All he could think of were the 2 men who were close to you.

"It's all their faults...I need to marry her soon..." he mumbled as he got up and got a paper, pen and his favorite quill.

A/N: Should I do the other guys? This is connected to my previous post so I hoped you enjoyed it. Sorry it took so long to post another story.

[elihermit]

Eddie Diaz x Reader

Can you do a fic based off of 911 5x13 Fear-O-Phobia where Eddie destroys his room with a baseball bat but instead of Eddie destroying it Y/n does.

my tears ricochet

pairing: Eddie Diaz x fem!reader

summary: you work in a call center, answering emergency calls and you thought that no call would break you anymore, but today you have reached your breaking point

this fic is based on season 5 episode 13 “Fear-o-Phobia”

word count: 2,2k

author’s note: this fic contains references to child abuse and self-harm, please read with caution!

You're on shift again today and you're pretty tired at the end of it. You had an hour left before the end of the day and you really couldn't wait to get home to Chris and Eddie, even though you knew Eddie would be back a little later than you.

“Long day, huh?” — you break out of your thoughts and see Josh in front of you. You had a fifteen-minute break and decided to have coffee.

“Don’t even start, it’s like this full moon curse decided to show up earlier.”

“I feel you, but guess what? You will be free soon and my night will be long.” — Josh sighed and went to pour himself a cup of coffee too.

“Lucky me, I guess.” — you got up to go to your desk and continue taking calls. “Back to service.”

You sat down at the table and gave yourself a couple more minutes to get ready for the last hour of work. This job was difficult, sometimes your emotions could take over, but you thought you had already learned to control them. And even if you thought about quitting, those thoughts went away after a minute, because you knew that you were the first person people counted on when they were in danger and you wouldn't trade it for anything.

You put on your ear piece and come back to help people.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

“Please, my dad is going to kill me.”

You hear a child's trembling voice and your heart turns over.

“Sweetie, tell me what’s going on? Are you in danger?”

“My dad gets aggressive when he drinks, he took his gun.”

“Is he threatening you with a gun? Are you in any pain?”

“He pointed it on me, but I ran to my room. Daddy hit me in the head, I feel dizzy.”

“Open the fucking door!” — you hear a drunken male voice and banging on the door. You need to be fast.

“Okay, honey, help is coming. Tell me your name and address.”

“I’m Audrey, 354 N Spring Street.”

“All units, 354 N Spring Street, the man is intoxicated, he is armed and threatens his daughter. Possible child abuse and injuries.”

You quickly notify units about this and it takes your breath away. You need to save the girl, no one will get hurt today.

“Okay, Audrey, help is on the way, I will stay on the line, until they arrive. Is there anyone else at home?”

“No, it’s just the two of us. Please hurry, he’s going to break the door!”

You feel a tear rolling down your cheek, but you quickly brush it away.

“Help will be with you in 5 minutes. In the meantime, I want you to listen to me, okay? Hide under the bed or in the closet and try to be quiet, sweetie.”

You can hear the movement on the other end of the phone. Your palms are sweating and you're breathing fast. Your whole focus is on this girl.

“Okay, I'm under the bed.”

“Good job. Help is almost there, Audrey.”

The next thing you hear is a broken door and a little girl screaming. You hear a man swearing and a loud bang. You can't control the tears.

“Audrey, are you there?”

But there is silence in response. All you can hear is Audrey's screams and pleading for dad not to hit her anymore. Your hands start shaking and you feel like you're suffocating, everything is in a blur and slow motion.

“LAPD! Raise your hands and move away from the girl by 3 meters.”

You hear the voices of the police, but it's too soon to exhale, you don't know if it was too late. You feel Josh's hand on your shoulder and only now realize how much you're crying.

“Dispatcher, this is 134, the girl is unconscious, but stable, got here on time. We’re heading to the hospital.”

It should be a moment where you exhale, because the girl is alive and she will be fine, but you can't shake the feeling that you could have done more. This is not the first call from a child in your career, but it was the first call where you heard everything in "action" and it broke you.

You open the front door to the house and walk inside on weak legs. God only knows how you got home, because everything seemed to stop and you were alone in this trap. The girl's scream is still in your ears, and burning cheeks remind you of tears that you couldn't control. All you wanted right now was to be alone.

“Hey mommy.”

You hear Chris's voice from the living room and go there. He started calling you mom not so long ago and you loved it. You accepted him as your own child and Eddie always made sure to thank you for that.

“Hey, baby. Is dad home yet?”

You wanted Eddie to be at home, he was your safe place, who always dispersed the clouds when they appeared over your head. But another part of you wanted him to still be at work because you didn't want to explain what happened.

“No, but he should be in an hour.”

“Okay. How about I make you dinner and turn on cartoons while you eat? Mommy is not feeling well and I would like to lay down for a bit. Are you going to be fine on your own?”

“Sure, I wanted to watch cartoons all day!”

Chris smiled broadly and it melted your heart. He's so cheerful and positive that sometimes you thought you needed to learn from him. You loved him with all your heart and if something had happened to him, you would have died. But one question haunted you - how can you protect him if you couldn't protect the child at work?

You put a sandwich in front of Chris and turned on his favorite cartoons. He thanked you, you kissed him on the forehead and went into the bedroom. After closing the door, you sat down on the bed and finally let out all your emotions. You were angry, sad and crushed. You were angry at yourself for not being able to do more, you were angry at this worthless father who allowed himself to treat his own daughter like that, and you were angry that now you weren't sure you could save Chris if it was necessary.

Tears were pouring from your eyes, this cutting pain in your chest, which was growing with every second and this feeling of utter helplessness drove you crazy.

You didn't know what was driving you, but the next thing you knew it was the bat in your hands and the first blow to the wall. You never thought you had that kind of strength because that punch left a hole in the wall. You scream, this scream is more like a plea and each blow gets stronger. You don't hear anything that's going on around you, you just hit the bat against the wall and scream, thinking that it will make your pain less real.

Tears are still pouring out of your eyes, you can feel the salty taste in your mouth. You throw the bat on the floor and it falls with a loud bang. Now your hands are hitting the wall and you feel your knuckles getting scratched, but you didn't care. Now the most horrifying screams are coming out of your throat.

“Hey, buddy. I’m on my way, do you want anything?”

“Dad, please hurry up! Mommy is not well.”

“What do you mean? What happened?”

Eddie's body immediately tensed up and he accelerated the car to get home faster.

“I don’t know, I keep calling her, but she won’t answer.” — Eddie heard heavy thuds and screams in the background.

“Okay, Chris, don’t worry, I’m almost here.”

Eddie ran to the house and opened the door. During those minutes while he was driving in the car, he wanted only one thing - for both of you to be okay.

He saw Chris near your shared bedroom and immediately ran up to him.

“Chris, are you okay? Where’s mom?”

“She locked herself in the bedroom. I tried to call her, but she was screaming really hard.”

“Okay, buddy. Sit in the living room, please, I’m gonna go get her, okay?”

“Okay.” — Eddie watched Chris go.

“Hey baby, it’s me. Can I come in?”

He didn't hear anything. Just the silence that didn't give him any peace of mind.

“Okay, I’m going to come in, (Y/N). Stay away from the door.”

Eddie kicked down the door and was finally able to enter the bedroom. The first thing he saw were holes in the wall. He took two steps and saw you sitting on the floor with your back leaning on the bed frame. Your legs were pressed against your chest and your head was in your lap. Eddie saw your shoulders shaking and heard you sobbing.

He immediately knelt down and cupped your face in his hands so that you could look at him.

“Hey. Hey, hey, I’m here, baby. What’s wrong? Please talk to me.” — he saw your red eyes and wet face from crying.

When you finally looked at him, you saw his frightened eyes. He was looking for an answer in your eyes and patiently waited for you to explain everything to him.

“He almost killed her, Eddie. I should have done more. I heard everything.” — the tears started to flow with renewed vigor and a sound more like a whine came out of your mouth.

“Shh, mi amor. I’m here.” — Eddie wrapped you in his arms and you cried into his shoulder. He stroked your hair soothingly and said sweet nothings in your ear. “Let it out, baby. I’m right here.”

He hated seeing you like this. He knew that his job was difficult and that he was risking his life, but he knew that your job is 100 times more difficult emotionally because you hear every pain, fear and suffering of other people when you get a call.

“We’re right out here, Chris, don’t worry.”

You are now in the kitchen and Eddie has left Chris's room. You were sitting at the table and looking at your hands. Your knuckles are red and swollen from the blows and your head has so many regrets. You scared Chris.

“Is he okay?” — you asked in a whisper and didn't want to think about hurting Chris. That's your biggest fear.

“He’s still scared. Makes two of us.”

Eddie sat down across from you and you looked up. You were so upset for what you had done and it was eating you up.

“I’m so sorry. The last thing I wanted was for Chris to be scared of me.”

“Hey.” — Eddie took your hand. “He’s not scared of you, he was scared for you.”

“Did he call you?”

“He did. I got here as fast as I could.”

You chuckled. This scenario is ironically similar. A call from a child who asks to be saved from a parent. Only his call was to save you. And it hit you with an epiphany. You wanted so badly to never put Chris in danger that you unwittingly reproduced it into reality.

“I got a call today.” — you finally started explaining. “It was a little girl and she asked for help, because her dad was abusing her. A-and…” — your voice faltered, but you continued. “Then he beat her up and I heard her screaming.”

“Oh, mi amor. I’m so sorry.” — Eddie squeezed your hand, but you got up and walked over to him. He immediately realized that you wanted to sit on his lap and gave you this opportunity.

“I still can’t shake the feeling that I should have done more. And now I doubt that I can protect Chris. I can’t even do it at work.”

“Look at me, (Y/N).” — he put his hand on your face and looked into your eyes. “Do you know why Chris started calling you Mom? Because he feels safe with you. You make him feel loved and protected. And that's all we can both ask for. You are enough.”

He kissed your cheek and continued.

“I’m sorry you had that call and you had to hear all of that. But you did everything and even more, I’m sure of it. You saved that little girl. Who knows what would have happened if help had arrived 2 minutes later. But YOU did everything in time.”

And you realized that your job does not consist of personally being at the scene of accidents. Your job is to make sure that help arrives at the right time and you did a damn good job.

You smiled and felt relieved. You didn't look at this situation from Eddie's point of view and that's what got you. You wrapped your arms around Eddie's neck and buried your fingers in his hair.

He pressed you closer and kissed you on the shoulder. Every bad thought disappeared when he was around. And his arms always caught you when you started to fall to the bottom.

You heard the notification sound on your phone and pulled it out of your pocket. It was a message from Josh:

“Audrey is alive and stable. They say it was perfect timing.”

“Always on time, huh?” — Eddie saw the message and smiled at you.

“I like to be punctual.”

He pressed his lips to yours and kissed you gently. He's always here to rescue you, and you're always here to answer quickly.

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Part 5 of Truth or Dare Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: Things are getting complicated, truths are being revealed, and a decisions are going to have to be made regarding the future. So much hangs in the balance and emotions are high as reality makes this about no more games.

Word Count: 9.8 k

Warnings: light mentions of smut (nothing explicit), pining, mutual pining, heavy angst, forcing a decision

Captain Price bristles at the private’s words, taken aback by this impromptu revelation, but he hides it all behind his usual stone cold stare. A gruff exhale exits his lips as he runs his fingertips over the perimeter of his mustache. “Don’t care ‘bout what happens on off hours,” he says full of contempt at being dragged into this bullshit. “It’s none of my business and it’s none of yours either, so best just drop it private.”

This isn’t how it’s supposed to go; the captain is supposed to march over to the lieutenant’s quarters and break up your little lovefest right this second at hearing his confession. At least that was what the private was hoping for when he decided to make this visit. He needs something more. 

“But sir,” he says more exasperatedly, “it isn’t just after hours. The first time I caught them, the lieutenant and sergeant were going at it in the munitions depot when I walked in; you remember that day you sent me to fetch Lt. Riley. They’ve even been engaging in activities in the field as well. During our mission they neglected their watch duties to screw around like some fucking teenagers. Is that what you call acceptable, sir? Is this how you run your operations?”

Goddammit, now it is Price’s problem. Messing around when off duty or on leave is one thing that can be easily overlooked as you are both adults who are engaging in activities with consent, but risking it all when out in the field is another matter altogether. There are protocols and you are supposed to be professionals. And if this bit of information gets out it could have dire consequences for the validity of this task force. 

“Maybe I should bring my concerns up to someone higher,” the private mutters in the silence that follows as Price mulls over everything in his mind. 

“What did ya say?” the captain fires back as he rejoins the conversation, his firm glare boring holes into the private.

Immediately the young man regrets having uttered it aloud, but there’s no going back now. “I just… I-if I need to, I-I will have to go above you, sir,” he stammers out as he tries to maintain his resolve.

Fuck, this is bad.

Price sits forward in his seat, his eyes never leaving the private even though he tries to divert his gaze; each time he brings it back Price is ready to meet it head on. “You will leave this be private,” Price threatens, his voice firm. “This is not under your jurisdiction, nor is it in your ability to decide who needs discipline in these matters. I will take care of it as I see fit; I am the one in charge, not you. Do you understand?”

“Sir, I should at least get to know that you are going to do…” the private tries to argue some more, but the captain is having none of it.

“You’re dismissed,” Price barks as he points a steady hand towards the door.

“But sir…” he tries to protest again and again he is cut off. 

“I said, dismissed private, or would you rather I start my disciplining with you,” Price says unyieldingly, staring him down with a glare that means he is seriously done with this conversation and with being disrespected. 

Quickly the private gets up from his seat with a furrow-browed nod and a rushed, pointed ‘yes, sir,’ that he mutters through his gritted teeth before he turns on his heels and stalks to the door to fling it open and stomp off into the night, leaving Price alone in his office once more as he slams it behind him. 

With the immediate quiet that follows, all Price can think about is what the private has revealed to him. To have the highly trained professional that is Simon Riley abandon everything to mess around with anyone during a mission is unheard of, but it being you makes this even more complicated. This is territory he has no prior knowledge on; something big must be happening for everything to be turned on its head and he doesn’t know what the fuck he is going to do about it all.

Though he knows he cannot just let this go. At least he has the weekend to think it all over, but he knows come Monday he is going to have to act or risk too much because that private is not going to let this go, that much is clear.

The captain decides that that is enough for the night and packs it up to head out. As he leaves out and turns to get back to his own quarters, his eyes linger over to where a specific officer is housed. “What the fuck have ya done Simon?” Price questions aloud to himself as he steps off into the darkness with much weighing on his mind, pondering the next steps of what actions must now be taken.

Back in the lieutenant’s room, hours pass in the blissfully exhaustive ecstasy produced from your union. Both of you slumber on peacefully, wrapped in one another, entirely unaware of anything outside the confines of the mattress until something unfamiliar makes Simon stir awake.

Intaking a full, deep breath, he fills his lungs with a flood of air as he comes back into consciousness, his eyes fluttering open in a mild panic from movement at his side. It takes him a moment to realize that it is you rolling back over to face him that has caught him off-guard; he forgot that you would still be in his bed. Mystery solved, he calmly settles back down into his pillow and watches the slow rise and fall of your chest, admiring how tranquil you look as your dark eyelashes rest delicately against your cheeks.

It’s been a long, long time since he’s slept beside anyone; he’d almost forgotten how comforting it can be to have another laying beside you. A weak smile spreads across his lips as careful fingers reach over to the side of your head so that he can tenderly tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

God, you’re beautiful just like this. How did he get so god damn lucky to have something so pure sleeping soundly next to him? You let out a whispered sigh and suddenly he is caught up in a whirlwind of feelings that have been in hibernation for years as his fingertips linger delicately against the soft flesh of your cheek a moment more. He wishes he could kick himself for not trying to get closer to you sooner, if only to have you here lying next to him as if it has always been this way.  

Those copper eyes drift to the plain black and white standard government issue clock tacked to the wall. It’s nearly five in the morning; still too early to be conscious just yet, but once he’s up there’s no going back down. He takes a few more minutes to silently appreciate your sleeping form by capturing the image of you like a polaroid in his mind and then decides to just let you sleep until the last minute before he wakes you up to send you safely on your way.

Who said you needed to rush off anyway? 

As carefully as all 6’4” of him can, he eases his way out of the bed and creeps bare-arsed to the en suite bathroom so that he can grab a quick shower, though he’d like nothing more than to keep the scent of you on him a little longer. It won’t do him any favors to go around base today with the fragrance of sex covering him like a beacon to draw people’s unwanted attention.

Cautiously he eases the bathroom door to where it is slightly ajar, not risking shutting it since he knows how bad the damned thing squeaks, and only then does he flick on the fluorescent lights to illuminate the space. Blinking to adjust his eyes to the harsh brilliance, he opens them and immediately catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror that faces the door.   

Even though he still carries the signs of sleep in his distinct features, he can already tell that he is different somehow and he walks closer to his reflection to get a better look. Everything is exactly where it should be, but his eyes seem brighter, more full of life… as if he is happier than he has been in recent memory. He stares back into them as if he is looking at a different person, a reunion with an old friend he hasn’t seen in a long time.  

And he doesn’t know what to think. It is a gift from you, after all…though you don’t even know you’ve given it to him yet.

Simon shakes his head and chuckles to himself, not fully ready to accept this drastic change to his appearance just yet, as he pulls from the mirror and walks the few steps to the shower to get it going. The pipes running to the showerhead squeak to life as run for a few seconds when without warning he feels a pair of arms wrap around his waist from behind as a warm, naked chest presses into his back. It momentarily takes him by surprise as he is still getting used to having someone around, but he eventually settles into your embrace. 

“Was tryin’ not to wake ya yet,” he mutters as he runs his hand over yours that is against his stomach.

“Heard the shower kick on,” you murmur sleepily into his shoulder as you place your lips to the smooth skin near his shoulder blade, “thought I could do with getting clean myself, so I wanted to join you.”

It isn’t a total lie, you do need to wash up after the mess from the night before, though you wish you could be honest and say that you just wanted to be close while you still can. You know you are going to have to leave soon if you want to make it back to your quarters without detection, but it doesn’t stop the feeling of disappointment that looms like a gray cloud at the back of your mind that you will have to part ways. 

Simon holds your palms pressed rigid and flat against his abdominals so you can’t let go as he leans in to check the temperature of the water with his free hand. The heated liquid rains down onto his palm perfectly warm, but not too hot, and being satisfied he pulls you both inside the cozy oasis. 

He moves you in front of him so that your back is directly under the shower head, letting the heated water run through the length of your hair and down the curves of your bare back to keep you warm. It feels like you’re still in a dream the way the steam rises around your bodies in the tight space, the condensation clinging to your skin like a warm blanket. Maybe you are still asleep in his bed, you feel barely awake as it is, and if that’s the case you hope you don’t wake up cause you don’t want to leave the fantasy just yet. 

The soothing water lulls you into a drowsy calm as Simon holds you close against him while he naturally rocks you both back and forth with slow, easy movements as he gently tries to help you wake up. He cannot help admiring the flush in your face brought on by the heat or the way the droplets trickle over your soft, delicate skin. Reaching out, his hand connects with your cheek as he strokes his coarse thumb over your jaw and up to the corner of your mouth before dragging it heavily over your bottom lip until he has them parted. 

“I swear you’re a fuckin’ dream, pretty girl,” he whispers as his hand on your face brings it in towards his so that he can gently connects your lips. 

Memories of confessions from the night before spring back to the surface, admissions of possession that he doesn’t want to take back even though that mind-numbing haze from being inside you is gone. You can hear him sigh heavily as he breaks the kiss to rest his forehead against yours.

If only he could wake up like this every day. Could that even be a possibility for someone like him? Inside the steam-filled oasis that cloaks you both from reality, he allows himself to fantasize just a little. Maybe…maybe…

Simon lets you go only to grab the soap from its place sitting on the edge of the tub, ready to clean up the mess he made. Taking care of someone other than himself is an oddly comforting sensation to him and even though you try to protest that he doesn’t have to, he still takes the time to wash you down anyway before tending to himself. 

He leaves you inside the shower to finish up as he steps out into the bathroom, wrapping a towel securely around his hips, making sure to leave a towel for you as well before he heads to the mirror. His rigorous actions between your legs last night left a rather rough patch against your thigh that he caught sight of in the shower and checking his face in the foggy bit of glass above the sink, Simon decides it’s about time to shave.

…cause he is definitely going to get between those legs again soon. 

A bag of random toiletries lies at the edge of the sink and he rummages around in it until he locates his razor. He steps up to the counter and turns on the sink just as the creak from the shower handle rings out and the water is shut off. From the mirror he can see you step out and wrap the towel he’s set out for you around your chest. 

You ring out your hair behind you before you move to his side and turn to rest your butt against the edge of the countertop. Looking down, you spy the shaving instrument in his hand.

“Gettin’ rid of it?” you ask with a hint of disappointment as you reach up and run your fingertips over his jaw. The steam from the shower has already softened the hairs so they don’t prickle roughly against your touch as you outline his face.

Suddenly he can’t find his voice; every single time you touch him it’s like the first time all over again and it makes his head spin. Clearing his throat he looks down at you. “It’s a bit too rough, innit?” he says, tapping at your thigh with the abrasion on it. “Don’t wanna hurt ya again.”

Why did it sound more deep a sentiment than it should have been? A lump wells in your throat as you realize he is doing this for you and you alone; it’s just a shave, but to have him care about your wellbeing is very special to you. Especially after the confessions from the night before; clearly he has meant it: you belong to him now.

“Well, if you must…but, I wonder. Can I?” you ask with a smile as you reach for the blade in his hand.

Simon pauses before giving it up to you. This is a new one for him and he is a little unsure, but curious enough to see where it leads. You move your body between him and the counter so that you can hop up and sit yourself in front of him. Opening your legs, you pull him in close.

“You trust me, don’t you?” you ask barely above a whisper as you situate him in the middle of your legs. 

More than anyone, he thinks to himself as he silently stares back into your eyes. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t have to, he just drops his hands by his sides and tilts his jaw up.

Your ankles link behind the small of his back as your hand grasps his chin to keep his head steady so you can place the razorblade to his cheek. The sharp edge of the blade pushes into his skin and is dragged slowly down the line of his face until it reaches your hand where you pick it up to move on to the next section. It’s like an intimate dance, the risk of it all as the blade continues to pass over his skin, but you skill keeping him safe from cuts, making his heart race so you can feel his pulse under your fingertips.

“Just hold still,” you say as you feel the sensation of his hands moving up your bare thighs, running up towards your hips that have peeked out through the slit in the towel. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Ya won’t,” he says in that gruff tone without hesitation and you can feel the warmth rise in your face. 

There is steam still lingering in the air from the shower; it is fogging the mirror and adds a filmy haze to the atmosphere. The aroma of his soap is strong between your bodies, both of you coated in his usual plain, clean scent. It’s nice just being here like this with him. 

Another pass of the blade and more of that thick stubble comes right off under your careful hand. You move the blade over to the sink to rinse it again and that’s when you feel it, a stabbing against your thigh from within the confines of his towel. His damp, hair-covered chest rubs against your forearms as he moves in even tighter to you.

“Like the way ya look, all serious like when you’re workin’ hard at somethin’,” he says in a breathy whisper as you finish another swipe of the razorblade across his jaw. “Didn’t know how good you’d be with a sharp object in your hand.”

“Well, if you keep moving I might not be so precise. I’m almost done,” you scold him, but Simon isn’t deterred just because you have something sharp in your hand. He has something just as deadly prodding into you too.

His strong fingertips jab themselves into your hips, stabbing into the meat hard through the towel as he presses himself into you and suddenly it feels like you can’t quite catch your breath. He hums deep in his chest, a low, guttural sound that makes your clit throb as those long fingers of his twirl the loose, wet strands of your hair between them.

“I’ll give ya ‘bout another minute to get it done,” he says as his gaze lingers longingly on your mouth. “That’s all I can wait.” 

Suddenly the room isn’t the only thing that is obscured in a haze; your mind is misfiring terribly now as you hurry to finish the job while also being sure you don’t miss any spots. You rinse the blade for the last time and quickly check him over, flashing him a satisfied smile at your handiwork. 

“I thought we just got clean for the day?” you ask as he takes the blade from your hand and sets it on the countertop beside you.  

He doesn’t answer the question with words, instead letting his mouth do something else to convey his thoughts. His kiss is softer now with the missing stubble, though just as passionate as it always is and it takes your breath away. 

“I like the way you kiss me,” you murmur against his lips. 

“Good, cause I don’t plan on stoppin’ anytime soon, sweetheart,” he groans as his fingers reach up to your chest to find the edge of the towel; with one small tug he has it undone. It drops down around the sink as he leans in more aggressively to capture your mouth.  

There’s still enough time for another shower, right? Fuck, at this point he’ll make time.

Dawn is just beginning to break its first soft light over the base as you step out of the shower for the second time and hurriedly get dressed. Simon meets you at the door with a knot in the pit of his stomach; time’s up whether he is ready or not and if you want to make it back undetected it has to be now.

“Got plans later tonight?” he asks as he pulls you to him one last time.

You look up into his face and shake your head. “Not that I know of. Gonna be a light day today. Why?”

Simon pins you against him with his arm around your waist as he tilts his head down to kiss your lips. “Just thinkin’ ya might want ta be in later,” he says, giving one last peck before he opens the door and you immediately take off in the direction of your personal quarters.

He keeps his eyes on you till you’re out of sight, trying to wipe away the slight upturning of the corners of his mouth. “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” he grumbles under his breath as he shuts the door.

The rest of the day is spent in a blur, punctuated by the few times you just happened to catch a glimpse of Simon through the days as you go about. Your mind constantly wanders back to what he meant by you might want to stay in later, so when Soap asks if you’re gonna come hang in the rec with them for a bit of Saturday fun, you decline and stay put in your room instead.   

It’s a little after 9 o’clock when there is a heavy knock on your door, loud raps that echo through the room and make you put away the book you are failing to distract yourself with under your bed. You hop off the mattress, your heart fluttering in your chest. Making it to the door and pulling it open you immediately come face to face with the person leaning against your door frame: Simon. 

“Ya gonna let me in, luv?” he asks. “Or ya just gonna fuckin’ leave me out ‘ere all night?”

You cross your arms and furrow your brow as if you are agitated, but it doesn’t last more than a few seconds before you are breaking character. “Couldn’t stay away for one night, could you?” you pick back.

There is a visible smirk beneath the thin fabric of his lightweight balaclava. “ ‘S part a my routine,” he says as you grab his hand and drag him inside. “Too used to it now.” 

“Well far be it from me to stop you,” you say with a smile as you shut the door and bolt it behind you both while Simon quickly rips off the mask and pulls you into a kiss. 

“Knew you’d cave,” he breathes against your mouth.

“Maybe I like you around,” you say back.

Maybe I like bein’ around, he thinks as he kisses you back harder as you lead him over to your bed. 

Sunday evening is spent in the same vein except with you both switching off again so that you are the one to come over to his to spend your evening together. Cause he is right, this arrangement has become routine now and your day just doesn’t feel complete without seeing him. Unfortunately though, it being Sunday you both decide to call it earlier as your duties will call you to work early in the morning.

One lingering goodbye later and Simon is once again watching you walk away, secretly making a wish that maybe you’ll get the chance soon to spend more time together when something breaks him out of his thoughts. As he shuts the door behind you, suddenly he can hear a distinct buzzing coming from somewhere near his bed. He knows that sound; it’s his cellphone. It’s late and he never gets a call at this time, so quickly he grabs it up off the nightstand near the bed and as soon as he is able to get a look at the screen, his heart sinks into the floor: Price is the one that is calling. 

He picks it up. “Yes, sir,” he answers in his usual stern tone.

There is a pause over the line before the captain speaks. “Lieutenant,” Price says, “I apologize for calling, I know it’s late, but I need to see you in my office tomorrow morning. 0800 hours. There are some things we urgently need to discuss.”

This strikes Simon as odd; never has the captain called him this late to inform him of a meeting the next day, so why would he be doing it now? Something feels off about it all and though he has no information other than that his presence is needed, there is something in Price’s tone that has his blood running cold. 

“What’s this about, sir?” Simon asks, keeping his voice metered as his heart begins to race. 

Price sighs. “I would rather wait till the mornin’ to talk further as this is something that needs to be discussed in person.”

“Yes, sir,” Simon agrees.  

“That is all lieutenant, enjoy the rest of your evening,” the captain says in a rush and with that the line goes dead, leaving Simon confused and slightly worried.

Time seems to drag on endlessly as anxiety keeps him up the entire night tossing and turning as he stares into the ceiling. He thinks about texting you just to see if you’re up, but he talks himself out of it. His needless worries shouldn’t bother you, even though he knows you’d answer him in a heartbeat. No, he just needs to get through the night and then in the morning everything will be settled; it’s going to be fine.

An hour before he is supposed to meet the captain and Simon is already up and dressed; his office is less than a ten minute walk from Simon’s, but he wants to be early. It’s better to just get this over with so he can enjoy the rest of his day and make plans to see you later. With twenty minutes still to go he heads out and makes his way across the base. 

With a knock on the door, he waits until Price looks up before entering the office. 

“Early as usual,” the captain greets him.

“Better than late,” he says, before nodding back behind him. “Ya want me to shut the door?” 

“Not yet,” Price says and Simon leaves the doorway to take his seat in one of the chairs facing the large, wooden desk.

He’s sitting for just a few minutes before Price’s eyes dart up to the door and he can feel the shadow of another person standing there. “Ah, yes, come in and shut the door. Now that you are both here, we can get started,” he hears the captain say as he turns his head to see who it is that has arrived; he had been under the impression that this was a solo meeting this whole time.

Suddenly his heart stops as the person comes into his line of sight. It’s you, the blood draining from your face as you see him sitting there. It’s clear you have been caught off-guard by this as much as he has. The atmosphere becomes tense and strained as you take a seat next to Simon. Captain Price sits tall with authority as he stares back at the pair of you, a grave look in his gaze. 

“Do you know why I’ve called you in here?” Price asks, looking first at you, then the lieutenant.

Neither of you feel keen enough to say anything, but you finally speak up first, if only to break the anxiety bubbling under your moderately calm surface. “No, sir.”

Price takes a hesitant breath. “I have been informed over the weekend about you both engaging in acts of misconduct,” he says firmly. “You’ve been seen cavorting with one another on several occasions. Now, there are things that can be overlooked and if it were up to me I woulda simply turned a blind eye and pretended to know anything, but it has been brought to light that these ‘activities’ were done while out in the field on your latest mission. Is this true?” 

The hair on Simon’s arms is standing on end and he feels like he is about to be sick, the bile violently churning in his stomach as his worst fear is realized. Instantly he feels guilty and begins to blame himself; this is all his fault. After all, he was the one to break protocol back at the safehouse. His careless actions have caught up to you both and now you will have to face the consequences.

Price turns his attention to you as there is no hiding the guilt on your face like Simon can behind his mask and though neither of you have spoken yet to confirm, there is no need. Your body language mixed with his lieutenant’s silence alone tells him that the accusations that were made are indeed true.  

“You both understand that this is out of my hands,” Price emphasizes the point. “If this reaches anywhere outside this base my authority will be brought into question and this operation cannot afford that. Not to mention that I risk the possibility of losing either one or both of you if things escalate. What the hell were you thinkin’, doin’ that while deployed?”

The lieutenant doesn’t have an answer, at least not one that will make this all go away. The problem is that he wasn’t thinking; all he knew was that for the first time in a long while he wanted something so bad that the consequences didn’t matter in that moment. Now he has to pay for them and unfortunately that means you do as well…and that is what is breaking his heart. 

He has dragged you into hell with him.

“You both have crossed a line that I can’t pull you back from,” Price continues with a defeated exhale. In all honesty, he wants nothing more than to let this go, but there are too many variables at stake. “The one who reported this is threatening to take this up the ladder as far as they need if I do nothing. My hands are tied on the matter.”

“Sir, if you’ll let me explain, perhaps we can come to an agreement…” you try to reason with your captain, but that is not how this will go.

Price can hear the tremble in your voice and he knows he’s struck a chord. The look he gives you is one full of remorse. “But in the end we’re all adults here and that means ya have a say in what happens to yourselves. If you want to request a transfer or, hell, apply for a discharge, I can’t stop you; that is a decision you have a right to make.”

The wind feels like it has been knocked from Simon’s lungs and though he can see Price talking, his mind will not allow him to fully comprehend what is being said. 

Amidst the stunned hush that has fallen over the room, Price slowly pushes his chair out from the desk and makes his way to stand. “I know I’ve sprung this on you both without so much as a warning, so I’ll give you some time alone to make your decisions. Otherwise, I will have to make them for you and that is something I want to avoid.”

With that he steps out of the office, closing the door behind him, and thrusting you both into an uncomfortably tense stillness. It lingers for far too long as Simon battles internally with what to do, struggling to accept that his happiness has imploded as it always does, but one thing he keeps coming back to is the fact that no matter what, you will be forced to separate if one or both of you decide to stay in this line of work.  

The taskforce means everything to you just as it does him and this is so much bigger than simply exploring the depths of a crush. This is your entire life, all the blood, sweat, and effort you’ve both put in to be here; it’s all you’ve worked so hard for. It is all you both have ever known. 

Can you really give that all up? It’s too soon to be having this type of life-altering conversation.

Out of the turmoil in his mind, he hears you calling his name. “Simon? Hey,” you call out to him again to get his attention; it feels like he is a million miles away even though he is still sitting right beside you. 

He can’t bear to look you in the face and keeps his eyes locked on his shoes; his gaze is so avoidant that it is painful, especially after how close you both have become. Still, you try your hardest to lighten the mood even through the ache making your chest tight. 

“Not the best way to start the morning,” you chuckle uncomfortably. 

More silence follows, more agony. He’s going to have to say something at some point and when he does it’s all going to come crashing down. As long as he is quiet he can suspend the moment for as long as possible. 

“Listen,” you say, “I know this sounds bad, but we can figure it out. I mean, I don’t have a problem with requesting the transfer if I have to.”

That’s the last thing he wants; you can’t leave. If you leave it will kill him. “Sweetheart… don’t…” Simon speaks up for the first time since you entered the office and it sounds like he’s being tortured. 

“Would a transfer really be so bad? Who knows? It could just be for a short while until everything cools off,” you remark, still hopeful, but he simply shakes his head.

Simon pauses. “No, ya can’t do that,” he says and you can feel a lump forming in the base of your throat that makes you almost gag.

“Isn’t it my decision? Don’t I get a say in what I do?” you push.

Another drawn out pause. “Ya don’t wanna do that, I know ya don’t.”

“Don’t speak for me,” you say harshly as you know where this is headed and you can’t stand even the thought of it. “I can choose to do what I want.”

“I can’t let ya do that,” he denies you again, his words firm. “I can’t let ya fuckin’ give up everythin’ for me, no matter how much I may want it. Ya forget I read your personnel file when ya arrived, I know ya worked your ass off ta get ‘ere. You made it all the way ta sergeant by the sweat of your brow. Don’t fuckin’ throw it all away jus’ for somethin’ so new.”

More pauses. Why is there so much silence present now? It hurts to have all that quiet be filled with sadness where it was only comfort before. 

“So, this is it then?” Your heart is shattering into pieces, you can physically feel it crumble as you suffocate on the sadness. When did this get so god damn complicated?

Simon bites the inside of his cheek until he can taste copper. “I don’t know what else ta fuckin’ do…” he says quietly. “This is all so sudden, I don’t ‘ave a plan. I just know ya can’t leave and I need more time.”

He’s not as quick to act on this as you are and you can’t fault him for that. In all honesty he isn’t wrong; this is all happening so fast that it’s overwhelming and nothing really feels like the right decision. So, even though it pains you to concede to his argument, you do and the heartbreak wins. Yet you cling on to the hope that maybe there is a way out of this. He did not say outright that he is completely done, only that he needs time to think. 

You can give him time, right?

“Please, Simon, just look at me.”

Those brown eyes drift up to meet yours and the agony of this whole fucked up situation is written in his gaze. This is supposed to be something wonderful, not something that has casualties, and he is being ripped apart by duty and what he wants most. He wants to scream, beat his fists, break anything, but it won’t do any good; he is like a man cursed…somehow this was always going to happen.

“ ’m sorry,” he says and a heavy bit of silence follows as you sit there just looking at one another. 

Overcome with emotion, you swallow hard. “I know,” you retort as you reach out to take his hand in yours. “I know.”

Simon slides his long fingers in between the spaces in yours and holds on so tight to your hand it’s almost painful. Irrationally he thinks that maybe if he squeezes hard enough not even fate can take you from him, but that isn’t the case. There is no stopping what has to happen and though you both can prolong the moment, you can’t stop time. 

Releasing his grasp, he lets you go and all at once you feel like you’re drowning. He leaves your side only for a moment to reopen the door as a sign that a decision has been made. Several more excruciating minutes pass, but eventually Price reenters the office and again takes his seat. There is a gloom that sits in the room now like a fog and he knows without even having to ask that a decision has been reached and it is one that clearly was not reached happily.

“It’s over, sir,” Lt. Riley confirms with the short response; any more than that and he may fall apart.

Price nods in acknowledgement. “In that case, I think it best to send ya both out on separate missions very soon. It’ll show that action has been taken in case anything else comes from the allegations. I appreciate your cooperation in this matter; I know it could not have been easy.”

You nod back firmly in agreement and Lt. Riley does the same. 

Price quickly dismisses you both and you immediately bolt up from your seat to make it to the door in a flurry of quick steps, too overwhelmed by your emotions to sit still another second more beside the one thing you can no longer have. You can’t seem to catch your breath and even though you make it outside of the stifling atmosphere inside the office, it does not lessen. 

Your feet carry you forward to where you have no clue; there is no rational thought left with you right now. All you know is that you need to put distance between everything and everyone that you can before you shatter because it hurts like you are being torn in half from the inside and if you are going to rupture you want to do it where no one can see.

But grief is a volatile and disastrous thing; it consumes and destroys and confuses. Right now, your mind is scrambling to feel something other than the pain of your loss, any other emotion it can experience that won’t murder it and it settles on the emotion that is the opposite side of grief: anger.

Halfway across the site you spot that familiar mohawked head near the mess hall and a rage builds in you. You and Simon had speculated before about Johnny’s knowledge of your situation, what if he was the one that told Price? Intentional or not, what if he is the reason all this is destroyed? There is not a shred of proof, but your brain is desperate to find someone to blame, anyone to throw all your anger on and that just happens to be him. Before you can stop yourself, you are already bounding his way. 

Johny looks up as you come within earshot, turning his back to the building. “Hey, stranger, ‘aven’t seen ye ‘round much this weekend. Wonder why that is?” he says with a knowing smirk, but it drops from his face as he sees the look on yours. 

Without warning you grab Johnny by the collar and manhandle him until you are able to haul him forward and slam into the wall behind him, knocking the wind from his lungs as you crush him up against the concrete. “Was it you?” you spat the question with fury into his face. “Tell me now or so help me God…”

“What the fuckin’ hell are ye talkin’ ‘bout?” he asks back as he struggles under your tight grip around his collar. “Have ye lost yer mind?”

Blinded by rage, you pull him back only to shove him harder into the wall. “You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you say, the venom in your voice full of acid. “Were you the one that ran like a bitch to tattle on me to Price? You better have a fucking good reason why.”

Johnny pauses and stops struggling against your grip, confused. “Wait, what?” he asks. “Someone’s gone te Price ‘bout somethin’? Ye gotta explain everythin’ cause I don’t get it; seriously, what’s this about?”

The tone of his voice causes you to really discern the look in his eyes: he is genuinely confused by your statement. “You really don’t know what I’m talking about?” you question.

He shakes his head. “No and I’m bein’ serious.”

In the time you’ve known him, Johnny has always been straight with you and you do genuinely trust him to tell you the truth. He may be a pain in your ass sometimes, but honesty is always something that you have shared. If he says he doesn’t know, he must really not know.

“Tell me, what’s happened?” he asks, his brows drawn together as he stares back at you with serious concern. 

You choke back the emotion gathered in your throat as your eyes sting. No sense in hiding anything; he’d probably find out eventually anyway if gossip gets around. Besides, keeping this inside makes you feel like you’re rotting. “Price knows about what me and the lieutenant have been doing in secret and what we did while we were on our last mission,” you admit as you hang your head. 

Johnny is silent for a moment. “I fuckin’ knew it,” he says with a chuckle, which he immediately regrets as you pop your head up to give him a heated glare. “No, I… look, jus’ listen ta me for a moment.”

Releasing him from your grasp you take a step back, the anger subsiding to be replaced by an overwhelming sense of dread. Tears burn around the rims of your eyes at how lost you feel and how easily you are flying off the handle; it makes you worried. How are you meant to control this? How are you meant to survive?

Johnny straightens himself up and continues. “Yes, I knew ‘bout ye and the lieutenant…cause I was the one that orchestrated the whole setup. I seen tha way ye two kept eyein’ each other an’ I decided that ye both needed a push in tha right direction. Why the hell would I get ye together only ta get ye in trouble with Price?” 

You divert your gaze again. “Well, it’s all over now,” you can barely say aloud; just hearing yourself speak it into existence feels like being stabbed in the chest. “Whoever ratted us out is threatening to go above Price’s head if they need to. There’s nothing left for us to do, but end it or shit’s gonna get worse. It’s already done.”

Fuck, you can’t hold back for much longer and the last thing you need is to cry, but a pair of strong hands clasp around your shoulders to bring you back from the brink of your sadness. 

“Look,” Johnny tries to reassure as he is genuinely worried about your wellbeing. “I’ll figure out who it was that stuck their bloody nose in it, alright? Jus’ leave it ta me; I’ll get ye a name and hell, I’ll help ye gut the bastard if ye need. We’ll figure it out, honest.”

Somehow you don’t think anything will come of it, but at least it is something. Right now hope is a drug you have to take just to get through.

Days pass the same way with little variation in your mood. You try to stay as busy as you possibly can, filling your schedule to the brim with as much work as Price can give you. He doesn’t mention it, but everything he assigns you seems to keep you from even crossing paths with your former lover and for that you are grateful. Then a few days become a week and a week becomes two, but time does nothing to stop the ache in your chest and at the end of each day, when you return to your room and the quiet hits you, it’s impossible not to shed a few tears into your pillow as you pine for the company you once had. 

Thankfully mission assignments finally go out and you can spend your time consumed in preparation to depart to fill the void that settles in your chest. It’s a couple of days before you are meant to leave and information makes its way through the grapevine that Lt. Riley is headed out tonight with his team and god if it doesn’t kill you not even to get the chance to say goodbye.

You can’t even finish your lunch today; you are so upset by the news that you quickly toss your food into the trash and head out. You’re so wrapped in your thoughts you don’t even hear Johnny calling to you until he has caught up to you outside of the mess hall and is grabbing your elbow to drag you alongside him. Where are you going? You have no clue.   

“What are you doing?” you ask with annoyance, not up for whatever bullshit he’s trying to pull today. 

“Jus’ keep walkin’,” he says, his head constantly on a swivel as if he is looking for something. You try to protest, but it gets you nowhere as he keeps booking it across the base with you in hand until you both reach the munitions depot where he finally comes to a stop and lets you go. 

You look up at the building. “Why are we here?”

“Keep yer head and jus’ go inside,” Johnny says as he gives you a shove towards the door. “Ye only got a couple minutes, so ‘urry the hell up.”

You stare at him with a raised eyebrow. What the hell is he talking about? You really aren’t in the mood for his shit, but you also don’t have the energy in you to fight him on it; you let out a weighted huff and grab the handle, pulling it hard so that the door swings open and you head inside. 

“What the fuck am I supposed to be looking for?” you question yourself.

There is movement and you hear the sound of boot steps. “That would be me,” a gravelly voice sounds at your side, making you jump.  

You are thrown into respiratory distress as you turn around where you’re greeted with that familiar mask and its wearer is just standing within reach. “Simon,” you breathe his name like a prayer, forgetting decorum.

“Wrangled Mactavish inta helpin’ me, said he’d bring ya and guard the door,” Lt. Riley says as he stands there, unsure of what to do with his hands. “I-” he sighs, “I had ta see ya ‘fore I leave.” 

Suddenly the room is spinning and you can’t figure out which way is up. After the agonizing chasm of space that has been put between you it is disorienting to be this close again and you aren’t sure what to do. Do you run into his arms? Do you keep your distance?

It doesn’t make sense.

“I know I shouldn’t have brought ya ‘ere like this,” he says, “but I…missed ya.” He pauses and sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose through the mask. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doin’. I’m supposed ta follow orders no questions asked, but…” 

Standing there, waiting on bated breath, you stare back at him with those big doe eyes until you are able to speak and break the silence. “But what?”

More silence follows your question as he steps closer and closer and closer. Then he stops and there are only inches between your bodies. He reaches out his hand and the backs of his gloved fingers brush against your own with a touch so delicate it doesn’t seem humanly possible, most of all from someone like the lieutenant. 

“Priorities are changin’,” he admits as he takes your hand into his grasp hesitantly, eyes unable to look anywhere but at the connection as if he isn’t sure if he should touch you at all. “I never experienced somethin’ like this before. I don’t know what the fuck to do.” 

“Are you saying you want to go against Price?” 

His sight lingers on your conjoined hands as his jaw shifts under the mask, struggling to find the words. As he clears his throat, his gaze finally draws back to your face to meet your eyes. He doesn’t have to say anything, you can read the sentiment in his gaze: he is being tortured by being forced to choose between his duty to this task force and what he wants above all else. 

“Listen, yeah? As long as we follow orders, we get ta stay near each other. Fight it and who knows what the fuck’ll happen. I…” he pauses, the pain of confession hard to stand, “I don’t know if I can risk not bein’ able to see ya at all, sweetheart. Even just a glimpse cross the way.”

“You think that is better than one of us leaving?” you want to ask, but the question dies on your tongue and in its place is only a bitter taste in your mouth. 

You know if you say anything at all it’s only going to make it harder- for the both of you. You are just two soldiers bound by a need to do what is right and nothing is going to change that. Fuck do you want to scream, to rage at what you are being strong-armed into doing against your will, yet your exterior stays a calm mask against the storm inside. The situation puts you between a rock and a hard place and though you don’t want to admit it he is ultimately right; if all you get is to have nothing or what you had before all this mess started, then you would choose the latter.

At least you can still be around one another; at least you can still see him. Even if every time you do it is going to shatter your heart all over again.

Lt. Riley feels like he is being ripped apart as he catches the agonizing pain in your eyes. “I need ya ta know, if circumstances were different…” 

You stop him before he can say more by gently placing your hand against his covered lips; you cannot bear to hear anything else about ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’. It’s too painful right now to dream. Accepting reality is the only thing that is going to help you survive now. The lieutenant’s eyes drop to the floor as he comes to terms with the fact that some things are better left unsaid. 

Removing your hand from the fabric of his mask, you can feel that recognizable mass welling in your throat and you know you are going to have to leave soon or risk him seeing you cry. That is an image you don’t want to leave him with, not if this is what he has to see before he goes.

“I’m glad I got to see you before you leave,” you say while forcing your best smile for him. “It was hard thinking you’d leave and I wouldn’t get to say goodbye at least.”

He nods as he cups your cheek. “Ya be safe, yeah?” 

You lean into his touch and close your eyes; god, it’s hard not to enjoy his touch. “You too.” 

Time is slipping away fast like sand through a sieve and he knows that you only have a few short minutes left that you will go unnoticed so he blurts out the question that sits on the tip of his tongue and he can’t stop it from coming out. “One last kiss?” he asks, though he hates himself for doing so.

A ragged breath is pushed out of your lungs as your eyes flutter open. The question is surprising, but you already know the answer; you can’t say no because to deny him would mean denying yourself and your heart won’t let you. His hands paw at your face as his eyes beg. 

Your heartbeats mesh together as you press your body against his until they become one rhythm. He keeps his hands locked to your face as you reach up and slip the bottom of his mask up over his lips and rest it on top of his nose. It feels like you are holding your breath and time stops as you again capture his unwavering stare.   

“Make it count,” you breathe.

You can feel the shudder from his desperate inhale as he collapses into you like the burst from a dying star, crashing his fiery kiss onto your mouth with an intensity that makes your knees buckle, but he has you. His arms keep you up as he aggressively steals your lips over and over again, pinning his mouth on yours until it burns, stealing your breath, tasting your kiss, letting that gnawing ache that had been festering in his heart eat him alive.   

His intensity is matched with your own as you kiss him back with everything that you have. You need the feeling of his lips to be imprinted on yours for as long as they can and you push so hard he cannot catch air. But just as quickly as it started, it has to end.

“Eh, ye need ta ‘urry guys,” the sound of Soaps voice calls from the door, forcefully thrusting you both back into reality. Lt. Riley grips around your biceps and pries himself from you with everything he has and with that he bounds away as you fall to your knees and enfold your arms around yourself like a hug, the tears streaming down your cheeks in heavy, engorged droplets. 

He is gone.

The time away does nothing to ease the pain of your separation. Being off base makes your absence in his life even more prominent. You are in his head constantly after that last kiss, haunting him like a ghost that he cannot get rid of and though he knows he should, part of him won’t let go; he can’t. No, that’s not entirely it. Even if he could let go, he won’t.

The lieutenant’s days spent on assignment pass by agonizingly slow and he begins to realize that as much as he enjoys what he does, that it is no longer holding the same importance in his heart as it once did. That feeling has been replaced by something else and that is the way he felt with you. He had thrown everything outside of work to the wayside because never believed that he would get a chance at bits of normalcy in his life. Until you…

What if he is throwing away something that could fulfill him more than his work with the 141? Could he live with that? Whenever he finds himself with a free moment, he spends them silently contemplating that question, mulling it over incessantly in his mind even though he keeps returning to the same conclusion: he can’t live with it. 

He would rather regret leaving all this behind if it meant he could be with you than to regret letting you slip through his fingers. And he desperately wants to tell you that he finally knows what to do.

The thought eats at him until one night, as he lays awake staring at the pitch black ceiling, he can no longer take it and without thinking he is digging through his pack to grab his cell phone and just like that the small, square device is in his hand and he is turning it on. As the light pierces through the darkness, missed call after missed call pops up on the screen all from… Mactavish?  

It’s only been off for a few hours. What the fuck is going on?

Lt. Riley hurriedly moves himself into a quiet corner away from the others sleeping and quickly redials the number. The repetitive ringing continues until they instantaneously stop and the young sergeant answers with an urgency in his tone that makes the lieutenant’s heartbeat pound in his ears.

“LT, fuck, been tryin’ te get a hold a ye fer a while now,” Soap says over the receiver. “Don’t ye ever answer yer god damn phone?”

The lieutenant tries to speak quietly so that he won’t draw any prying ears into eavesdropping on this conversation. “What the hell sergeant? Ya think I just have all the fuckin’ time to chitchat?”

Soap ignores the lieutenant’s agitation; this is more important and he is risking a lot by even having this conversation at all, so it’s gotta be quick. “ ‘Ave ye spoken te Price? Laswell? Anyone back ‘ere?” he asks as if insisting on a swift answer.

“No,” Lt. Riley confirms. “Haven’t had a need. Why?”

“Fuck, so no one’s said anythin’ te ye yet?” Soap questions as if the fact is distressing him.

“ ‘Bout what? Today, Mactavish,” Lt. Riley says with a hint of unchecked panic in his voice. Nothing about how Mactavish sounds is making the lieutenant feel any better, not the way whatever it is has him flustered like this. 

“We ‘ave a situation,” he says firmly and what comes out of his mouth next makes the usually calm and collected lieutenant nearly drop his phone as his entire body goes numb. “The sergeant and her team deployed right after ye, as ye know… all was fine until a few days ago.”

Simon can’t breathe as Soap finishes his sentence. “...we’ve lost contact…they’re all currently MIA.”

Tag list: @flameohotpotatooo @shadowtfpcod @xnyx1n @igotmajordaddyissues @essentialbeats-blog @mishaglass

[javierpena-inatacvest]

I saw this on Twitter and I just screamed because this is so Osita and Javi code 😭 like when she was having bad morning sickness and couldn't eat anything, but Javi just said her favorite foods and went to buy them 🥹

https://x.com/pascalisswift/status/1847825290875048157?s=46

McFlurry for Two

Summary: You're wide awake, pregnant, and have no idea what you want to eat. Lucky for you, Javi has an idea of what may make you feel better

Pairing: Husband!Javier Peña x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 1K

Warnings: This is all fluff and sweetness 🥺 Mentions of morning sickness and food aversion

A/N: Sweet non, whoever you are, this is the most adorable thing I've ever seen 😭 You know that this man would cross the ends of the earth and back to get you whatever you were craving. Dad to be!Javi is top tier, 10/10, no notes.

It doesn't surprise Javi to find you wandering around the kitchen at 5:30 in the morning anymore. Thank god he's always been an earlier riser- it makes it easier to keep you company as you shuffle through the boxes and containers in the pantry for the 3rd time since you've woken up, trying to will whatever you and the baby have been craving into your kitchen. Even if he wasn't an earlier riser, the sounds of you frantically scavenging through every food item you own like some sort of wild raccoon would be enough to wake even the heaviest of sleepers.

It also doesn't surprise him when he stumbles into your kitchen, half awake and half dressed, he hears the sounds of your sniffles, crying in frustration that you can't figure out what you want to eat at this ungodly hour of the morning.

"Baby's hungry?" He asks, never blaming you for whatever strange, nearly non-edible combinations you're looking for. He made that mistake once early on- He's learned his lesson ever since.

You still can't help but pout, arms crossed over your chest, trying to hold back your tears as Javi sneaks up behind you, the warmth of his bare chest pressed against your back, hands wrapping around to splay across your growing bump.

"Yeah. We have nothing to eat."

It takes everything in Javi not to laugh as the two of you stare into your open pantry, filled to the brim with every snack imaginable from the 6 trips he's made to the grocery store this week alone.

Truth be told, he's just happy you're eating again after 3 hellish months of barely being able to keep anything down besides bananas and diet Coke. He'll take multiple trips to the grocery store instead of watching you hunch over the toilet in misery any day of the week.

"Anything sound good, Osita?" That's a question he's learned is a gamble too- when you already have an answer in mind, you couldn't be happier he's asked. When you don't, he's come to find it's a question that can quickly lead to tears.

Unfortunately for him, this morning, it's the second.

"I-I don't know. I'm so hungry and nothing sounds good. And then I think something sounds good, but then I think about it for too long, and then the thought of it makes me wanna yak. Ugh, I just wanna eat!" For as humorous as the basis of your conundrum is, it still breaks his heart to watch you cry, gently kissing your shoulder and rubbing his hands back and forth across your belly to try and ease at least a little bit of your pain. You're growing his baby, for Christ's sake. If you wanted fresh spaghetti and meatballs, he'd be on the next flight to Italy, if that's what it took.

"Shhhh, I know, honey. It's okay. We'll figure out what Baby wants, I promise. Want me to list things, and then you can tell me if they sound any good?" He knows his one good brain cell is definitely not working full force, considering the sun was still hours away from waking the rest of the world, but he also knows that your poor brain is working overtime and a half. The slim chance he can come up with a solution that gives you any sort of relief is solace enough for him.

"O-okay." You sniffle, gulping down the rest of your tears. Javi knows he's not a mind reader, but Lord knows it would sure help if he could be one right now.

"Pickles and sriracha?"

"Ew, no. Spicy stuff sounds gross and I don't wanna have heartburn later."

"Sour gummy worms?"

"Ehhhh, maybe."

"Garlic bread?"

"Oh god, no. Please don't say that again, or I may legitimately throw up."

"Okay, not that, got it. Uh, shit- What about... French fries? Like, french fries dipped in chocolate ice cream?"

He braces himself for the next 10 seconds of silence as you ponder his suggestion. Thankfully, your silence is golden.

"Oh my god, that's what I wanted! How did you know that's what I wanted?" Even though you're still crying, at least now they're tears of relief, Javi letting out a quiet exhale of satisfaction himself at the fact it only took him a single digit number of guesses to solve your hunger riddle.

"Lucky guess." Javi smiles as he gently wipes the tears from your eyes, kissing your forehead before bending down to kiss your belly. It does a number on his knees, but he'll take all the joint pain he can handle before passing up on a chance to greet his two favorite girls good morning. "Try and go get some more sleep, Osita. I'll be back in a few with food. There anything else you want while I'm out?"

He's not sure what he's said in the past 3 sentences that's made you start crying again- he hasn't been able to figure out a pattern in the past 5 months, and guesses he won't come close in the 54to come.

"Hey, hey, hey, what's wrong? Baby, don't cry, it's okay." He coos, draping his arms around you to pull him against his chest, letting your weepy tears drip against his tanned, warm skin.

"I'm- I'm sorry." Your apology only spurs your tears on further.

"Sorry? What on Earth do you have to be sorry about, Osita?"

"That I'm always hungry and can't stop crying about it."

He can't help but smirk at this one, brushing the sleepy strands of hair away from your face as he carefully cups your cheek, tilting your chin up just enough to place a delicate kiss on your lips.

"Cariño, you don't have to apologize. You're pregnant. No offense mi amor, but I kind of expect crying and being hungry all the time to be a given."

Javi's relieved to finally hear at least a little giggle out of you now, quiet laughter replacing your tears as you remember that somehow, you were lucky enough to be married to a literal saint sent down from the heavens.

"I know, I just- You're so good to me. You're so good to both of us. Way too good to us."

"You're literally growing our baby inside you. French fries and ice cream is about the least I can do."

"I love you, Jav."

"I love you too, Osita. Try and go back to sleep for a little while I'm gone, okay? You and Baby Girl gotta rest up for this McDonald's."

As much as you'd love to protest, it doesn't take much for Javi to get you to curl up on the couch, wrapping you up in your favorite blanket with the TV on low. He laughs to himself as he reappears from your bedroom, putting on enough clothes to go through the drive-through, only to find you passed out cold, mouth half-agape and snoring like a train.

At this point, the McDonald's staff practically knows him by his first name, considering Javi's the only one who's ordering french fries and a chocolate McFlurry before the sun has yet to rise. He knows he has some at home, but it's more often than not that a large, black coffee has now become a part of his order, too, and none of the employees can blame him for that.

The sky has slowly begun to shift from shades of black and blue to warm pinks and oranges as he pulls into the driveway, a sign he's more than likely not making into work on time- his co-workers have learned that a pregnant wife pretty much trumps everything else, short of a life or death emergency.

You're still sound asleep as he tiptoes through the rest of his morning routine, scribbling a quick note under the bag of fries he's left for you on the end table next to the couch, sneaking one last kiss before he leaves for work and begins the countdown of coming back home to you.

It doesn't surprise him to hear his phone ring not long after he's made it into the office- He is almost sure it's you- he's got a 6th sense for it at this point.

"Peña."

"Your note made me cry this morning."

He doesn't mean to beam with an ear to ear grin as he listens to talk about how you're crying, but there's few things in this world he'd rather hear than the sweet sound of your voice.

"You crying at the note, or the fact there's two McFlurries in the freezer instead of one?"

"....Both. How'd you know I would change my mind and say I wanted vanilla instead?"

The concrete evidence is in the pile of crinkled drive-through receipts in his center console, but now's not a time for "I told you so's".

"Just had a feeling. You and Baby Girl enjoy your breakfast."

"This is the most embarrassing version of a breakfast I've had in a very long time, but I guess it's an upgrade from bagels and hot sauce. God, she's gonna have the weirdest taste in food when she grows up, isn't she?"

"If she grows up to be anything like you, I'll be the happiest man alive, hot sauce and all."

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[snowysosturn]

Speeding Car - Matt Sturniolo Part 29

64.media.tumblr.com

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Finale

Pairing : y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary : After six years with your boyfriend Alex, you start to mentally check out. At a UCLA party, Alex reconnects with his childhood friend Emily, who proposes a double date with her boyfriend Matt. Your attraction to Matt grows as he pays you the first real attention you've had in years, sparking a complicated emotional journey.

Warnings : MDNI, mentions of memory loss, guilt, mentions of car accident, anxiety, angst, trauma

Matt’s POV

Picking Nate up from the airport with Nick and Chris was a nice break from the whirlwind of thoughts that had been consuming me. He looked exhausted after his flight, so we agreed to head straight home so he could crash for a bit. The ride back was full of the usual routine, Nick making jokes, Chris trying to keep Nate awake by asking him random questions. But I barely joined in. My mind was elsewhere, stuck on things I didn’t want to think about.

Once we got home, Nate headed straight for the Chris’ room, mumbling something about needing a few hours of sleep before he could even think straight. I just nodded, feeling the weight of my own exhaustion, even though I hadn’t done much all day. Just eat and drive.

I went up to my room and lay down on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. My mind was all over the place, it was all one tangled mess. No matter how much time had passed, being around Y/n today had brought it all back. Seeing her sitting across from me in that cafe earlier.. how I blurted out her order without even thinking… it felt like a slap in the face, but it was me slapping my own face out of pure stupidity. I was trying to keep my distance, but there was this pull, like no matter how hard I tried to let go, part of me just couldn’t.

I don’t know how long I lay there, just lost in my own thoughts. It felt like minutes, but it ended up being hours. Everything was a blur until I heard a knock on my door.

Chris walked in without waiting for an answer - classic Chris. "Yo, you good?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

"Yeah, I'm fine" I mumbled, though we both knew I was lying.

He didn’t push it. "We’re thinking about going to Topgolf. You wanna come?"

I hesitated. The last thing I wanted was to be around people, especially since my mind wouldn’t shut up about Y/n. But I needed the distraction. I couldn’t keep lying here, spiraling.

"Yeah, sure" I said, sitting up and running a hand through my hair. "I’ll go."

Chris grinned, clearly happy with my answer. "Alright, let’s go then. Nate’s already hyped about beating everyone."

I forced a small smile, but inside, I felt like I was barely holding it together. Maybe a few rounds of golf would get my mind off things, or at least, I hoped it would.

-

We pulled into Topgolf and headed inside, grabbing a booth on the top floor. As we settled in, I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling building in my gut. This was the same booth we’d been in when Y/n came with us. I hadn’t been here since that day, and now it felt like everything was rushing back all at once, like the past was coming back to haunt me.

I logged into my account on the screen, waiting for the players to load, and there it was, her nickname, still saved as a player. A flood of emotions hit me hard, like I was drowning. I felt sick. Everywhere I turned, there was a reminder of her, and I couldn't seem to escape it.

Trying to focus, I sat down on the seat, but my mind was spinning. Everything about this place, about today, felt wrong. Nate stood up to take his first shot, when he suddenly turned around and asked: 

"How's Y/n doing Matt? Has her swing gotten better since the last time?" He laughs.

My body froze up. My mind scrambling for what to say. I’d forgotten Nate didn’t know everything that had happened.

"Uh.." I started, but the words got stuck in my throat. What could I even say? That things were beyond complicated?

Nick must’ve sensed the tension, because he quickly jumped in. "She's doing alright. She was in a bit of an accident so just getting back to normal, you know?"

Nate nodded, oblivious to the weight of his question. "Oh god sorry to hear.. You two were pretty close for a while there."

I felt Chris glance at me, but I avoided his eyes. "Yeah.. we were" I muttered, focusing on the course ahead. The words stung more than I expected.

“I’ll talk about it another time, man” I said to Nate, my voice low. “Maybe when my head's clearer.” He nodded, sensing that now wasn’t the time to push it, and thankfully didn’t bring it up again. "Shit, I should’ve asked Madi to come" Nick said, already calling her on FaceTime.

I could hear their conversation from the side, his voice casual. "Can we go to the beach after?" Nick asked. "Madi said she’s near Venice, that she could meet us there."

Venice Beach. Of course. There was just no escaping it. It felt like the universe was messing with me, constantly reminding me of Y/n, of everything I’d lost or maybe never even had.

I sat back, staring out over the range, feeling like I was being pulled in two directions. Was this a sign I was meant to take? Something telling me to face the truth, or just a cruel joke from the world reminding me of what I couldn’t have?

The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over the Topgolf range as we wrapped up the session. Chris was all smiles, having beaten Nate this time. The light banter between them helped ease the tension I’d been feeling, if only for a little while.

We piled back into the car and drove toward Venice Beach. The ride was mostly quiet, the chatter from earlier dying down as we all settled into our own thoughts. I kept my eyes on the road, trying to focus on anything other than the mess swirling in my head. I wondered what Y/n was doing now.

When we got to Venice, the sky was pitch black. We parked near the skate park and met up with Madi, who was waiting with a smile on her face.

She greeted us with hugs, and Nick immediately looped his arm around her, walking ahead as they chatted. We walked toward the beach, the sounds of skaters in the background mixing with the ocean’s waves. I kept my distance, trying to act like everything was fine, but the more I looked around, the more restless I felt.

Being here wasn’t helping. If anything, it was making things worse.

As we walked along the beach, Nate fell in step beside me. He didn’t say anything at first, just quietly observing. Eventually, he broke the silence.

"Hey, man" he started, his voice low, "you wanna talk about Y/n?"

I hadn’t expected him to bring it up so soon, but I guess Nate always knew when something was off. I hesitated, staring at the sand beneath my feet, trying to figure out if I was even ready to say everything that had been eating at me. But avoiding it wasn’t going to help, and maybe talking to someone outside of it all would give me some kind of perspective.

"Yeah" I finally said, letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. "I guess it’s time I told you everything."

We slowed our pace, letting Nick, Chris, and Madi walk ahead. I glanced at them, making sure they were out of earshot before I began.

"It’s complicated, man" I said, shaking my head. "Y/n and I… we were something before her accident. I don’t even know if I can call it a relationship, but it felt real. Then she lost her memory after it, and it’s like she doesn’t even know who I am anymore. Alex.. her boyfriend at the time.. remember? Well he was there when she woke up in the hospital, and she thought she was still with him. And I.." I paused, trying to keep my voice steady, "I just didn’t fight for her the way I should have."

Nate looked at me, frowning. "Wait, so Alex just slid back into her life like nothing happened?"

"Yeah" I said, bitterness creeping into my tone. "And I didn’t stop him. I didn’t push, didn’t tell her how things really were between us. I just.. let it happen because I thought she needed space. But now I realize I probably screwed everything up."

Nate nodded, processing everything I was saying. "And she still doesn’t remember you two were together?"

I shook my head. "Not really. She’s been around us but I don't know if she’s putting the pieces together slowly.”

Nate ran a hand through his hair, clearly taken aback by everything. "Damn, man. That’s a lot."

"Yeah, tell me about it" I said, letting out a frustrated laugh. "I just don’t know where I stand anymore. Should I push? Should I let her figure things out on her own? It’s killing me, being around her and pretending like none of it ever happened."

Nate clapped a hand on my shoulder, a serious look in his eyes. "I can’t pretend to know what that’s like, but if you care about her, really care, you can’t keep sitting on the sidelines, man. Maybe it’s time you stop letting everyone else make the moves."

His words hit me harder than I expected. Maybe Nate was right. Maybe I’d been standing still for too long, waiting for something to change when I should’ve been the one making the change.

We caught up to the rest of the group, and I could see Chris running ahead along the sides of the water like a dog chasing a bone.

"Wait, why doesn’t Y/n like fish again?" he asked.

"It scares her when they swim around her feet" I said, laughing a little as the memory came back to me - the small reminder of her, her little quirks, what makes her her.

Chris continued to run ahead, and Madi laughed next to me, unable to control her laughter at the way Chris was running. The beach was nearly empty, and for a moment, I wished more people could’ve seen it like this. Venice was peaceful and quiet tonight. It felt like we had the beach to ourselves.

I glanced around, taking it all in, but that’s when I saw her.

It couldn’t be.

There’s no way she’s here too.

She was leaving.

Fuck.

I have to go after her.

Y/n’s POV

I slammed the door to my car, letting out a heavy sigh. I didn’t even need to think about where I was going, muscle memory took over, guiding me down streets I had driven hundreds of times before. I didn’t bother with Google Maps, I could do this journey in my sleep. My hands gripped the steering wheel tighter than necessary, the feeling of numbness settling deeper with each passing second. Every thought in my head was blurred, but somehow the path ahead was painfully clear.

After what felt like short drive was actually an hour. I turned into the near empty parking lot. LA Kings Valley Ice Center. It was almost surreal seeing it so quiet, the lot nearly deserted, like it was waiting for me, offering me solace. Apparently I hadn’t been here in years, yet it felt like only yesterday that this place had been my second home. A sanctuary. A part of me I’d given up without realizing what I was losing.

For him.

I parked my car, sat there for a minute, and just stared at the building. It loomed in front of me, a reminder of everything I used to be, everything I could have been. The memories of countless hours spent on the ice flooded back, laughing with friends, perfecting routines, pushing my body to its limits. A life I’d left behind, foolishly, for someone who had no place in my future.

Stepping out of the car, I headed toward the front desk, a strange mix of anticipation and apprehension swelling inside me. The older man at the desk smiled at me as if he recognized me, and I couldn't help but smile back, though it felt half hearted. I asked for a pair of skates, and he handed them over with ease, no questions asked.

Walking into the arena, I could hear the familiar hum of the ice machine in the distance. There were two people skating on the rink, a man and a woman, moving leisurely, chatting as they circled the ice. As I stood there, watching them, they drifted off toward the stands and finally out of sight, leaving the entire place to me.

I was alone.

Completely alone.

The feeling of solitude was oddly comforting, like the universe was giving me space to reconnect with the person I used to be, the girl who thrived on the ice, who had dreams that went beyond a relationship or the approval of someone else. The arena was mine tonight. No distractions, no noise. Just me and the ice.

I sat down on the bench and laced up my skates, tightening them carefully, just as I’d done a thousand times before. It felt like a ritual, grounding me. When I stood up and took that first step onto the ice, it was like nothing had changed. The cold air brushed against my face as I glided forward, the sound of the blades cutting through the ice was the only noise in the massive space. It felt like slipping back into an old, beloved routine. How could I have abandoned this?

I started skating faster, gaining momentum with each stride. My heart pounded, and for the first time in days, I felt alive. The ice beneath me seemed to fuel my every movement, my body responding as though no time had passed at all. I weaved across the rink, testing my limits, pushing harder and harder. My muscles remembered every motion, every turn, and I couldn’t help but wonder how I could have traded this feeling for something so fleeting, so shallow.

The thought made my stomach churn with regret and anger. I sacrificed so much for someone who betrayed me, who wasn’t even worth the sacrifice in the first place. The realization stung, but it also fueled me, made me more determined.

I thought about the tricks I used to practice, the ones I’d nail after hours of trying and failing. The triple axel came to mind, one of the hardest, but the one I’d obsessed over. Could I still do it?

I skated faster, building up the speed I’d need for the jump, my mind and body trying to sync. I bent my knees and launched myself into the air but the landing was rough, unsteady. I stumbled out of it and nearly fell, my breath hitching in frustration.

"You know you can do it, Y/n" a voice called out, breaking the silence.

I whipped my head around, searching for the source of the voice. There, standing just outside the rink,

Matt.

I blinked, unsure if he was really there or if my mind was playing tricks on me. He was leaning against the barrier, watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.

“What.. what are you doing here?” I asked, my voice shaky as I stood up, brushing off the ice.

"I knew you'd be here" Matt says, his voice steady.

"Wait, how did you—" I start to ask, but before I can finish, he cuts me off.

"I know you better than anyone else, Y/n," Matt interrupts, his eyes locked onto mine with a quiet intensity that leaves me speechless.

I shake my head, overwhelmed. How could he possibly say that? How could anyone claim to know me when I don't even know myself anymore? The last few weeks have been a blur of confusion, pain, and revelations that have turned my entire world upside down. I feel like a stranger to myself, piecing together memories that don’t feel like mine.

"You don’t know me, Matt." I say, my voice trembling slightly as I take a step back, trying to create some distance. "Not anymore. I don’t know if i'm the same person I was before."

He looks at me, his face softening, like he understands more than I want to believe he does. "Maybe not" he admits, stepping forward slowly, careful not to push. "But I know the you standing right here, right now. The you who comes to this rink when the world gets too heavy. The you who still feels at home on the ice, even if everything else feels out of control."

His words hit me harder than I expected. The weight of them presses down on me because he’s right. As much as I want to push him away, to tell him he’s wrong, I can’t. Because in this moment, standing here on this rink, in the place where I’ve always felt the most like myself, he sees me. Maybe even more than I see myself.

But then I really deep it, trying to hold back the emotions building up inside of me. I’ve been holding everything in for so long, trying to be strong, trying to figure it all out on my own. But with Matt standing there, looking at me like he can see through all the walls I’ve built, I feel exposed. I don't understand why he’s here though. All he’s done is act cold towards me for the most part. I skate off the rink into the stands, almost in embarrassment.

"I don’t even understand why you’re here, Matt" I finally say, my voice cracking slightly. The words are more vulnerable than I meant them to be, but I can’t help it. I need answers, and I need them now. "What are you doing here?"

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, just stands there on the edge of the rinks stands, his expression unreadable. The tension in the air is thick, and the silence feels unbearable.

"I’m here because I couldn’t stay away any longer. I need to tell you everything." Matt finally says, his voice quiet but steady. He looks at me, really looks at me this time, and something in his eyes makes my breath catch. "I know you're confused, Y/n, and I don’t blame you. I should’ve been more honest with you from the start, but everything got so messed up."

I stare at him, trying to process what he’s saying, but it feels like my brain is working against me. "But why?" I ask, my voice almost pleading. "Why didn’t you try? Why didn’t you tell me?"

Matt sighs, and for the first time, I see the vulnerability in him, the cracks in the wall he’s been putting up. "Because I thought you deserved better than to have your life thrown into even more chaos. I didn’t want to confuse you or hurt you more than you already were. Everything was my fault.”

"Your fault? I know everything that happened with Alex, thats not your fault Matt." I say, the words heavy as they leave my mouth. My voice is more uncertain than I intended, and I don’t even know if I’m saying it for him or myself. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you in the hospital, it was all just so overwhelming. But I'm confused about where you come in. What we were.. I just don’t understand it."

Matt stands still, watching me closely. His face doesn’t give anything away, which only makes this more frustrating.

"I feel this pull to you.." I continue, trying to find the right words, even though they feel like they’re tumbling out awkwardly, "And I don’t know why. I feel stupid because you can't even look at me properly."

I stop, catching my breath. The weight of it all feels suffocating, like I’m drowning in a past I can't fully grasp. My heart beats faster with every second of silence between us. Why isn’t he saying anything?

I take a shaky breath, trying to steady myself. "Why didn’t you fight for us?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. "Why didn’t you try?"

Matt looks down, and for a moment, I think he’s not going to answer. But then he looks back up at me, his eyes filled with regret. "Because I was scared" he admits. "When you lost your memory, I didn’t know what to do. I thought maybe it was better to keep my distance. You had enough going on, and I didn’t want to make it worse. I had lost you once, I was afraid I was going to lose you again. I blame myself for the accident."

“What accident?” I interrupt, my frustration boiling over. I can feel my hands trembling, my heart racing. “Everyone keeps saying there was an accident, but no one wants to tell me what it is. What happened before? What happened during it?” I take a shaky breath, the words spewing out before I can stop them. “Can someone please just give me the fucking answers?”

Matt’s voice breaks through the silence, heavy with guilt. “Y/n, you were hit by a car.” The words hang in the air, an anchor dragging me down into a sea of confusion.

“What do you mean?” I whisper, feeling the world around me blur as I struggle to grasp what he’s saying.

“We were at a party” he admits, his eyes filled with an agonizing regret. “I should have kept you safe. I was the one who was supposed to be there for you, and I failed.”

“What happened?” My voice trembles as I try to piece it all together.

Matt’s expression darkens, and he takes a shaky breath. “You ran into the street. I tried to get you off the road, but I was too late..”

He stops, his throat tightening as he presses his hands to his face, fighting against the impact of memories. I can see the pain etched across his features, and I want to reach out to him, to reassure him, but I’m frozen, trapped in my own whirlwind of emotions. His words cut deep, and I feel a mix of anger and sadness wash over me. How could he carry this burden alone? I want to scream that it wasn’t just his fault, that I made my choices too.

“Matt, you shouldn’t beat yourself up over this, its not like you were the one driving, you could’ve never prevented that..” I finally get some words out. 

He shakes his head, tears pooling in his eyes. “You should have never been in that situation. If I hadn’t pushed you away.. if I had just told you how I felt instead of running from it, you wouldn’t have been on that road in the first place.”

I take a step back, trying to absorb everything he’s saying. The fragmented pieces of my life start to form a picture, but it’s still so hazy.

“Please, just tell me what happened” I plead, my heart racing. “I need to know. I need to know it all. From whatever we were to the accident. I need to know it all.”

He looked up at me, I could see the sorrow in his eyes as he nodded at me.

"The night we met.. We clicked instantly. It was a double date. You and Alex. Me and Emily.  There was this connection, like we just understood each other. I remember everything about you.. the little things, I remember your fears and that your favourite colour is green."

He runs a hand through his hair, clearly grappling with the weight of what he’s about to tell me. "We had seen eachother a bit after that, in group settings.. I held a party in my place, Emily actually invited you and Alex. Emily was a mess that night, it was almost like you could see the cracks in my relationship with her too. I could see them in yours too. Our bond only grew stronger that night. There was this one night that changed everything in my eyes. Emily asked me to get her purse from your place. You’d been hanging out the night before and she left it in your apartment by mistake. She got invited by Alex to go out to celebrate his captaincy so she needed it. It was the same night Alex got into that fight. When you opened the door, I could tell you’d been crying, and it killed me to see you like that. I thought about you the whole way home. So after I dropped Emily off at the club, I went back to check on you."

He smiles faintly, as if remembering the night. "I brought you back to my place. We all ended up playing Mario Kart together. Me, you, Nick and Chris." He glances away, a shadow of regret crossing his face. "That's why I was so off the other night.. I felt like I was reliving that night again but in all the wrong ways. But that original game night.. Y/n I can’t explain how much comfort I felt just being near you. I would've kissed you that night, Y/n. I wanted to. But then Nick came in, talking about that fight Alex had gotten into, and the moment was gone. I took you to the hospital since that's where Alex was, and the four of us waited there all night."

His voice softens, and he looks away for a moment. " When I left you and Alex at home, Emily gave me hell for being around you. So I had to cut you off. But.. the feelings I had for you didn’t go away. They never did."

I feel a tightness in my chest, as if my heart is trying to process all of this, the weight of it pressing down on me like a storm.

“I should really thank Nick for a lot of this, because the two of you got close really fast, and no matter what I had going on, he still always included you. He invited you to Topgolf with us one night when I was meant to be keeping our distance. He actually overheard Emily give out to me that night about you. Told me I was stupid for listening to her. It was almost as if he knew I had feelings for you then and there, he never was really fond of Emily. But her and Alex were out of the country together on a school trip , our friends Nate and Madi were coming along that night too so it seemed like no big deal. And I knew deep down I wanted to be around you.”

"Being at Topgolf.. I’ll never forget it.." Matt lightly chuckles, “You were swinging the club as if you were playing mini golf.” He breaks out into a laugh. My jaw drops, “Oh my god.. I’m so embarrassed” I say, covering my hands with my face. "Don’t be embarrassed.. It was cute..” Matt continues. “I helped you with it and you swung like a champ straight away. You didn’t win or anything now but I could see the improvements thanks to me.” He grinned. I gave him a light hit on the arm, the feeling of butterflies bulling through my stomach. 

“Chris wasnt ready to go home so soon, so we went to Venice beach..” We locked eyes with eachother hard. I wonder if he knew I was there tonight.

“We were walking alone on the beach, everyone went ahead into the water. It was just the two of us and I loved every second of it. Being by your side again felt.. freeing. I wanted to kiss you so badly that night too, but then Chris had this whole jellyfish thing." He lets out a bitter laugh. "Even then, I couldn’t get enough of you. You opened up to me that night, told me about giving up skating for Alex."

I stare at him, my mind racing as he speaks. These pieces of a past I can’t remember, the fragments of a life that still feel foreign to me.

"I could just picture you on the ice." Matt says softly, his voice full of admiration. "You were so sad you stopped training for the Olympics. I just wanted to see you happy again. So the next night, I rented out this ice rink right here, just for you. And god, Y/n, if you could’ve seen how you lit up that night. I kissed you. That night, I kissed you, and my god was it euphoric. I stayed in your place that night and we were just inseparable since. Going for brunch, hanging out all the time.."

My breath catches in my throat, but Matt looks away again. I cant believe he’s done this all for me. He tries to speak again clearly struggling with what comes next. "It wasn’t just a crush. I cared about you more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. I wanted to protect you, to be there for you.. but I couldn’t even do that right."

I can see the pain in his eyes, the rawness of his confession. The words he’s about to say feel heavy, like a weight hanging between us.

"The night before Alex and Emily came home from Europe, Nick and Chris went to our friend Tara’s party.." he begins, his voice quieter now. "It was just the two of us in my house and you told me that Alex and Emily were cheating on us. I thought that was it. Our way out. I thought we could leave them and be together, I thought it would happen anyway, Youd made it clear you were done with Alex but I know how hard Emily could be, but I was ready, Y/n. I was ready to walk away from Emily and start something real with you."

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. All the confusion I had been feeling, the pull towards him, it suddenly made more sense. 

"But then…” He stops as he reaches in his jean pocket, pulling out a piece of jewellery and handing it to me. An earring, my missing earring. “It must’ve fallen off in my bed when you passed out that night" he said, his voice softening but struggling to get the next sentence out. "You’ve never know this part.. but Emily found it before I could confront her about Alex. She didn’t even give me a chance to explain. She blackmailed me, Y/n. She told me that if I left her, she'd ruin your life. She’d tell Alex everything, twist it, make your life a living hell. I know what shes capable of, so I believed her." Matt’s eyes finally met mine, full of regret. "I didn’t know what else to do. I was a coward. I should’ve walked away, should’ve fought for us right then, but I didn’t. She told me I had to act like nothing ever happened, and that I could never see you again. She made me go to that party with her the night.. I didnt expect you to be there.. Maybe I can give out to Nick for this part of the story since he invited you along to this one.. My world stopped when I spotted you. It was awful. You were so clueless to everything. I knew you say me sitting with Emily. I was torn by what I wanted to do and what I had to do.. I found you in the bathroom.. I told you that what we had was a mistake.. That it was over."

My heart clenched at the memory of his words, even though I couldn’t fully recall them. It was like an emotional scar that hadn’t healed, even if the details were hazy.

"You were devastated, Y/n. I saw it in your eyes. And I’m not going to act like I wasn’t devastated too, even though I had to pretend then." His voice broke again, and he took a shaky breath. "I shattered your heart in that bathroom. And then.. you ran. You ran into the street."

I could see him reliving it, the horror flashing across his face. His hands trembled, and he brought them to his face as if trying to shield himself from the memory.

"I tried to stop you. I tried to yell at you from the balcony.." he whispered. "The last thing I heard you say was that you loved me. I know you were about to say you thought I loved you too, but I cut you off. I told you to get off the road... and then-"

He couldn’t finish the sentence. His breath hitched as he choked back the words, pressing his palms against his face like he was trying to push the pain away.

I stood there, frozen, my thoughts racing, trying to make sense of everything. The accident. The way he’d pushed me away just when its evident I thought we had something real.

"It’s my fault" he whispered, his voice barely audible. "All of it. You were only on that road because I made you believe what we had wasn’t real. But it was, Y/n. It was the realest thing I’ve ever had. I’ve never experienced anything like you. And I’ve been grieving you ever since."

His confession hung heavy in the air, suffocating me with the weight of the truth. All the anger, confusion, and longing I’d felt since waking up in the hospital crashed over me like a tidal wave.

“And I’m so sorry I never fought for you. I know I should’ve, but then Alex appeared in the hospital. And you couldn’t remember me. He was acting like you were still together. You had no memory of us, I caused you enough pain as it was. I didn’t want to make it worse.”

I looked at him, my heart pounding as the reality of his words sank in. Matt's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought it would be easier for you, that you could heal without me dragging you back into the chaos. But I was wrong. I was so wrong."

There was a silence between us, thick with unspoken words and feelings that had been buried under layers of hurt. I could see the regret etched across his face, the guilt weighing heavily on his shoulders.

"I thought I could forget you, that maybe it would make everything simpler," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "But you’re unforgettable."

He stepped closer, the desperation in his eyes mirroring my own. "Y/n, I’ve spent every day since that night wishing I could take it all back. Even how I acted so standoff-ish around you. It’s because I love you. I always have.”

“I want to show you that what we had was real, let you relieve it all. I want to fight for you, if you’ll let me.”

a/n: we have one more part :(

taglist : @muwapsturniolo @anitahunt @sturnfannn @jayde510 @chrissfavhoe @babyalliah-777 @v33angel l @urmom69lol @willowrites @ribread03 @2muchofaslvt @sturnsaver @sleepysturniolo @jcsturniolo11 @jessie-essie @hoeforchrizz @mynbbys @sturniolopanini i @mattsturnxoxo o @delicatechrry @t77te @sturnsyaper69 @hotdismylife @maggot3647 @ivysturnss @noplaceissafeanymore @mattssgf @yourfavsturniologirl @maethem0nth @sillyponygrl @mattyblover07 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @dominicfikeenthusiast @mattsfavbigtitties @ncm9696 @chrisstvrns @schlutt4matty @lvrsturniolo @chrissolos @ilusa @amelia-sturniolo3 @wonnieeluvvr @pussydestroyer100 @amexiass @mystinkylefttoe26 @lizzysmith110 @sturniololovebot @secret-sturniolo @freshythefishy @witchofthehour @stvrnlover @alizestvrnss @beachbabe000 @pinkdyit @pvssychicken @starkeyszn @matts-girlfriend

[paddlescuddlesbubblesgurgles]

so around the start of the summer I ate literally as much as my body could possibly handle every day, every meal. I got in the habit of gorging myself until I could hardly breathe, could not stand or sit or even lay down comfortably, and my belly was aching. I couldn’t even sleep, nor could I really do much of anything but sit there helplessly and gasp or groan at how big I’d gotten, and how full I’d become. This was exactly what I wanted.

I was consuming between 7000-12000 calories a day during this time. This lasted about 2 months or so, maybe 10 weeks. I rarely took a break, and this had…intense consequences on my capacity. I routinely ate things like: entire family sized dinner portions for each component(vegetables, starches, meats). Family sized fast food meal deals(usually about 5 combos worth). 7-8 combos from various fast food places(usually their entire menu). Party sized or tailgater tray offerings from restaurants(usually enough for 10-15 people).

I cannot become full now. No matter what I do, if I’m not eating literally family sized portions, I’m not filled. I can become comfortably satiated after 3-4 meals at once, but my belly constantly yearns for more.

I finally have started experiencing some of the crazy ‘feedism fantasy’ tropes I thought weren’t real (or at least greatly exaggerated due to ya know…writing lol). Things like

I literally can get hunger pangs WHILE MY STOMACH HAS A REASONABLE AMOUNT OF FOOD INSIDE. I’m talking I’ve already eaten a heavy plate that is literally 3-4lbs of food. Gone. Inside me. But my belly has the NERVE to growl around it and demand more food.

Sometimes I become anxious when the only amount of food available to me is a normal serving size (this is honestly the hottest. I’m talking whiny, worried, needy feelings because I only got enough food for 1 person.)

i crave eating 24/7, or for long periods. I catch myself daydreaming about sitting down with enough food for a large gathering, and stuffing it all inside myself for literal hours. I’m not kidding, I want to eat for 6-8 hours straight of almost nonstop consumption. I just want to sit down, lean back with my gut supported by my lap or my couch, and stuff it so completely full. I would prefer if my primary activity for the day was eating.

hunger and arousal are now so completely linked I almost cannot experience one without the other…which means I’m hungry and horny pretty much unceasingly. Constantly my mind goes back to sex and eating. I’m literally just daydreaming in the background about when I will get to open my mouth next.

I’ve now eaten many of the feeding fantasy portions. Family meals, party trays, entire cakes, multiple entire pizzas, entire trays of baked goods, entire boxes of cakes, a box of donuts, entire pies, and generally levels of excess that I can only describe as obscene.

This has caused me to really fatten up. I gained 40 or so lbs from the end of March to the middle of July. I also happened to do this without an encouraging, physical, coercive or forceful feeder, which means if I were to have these (what I desperately crave), I imagine I would reach new capacity heights. I primarily eat for fullness. I love that food drunk fullness feeling where my entire body stops functioning properly. I love feeling like all I can literally do is let my belly do its thing and process all the food I gave it. I’m desperate for it. I constantly crave it. The weight gain is an unintentional but welcomed side effect of my incessant gorging.

I cannot wait for my next opportunity. I have so many ideas. Will I finally try 3 pizzas? Will I try to eat more foot longs than I am tall? Will I make myself an entire family banquet and then greedily try and eat it myself? I need to do it soon. I can’t keep eating enough for 6-7 people each day…I need more, and I need it all at once.

[artstatues]

sweet boy. - a.w‎‎‎‎‎

wc : 339

pairings : aaron warner x fem!reader

synopsis : unfortunately, aaron's been extremely busy the past couple of days.

warnings : workaholic aaron, nothing much tho.

a/n : short drabble. writing mood today but had 0 ideas for the last hour or two, finally came up with this lmao

taglist : @never-enough-novels @reminiscentreader @kozumesphone @lxvebelle @shuhuaspookie

@off-to-the-r4ces @starrynightsxo @flowers-for-em

you sat on the office couch, eyes directed at your too focused boyfriend rather than the book in your hands. you loved aaron, you really did, but he’s been awfully busy for the last few days, too busy to give you any attention. only short good mornings, or good nights. he’d be gone when you woke up, and absent when you went to bed. you were sure he’s absolutely exhausted. the bags under his eyes becoming more prominent day by day. only did he look up from his laptop screen, or his papers say “oh, hello love,” or something like that.

you understood him. you knew he wanted to rave about how much he loved you, you knew how he wanted to lay in your lap and watched as you went on about your day. yet, he couldn’t. he has a full time job as the supreme commander. oh how you missed your aaron.

every time you’ve called him over to take a break, he’d simply say “5 more minutes love, i promise.” but did he fulfill those promises? no. just sweet nothings. 

“love?” he called.

“yes aaron?” you smiled down at him, staring at you from your lap.

“how was your day?” he inquired, causing you to put your book down.

“so-.....”

“aaron?” you tried, looking up from your book, some form of despair in your eyes, and your tone. “yes, love?” he looked up from his screen. you’re sure that was the first time he made full eye contact with you in the last 7 hours. you've been on this couch for 3. it’s 10.36 pm. “c’mere?” you patted your lap. his eyes looked dead, his eye bags only slightly covered by the frame of his working glasses. he unexpectedly got up and walked closer towards you. soon enough, he found peace on your lap, laying down sideways, staring at god knows what. you gently ran your hands into his hair, playing with a few strands. “oh my sweet boy.” you hummed.

how you’ve missed this…

[writing-with-sophia]

Poison list (2)

Hello, it's me again! After some feedback on my previous potion list post, I decided to research a little more about potions and come up with this post. I hope everyone will like it!

1. Poison Ivy

I think anyone who has watched Batman will know the female supervillain Poison Ivy. I thought it was a name she came up with until I found the Poison Ivy plant online, lol.

Eastern poison ivy is typically a hairy, ropelike vine with three shiny green leaves budding from one small stem. The leaves may be red in the fall.

Western poison ivy is typically a low shrub with three leaves. In the East, Midwest, and South, it grows as a vine.

It may have yellow or green flowers and white to green-yellow or amber berries.

It has an oily sap in its leaves called urushiol. This causes an allergic reaction that can make your skin red, swollen, and itchy.

2. Poison Oak

It is typically, a shrub with leaves of three, like poison ivy. The sun-facing side of the leaf has tiny hairs on it and is a darker shade of green than the ground-facing side. 

Pacific poison oak may be vine-like.

Though it grows all over the country, it’s more common in the West.

It could be hours or days before your skin reacts to the plant sap (urushiol). And your rash may eventually turn bumpy and form blisters that ooze.

3. White Snakeroot

A North American herb with flat-topped clusters of small white flowers and contains a toxic alcohol known as trematol.

Generally found in woods and along streams. It is not often found on open prairies because it does not do well in full sunlight. The plant will grow 1 to 3 feet in height and will have thin smooth leaves with toothed margins.

The poisonous effects in livestock usually result from direct consumption of the white snakeroot plants. In humans, poisoning can be caused by consumption of dairy products from cows that have eaten white snakeroot.

4. Rosary Pea

Also called jequirity beans, these piously-named seeds contain abrin, an extremely deadly ribosome-inhibiting protein.

Rosary peas are native to tropical areas and are often used in jewelry and prayer rosaries. While the seeds are not poisonous if intact, seeds that are scratched, broken, or chewed can be lethal.

It only takes 3 micrograms of abrin to kill an adult, less than the amount of poison in one seed. It is said that numerous jewelry makers have been made ill or died after accidentally pricking their fingers while working with the seeds.

Abrin in rosary pea prevents protein synthesis within cells and can cause organ failure within four days.

5. Foxglove

Its bell-shaped flowers are often bright purple but can be white, yellow, or pink. It blooms in the spring. It also has a fruit with lots of seeds, which kids sometimes eat.

 All parts of the flower are poisonous and can slow or disrupt your heart.

In fact, digitalis (a heart medicine) is derived from this plant. When formulated into a medication with a controlled dosage, digitalis is valuable in treating heart failure. It helps a weakened heart pump harder.

People who eat any part of the plant or make tea from the leaves are, in essence, taking an unregulated dose of heart medicine. This can cause the heart rate to slow down or become irregular. Both can be dangerous and life threatening.

6. Mistletoe

This plant lives off of other trees and shrubs, which makes it a parasite. Its stems are thick and easy to break, with lots of branches. The leaves are often thick and stay green all year. Its little yellowish flowers don’t have petals. The small, white berries have one seed and contain a sticky, poisonous pulp.

The berries can give you diarrhea and slow or stop your heart.

All parts of American mistletoe contain a toxic protein called phoratoxin, while European mistletoe contains viscotoxins, which prevent new cells from forming.

7. Oleander

Oleander (Nerium oleander) is a common ornamental evergreen shrub.

All parts of the oleander plant are deadly and contain lethal cardiac glycosides known as oleandrin and neriine.

If eaten, oleander can cause vomiting, diarrhea, erratic pulse, seizures, coma, and death, and contact with the leaves and sap is known to be a skin irritant to some people.

The plant is very bitter.

That's all!

[90ekz]

“WE AINT GOOD-GOOD, BUT WE STILL GOOD”

debrief: when your ex-boyfriend ony comes down with a cold, you clock into your nurse shift, as well as resolving some old feelings.

tags: black!fem!reader, sickfic but like.. not, use of the n word, make-ups and break-ups, you make ony nervoussss 🥹, implied eremin (i love them), pure fluff, healthy communication cs ik some of y’all be bashin niggas heads in

an: bringing in the new year with some fluff !! i love you guys, and may 2024 bring everything you desire in abundance <3

ex-boyfriend!ony who was so heartbroken when y’all split, but knew it was for the best. he didn’t wanna drag you down with all his mess, (even if you insisted over and over that you were okay) and you were busy trying to get your masters. even through this, close contact was kept, and y’all leaned on each other for support.

that’s why it was such a shock when connie and jean had let it slip that he’d been sick for 3 days. you sat on the notion, wondering why he didn’t come to you or even say anything, and waited for a call, but when none came after a few hours, you were dialing his number harshly into your phone and letting it ring with a scowl on your face.

“onyankopon.” you spit over the phone, hearing him sputter at the use of his full name. dull music played in the background, and you could swear you hear other voices, hushed.

“h-hey mama, what’s goin on?” ony refused to let his composure slip, all his boys were over and he had told them that he had stopped fuckin’ with you. they all opted to come over to chill (smoke) even while he was down with a real bad cold. he caved and took a few hits before deciding that his lungs weren’t strong enough right now, and passing the spliff to connie wordlessly.

“you got something you wanna tell me?” you sat patiently, giving him the opportunity to tell the truth before jumping to conclusions. maybe there was a reason for it, everything happens for a reason, right?

“uh…nah i been chillin—hold up.” your eyebrow jumped at his labored breathing mixed with the sound of him hushing someone in the background before pressing the phone back to his ear. “anyways. im good, nothing to tell you, im cool. you cool?” your suspicion grew at his constant throat clearing and groans.

“you a damn lie.” before he could even respond, you were hanging up the phone and two beep sounds rung in his head. he tried to call back twice before getting a notification that you’d left home and were on the pathway to his house. the drive was only about 10 minutes, and knowing you, you’d be here in 5.

“aw shit—all y’all gotta go.” ony stumbled to his feet, ushering connie, eren, armin, and jean out of their seated positions and towards the front door. “man i was just getting high, the fuck goin’ on?” eren mumbles lightly, placing his jacket around armin’s shoulders and finishing packing his bag.

“someone’s coming over, c’mon.”

“who bruh?”

“y/n nigga, i think she knows im sick. y’all gotta go, now.” the whole group erupts in protests of ‘i thought y’all were done’ and ‘don’t kick us out for that, man!’ but ony didn’t care. he hadn’t seen you in person for a while, and he still needed to cover his tracks. the whole group rolls their eyes, save for connie and jean, who looked like they’d seen a ghost.

“connie, jean, why y’all look like that? what did y’all do?”

“it was him!” jean points to connie, completely throwing him under the bus. connie almost protests until he sees the sour look on ony’s face, and they’re scattering out the door with ‘im sorry’s’ flaking from their lips, leaving armin and eren to snicker under their breath.

“you said you were done with her, why now?”

“as much as i would love to give you an in-depth synopsis on my relationship status, i really don’t have time for allat right now.”

eren rolls his eyes, his attitude shown clear on his face. he wasn’t the biggest fan of ony’s relationship with you, considering that he’s the one who has to hear all the bullshit between you two. armin intertwines his pinkies with eren, an easy soother to his irritation.

“if i have to hear about this shit later, i’ll kill you.”

with reluctance, the couple left—armin apologetically excusing eren’s rudeness—and ony was left to spray fabreeze for the weed smell, and splash cold water on his face to hopefully extinguish his up-ticking fever, just in time for your harsh knocks to come on the door.

ony opened it, albeit barely enough for you to see his flushed face. he was feeling real feverish now….

“you ain’t tell me you was coming over.”

“i don’t have to tell you. open this damn door and stop playin wit me.” ony gulps as he unlocks the chain on the door and sees you fully. all you had on was his hoodie that he was sure you said you were gonna give back, and some nike pro shorts that he couldn’t see. you held a bag of unknown contents in your hand. you eyed him up and down before stepping inside like you owned the place.

he loved when you did that shit, this man is down bad.

you twirled the string of his sweatpants between your freshly done nails, and ony swears his temperature went up 10 degrees. you had this look in your eye that was the epitome of concern and irritation having a fist fight.

“so when were you gonna tell me that you were sick?”

“i wasn’t. i didn’t want you to worry about it, but the opptastic duo just had let you know, i guess.” ony followed as you proceeded deeper in the house, but you paused as you entered the living room. your eyebrows furrowed and your nose crinkled.

“what’s that smell?”

ony gulped, just playing shrugging and playing dumb. the cloud of fabreeze hadn’t really covered the weed smell all the way, and he was sure that you were about to bust him for smoking while he was sick, and he really wasn’t tryna hear all that at the moment. he was ready to get in his bed (preferably with you in it..)

“do not play wit me, what is that japanese cherry blossom shit im smelling?” you threw your keys and bag down and paced around the living room, flipping over pillows and looking under couch cushions. ony protested, promising that he didn’t know what you were talking about, and thought to himself that you were just smelling yourself.

until you pulled an empty cart refill wrapper from beneath the cushion.

aw shit.

you looked at him like he was a dumbass—which he was—before watching him smack his teeth and snatch the wrapper from your hand begrudgingly. the words “CHERRY GLAZE” in bold lettering burned his eyes, before vaguely remembering that armin had switched out his liquid before he’d left.

ony teetered on the truth, but he knew you’d be pissed about him having his boys over when he was clearly sick, so he settled on a lil white lie.

“oh, that’s uh—that’s some of my old shit.”

“if i’m recalling correctly, aren’t you the one that said that you didn’t like smoking that ‘fruity shit’?” ony cleared his throat—in a way he only does when he lies—before just grunting in response.

“and even if you didn’t say that, you hate cherry flavored anything, so that begs the question… what bitch was smoking this shit on your couch?” you jabbed your freshly done pointer nail into his chest, feeling his breath stutter under your touch.

he was caught between a rock and a hard place, and figured he’d just tell you the truth, even if you’d get mad.

“basically, the boys came over and eren brought his lil boyfriend or whatever he is—”

“wait, eren’s gay?”

“apparently. anyways, his name is armpit… or was it arm and hammer… whatever sum like that, and he was smoking his cart and replaced the liquid on the couch and i guess the wrapper fell between the cushions. no bitches were over here, i swear.” ony holds his hands up in defense, reassuring you that he was telling the truth. you smiled, as you believed him regardless. you knew he didn’t roll like that anyway.

“bae, relax. i believe you, i was just tryna see you sweat. just sit down, i bought you some soup.” you smiled at him with all your teeth, and ony was sure that he fell in love all over again. he missed you more than words could explain, and he just wanted you to come home again.

he finally let himself relax and he slumped onto the couch, his headache hammering against the back of his eyes. you took a seat on the ottoman next to him, unpacking his favorite potato soup and crackers. you crush up the crackers in the soup and stir, just like he likes, and unscrew the cap of his blue fanta.

“i think—no, i’m already in love with you. i dont think i ever stopped.” ony mutters as you spoon feed him and he has the urge to cry. you were always so gentle and caring with him, and you’ve never stopped, regardless of what the relationship status was. that’s what he loved most about you—it didn’t matter what happened between you too, if he needed you, you were there.

he missed you so, so bad.

“stop talking with your mouth full, you’re gonna get soup on your new carpet.” you attempted to brush off his words, and the way that they were making your face heat up.

“fuck the carpet. i’ve never been so serious in my life, mama. i love you more than you know. ‘just want you to come back to me.”

you two broke up because you mutually needed space and time to yourselves. it was an agreement, yet neither of you committed to it for more than a week. before you knew it, you were back texting him good morning, as he was texting you good night. all you wanted was to be his girlfriend again, but you wanted to give him the space he needed.

you set the spoon and soup aside, watching the way ony’s deep brown eyes twinkle under the low light of the living room.

“ony, i want to give you your space, that’s the whole reason we broke up to begin with. you deserve that.”

“i had enough space. you not living here no more, not being up under me when i sleep, not kissing me when i wake up, only seeing you at parties, that’s space, and i’m real tired of it,” ony laces his fingers with yours, kissing the back of your knuckles as he used to do.

“i want you back. i want you back in my face all the time, i wanna wake up mad cause you took all the covers, but then it goes away when i see how cute you look all bundled up. i want my initials on your nails again, i want you. i need you, baby. come home to me, please—“

“okay, okay! that’s enough, you’re embarrassing me!” you hide your head in the crook of his neck, suddenly feeling bashful about the way he was relaying his apparent undying love to you. everything he does flusters you still. you don’t miss the way his hands grasp you even tighter than they used to, if that’s even possible.

“i just want you to promise me that i’m not hurting you.”

“you could never. my perfect girl would never.” ony places a kiss on the top of your head, making sure to hold you even tighter. you choose not to mention his sniffles at the current moment, and let yourself be lost in his love.

“i missed you too, ony.”

[muldermuse]

dad!Butcher with a newborn? And also him interacting with the boys and he’s babywearing so you can have a break and take a shower 💕 grrr i love dad!butcher sm it makes me profusely sob

oh my god yes

he can see how tired you are- even if you’re refusing to admit it. eventually, you begrudgingly concur that you’re not feeling 100%- a lil tired, sore, emotional and overwhelmed. butcher wants to give you a full day, at least from 9 until 5. you burst into tears at the thought so he settles for 4 hours. 4 hours for you to do whatever you want with- sleep, do skincare, go shopping, read. butcher doesn’t care what you do with that time, as long as you enjoy it and hopefully feel slightly more refreshed when he returns with your still tiny daughter, Bea.

to the outside, he looks chill as fuck but inside??? terrified. he’s checking the car seat straps like 50 times, driving more carefully than he ever has before- absolutely NO radio. Bea starts to fuss but butcher idly chats to her and she settles immediately at the sound of her daddy’s voice

he goes to see the boys and is PROUDLY sporting a baby sling. Your daughter tucked against his chest, fast asleep with her mouth agape. hughie’s exasperated about something and swears. butcher IMMEDIATELY calls him out, “d’ya mind mate? I’ve got my fu…effin’ daughter here”

“butcher” hughie huffs, “she’s like 3 weeks old- i doubt she’ll remember swearing”

he slams his hand down on hughie’s shoulder, “well mate, you better effin’ hope she doesn’t. don’t want her speakin’ any shit like me”

(HES LEARNING OKAY HE BASICALLY HAS TO REDO HIS ENTIRE VOCABULARY SO HIS DAUGHTERS FIRST WORD ISNT CUNT)

he goes for a coffee and Bea wakes up. he feeds her, burps her and changes her nappy in the toilet- talking to her all the while in a sing song voice. (ok side note- a few of my friends have babies and their partners don’t change nappies???? wtf? anyway, butcher is not like that- he’s fully talking with the moms in the queue for the changing room)

on the way home, he nips into a store and buys you some treats, something for dinner and a cute little pyjama set for Bea. he holds it up to her, trying to gauge her reaction- she slightly moves her face which butcher will take as a ‘yes please, dad’

when he gets home- he’s delighted that you look a bit brighter. you’ve had a nap, done some skincare and had a long shower. you hold Bea and chat about your day as he makes dinner ❤️❤️❤️❤️