#and the bodies for both would probably be about the same cost as just the one from impldoll :/ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lucid-loves · 11 months ago

Note

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

Thank you for waiting! 🤍

What a Time To Be Alive

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

Word Count: 13.7k, One-Shot

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

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Somehow, you missed your old cell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They wanted you awake for this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Spi-”

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

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

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

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

It should’ve been him to get caught.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll take care of her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Options?”

He shrugged. “Job options. Living options.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

When will everything feel normal again?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why would you want that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was your torture after all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There was still months of footage left to sift through.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He never wanted to leave your side again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pasta. . .”

“You really want to get back into cooking?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It stirred something deep within himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Only Ghost could make you feel this way.

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

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

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

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

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

Keyword: Shouldn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Dove?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hell, he probably needs therapy too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was in love with you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#cod fanfic #ghost x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley fanfic #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost x female reader #ghost x f!reader #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon riley #ghost call of duty #ghost mw2

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fancyfeathers · 1 year ago

Text

Just Like Rosemary

(Yandere William James Moriarty x Ballerina Reader) (feat. Platonic Yandere Louis James Moriarty and Albert James Moriarty)

inspired by this post about Williams with a historically accurate ballerina darling which was inspired by @yandere-wishes

A bit of background, during the 19th century, the ballet world, including the esteemed Paris Opera, operated under a disturbing norm of sexual exploitation. The company essentially functioned as a brothel, exploiting the vulnerability of impoverished young girls who aspired to become ballerinas. Malnourished and lacking support, these girls were often coerced into relationships with wealthy patrons, their only perceived avenue to a better life. These affluent men wielded their power to objectify and proposition the ballerinas both on and offstage, effectively creating a demeaning "men's club" atmosphere. Their influence extended beyond mere harassment, dictating who would rise to star roles and who would face dismissal from the ballet.

TW//pr*stitution, slightly graphic murder, work place abuse, implied human trafficking, kidnapping

You stepped out backstage as the performance finally ended, the applause of the audience fading away into the background as the chatter of your fellow dancers took over the sound of the back halls of the Royal Opera House. You yawned but quickly gasped as you felt arms wrap around your torso along with a high pitched giggle that you quickly placed as belonging to Sorelli, one of your friends and fellow dancers at the ballet.

“Seems like your new costume is fitting wonderfully.” She spoke with a melodic tone which made you roll your eyes as her arms slipped from your waist.

“It only took two weeks of complaints to the costuming department to get a new one.” You sighed as she came to walk next to you. You looked around the backstage, and it seemed like a few of the gentlemen from the audience had already made their way backstage, slipping away from their seats before the show had ended so they could have first pick of the ladies of the ballet. You glanced at Sorelli and she was doing the same, looking over the men present trying to pick out the ones who would be able to pay for her time. “Your rent is due, huh?”

“Yes, and I do not think my landlady will be willing to take a late payment this time around.” You were slightly tempted to stay and help her but looking over the people present you thought it better if you did not since you had already engaged in more unsavory activities the night prior and it seems like Sorelli recognized this as well since she leaned over to whisper in your ear. “You should head home before they come into the dressing rooms.”

“Will you be alright?” You asked and she nodded before pressing a kiss on your cheek. “Fine, but please promise me you will not go home with any of them, you remember what happened to Rosemary.”

“I promise, you have my word.”

With those words you scampered off to the dressing rooms to avoid any flings that may take place in there tonight. You managed to avoid many of the clientele on the way to the dressing rooms, only receiving a handful of comments and compliments that you responded to with false gratitude in your voice.

“I could not take my eyes off you this evening.”

“Thank you Earl, you are too kind.”

“The way your body moves was mesmerizing.”

“O-oh, thank you, my lord.”

“Ah why don’t you join us for drinks, I have a friend I would like to introduce you to.”

“Oh no thank you, perhaps another night.”

You clicked the dressing room door locked as you began to remove your pointe shoes and slip out of your costume, hanging it up on the rack by your name label on the wall and placing the shoes in a box underneath it. You made note of your worn down shoes, it had only been two weeks but it seems like you would need a new pair sooner than later, but to find ones that actually fit you would cost more money than you currently had so you would probably have to settle on some that were a side to big or small.

You sighed as you slipped on your scarf as you stepped out of the dressing room, closing the door behind you. You managed to spot Sorelli talking to two gentlemen, a viscount and earl you believe, in a doorway, it seems like she will be able to pay rent tonight. You slipped through the back halls of the opera house, ignoring the sounds from all around you as hard as they were to drown out.

You pushed open one of the back doors of the opera house that led into a back alley and the cold winter hair hit your skin like cold water washing away sweat from your hot skin after a summer’s day. You began your long walk home through the dark streets of London, the streets were still populated enough that no one would try anything but it did not stop you from feeling the heat of eyes burning into your skin. You picked up your pace ever so slightly as you felt it begin to drizzle, you did not wish to catch a cold in this weather, you did not have the money to pay for a doctor right now.

…and it seems you spoke too soon.

A carriage moved past you, the wheel driving through a puddle and the splash landed on you, soaking you to the bone with both water and mud. The carriage did not even stop when you saw the face of someone finally dressed peer out and completely ignored you, speeding down the street. You huffed and shook out your hands to get the freezing water off of them.

“Miss, are you alright- oh my you are soaking!” You heard a voice from behind you exclaimed. You turned around to see a young man with blond hair and scarlet red eyes, he was dressed in fine clothes, a noble it seemed, but his eyes were filled with worry for your freezing form. You watched as he stepped towards you, removing his own jacket to wrap around your shoulders. “What on earth are you doing out in this weather?”

“I could ask you the same thing, sir.” You replied as his gloved hands pulled the jacket tighter around your shaking form. “But I am fine, really, I was just on my way home.”

“Then please let me escort you home, you will catch a cold out in this weather .” He said and he gestured to the carriage across the way and you could see the silhouettes of two other men within. “I am sure my brothers would have no problem with a detour on the way home.”

Remember what happened to Rosemary.

Those words you spoke echoed in your mind as you thought of a response as the scarlet eyed man looked at you. You remember the cries of Sorelli when you found out what happened while you could only stand there, wide eyed, in shock. The photos that were published in the paper were horrific, but the truth was never written and went unspoken by the girls of the ballet. You suppose money can buy anything and everything, even silence.

“Are you alright over there, William?” A voice from one of the two men in the carriage pulled you back into reality. You turned your head to the carriage to see an attractive brown haired man who opened the door to call out to his brother.

“Yes, Miss (Name) here just seemed to be out of it for a moment.” He replied to the man who nodded at his response. The man you now knew as William turned to you once more, extending his hand out to you. “Shall we?”

“I… um….” What happened to Rosemary was a rare occurrence, right? These were not the same people you last saw here with, besides they did not seem to be regulars at the ballet, you would recognize them if they were, then William gave you his coat in the freezing cold, no one, let alone a noble, has ever done something like that for you. You set your own hand in his, feeling his larger fingers wrap around the back of your hand. “Yes, I will take you up on that offer.”

“Lovely.” He led you towards the carriage that had the door open from when the brown haired man called out. William braced your arm as you stepped up into the carriage, along with the assistance of the brown haired man who helped you up by offering you his hand.

You sat down across from the two other gentlemen in the carriage, the brown haired man and another blond haired man who looked almost identical to William besides the glasses he wore and the hair that seemed to cover a scar of sorts. You did not make eye contact with either of them despite the kind smiles they offered you as William said something to the driver before stepping in and sitting alongside you, his arm pressing against your shoulder that was covered by the jacket he had given you.

You felt the carriage begin to move as you just tried to remind yourself this was not going to end like Rosemary, they were just taking home, nothing else, you were perfectly safe, but what if-

“Miss (Name), are you alright? You look quite pale.” The voice of William stopped you from spiraling even deeper. You jumped at first but managed to regain your composure, but that did not go unnoticed by the three brothers.

“Y-yes, just caught up in my thoughts, apologies.” You responded and he hummed in response and you all were resolved to silence for a moment before you mustered up the courage to speak again. “What brings you to this side of the city, sir-“

“William James Moriarty, but please just call me William, and to answer your question, I was just attending a meeting with one of my clients.” He cut you off as you tried to remember his name. He extended his hand, gesturing to his two brothers, the blonde first and then the brunette. “These are my brothers, Louis and Albert.”

You pieced the names together in your mind…

…Louis James Moriarty.

…Albert James Moriarty.

You had heard the name of the brown haired man before, whispered in conversation of the nobles after shows at the ballet when you were hanging on one of their arms. You learned quite a lot when listening in to those conversations, gossip and dirty secrets kept in hushed tones among the nobility, and even a few names, the Earl you sat across from being one of them.

“Earl Moriarty, correct?” You asked and an almost embarrassed smile came across the man’s face.

“Yes, but how did you know?” He asked, a playful curiosity coming into his voice.

“I am a ballerina at the Royal Opera House.” You answer but not one of the brother’s expressions turned to one of shock, it is as if they already knew. “It is honestly surprising what you learn when the aristocracy get drunk and already have no filter around someone they already deem as insignificant- I should not have said that, apologies.”

“No need to apologize, I promise no one here will be offended.” William responded on Albert’s behalf with a small laugh, you glanced at Albert for confirmation and he nodded along with a smile. William’s red eyes fixed on you as your gaze went from Albert to him. “Now I am curious, what does a lady like you hear from such nobility?”

“Well mostly meaningless gossip, whose wives are having affairs with other men, failed business deals or scams, but currently the unknown Lord of Crime has caught the attention of the ton.” You looked at William as you spoke, unable to see the narrowing eyes of Albert and Louis as you did. “But I suppose none of it truly applies to me, just something to listen to in order to pass the time of the last few hours of the work day.”

“Hm, but would your day not end at the end of the performance?” You heard Louis chime in, finally hearing him speak. You shook your head no, your smiling fading ever so slightly. “How so?”

“One unfamiliar with the ballet may be surprised by what happens within those walls.” Your eyes fell down to your skirt, your gloved hands gripping the fabric of it as you spoke. “ It is not all as beautiful as it may seem after the show.”

You jumped a bit when you felt and saw William’s hand come to rest atop your own, his thumb running circles over your knuckles. Your eyes shot up to him and he offered you a comforting smile.

“It is alright, you can tell us.”

“You… you promise you will not tell a soul that I told you this.”

“You have our word, my dear.”

You hesitated for a moment, glancing over at Albert who nodded in agreement, then at Louis who also nodded in agreement, then back at William. He smiled down at you with those lovely scarlet red eyes and it felt like any hesitation melted away.

“Well… after shows many gentlemen of the aristocracy will come to… socialize with the female performers of the ballet.” Everyone’s attention and gazes were fixed on you as you began to explain. “Sometimes it is just harmless flirting with some conversation and drinks, other times it becomes a bit… more. But it pays, keeps a roof over my head and enough food on my plate so I don’t starve.”

“I see….” You did not notice the drop in William’s voice as he responded and pondered over what you just explained. “And I could imagine the money one would make if one was to go home with one of them for the evening.”

“That… that does not happen anymore, not since Rosemary.”

“Rosemary?”

“She was another ballerina at the opera like myself, I performed alongside her and her sister, Sorelli.” You responded to Louis, explaining who she was. “She was a kind lady, too kind for her own good. She went with some Baron after a performance, she told us that she would see us in the morning but that was a lie. Two weeks later, a shop owner, a tailor I think, found her body in the river, gutted like a fish.”

“That must have been horribly hard for you.” Albert was the first to respond after hearing your explanation.

“What I went through was nothing compared to what Sorelli went through. I remember her crying when we found out, it was after a performance and I had to drag her away to not start a scene, but you can’t blame her, the law enforcement did not even bother telling her until the death was published by the papers.” You could feel the tears welling up in your eyes as you recalled that horrible day, there was not even a funeral, just the grave marked when the body was identified. You had taken Sorelli to visit the grave and she was just broken. “But that is not the worst part, that man still goes to the ballet and even paid off the owner, every single girl there knows he did it but no one will say anything, not if they value their life.”

“I am sure they will receive their punishment in due time.” William spoke to you after a moment, his hand coming up from your hand that he held and up to your cheek to wipe away your salty tears. The leather felt warm against your cheek, from the heat between your hands. “I will see to it personally.”

“If only the world worked like that.”

The rest of the carriage ride was peaceful, a few more pleasantries exchanged here and there but soon enough you arrived outside of the apartment building you lived in. Like before, William helped you out of the carriage and as soon as your feet touched the ground he took your hand that he held and brought it up to his lips, kissing the back of it.

“It was a pleasure finally meeting you, Miss (Name).”

“It was a pleasure to meet you as well, William.”

He released your hand and you quickly made your way inside the warm apartment building and scurried up into your own one room apartment, it was not much but it was home. Your landlord finally repaired the ceiling so it would not leak during the rain and freeze you during the winter, but you still had to stuff whatever extra bedding you had in the window because it would never close all the way.

You went to remove your coat, only to find that you were still wearing William’s coat, you had forgotten to return it and he forgot to take it back. You sighed and peered out the window, the carriage was gone so you doubted you would be able to return it now so you simply decided to hand it up alongside your own clothes in the closet. As you were beginning to strip out of your wet clothes to change into a nightdress, you reflected on your conversation with the three brothers, they were so kind to you especially when you mentioned such a sour topic as murder. Then the way William looked at you, it was like he knew you better than any man alive, like those lovers who attend performances with one another and they gaze into each other’s eyes when the romantic music begins to swell…

You felt your breathing stop…

You pushed yourself to turn your head to gaze out the window once more…

Looking over the streets…

The other buildings…

The people that walked the streets and dwelled in these houses were nothing like the brothers, they were commoners and the Moriarty family was nobility, you should have no prior interactions with one another…

But how did they know your address without you telling him…

And how did he know your name…

You felt your stomach lurch at those thoughts…

Has he been watching you?

Were you going to end up like Rosemary?

—————————

A week had passed since your encounter with the Moriarty brothers and life carried on like it always had, minus the pocket knife you had bought off from one of the stagehands at the opera house. It was after another performance and you were going to go straight home with Sorelli tonight since she had begun walking you home due to your growing paranoia. You both had stepped into the dressing rooms and Sorelli immediately ran off to her own things and reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a box.

“Macarons!” She exclaimed as she opened the box and sat on the floor, gesturing for you to sit next to her. “Come on, I got these for both of us.”

“You are an actual angel, Sorelli.” You replied, going to sit down next to her, not caring about ruining your costume by sitting in it or eating in it, it was already old enough that it needed to be replaced.

“Well with all the stress you have had as of late, it was the least I could do.” She spoke as you both reached in to grab one and you brought it up to your lips-

“What are you two doing in here?!” You heard a voice angrily shout as the dressing room door slammed open. You both gasped as your eyes shot up to see the ballet mistress in the doorway. She stomped over to you two and you immediately stood up and fell silent. You felt her eyes look you two over, scanning over you like fire covering the room. “Eating and sitting in costume, do you even care for the things you are provided? Do you know how much these cost?”

“No madam.” You both said in unison like you had been taught, along with not making eye contact with the old hag out of fear.

“Well you better pay for the damages you caused.” She snapped at the two of you, her voice like nails on a chalkboard. “I want the money for them before the opera house closes for the night, do you understand?”

“But madam, I-“

You were cut off with a sharp pain across the face as she stuck you.

“I did not ask for buts, do you understand girl?”

You had to bite back tears as you replied.

“Yes Madam.”

“Good, now fix your makeup, no man would want to be seen with a girl who looks like that.” She stated as she finally walked out the door and you finally broke, weeping in your hands. Everything has finally become too much for you. You felt Sorelli rub circles into your back.

“I hate that witch.” You muttered through your tears.

“Have to agree with you on that one.” Your fellow ballerina replied as she helped you stand up straight and wipe away your tears. “Why don’t we fix you up and we can deal with this together.”

“You are too sweet for your own good.”

Sorelli sat you down and began to do your make up again, cleaning up the tear stains on your cheeks and taking special care to hide away the red hand print that was forming on your skin. You sadly had to put the box of treats away to enjoy some other time since you did not wish to get caught again.

“I can take care of my hair, Sorelli.” You said as you picked up the brush from the vanity. “You can go on ahead, I think I will find that viscount that is here tonight.”

“Alright, see you at closing?”

“I will see you then.”

You watched as she scampered out of the dressing room and you began to brush through your hair in near silence minus the chatter and other noises from outside the dressing room walls. Sometimes with Sorelli it did not even seem like she had a sister, her name had become a warning among the dancers of the ballet so that is what Rosemary’s identity had melted into.

“You look lovely tonight.” Your eyes shot up into the mirror when you heard that voice and in the reflection of the glass you saw those same red eyes from that carriage ride once more, Williams was standing behind you and you did not even notice.

“Thank you… William.” He stepped towards you again, his feet clicking against the old wood floor. You felt his hand slip into your own, grabbing the brush you held and he took a strand of your hair and began brushing through it himself.

“You have been crying, your eyes are swollen under your makeup.” He stated this as a matter of fact and you could only nod as he brushed through a knot. “Now why do you stain your face with such tears? What is wrong, my dear?”

“Everything, everything is wrong.”

“Everything?”

“Yes, there is not a day I don’t imagine leaving this hell hole, but there is no day where I do because I have nowhere to go. The way they look at me and touch me, it feels like I am nothing but just something for their amusement.” You wrapped your arms around your shaking form as you tried to hold back your tears. “The sometimes it feels like Sorelli has all but forgotten what happened to Rosemary, she is in the ground now.”

“Oh you poor thing, I was in the audience tonight and I have to admit I noticed their looks as well, a terrible thing for you to go through.” He pulled a little harder as he combed through a tangle. “But as for your friend, I am sure she will come to terms with her grief in time, sometimes it just takes action in order to recover.”

“I just wish this all would go away, I want none of it, I just want to see this place burn up in smoke and flames.”

“Then your wish is my command.” Before you could question his words he spoke as he tied up your hair with a ribbon. He reached into his pocket and took out more than enough money to pay back the ballet mistress. “Why don’t you go home early, I am sure you need your rest after such a long day.”

“Thank you, William.”

After he left the dressing room, you scampered to get changed so you may go and find Sorelli. You made your way through the halls looking for her and you found her in the oddest of places with the oddest of people, you found her near the entrance to the storage cellars talking to.

“Lord Albert? Sorelli?” You called out to the duo who were talking, but they did not seem to share the same playful chatter as most others in the building did. Sorelli and the eldest Moriarty brother looked at you with a bit of surprise.

“Oh (Name), are you ready to go?�� She asked, a false smile coming across her face.

“Um… yes, are you not coming?”

“Oh well, Lord Albert and I were just having the most interesting conversation.” She replied, gesturing to the man beside her. “I think I would like to talk to him a bit longer if you would like to head home.”

“Talking? About what?”

“Pyrotechnics.” Albert answered on her behalf and your gaze shifted to him. “Some theaters in the Americas and France are using them in their stage performances.”

“Sounds dangerous.” You replied and your eyes shifted back at her, you were about to say something, but sighed, deciding to let it go. “I am going to head home, I already paid both of our portions to the old hag so just head home when you are done.”

“I will.”

“Alright, see you tomorrow.” You turned on your heel and began walking down the hall, slowly…

You waited for a reply but all you got was a simple…

“Goodbye.”

—————————

“Fire at the Royal Opera House: Three Dead, Ten Casualties.”

That was the first headline you saw in the morning when you picked up this morning’s paper from a newsboy.

You threw up on the spot.

Apparently after the opera house closed last night, a candle fell over and ignited the whole building, or at least that was the most logical guess but the other part of it was a mystery. Two men were found with bullet holes in their heads in the rubble while a girl was simply found, most likely suffocated to death…

Sorelli…

Not only were you out of the job but your best friend was dead.

You raced to the scene immediately, your warm breath showing white fog in the cold as you ran through the streets of London like a mad woman. Then upon arriving at the sight, all that was left was the burnt ruins of the opera house. The sight was being contained by law enforcement since the ruins were still smoking and the sight was being investigated. You could see three bodies, covered in a black tarp in the the distance, two larger and one smaller…

Sorelli…

She did not deserve this…

No…

Please god no…

You must have stood in the street for hours, just staring at your friend’s dead body in shock…

Just like you did when Rosemary died…

You had to be told to go home by one of the officers since you looked exhausted, so you did.

Your mind just felt numb…

You felt dead…

Why…

You pushed yourself back inside your apartment building and your landlord who was reading the morning paper, the same edition as the one you bought, looked up at you.

“Someone is here to see you, I let him into your apartment.” You nodded at his statement and as you went to walk up stairs he spoke again. “Oh and rent is due by the end of the week.”

You gritted your teeth…

Selfish bastard…

He is literally reading about how you just lost your best friend and job and that is what he says.

You rolled your eyes and walked back upstairs, not even remembering the fact that you have a guest. You pushed open your already partially opened apartment door and you immediately dropped your keys and paper…

“William… what are you doing here?”

William James Moriarty sat on your bed, holding his coat he gave you that night in his hands. He looked up at you with a smile, but this time it did not feel kind, it felt almost wicked.

“I am here to take you home.”

“Home?”

“Yes, with the opera house burnt down I figured that you would be out of the job so the least I could do was provide you with a safe place to rest your head.” Your lips were slightly agape in shock when he said those words. He looked at you, a new pity coming into his eyes. “I am also here to extend my condolences for your loss.”

“Sorelli…”

“Yes, I am afraid so.” He nodded at your words as he stood up from the bed. “We tried to get her out before she got trapped in the flames, but she just would not listen.”

Your eyes went wide when he said those words and you felt your heart stop beating in your chest.

“What…”

“She told me to tell you to live for both her and Rosemary and told me to take care of you since she knew you would be quite grief stricken.” You felt your mind grow numb again in shock as he continued to speak. “She did it for you, she did not want to see you end up like her sister.”

“She… she did what?”

“Well she murdered both the owner of the opera house and the man who killed her sister.” You felt the bile building up in your throat as he began to explain again. “The fire… that was her idea, to burn it all away so you would never have to go back there.”

“Oh my god…”

“I know it must be a lot to take in, my dear.” You felt William’s ungloved hand come to rest against your check, raising your head up to look at him. “But I will be here to help you through it, my brothers as well. Louis already has your room prepared, and Albert was expressing to me at breakfast how happy you will be there-“

“Don’t touch me!”

You slapped his hand away, backing up towards your door. Your eyes were wide with both rage and fear.

“Dearest-“

“You are the Lord of Crime, aren’t you?” You cut him off, raising your eyes to look up at him. William’s smiling expression had all but disappeared at your words and instead was replaced by something darker. “You knowing my name, where I lived, it all makes sense, you were trying to kill those two men all along.”

“While you are not incorrect with your first guess, you are with your second.” He stepped towards you after you stepped back. “I was originally looking for someone to assist in the removal of those two men but when I was looking into you, you were just too pure to do such an act.”

“What… what are you on about?”

“You have been tossed around all your life, forced into this work by your mother and kicked out when you said you did not want to do it anymore. Then your ballet mistress, who abused you for even making a mistake. Then those men, who took advantage of you because of your weak state.” You were frozen as he finally stood before you again. “Did you even know that you were the next target of the man who killed Rosemary?”

“…no…”

“You were, and if it was not for me and your late friend, you would be dead.” The breath left your lungs as he spoke. You could barely process the feeling of him draping his coat over your shoulders, just like that night when you first met. “She told me to take care of you and who am I to refuse a request from a dying woman?”

You did not process anything after he spoke those words…

Not you being led downstairs by him…

Not him handing over your keys to the landlord…

Not him taking you outside…

Not him helping you into the carriage…

Not the carriage beginning to move as William placed a kiss upon your lips, just like all the men who have done that before….

The only thought that came into your mind came to you as William laid your head in his lap as you began to daze off into sleep…

…You were just like Rosemary.

#william moriarty x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #yuukoku no moriarty #william james moriarty x reader #yandere william james moriarty #yandere moriarty the patriot #yandere yuukoku no moriarty

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anantaru · 2 years ago

Text

DAY 10 — EXHIBITIONISM

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

kink. exhibitionism — having a strong desire to be observed by other people during a sexual activity

𖧡 — including — itto, childe, xiao, dainsleif

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, exhibitionism, public setting & outdoors, yes! we're touching grass, fingering, oral (fem! receiving), praises, needy boys & touch starved! genshin men

𖧡 — ITTO

itto holds you by his arms as you're being surrounded by a string of hurried gasps, and it's decidedly comfortable and personal whilst having them tightly compressed around your quivering shape— at the same time, you slowly notice the built up in his lust racing over the radiance in his eyes.

or his feet shuffling in their place when he lastly kisses you, firmly pressing you against the cold wall, your lips glossed due to his wet smooches, his tongue breaching and searching for entrance, reaching inside, his hands squeezing your ass, everything happens so quick and oh, there it was, the scene gets paired with melting kisses as itto laps at the warmth of your mouth.

in a hurried embrace, he courses one calloused hand down to your lower stomach before tugging at the hem of your pants, his eyes imbedded with a glimmer of needfulness, playful and as if he was about to beg— you figure, perhaps you have been apart for too long, after all, the last time you had seen each other had certainly been ages ago.

you should have expected this, because you dealt with it the same way, agonizingly counting each second before you would stumble home after your date to rip the clothes off your bodies, when in reality, now neither of you thought it was even necessary to return into the safe confines of your bedroom to be all over each other— and the thought of someone walking by only made it a whole lot more thrilling.

bare in mind— and this was crucial but there was nothing shielding you from curious eyes, besides an impending shadow casted down on you rubbing against each othet. for what mattered, the wall you're being pressed on was bitterly cold and chilly as well, even with your garments separating you, you can still feel it on your warm skin— when it effortlessly coaxes out the goosebumps on your spine.

"baby.. you smell so sweet," itto whines at you, a sharp, nipping groan spewing from his mouth, "—really really cannot wait anymore." how convenient for him, well, his senses were probably being much more dignified than your own so itto must've felt everything happening to an intenser level.

however, it's passionate when he first slides his warm digits past the waistband of your trousers to sneakily welcome the hotness of your cunt, clumsily ghosting his middle finger around your soaked folds before lastly finding your slit— his sloppy dick twitching against his rough pants, but itto didn't worry too much about it, his time will come soon enough.

"i missed you so much, baby." you retort back to him with a hitch of a sudden, rough fingertip circling your slit, idly kissing up his sharp jawline before whining at the finger prodding at your velvety hole— so, to keep yourself steady you wrap both arms around his neck and hide yourself behind his large frame pressing you against the wall whilst roaming your palms over his muscular back before ripping through the covered skin with your nails, "please..."

and one thing about itto, he fucks you like he hates you, and hearing you beg for him just like that pushes him on the verge of exploding and losing his mind, perhaps even fantasizing about swarming your pretty cunt with his dripping cock hidden under his pants— but he cannot wait for that, call him lazy but taking off his clothes will cost him additional minutes and he just had to be inside you, whilst not with his dick, instead with two long, thick fingers curling up inside.

feeling him again after such a long time apart makes you cry out, fuck, you missed him so dearly your heart was beginning to ache under your ribcage, your cunt welcoming him immediately, clawing down on his digits rubbing sturdily at your walls. a satisfied groan holds the foundation of his soothing noises like a warm breeze enveloping your body, his fingers continuing to pump into you at a rapid pace, painting you with the packing trace of his digits that clung to your swollen walls like instant glue, vibrations emitting through your wet sex whilst taking in his sloppy shoves.

"never.." he drawls possessively against your parted lips, huffing out warm pants before adding on to his words, "never ever wanting to be apart from you again." and your heart flutters open wide, his words touching that it almost brings you to tears— if only itto could see through your current thoughts right now, he'd see his handsome face immediately.

𖧡 — CHILDE

a suffocating euphony of passionate, drilling blows of raw skin on skin strike the darkness of the night as childe swiftly plants his hand on top of your mouth before leisurely continuing to roll his hips into your cunt without a single care in this world— being utterly aware that it wouldn't make a damn difference, even better if someone unintentionally picks up on the "unusual" noise.

his lips twitch up in a cocky smile when his hard, pulsing erection slips through your quivering pussy, pistoling over the aching pulse on your walls before easing his lips almost on top of yours, with nothing more but the back of his hand keeping you apart— you simply cannot believe this man and his tormenting ability to bring you to the sharp edge of things, even turning you this longing and ready to take his thick cock outside, yes, outside with the small particles of erupting sweat and wet moans sticking close on your skin.

to note that you were barely camouflaged was almost embarrassing in its entirety, besides that tree doing absolutely nothing to conceal anything at all whilst you're certain that someone had to hear at least something. regardless, you decide to secretly thank your boyfriend for holding your leg up with his other hand— you yourself being too weak to do so yourself, not when he made you receive him in such feral capacity, making an absolute mess of you, your arousal dribbling down your pussy at each thrust, the juices sticking on your thighs as he carries on with his strength induced pace.

however, for some fucked-up reason, it's turning you on by a tenfold— it's visibly notable on your shaking body and how your hips thrust up into his ruts while you're biting back pitchy whimpers, especially when childe drags his fat cockhead over that particular spot that made you lose control of your vision, the already limited breathing room evolving to an even more constricted version when ajax not once, changes the tempo on your hips.

"fuck— you know you'll be too fucking loud, baby." he laughs through a feigned sense of innocence, as if he hadn't planned this entire thing beforehand, you're sure of it— while it's utterly hilarious, even more hypocritical of him to have his hand planted all over your mouth when it was certainly him, instead, making most of the noise.

all you can say back was, well, nothing, besides a couple angry grunts into his palm and in any other instance you'd consider being mad at him, despite his perfectly shaped dick wrecking havoc on your silken walls forming around the size of him— yet tonight, you cannot be mad, not when he was utterly devouring your pleasure.

𖧡 — XIAO

you're being forced to stay quiet by none other than xiao himself— compelled to swallow down each pining ache in your throat— which, now come to think of it, might've been the most arousing out of the entire situation taking form, obviously not counting in the pleasure he induced on you.

the need to remain quiet though, it's what made the real difference in how your body had been reacting to his shape on you, "there's people down there, stay quiet." and he tells you, again, whispers it into your ear because xiao needs to be sure you understand the situation you're in as he kisses your forehead, his mannerism fusing into a soft, understanding lover before moving his hips again, thrusting his inches into you rougher, better, his pants soiled with his pre and sweat.

he grunts of both excitement and a dab of annoyance taking your loud, muffled whines into consideration. regardless of such, the man wouldn't want to experience it in an alternative way, always beyond flustered when you bite into his shoulder to quieten down, so you wouldn't pull on his nerves and make him punish you for disobeying to his orders.

wait, hold on for a second, this didn't sound so bad after all, or does it?

on top of that, the wangshu inn was absurdly crowded tonight, whilst xiao and you were preoccupied, sparse silhouettes tenderly touching each other just on top of the building— and for whatever reason, none of you proposed the idea of actually going inside and finishing what you had started. it would've been a far better idea, baring in mind that the certain place you were currently laying on, with xiao towering on top, was barely hidden behind anything— genuinely, if you'd lean your head just a little bit to the left, you could easily see a couple people chit chatting away, not knowing a damn thing on what was going on upstairs.

"hey!" xiao suddenly snaps at you, bending his head into your neck to bite at the sweat stricken skin, although faintly, it was strong enough to have you squeal out in mild pain, forcing your body to let go of a rushing shiver as a strong heatwave surges right under the surface of your cheeks the moment he props himself by his elbows to gaze down on you through pretty lashes— obviously without pulling his cock out, not when it felt so deliciously good being milked by you, yet do not get excited to soon because xiao wouldn't move either, without a care in this world leaving you to dangle around on a thread, his increasingly wet shaft bristling within the tightness of your walls.

"what did i say?" xiao's breath was hot and guttural against your parted lips, your legs trembling at his dripping dick not moving besides continuing to bulk up in your core as your translucent juices began to seep on his shaft and his trousers, slicking him up with your own, personal way of claiming the handsome yaksha. and instead of responding to his question, you resume back to nibbling on his defined jawline before deciding to voice out a whispery, little sorry to your boyfriend, knowing full on well that he will accept your half assed apology no matter the circumstances.

because in truth, xiao hasn't even started fucking you properly yet— until now, at least, because the second you're back to having your arms around his neck, he drags his entire cock out of you before shimming his inches all the way inside, greedily touching your insides and pumping his hard erection into the warmness of your sex— whilst baring his teeth together to stop himself from becoming overly noisy himself, the embarrassment that would occur from that looked like a death sentence to xiao, aside from standing there like a total hypocrite when it was him the entire night scolding you to stay quiet.

𖧡 — DAINSLEIF

"don't be too loud, okay?"

dainsleif sinfully bucks his tongue into your cunt before he places a single digit on your clit, thrusting against the bristling bundles of nerves as the softness of his wet muscle inside your slit made you whine out his name between wet hiccups— to top it all of, giving your breast a firm squeeze with his other hand.

you're done for, always will be whenever it was dainsleif who was in control of when your body was allowed to indulge in pleasure— despite that, you never would've imagined to be laid down on top of a cold, wooden table while you're surrounded by loud, noisy chit chatters from next doors, only realizing now that the door to your room, was partly open.

before you could voice out your growing worry, you're being forced to buck up your hips into his hungry mouth lapping at your puffiness, your pussy charging up on vibrations as your body moves far beyond your own control of it, a soreness on your legs increasing the strong built up on your tightened core as dainsleif stuffs you full with nothing but his tongue reaching your warmest, most desired places.

"seems like you noticed, hm?" he suddenly pulls his hot mouth away from you, smirking ever so slightly when you whine at the loss of it, but don't you worry now— because he keeps his fingers on top of your clit to twist the trembling flesh and trap it in between his digits— fuck, you're so desperate for this he could practically taste it on your entire body erupting of pervaded pleasure. in reality, the thought of people hearing you both wasn't something dainsleif actually minded that much, it preciously served as a way of making everyone aware of your current relationship status.

"what if they hear us?" you wince, feigning being worried were it not to the fact that there was nothing you craved more than having his skilled tongue pistoling inside your slit again, your pupils blown wide when dainsleif at last frees his cock from the confines of his pants, the penetrative noise of his belt hitting the ground echoing off the room, hand in hand with laughter from people residing just next to you.

it's him, him, him, you want him. and when dainsleif finally sinks the full length of his cock into you, he takes your body and claims it, squeezes his hips in between your legs so he could reach inside really deep, fucking you with his bottomless endurance, so precise and skilled that you shake under him, the wooden table scratching the ground as you nearly lose yourself, begging him to lean his chest down on you so you could easily hide and moan against the nook of his neck, whilst feeling how your hearts beat in sync.

of course, despite his nature of appearing cold and a little aloof, he answers your silent pleas and wraps his muscled arms around your body whilst keeping one large palm on top of your head so you wouldn't unnecessarily bump against something and actually hurt yourself, never once letting go of you— and you're squealing with delight, the tempo of his hips hoping to claim you and going so hard that this sort of pace would appear to be slightly punishing, but it feels so nice— relishing in the feeling of his thudding cock pounding into you with everything he's got when, all of a sudden;

"hey guys? do you also hear those weird noises coming from next doors?"

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #childe x reader #childe smut #itto x reader #itto smut #xiao x reader #xiao smut #dainsleif x reader #dainsleif smut #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin drabbles #kinktober #genshin impact drabbles #xiao x you #tartaglia x reader

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toast-on-dandelioms · 6 months ago

Note

Ehat if reader got captured and turned into a Talon by the court of owls? Lets say they heard a scream for help and went to investigate but it was a trap and the got captured . Lets assume readers spider powers are still used as extra help . Maybe the batfam finds out when the court sends reader to a place that batfam was in. What would be the reactions and what would they do?

Songbird's Eulogy

I'm gonna be honest, I loved this ask and this will become a serie if you guys want to read it!

Dividers made by @thecutestgrotto

W.C: 8k

Tw: blood, description of dead bodies and their wounds, probably bad description of Alzheimer in a character

The air in the Batcave was so thick with tension that it could be cut with a knife, most of the family present except for Alfred, who was upstairs cooking dinner and Cassandra, who was in Hong Kong at the moment.

Tim was at the computer next to Bruce, who was observing Tim working while the younger vigilante was typing away and looking at several screens that played what looked like the same videos all at the same time, trying to find anything different in it even if the video kept showing the same things over and over again while mumbling stuff with Bruce, exchanging theories as to what was happening or if one of the two found anything that the other missed.

Dick and Damian were sparring but both were distracted, as they were both doing the same moves over and over again, their eyes unfocused as their minds were thinking of the case while Jason and Duke were both working on their bikes, exchanging tools and also sharing information of the case as Jason had some information thanks to the Crime Alley kids, even though it did cost him a lot since many of those kids had contradicting stories so knowing which ones were true or not was difficult and time consuming.

Stephanie was the only one who was sipping on some tea Alfred made her a few minutes ago while reading the same file of the case to see if the police missed anything or to see if her reading it for the 20th time would result in her finding something she didn't notice before, her eye twitching as she kept hearing the same ominous whistle from the speakers on the batcomputer, making it even more annoying and creepy.

The yet another ominous whistle is her breaking point. She suddenly slams the cup on the hard wood of the table, as if she wants it to tremble. Luckily the cup didn't break. As everybody realises where the sound is coming from their head snap towards that direction, as if snapping out a trance. This unexpected event pulled Dick out his alert mode, and as Damian's punch hit his side he falls down in pain, loudly complaining about the hit being "too strong" while Damian ignores him to walk up to Tim and Bruce. Jason and Duke also both looked up from their bikes with a concerned look, they were both tuning out the audio from the batcomputer for the twelfth time, and almost jumped at the sharp sound.

Bruce looked at Stephanie without saying anything as the girl glared at him and Tim, who just looked like he was on the bring of a nervous breakdown as he was replaying the videos at the same time to find anything that could be useful for the case, even though he was doing that for at least two days and nothing showed up, even though he sent all those videos through all kinds of analysis software the batcomputer had and even the Justice League had in the Watchtower.

"Can you please stop replaying that damn whistle?! I've been hearing that shit for the past week and I swear to god, if I hear that one more time I will kill you Timothy Jackson Drake and no Lazarus pit will be able to resuscitate you after I am done with you."

And Stephanie did look ready to kill, her eye twitching as she glared at Tim, who just sipped on a cup full of an overly caffeinated drink with eye bags so prominent that the girl wondered for a few seconds how long he'd been awake to study the security feeds from Babs, autopsy records, police reports and any leads the detectives had at the moment and whatever the vigilantes could find.

The girl kept glaring at Tim, ignoring Dick's groans and Damian's voice as he told him to stop being a baby, while Duke and Jason went back to take care of their own bikes while still talking.

In her frustration, she threw all the files that she was reading on the table, ignoring how all the papers and the photos in the files scattered on the table and made a mess.

"How the hell are we supposed to find this supposed killer?! The only thing we have is this fucking whistle" she started, her frustration clear in her face as she hadn't slept in days thanks to the extra hours of patrol and her refusing to go to sleep to help with the case, "and this!".

She stopped her rant to quickly search through all the files and photos for a specific one, stopping once she found two that she deemed good enough and grabbed them before walking up to Tim and Bruce since they were the ones who were the closest, ignoring Dick and Damian who were walking up to them to see what was happening.

The moment she showed them the pictures, everything fell silent. Faint breaths were felt in the air, like oxygen was slowly running out as tension and discomfort slowly grew as everyone stared at the pictures. The photos were horrid, whoever did that was full of rage as both bodies on the photos were scratched, especially on their sides, arms and chest, like the killer was scratching them while the victims were trying to cover themselves with their bodies as other areas of their body, like their chest and stomach was ok with no scratches present. But the most horrible thing that caught everyone's eyes just like the first time they all saw the bodies was that both victims sported the same killing method, with both of them having their necks cut open in the most gruesome way possible as the killer scratched the necks of the victims.

Everyone shuddered, except Stephanie, as they stared at the photos since the girl was showing them to everyone around her to make a point and to show how crazy it was to find any clues just from those wounds.

The older man stared at his kids without saying anything as Damian and Stephanie started arguing once again about who did it, with Stephanie accusing the League for all the murders happening in Gotham while Damian was defending the League as he explained that no good assassin trained under the League, and especially under his grandfather, would kill their targets in such a stupid and sadistic way since they were trained to kill efficiently and quickly while this killer acted like they were playing with their victims and wanted their deaths to be slow.

Bruce just sighed as he recognised how exhausted his kids were from the stress of the case while they kept fighting, with Dick joining Steph's side and Tim joining Damian's, knowing that they wouldn't listen to him if he told them to take a break or to stop fighting, especially since he was always the first one to ignore that suggestion when offered.

He quickly grabbed his phone once he heard it ringing, thinking and hoping it was Gordon or Barbara with any news about the case before looking confused and worried when he saw that it was Alfred calling him. He picked up and could hear a woman's voice in the background talking to someone as Alfred just said "Master Bruce, Miss Amelie has arrived with Boris and she wants to see you, it seems that she's having an episode" before hanging up, most likely to make some tea for the unexpected but not unwelcome guests that arrived.

He sighed before noticing Tim looking at him alongside the others who stopped fighting once they heard what Alfred said on the call, making him sigh once again since he knew he couldn't ignore Amelie to keep working on the case so he just started walking to the elevator to get upstairs faster instead of using the stairs.

He looked a bit surprised when both Jason and Damian also got in the elevator but didn't say anything to the duo, knowing how close the two have gotten to the woman after years of her coming to the Manor looking for him. He thanked Tim patience for managing to convince Alfred on getting a smartphone so he could call and text the rest of the bats without having to get down to the cave every time due to his old age, which proved itself useful as now the older man had now a folder full of recipes he and Jason share to each other, plus all the passive aggressive messages towards everyone or someone specific when he found them not taking care of themselves.

As the trio walked to the room designated for her when she decided to come they could already hear the woman talk to a man who was trying to calm he down, before stopping to look at the door once she heard Bruce knocking and then entering. The woman immediately ran to Bruce in tears, her beautiful hair in the messiest bun that made Bruce wonder what happened as he knew how attentive she was with her hair as a model, something that she now didn't do as much after the accident, and her eyes almost fully red from her tears.

"Bruce! Bruce you have to listen, my baby is out there, I know that [Y/N] is not dead! The hospital keeps telling me that my little star is dead but I know that they're lying! Bruce please, find our little star". She started crying once again, her face on his chest with her hands holding his shirt as she cried about [Y/N] not being dead, that her little star was out there and to not listen to the hospital and the police, begging the man to help her.

Bruce looked at Boris, who just sighed when he locked eyes with him and shook his head, looking exhausted with bags under his eyes that were challenging Tim's, before looking down at Amelie once again. He only now noticed that she was in her pajama, one of her slippers missing, and holding one of [Y/N]'s old plushie to her chest with one hand as she kept her tight hold on his shirt with the other hand, her hand trembling like she believed that he wouldn't believe her if she let go of him. "Amelie, it's ok, we're searching for [Y/N] along with the police, we'll find them soon" he murmured softly as he managed to untie her hair and brush it a bit with his fingers to help her relax, smiling softly as she visibly started to relax when she felt his hands in her hair and massaging her scalp.

"Find our baby, please" she mumbled, her hold on his shirt starting to loosen as he kept massaging her scalp, making Bruce hum and reassured her for a few minutes, knowing that it was helping as she slowly let go of him and just hugged the plushie close to her chest.

Once he knew she was calm enough after all the reassurance, he gently put his hands on her shoulders to lead her to the couch, where Damian and Jason were already sitting and waiting for her and Bruce. On the table in front of the couch were a few albums and after helping her sit down on it he handed one to her, opening it to a random page and pointing to a random photo of [Y/N], who was giving their biggest smile while on the car, their mouth and cheeks covered in ice cream. "Why don't you tell them who [Y/N] is, I'm sure Damian is curious to know about his older sibling," He suggested softly, smiling to her as she immediately started to talk about [Y/N] while leaning on Jason, the plushie now in Damian's arms as the two boys listened intently to the woman even though they probably heard the same story almost every month, but they didn't seem to care especially when the woman would remember new stories every time she came.

Bruce got up when he knew Amelie was fully engrossed in talking about [Y/N] and walked up to Boris, knowing the man was her caretaker and most importantly, he was the only person who knew her best. "Boris what happened? Are you ok?" he asked, mostly wanting to know if she was getting too hard to handle for him alone as he saw a bruise on his cheek and if he needed help, knowing how much he was already doing for the poor woman since the accident.

"I was making her lunch when she went in [Y/N]'s old room and started to call for them but I was too busy to hear her and distract her. She started crying and started to remember that night, I'm sorry Bruce but I can't do this alone anymore." was what the man said out of exhaustion, his eyes filling with tears as he tried to keep it together while in the same room of Amelie, probably not wanting to cause her distress if she saw him crying.

Bruce just nodded and patted the man on the shoulder before walking him to the kitchen, smiling at Alfred when he already had some tea ready for them and few sandwiches on a plate. He sat down on a stool next to Boris and offered him some of the little sandwiches, knowing the man probably skipped dinner to come to the Manor with Amelie at such late hour.

"Boris, we've been friends ever since Amelie came here for the first time after what happened, and you know I wouldn't say this if I didn't believe you could do this alone, but you need to hire another caretaker or at least a house keeper so she can help you with normal activities." He started, knowing the man was stubborn and also felt responsible of taking care of Amelie after the accident. "I mean look at you! Did she hit you or?" He asked, noticing that the bruise was already fading, which meant that it happened some time ago but still made it concerning since Amelie was never violent before.

Boris sighed once again, making Bruce wonder if that was the only thing the man did all day, before explaining "It was my fault, I entered the house late at night after having to run to the store to grab a few things that I needed badly for Amelie and for lunch but she thought I was an intruder, she didn't recognise me," he stopped for a second to take a deep breath, tears slowly running down his eyes as he remembered the look of fear in Amelie's face as she didn't recognise him, "I managed to take off my hat but she did manage to throw a small statue we had in the living room at my face" he finished.

Bruce patted the man's back when he heard Boris's sigh and offered him a few tissues, knowing the man was tired and would finally accept his help in the form of a caretaker or house keeper that he would pay for, even though he's already paying for his mortgage and every single bill without the Belarusian man knowing, not wanting him to feel indebted to the richer man than he already felt.

"Maybe a house keeper can help me, the house is honestly a mess and I can't keep up with it, plus I can't keep looking out for her when cooking, it's just impossible for me only" Boris said before starting devouring all the sandwiches on the plate, stopping once or twice to drink some tea so he wouldn't choke. He blushed when he noticed Bruce watching him "I haven't eaten in two days, Amelie has been incredibly difficult and I never found the time to eat" he explained and thanked Alfred when the older man presented him with a plate full of pasta that he made for the starving man once he heard his stomach grumble loudly when he entered the kitchen.

Bruce smiled at him and patted him on the back once again "it's ok Boris, I'll hire someone and pay for it, you just relax here for a bit and eat, you look spent" he said before suddenly hearing Barbara's voice in his ears, telling him that another body was found in an alley thanks to a few cameras around and she already notified the police but he should send someone there before the police ruins the crime scene.

The man quickly got up and escused himself out of the room to use the comms in his ear to tell Damian and Duke to go, telling both boys that this was top priority and to go immediately, ignoring Damian's complaints since he was with Amelie and she was finally telling him and Jason a new story about [Y/N]. He once again ignored the boy's complains and ordered him to go with Duke as he needed him to protect Duke while he was using his meta abilities as all the previous crime scenes didn't reveal anything so they needed Duke's abilities to know something.

As he finished speaking to Damian and receiving confirmation that he was going with Duke he went back into the kitchen to smile at Boris, who was at his second plate of pasta and absolutely devouring the dish, and gave him a quick excuse "sorry, some problems at the WE, make yourself comfortable and Alfred will take care of everything" before leaving to the batcave, sending a quick text to everyone currently in the Manor to not leave anything bat related upstairs as there were guests staying in the Manor. He sent the text as he entered the elevator, the doors closing in front of him as his thumb pressed sent on the text.

When the doors of the elevator opened again to show the familiar cave he quickly ran to the batcomputer to check the video that Babs sent, a bit surprised when he saw that Tim wasn't on the chair right in front of the computer like he expected but he quickly found him once he scanned the room, sleeping on the floor with Stephanie on top of him as she sipped on her tea and using her phone like she didn't do anything when she noticed Bruce looking at her with his usual dissapointed stare.

"Hey I warned him, he's the one who played that whistle again so I just executed on my threat" was the only thing she said before going back to using her phone like nothing happened, making Bruce sigh but he didn't do anything about it since Tim was sleeping instead of focusing on the case and drinking ungodly amounts of coffee and energy drinks. "Just move him to his room afterwards, don't want him to sleep in the cave" was the only thing he said as he sat on the chair and focused on the multitude of screens of the batcomputer.

He opened the new video once he finally received the notification from Babs, keeping his line with Duke and Damian open to be ready if anything happened to the two while at the crime scene, before sitting back to watch the video, hoping that it wouldn't be as useless as the others they had.

Duke was in his bike with Damian behind him with his own helmet, talking with Babs on the comms as she guided him to the crime scene, breaking so many laws as he drove since he knew that if he got there after the GCPD then the crime scene would be ruined and it would be difficult for him to use his ability with police officers walking around the crime scene.

As he took a very sharp turn he quickly switched his comms line to talk with Damian and asked "you ok there little man?", knowing that he was driving very dangerously but he couldn't afford to waste a single second by following the law at the moment. He laughed when he just heard Damian click his tongue and then just lightly hit the side of his helmet to say that he was ok.

The duo quickly got off the bike when they finally reached the alley and Damian quickly went around it to close off the alley both ways so the GCPD wouldn't enter it without his permission and mess up the crime scene while Duke set his bike in the other side of the road in another alley before finally walking inside the right alley, stepping over the yellow tape Damian quickly put before going to the other side of the alley, taking many pictures of all the blood he saw on the floor in small puddles, alongside a phone that he quickly put in an evidence bag so Babs could see if there was anything that could be useful.

He found a gun with only one bullet inside while the bullets rounds were lying around before the body, and as he grabbed it to put in an evidence plastic bag, alongside the used bullets rounds in another bag. He quickly found the bullets that were fired in a small pile next to the victim's body, all covered in blood and obviously having been taken out of whoever got shot, making him shudder when he saw them as he wondered who was crazy enough to actually pull the bullets out of their body and leave them on a pile like they were returning them.

When he finally reached the body he had to give himself a minute at the sight of the man's slaughtered throat, feeling bile coming up his throat as he couldn't manage to look away at the man's body, the terrified expression on the poor man's face as he died still impressed on his face, his clothes tattered and in some parts torn that Duke's first thought was that he got attacked by a wild animal but the clean cuts on his arms and cheeks showed that it wasn't an animal.

As he stared at the corpse his hand slowly travelled to his throat as he felt pain from it, like he was experiencing the same pain the man felt when it happened and he didn't even use his powers to see the past, making him even more horrified at what he was seeing.

With trembling hands he raised his phone to take some photos of the body and the black veins that showed on the side of his neck, making Duke think that the man probably got poisoned but he couldn't pinpoint the exact poison used just from the black in his veins and skin.

As he kept taking photos he noticed that the black travelled down to his right arm, probably where the man got poisoned with a needle or knife but he couldn't see it from where he was standing so he slowly encouraged himself to move, trying his hardest not to puke as he put on some gloves so he wouldn't leave any prints that could incriminate him or ruin the crime scene.

He slowly raised the torn sleeve of the man's shirt to hopefully find the knife or needle wound but instead he saw something that made him connect his mask camera's to the batcomputer so Bruce could see what the boy was seeing, as he was sure the photo wouldn't be able to capture everything he was seeing.

The right arm of the man had a bite mark that was obviously made by a human mouth, making Duke feel sick and almost puke as he could see how deep the bite was just by the skin around it broke, showing signs of struggle from the man but that didn't do anything to stop it or making it let go of him.

Duke got up and made a signal to Damian to stay alert as he was gonna use his powers and needed the boy to be ready since he would be vulnerable while watching what happened, afraid of what he was gonna see after seeing the man's wounds and bite. He also turned off his mask's camera to not worry Bruce once it all turned black from his powers.

He sighed and started using the shadows of the alley to use his Ghost vision, his eyes turning white completely as his body froze in place to watch and finally know who the killer was.

(this is what happened, it will be written with italics)

Duke opened his eyes and saw that he was now in the same alley and was standing right in front of the guy, now alive and animatedly talking on the phone with someone as he paced back and fort in the alley while smoking a cigarette.

Duke ignored the man's conversation with whoever he was at the other end of the phone call to slowly walk around the alley, mostly to see if there was anything suspicious that wasn't there when he first came to check the body but unfortunately everything was the same as when he arrived for the first time.

He kept looking around for a bit before stopping when he heard an ominous whistle, the same one he heard from all the videos Babs sent them, making him grab his eskrima sticks to defend himself and the man out of habit before remembering that this already happened and he couldn't do anything to stop whatever happened next.

Duke looked back at the man when he heard him stop talking after he heard the whistle, his face turning into a terrified expression, his phone dropping on the floor as he tried to grab his gun with shaking hands, making it more difficult for the man as Duke could see how nervous he was. Both men froze as they heard the same whistle from the same being but with more insistence to it, like they were asking permission or calling for someone with how insistent the whistle sounded to the African-American teen.

Both men quickly looked to the other side of the alley, showing a badly illuminated street thanks to a broken streetlamp that kept going on and off, showing an empty street but once it went off and on again a kid, maybe 14 years old or less was standing in the alley under the streetlight.

As they both stared at the kid, Duke tried to study the kid since the alley wasn't that big but could only see up to the kid's face, even though most of it was hidden by a white mask that was familiar but he couldn't really see it perfectly from that distance while the man was cursing under his breath in Italian, making Duke wonder who the kid was and how the man knew them and especially wanted to know why he was so scared of them.

Then, all of the sudden, a low whistle came from the rooftop of one of the buildings around them, making the kid jump up in joy before getting in position, making Duke curse under his breath as he managed to understand that the kid was he killer from how scared the man was after he heard the other whistle.

Everything else happened in such a blur that Duke thought Flash was in Gotham by how fast the kid was that even he had difficulty see them, before seeing that they were biting the man's arm, their teeth so deep in the skin that blood was already trickling out the kid's mouth and into the floor to form a few small puddles.

In panic and from the pain of the bite, Duke witnessed the man shoot the kid in the leg for two times and three times on the sides when he saw that the kid didn't even flinch from being shot in the leg but the kid remained attached to his arm, black slowly spreading around their mouth to the man's skin, making him drop the gun.

Once the kid finally pulled away from the man, Duke could see that the venom was already spreading from the black spreading through the man's arm and was slowly going to his head.

Duke kept watching in horror and in guilt as he could've been there to save the man but instead of patrolling the street he was back at the cave to help the others solve the case of these killings while the actual murderer was watching one of their many victims cry and beg for their life while smiling with their mouth full of blood of the victim.

He thought that would be the end of it, that the kid would kill the man by tearing his throat open but instead the kid skipped over the man, making the man stumble back before falling on the floor, claws coming out of their fingers like cats, and just started scratching the poor man body with no objective, their smile the worst thing Duke was seeing as he could see how the kid wasn't being forced or controlled by someone.

No, they were doing this because they liked it. They thought it was fun.

As the vigilante watched, he heard another whistle from the same person but it was shorter, like the person was calling the kid like it was time to go home and to stop playing since the kid looked annoyed when they heard that whistle since their smile got replaced by a pout.

Duke watched as the kid huffed and looked down at the man before smiling once again and leaned down as the man kept begging to be let go, that he wouldn't work for The Penguin anymore and that he was sorry for everything he did but the kid just kept smiling as they put their hand on the man's neck, their claws slowly retracting but not going fully back.

The kid kept smiling as the mask stared right into the man's eyes as he calmed down, thinking the kid was gonna let go of him, like he was spared and got lucky before his eyes got wide in fear and pain as the kid's claws came out and the kid tore open his throat, his hands trembling as he tried to cover the bleeding wound, his fingers and hands already covered in blood by how fast he was losing blood.

Duke just watched as the man's eyes filled with tears as he watched the mask of the kid and their smile, knowing that his death wasn't an act of revenge or because he was a bad person. His death was just the sick ending of a game the kid was playing and he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

He kept watching as the kid then used a wall as support as they used their claws to pull out the bullets like nothing happened, leaving all of them on a small pile near the man, making Duke wonder once again what even the kid was when they weren't reacting to pain normal people would be screaming and crying from.

The last thing he saw before the vision stopped was the face of the kid staring directly at him, like they knew he was there since they gave him the biggest smile possible and even waved at him before his vision went black, their mask the only thing he could see as he was still trying to remember where he saw a mask like the one they were wearing.

(end of flashback)

Duke gasped as he finally woke up to the real time and not watching the murder happen before starting to hyperventilate and move around in the alley like he couldn't see as he couldn't figure out what was happening around him and he couldn't stop seeing the kid's smile and the man's face filled with terror as he couldn't do anything to help the victim and was made to watch a slaughter.

In his panic he didn't see Damian running up to him and calling his vigilante name but could feel someone pushing him and moving him before feeling himself getting carried somewhere, surely by Damian as he knew he was the only one there that could help him.

Everything else happened in a blur, he could feel himself being carried somewhere via grappling hook as he could feel the wind on his face and then the cold bricks of the rooftops under his fingers, making him calm down as he could feel that he wasn't in the alley.

He did relax a bit once he knew he wasn't in that alley but just couldn't calm down, his mind too focused on what he saw and wouldn't let him remember any of his calming techniques that Bruce and Jason taught him, his eyes slowly filling up with tears as he felt like he was gonna pass out as he kept gasping but felt like no air was entering his lungs.

Duke was still gasping for air when he felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Bruce's face without his cowl, making the poor boy surprised as he knew the man's strict rules on the masks when out on patrol before seeing the man breathing and gesturing the boy to copy him and after a few tries where Duke couldn't focus enough and started crying he managed to copy Bruce's breathing, his mind slowling down as oxygen finally started entering his lungs.

He smiled at the man when he finally calmed down enough to not need to copy's Bruce's breathing and just hugged the man, too grateful to care that they were on patrol and that he had important information about the murder that happened in the alley. No, he just needed a moment in his father's arms, even though his real father was still at the hospital but Bruce was there and he needed to feel protected and safe and he knew that Bruce's arms where he felt the safest.

As the two hugged, he looked at Damian and just smiled when he saw that the boy was standing next to them, hand on his katana to be ready if anyone suddenly came to attack them, making a mental note to hug the younger boy when they would go back to the Cave.

[Damian Pov]

He was annoyed. He was angry.

Those were the only two emotions he felt as he waited in the alley while Duke used his meta abilities for the case. He should've been home with Amelie, listening to another story of his older sibling and how they would climb stuff just to grab something because they refused to admit that they needed the small ladder they had in the kitchen that was there specifically for them.

But instead he was on a smelly alleyway in Gotham and waiting for the police while playing on his phone, acting distracted but he was still high alert and ready to strike anyone with a small batarang if they were going to attack Duke while he was watching.

While waiting he did feel watched but even after doing a quick check around the alley and the rooftops near the alley showed that there was no one the younger vigilante considered a threat to him and the yellow vigilante, making him even more frustrated as he was craving for a fight just to relieve some stress.

After a bit he noticed that the GCPD had finally came with Jim Gordon in one of the two cars so he quickly walked up to the detective so he could start the investigations right after Signal was done using his abilities, discussing with the older man about the murder and how the police should take care of the evidence as he saw in the other case files the detectives didn't take everything around the victim and there was some missing information because of the missing evidence, which didn't sit right with Damian and made him even more annoyed that the police wasn't doing its job right.

While talking he suddenly heard some noises from the alley and as he turned around he could already see Duke in distress by the way he moved and breather that he immediately ran up to him and after assessing the situation and how Duke was too much in distress to answer him he managed to pick him up and grapple away, using the comms to call Babs and how he needed someone to come help him as he didn't know how to calm Duke.

Once he reached a rooftop that Babs said was safe since it didn't have any cameras around, he quickly put Duke down and tried to calm him down using Dick's lessons but couldn't manage to get Duke focus on him as he kept moving and pushing him away whenever he touched the older boy and didn't listen to him.

As he kept trying to calm down Duke he started to grow frustrated, not towards Duke as he knew he probably saw something that shocked him deeply which caused the panic attack, but he was frustrated with himself as he couldn't remember Dick's advice and seeing how he couldn't help Duke made him feel helpless.

He was an assassin, he knew how to kill a man with just a pen and leave no traces. He knew every poison known and unknown to man and was incredibly smart for his age but couldn't manage to help one of his family out of an panic attack.

He felt useless but when he saw his father land on the rooftop he couldn't help but breathe out a sigh of relief as he knew Duke was in good hands now that he was here to help and moved out the way to stand guard and protect them as he wanted to do something and feel useful in his own way, walking around the roof to check if anyone could get there to attack them.

As he stood guard, a hand on his katana ready to grab it if needed and the other on a pouch that contained some batarangs in case, he suddenly felt a presence from behind him, making him quickly unsheath his katana and attack whoever managed to get behind him before standing there in shock as a Talon, more precisely a kid was standing in front of him and blocking the blade of his katana with their hands. As he stared he noticed that they weren't using their hands but some sorts of talon that were coming out of their fingers.

He glared at the kid and let go of his katana when he knew that it wouldn't be useful to fight and decided to use it as a distraction by letting go of it, smirking when he saw the kid look at the katana falling and used the few seconds to turn his body around to kick them on the chest with all his strength to push them away, watching as they tumbled a bit before falling in another Talon's arms in a dramatic way that Damian didn't notice, too occupied to stare at the other Talon who just arrived to think that the kid was being dramatic.

He quickly grabbed his katana and put it back in its sheath, keeping one hand on his birdrangs while he watched the masked kid and Talon look at each other via their mask before the kid started signing stuff that Damian couldn't understand as he recognise the sign language they were using.

As he watched them sign he turned to look at Bruce and Duke and was shocked to see Duke looking like he'd seen a ghost as the vigilante stared at the kid who was furiously signing to the Talon and looked frustrated when said Talon signed something that they didn't agree with.

He looked at Duke and Bruce and made a hand signal to Bruce to keep an eye on the duo as he checked on Duke, wanting to see if he was ok and could keep his posture if the two Talons decided to fight the three vigilantes, confused as to why they were there as they managed to take down the Court just two months ago and sent many Talons to a secret building out of Gotham, where they could be fee from the Court's influence.

Damian quickly walked up to the African-American male and grabbed his arm, forcing him to get up "Signal, report on what you saw in the alley, make it quick. We don't have time to useless details" he demanded, needing to know if Duke had some useful information to use in the upcoming fight and especially if the two Talons thee were involved in the streak of murders happening around Gotham.

Duke looked down at Damian as he was still looking at the kid and the Talon who were still fighting in their own sign language, his face looking like he swallowed a very sour candy before starting to talk "a Talon obviously but they're different from the other Talons we fought Robs." He took a deep breath to think about what he was supposed to say to be useful for him and Damian in the imminent fight.

"You have to be on your guard when fighting against that kid Robs, they're the ones who have been killing people in Gotham" he started, taking a deep breath as he tried to remember what he saw and staying calm, knowing he could seriously put Damian and Bruce at a disadvantage if he had another panic attack. "They're fast and have talons on their fingers that can be retractable. Their bite is venomous and it seems like the venom is very quick to spread if you get bitten." he explained, shuddering as he remembered the kid biting that man's arm.

The trio froze when they heard the kid whistle happily and jump around like they won something big while the Talon looked defeated, a hand on his shaking head but the three vigilantes could see by his body language that he was amused by the kid celebrating even though his whole face was covered by a mask.

Damian immediately got in fighting position with his katana and signalled for Duke and Bruce to do the same as he knew that the kid wanted to fight before watching, confusion clearly written in his eyes, as the kid started taking off parts of their armour like their chest plate and throwing it on the ground until their only piece of armour were two metal pieces on both arms and legs while everything else was left open and was just covered by some black clothing that looked too big on the kid.

By the way they were taking off most of their armour, it seemed like they wanted to feel every hit on their body like a sick maniac who is eager to feel anything that brings them joy or even just a thrill of excitement and the adrenaline that comes with it.

Duke was ready with his eskrima sticks in hand and stood next to Bruce, unsure on who the assassin wanted to fight first but he was ready to help if they suddenly attacked either Bruce or Damian. The older man grabbed his batarangs and glared at the two Talons, unsure on what they wanted but ready to fight if they tried anything to hurt his family.

Damian watched in silence as the kid finished taking off most of their armour before staring back at Duke and Damian with the same smile on their face, a bit confused when he saw them frowning as he watched them. He was too late to realise what was happening when the kid whistled two tunes at the same time and stood next to the Talon.

The youngest vigilante barely had time to warn his father before the Talon suddenly attacked the man, pushing the man to a part away from the kids on the rooftop while the kid applauded as he watched the two fight. He turned to glare at the other Talon and barely had time to raise his katana to protect himself as the kid was suddenly in front of him and used his talons to scratch his face.

He struggled a bit to hold his katana, his arms shaking as the kid was pushing their talons to reach his face. Fortunately for Damian, Duke was there to rescue him by kicking the kid on the stomach, making them stumble away while holding their stomach.

But they didn't back down as the Talon quickly recovered in not even a minute and this time attacked Duke with their talons, who was ready with his eskrima sticks and defended himself before pushing their talons down and managing to punch them right in the face.

As the three fought, Bruce was fighting with the older Talon before noticing that he wasn't trying to kill him like every other fight he had with his association but instead he was trying to keep him away from his kids and the shorter Talon that was with him, making the bat vigilante confused as to what their relationship was as he never knew that Talons could form familiar relationships in the Court.

Damian frowned as he and Duke weren't strong enough to capture the kid or not even manage to make them falter slightly. He glared at the kid who was looking at their nails while waiting for the two to regain their breath, making Damian even more angry as he knew the kid was obviously making fun of him and Duke by the way they were acting.

He made a hand motion towards Duke to tell him to get ready as he ran towards the kid, starting to fight them and keep them occupied as Duke made his eskrima sticks connect to turn them into nunchaku, starting to whirled around to gain speed until Damian managed to push them away and distract them for enough time so he could hit them in the face, and in the process made their mask fall off alongside their hoodie from the way they fell.

Damian stared as the kid laid down on the rooftop floor, completely frozen as their eyes were closed before suddenly opening them and getting up with a sick smile on their face, not caring that the two vigilantes could see their face, pushing some of their hair away from their face as the hoodie let their hair free.

Damian watched in shock as he was standing right in front of [Y/N], their older sibling who was believed to be dead or missing after they disappeared 8 years ago from a car accident while on their way home after attending the kid's dance recital. The same kid who was now standing in front of him, looking no older than 12 and wearing the Talon's uniform.

He couldn't do anything as they whistled and looked at the other Talon, who pushed Bruce away and walked up to them, grabbing their stuff in the process before picking them up and walking over the rooftop edge.

He finally managed to move once he realised that he was about to let his older sibling go without doing anything and started running towards the Talon, ignoring Bruce and Duke's voices before yelling out a "[Y/N]", reaching his hand out to grab them but was too late as the Talon jumped off the roof and as he looked down they already disappeared into the night.

The only thing that he could think as he thought of everything that happened was 'I need them back', especially now that he knew that his older sibling, the one he heard so many stories about and dreamed of hanging out with them. He refused to let them leave now that he knew he would have the possibility to have them in his life.

And he would do anything to have them back.

#yandere batfam #platonic yandere #yandere #yandere batfamily #yandere dc #jason todd #tim drake #dick grayson #talon!reader #court of owls #unhinged reader

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dreamerimpossible · 6 months ago

Text

Fragile (Art The Clown x Fem!Reader x Pennywise)

Nobody asked for this either, but…what can I tell you? I am a nasty person.

Summary: You are the little pet of both sinister clowns.

Warnings: Sex with plot, oral (reader receives), dubcon, double penetration, pain, dark content, +18, humiliation.

Your nose still couldn't get used to the smell of putrefaction that surrounded the sewer. In fact, you could never stand it. It was a weakness. At least that's how your two captors had made you feel all this time: you're fragile, and breaking was just easy. That's how it was. Of course it was. You hadn't even been able to suppress the nausea caused by the dirty water whose waste you avoided seeing at all costs. Those ropes that tied your wrists still caused you a deep pain whose impact was beginning to be progressively more emotional than physical.

Your body immediately reacted to the strong and determined footsteps of one of your captors. Your head lowered, in a sign of involuntary submission, and your fists clenched violently so that the pain you caused yourself would be much more noticeable to him than your state of nervousness and vulnerability. But you knew it was useless.

It was useless, yes. Especially because the being in front of your figure could see through you. All of you. Your hands immediately loosened, sadly representing your absolute surrender to him. He approached you with a chilling smile that released blood from his lips, forming an immeasurable drip that fell to the floor, creating a completely unbelievable scene by human standards.

He smelled you, like a rabid dog would do to an unknown creature that was a potential victim. But his reaction was one of disappointment. Which made him move away at a safe distance from you. There was no fear. There was a worrying lack of fear in your veins. And he didn't like that at all. He didn't like losing control. Suddenly, the gloves on his hands were torn as they were torn by the claws that the clown was making sprout from his fingers. You suppressed a scream... was this the end for you?

Probably. The level of dirty water in the sewer was rising rapidly, turning red just as quickly. While all this was happening, there was Pennywise, with that characteristic smile, mocking you and the way he could make your fear grow with such simplicity. You closed your eyes tightly while repeating the same mantra over and over in your head:

“It’s not real…” you burst into tears uncontrollably. “This is not happening.”

You opened your eyes slowly when you felt the water calming down under your feet. And once they were fully open, you saw that everything was back to normal. The world-devouring clown had decided to stop torturing you like that for today. However, it wasn’t because of you. It was because someone had come to interrupt.

The clown dressed in black and white walked hunched over, with the garbage bag resting on his back, and his face only reflected annoyance. Pennywise had smiled again. You didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing.

Every time Art was psychologically tortured by Pennywise, his strength in hurting you was even more brutal. He was getting even. That's what you were for, to get his frustration out. Otherwise, your existence would be meaningless to him.

Today would be one of those days; you could feel it in your body. You could see it through his eyes. Your body suddenly felt weak just thinking about it. And Pennywise decided to make it much harder for you by making you witness his transformation, the representation of that feeling that Art The Clown couldn't experience for himself, but that, against all odds, he did feel. On tiny levels. But he felt it somehow. There was only one person in the world that made Art angry and eager to destroy you. That girl, that woman who was very different from you.

Pennywise's figure blurred and theatrically turned into the silhouette of what seemed to be Sienna Shaw armed with her sword.

Art didn't feel afraid, no. But he felt a little insecurity and hesitation. The sweet, intrusive thought of what could happen if he was once again decapitated by that woman. And that. That little fleeting thought made Pennywise feel extremely satisfied. It was what he lived for, to make Art the Clown feel like he was insufficient before him. To remind him that although he is almost indestructible, in essence, he was still weaker than him, than the devourer of worlds himself. Extremely different levels of strength. And then there was you. A small force next to them, insignificant and fleeting.

And his attention was now on you. Pennywise, on his side, eager to push you to the limits, and Art the Clown, on his side, only wanted to vent his anger on you.

Art's fingers squeezed your jaw tightly, fixing your eyes on his. You could see that there was nothing. Nothing that reflected any hint of emotion. Maybe that was his way of telling himself that Pennywise hadn't affected him in the slightest. Then, you saw his smile, and you were terrified of whatever he was about to do. With a knife he tore your bloody clothes, scratching the skin of your torso. You took note of how many moderately deep scratches you had there. Your hurt tits were visible to both beings, who proudly looked at the bite marks, blows, and cuts they had left there, pleasing their sexual need.

Next, Art cuts your panties off with ease, letting them fall into the dirty water of the sewer, leaving you only in that skirt. That skirt that you wore to go to work almost obligatorily before you were imprisoned by a being from which it was impossible to escape.

Your skin was marked. You would never be the same again. You were lost.

Pennywise sank his teeth into your neck, sucking a little of your blood, like a little appetizer of what it would be like to truly devour you. Your eyes closed weakly, simply accepting your fate. But Art would make it harder. He inserted two of his fingers into your entrance, entering and exiting you at a raw speed. And it hurt in an indescribable way. Your moans were of absolute pain, making both men smile.

But what was coming now would be new and completely devastating for you. Art roughly grabbed your waist and held you in place, slowing down the pumping of his fingers and hitting just a specifically pleasurable spot for you, making you let out your first moan of involuntary pleasure. You felt bad. You weren't supposed to enjoy it. You opened your eyes in horror, and all Art did was mock you silently with exaggerated gestures of silent laughter. He had discovered a new kind of pain for you.

Pennywise followed the direction the other clown was taking and placed his red lips on one of your nipples, no bites. Your moans increased as you felt his tongue exploring with different movements, looking for the perfect way to make you enjoy this against your will. Your hands relaxed in your ropes, and your groans increased as you felt his tongue exploring with different movements, looking for the perfect way to make you enjoy this against your will. throw your head back and let out shameless moans as you felt the circular movement of Pennywise's tongue on your nipple, along with the marked rhythm of Art on your pussy.

They would kill you, sooner or later. They would finish you off. And yet... it felt so good. Art knelt before you, smiling at the irony of the situation, even believing that you could have any kind of control over him, and he pulled his fingers out of your entrance with ease and replaced them with his own tongue. Your leg was over his shoulder, his mouth sucking on your pussy without any shame, demonstrating once again his unhealthy fondness for all kinds of bodily fluids, licking and swallowing everything you had to give him, without making a single gesture of disgust.

It was completely alarming how much it turned you on. You are a nasty person. You had to be. Your screams echoed against the walls, given over to a pleasure that was undoubtedly beyond your control.

Pennywise's claws dug into your back as he began to alternate licks on your nipples with small bites that increased in intensity. Pleasure and pain lodged in the pit of your stomach, making you a slave to him, increasing your disorientation, and destroying your own moral code. You noticed how your own blood slid through your body and how you seemed to shamelessly enjoy it.

Art's tongue worked on you in an almost expert way, which made you ignore any kind of pain that they wanted to inflict on you. Your release was close. You wanted it; it was painfully torturous not to get it. You simply wished he would let you cum at least once. Looking into his eyes, you thought that maybe he was deciding too, whether to overstimulate you or leave you wanting again and again. Both are quite attractive options. However, to your invasive visual delight, you saw how Art drank all your fluids in a shameless way, licking your folds to try to clean everything that was left.

But make no mistake, he wasn't doing it for you. He needed you to enjoy it so he could destroy you, shamelessly break you. He needed you to be his doll too, the one who enjoyed the pain and the contempt.

Pennywise separated from your tits, squeezing your stimulated nipples with his fingers. The pain and pleasure were once again present, and the scream you let out was an auditory sample of the mixture of those two sensations that they wanted to make you feel.

Art stood up and continued in front of you; Pennywise positioned himself behind you. You felt four hands violently grabbing you by the waist. You couldn't even muster the strength to shake your head when you realized what they were going to do. But before you could make your displeasure known with sounds, each one penetrated your corresponding entrance. You bit your lip with a certain habit to endure that kind of pain at this point and prepared yourself for what you were going to feel. Be it good or bad.

They both penetrated at the same time, with a force much greater than two considerate boys would have, but much less than what they were used to. You felt both cocks inside you, fucking you with a desire you didn't think they even had. Your body was being abused and taken selfishly, and you could even feel the pain that would remain in your belly for days after experiencing that practice for the first time in such an inconsiderate way. Pennywise growled in your ear from behind, while the skins were heard colliding with each other, as if you were just that. A toy, one more hole. As Art watched your reactions, as you fought the fear and discomfort you felt at your own enjoyment. They both spilled their semen inside you in due time and separated, watching as your eyes closed at the amount of sensations you experienced.

They both watched as their semen fell down your thighs, mixing with all the blood from your wounds. You fell into a deep sleep instantly, as proof of your physical and emotional exhaustion.

No, not even Sienna Shaw could save you from this one.

#pennywise x reader #slashers x y/n #slashers x reader #slashers x you #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher x y/n #art the clown x you #art the clown x y/n #art the clown x reader #terrifier x reader #it x reader

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velteris · 1 year ago

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If Zoltraak so OP, why doesn’t Frieren/Copyren use it to fight each other?: a silly tactics essay

Madhouse is absolutely killing it with their gorgeous fight scenes that also make more sense the more you dig into them. In this episode, it's the senior citizen fight scene, where Frieren busts out the scary spells for the first time after telling us that Zoltraak is fast, efficient, powerful, the best combat spell etc etc. So why don't they use it against each other? The answer is this 2-second scene:

Let’s review what we’ve been told about Zoltraak. It’s “piercing magic that pierced through the defensive magic of humans and magic resistant equipment, and directly destroyed the body”. Zoltraak is generally good at destroying physical things.

In turn, the hexagonal shield magic—as Qual deduces—“synchronises with offensive magic and disperses the power”. But this costs lots of mana, and is weak against attacks of physical mass.

The rock-paper-scissors of modern magic is, then, Zoltraak-shield-physical mass.

Another note: it seems possible to cast both a shield and another offensive magic (maybe only Zoltraak?) at the same time, as in Frieren and Denken’s duel, and as with Methode vs golems.

Back to the Frierens.

Zoltraak is fast, efficient in mana usage, and powerful. It’s “enough for mages of the modern era”. Frieren and Fern usually spam this one spell; Copyren also uses it against Denken and co. So they would like to open with it.

Knowing that, they both bring up the hexagonal shield, ready to disperse Zoltraak. But, they both realize that Frieren’s Zoltraak cannot defeat Frieren’s hexagon shield. Edel states the two methods of getting past a shield: breaking it by force, or bypassing it with speed. Neither can get a single Zoltraak off strong enough that can shatter the corresponding shield, so they start shifting their aim, but they react just as fast to each other so there’s no openings.

Then what about multiple Zoltraaks? Presumably they could both keep the shields up while also casting Zoltraak, so they could turtle down into a battle of attrition and see who makes a minor inefficient mistake. But! Copyren is facing two mages, not one. It will definitely lose in a shield-whittling contest. Even if they had infinite mana, if they sit there playing chicken with the shields, Fern will eventually blast it from behind.

Additional hypothesis: the mana used to defend against an attack with a hexagon shield will always be greater than the mana used to make the attack. Therefore, a mage should aim to always be on the offensive. In Ehre vs Fern, Fern kept creating distance and refused to get pinned down; Ehre got pinned down and that’s why she lost. Both Frierens have a motive to use as little defensive magic and as much offensive magic as possible.

Sadly, it’s a pretty empty room, with not much physical mass to use against each other; Copyren in particular probably wants to avoid eating up the walls of Spiegel’s hideaway. So they need to cast offensive magic, that isn’t Zoltraak, and that doesn’t need existing physical mass.

Before Zoltraak leading to shield leading to mass attacks, it’s likely there wasn’t that much of a need for physical mass specifically. Edel says it takes more mana to conjure than it does to manipulate the environment. But if mass isn’t a requirement, then ye olde mages probably wouldn’t have focused on magics with the weakness of, say, needing a water source nearby (sorry Kanne). It makes sense that old-fashioned attacks were therefore magics that expressed some kind of energy without significant mass: fire, lightning, wind. (Ty @wtfoctagon for laying out this pre-Zoltraak idea!)

Simultaneously, this brings up an interesting question: what kind of defence were pre-Zoltraak (therefore pre-hexagon) mages using?

1. Some other [Defence Magic], but weaker

2. A Warrior

3. More offence!

Forget this newfangled modern mass stuff. Frieren and Copyren go right back to Cast Fireball, the force of which can be dissipated and defended against with Cast Fireball.

Not using the hexagonal shield is actually a more mana-efficient defence. If Zoltraak’s out of the question, then there’s no real need to invest in the heavy anti-Zoltraak shield. And we have already seen a previous example of offence as defence: Fern vs Lugner.

We also see one more example of this kind of old-fashioned mass-less attack in the other senior citizen brawl, where Denken uses Waldgose (tornado) + Daosdorg (fire). It eats up enough mana that even Denken is tapped out by the end. Of course, for Frieren vs Denken, she has so much more mana that there’s no problem spending it on a full-body shield. But if she did the same versus her clone, she would rapidly start losing the attrition battle. So she has to defend with a less costly though much messier method.

One more advantage of non-mass elemental magic: for Copyren, using Hellfire magic is much more of an area-of-effect spell, which might be able to touch Fern as well. For Frieren, it’s a no-brainer to go along with splashing mana everywhere, to help hide Fern’s presence.

Of course, that’s not to say that they won’t take advantage of mass when it exists. The use of Hellfire to make lava out of the falling pillar/wall is a delicious and nutritious anime original addition, and it also makes so much sense.

tl;dr: the Frierens tested and discarded the possibility of a modern-style Zoltraak fight in as much time as it takes us to say "holy shit".

all this of course brings up the question:

If Frieren so OP against Zoltraak, why can Fern use Zoltraak?

because Fern’s OP OP Zoltraak go brrrrr

#frieren #sousou no frieren

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letters-with-notes · 8 months ago

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WOOYOUNG - PEACEFUL MORNING

💌 GROUP: Ateez 💌 GENRE: morning fluff & childish banters 💌 WORDS: 0.9k 💌 SUMMARY: You appreciate the sight of your quietly sleeping boyfriend, your boyfriend appreciates you with kisses.

A/N: my own work reposted, because this is still one of my favorite fics :')

The sun is already high up in the sky by the time you finally feel yourself waking up. The past days have been exhausting enough for the both of you to insert a long sleep-in time in your busy schedules, so that’s what you did.

Slowly opening your eyes and turning your head to the side, you can see Wooyoung still asleep, soft puffs of breath leaving his slightly parted lips. It’s rare that you wake up before him, so you don’t always have the opportunity to observe his serene face, and an interesting thought pops into your head, making you giggle. You feel warmth bubbling up in your heart along with your giggles, making a pleasant, comforting heat spread through your body that you can only recognize as your love for him. With a soft smile on your lips, you free one hand from under the cover and raise it to brush a stray strand of hair out of his face.

He probably wasn’t sleeping deeply anymore, because your touch unintentionally wakes him up and you can see him make a small frown along with a little noise, signaling that he doesn’t want to wake up just yet. You still your movements, giving him a chance to fall back asleep, but maybe because he sensed your fingers in his hair, he ends up opening his eyes.

The first question coming out of his mouth is, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

That’s when you realize that maybe it wasn’t your touch but your stare that disturbed his sleep, but there’s nothing you can do about it now.

"You're just so quiet when you're asleep," you tell him, sharing the thought with the same loving smile that bloomed on your face when it first popped into your mind.

However, the sleepy look he’s giving you is still somewhat confused. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

You consider this for a moment and you suppose that he’s right, usually this would be the timing for a compliment. A compliment that’s just a simple observation, an objective fact that still portrays how much you love him. And even though that’s exactly what you’ve just said, you decide to go the extra mile for him and kindly add, "Yes, of course it’s a compliment, you actually looked angelic for once."

"So you're saying I’m usually not angelic?" Wooyoung asks immediately, looking a lot more awake than a moment ago.

"No, you're usually an annoying little devil," you grin, to which you get a high-pitched, offended scream,

"Excuse me?!"

You cringe a bit at the loud noise so close to your ears and sigh, "See, you just woke up but you're already yelling and arguing with me…"

"You started it!" he yells again, sitting up and getting ready to defend his honor at all costs.

You, on the other hand, are not as energetic to deal with this at the early hour of 11 in the morning, so you do the only thing that you’re able to do to make him quiet with the least effort. You put your hand over his mouth.

"Shush, that doesn't matter, just shut up for a second and enjoy the morning."

Unfortunately, he’s not about to back down so easily and let you win the argument. If you think that just because you have your palm pressed over his mouth, he will stop complaining, you’re wrong. His reaction is immediate, and before you even realize that putting your hand to his mouth can be a double-edged sword, he’s already licked your palm.

You snatch your hand away fast as lighting, and wipe it on his pajama shirt, disgusted. "Ew, now I have your saliva on me…"

"Really…?" He looks at you with a raised brow, questioning if this is really how you want to play, and the next thing you know, he presses you into the mattress as he hovers over you and kisses you all over your face with wet, loud smooches. He makes sure that he leaves no spot unkissed and to make the kiss extra loud when he’s close to your ears for good measure. And even though it’s annoying, his lips tickling your skin and the silliness of the situation makes you unable to stop laughing.

You laugh until your stomach hurts and you're out of breath so you can’t anymore. Wooyoung notices it too and presses one last - this time a soft - kiss to your forehead before he pulls away.

You shake your head fondly when your eyes meet and you link your hands together behind his neck, then sigh, "Can't you just kiss me like a normal person?"

"You want me to kiss you?" His voice is teasing, so is his smile, and you can definitely tell that he expects you to get embarrassed and deny it, so then you would have another round of childish arguments. However, you somehow don’t want to do that right now. Maybe all the laughing cleared out your usual embarrassment to be honest with your feelings, because now you find it easy to look into his eyes and just nod, even if you can feel your face get a little warmer.

"So now it doesn't bother you that you're gonna have my saliva on you, huh?"

You roll your eyes and tug him down until he reaches you. "Just shut up and kiss me."

He lets you pull him in, probably because he wants to kiss you just as much as you do, but he still bites your lip because he wouldn’t want you to have the last word without consequences. You don’t really mind, though. It’s easy to let everything go as your lips move together, and you can feel that no matter how many childish arguments you have with each other, you could never mistake how much you truly love each other.

It’s just another peaceful morning in the relationship between you and Jung Wooyoung.

#ateez #jung wooyoung #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez x reader #ateez drabbles #wooyoung imagines #wooyoung scenarios #wooyoung drabbles #wooyoung fluff #wooyoung x reader

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lexsssu · 1 year ago

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Naive (Alhaitham)

TAGS: Alhaitham/F!Bunny!reader, friends to lovers, pining, yandere, possessive behavior, obsession, mating cycles/heats, oneshot Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

“Why do we have to learn more math even if our major has nothing to do with it? At this rate, I’m going to flunk and take it again next semester…”

Alhaitham’s fingers twitched unconsciously as your pair of long ears drooped down, hanging by the sides of your face almost as if they were pigtails instead of actual appendages.

“What the heck am I going to need calculus for when I’m trying to develop improved cultivation tools and methods? It’s not like I need to find out the value of X while I’m plowing the fields or something…”

His heartbeat is delayed for a single second at the mention of ‘plowing fields,’ and he has no one else to thank other than the hormonal male Akademiya students who’d made one or two passing unsolicited remarks about Amurta’s only female beastkin student.

He made sure to memorize their faces and names for him to deal with at a later date.

“Alhaitham, help meeee…!”

Despite being a proud descendant of the Taguel, the way you so easily beg and plead so submissively at him with large watery eyes and a pout formed by a pair of luscious lips has him wondering if you were unconsciously using some sort of secret seduction techniques passed on through your clan. Perhaps you were even secreting some sort of pheromones that made him calmer, more relaxed, and susceptible to your whims…

“Knowledge always comes at a price. I’m willing to tutor you, but you’ll owe me a single favor that you can’t refuse and which I can redeem at any time of my choosing,” bright turquoise orbs darkened as he leaned his head against his curled right fist. “Are you still willing to pursue this knowledge despite the costs?”

“Of course! I trust you, Alhaitham. So why would I be scared about the favor I’ll be owing you for this? Knowing you, you’ll probably make me do some paperwork or help with your research,” you giggle, the fluffy cotton ball of a tail you had wagging at how silly your friend was.

Why would you ever be afraid of him when he’d been nothing but honest with you? Alhaitham wasn’t some random cur that tricked hapless maidens into his slimy grasp.

If only you knew just how depraved he truly was when it came to you.

Then again, it is his luck that his adorable little bunny was such an innocent creature that only saw the best in him.

It’s up to him to make sure no one ever takes advantage of your kindness and naivety.

Even if it means he has to carefully plan and wait for the right time to finally express his true desires, he is willing to be patient. Especially when he knows that you are what awaited him at the end.

You remain blissfully unaware of his thoughts and intentions, not even questioning him or thinking how odd it was for him to have you sit on his lap as he taught you your most dreaded subject.

Alhaitham is a good man and an even greater friend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You both graduate within the same year with, as expected, flying colors, much to the joy of your respective families. It’s a solemn yet joyous affair, one that you invited him to because how could you not when it was with his help that you managed to even graduate with honors?

There is sure to be some teasing courtesy of your family once you get home, but that is the last thing on your mind as you leap into Alhaitham’s strong arms.

Even through the layers of your graduation attire, you feel the wall of solid muscle that is his body, something that always amazed you when he was one of the most brilliant scholars in Sumeru.

“Thank you, Alhaitham. I wouldn’t have been able to get this far without you always having my back,” you don’t notice the way his sandstone-colored irises seem to dilate as you curl around him, your entire body supported by a single arm around your soft waist while another hand settles upon the plushness of your bum.

Being so close to you like this allows him a whiff of your scent, a mix of soft floral and woody notes with a hint of fruity and citrus underneath. He feels his body heating up from the inside as his senses are assaulted by your voice, your body, and even your smell.

He won’t be able to last long if you keep this up.

Don’t you know how much you drive him crazy?

Rational thoughts come second to instincts when it comes to you, something your kind is very much familiar with.

If there aren’t so many people right now, he’ll throw you onto the grassy ground and mount you right here. He’ll put a whole litter of kittens in your belly and take care of you and your new family for the rest of his days—

Somehow, he manages to keep himself from making a scene by fucking you right in front of your family and the entire Amurta faculty, namely your master, Sage Naphis, whose short temper was legendary throughout the Akademiya.

However, each day that passes and each small action you make only wears his thinning patience and self-control. It’s not a question of ‘if,’ but rather a question of ‘when,’ and only the Archons know when that will be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So…Acting Grand Sage, huh? I always knew you’d go on to do great things, but Sumeru’s de-facto leader? Makes me wonder why you’re even hanging out with a country bumpkin like me~” Sticking your tongue out playfully and winking at him, you miss the way he swallows seemingly nothing but air.

“Don’t be absurd. Who I associate with of my own volition is no one’s business but my own.”

Although he may look and sound cold at first glance, you have known Alhaitham long enough to know for sure that he simply has his own ways of showing he cares. He wouldn’t let Kaveh stay at his place if he didn’t care about his friend after all. And even if the scribe wanted to be stubborn about it initially, you simply offered to house Kaveh instead, which ended up with the architect staying at Alhaitham’s in the end.

It’s honestly downright adorable how contradictory he could be at times, seemingly wanting to maintain an unbothered and uncaring attitude when you knew full well how good of a friend he was.

If only you knew that the real reason why he allowed Kaveh room and board was that he’d sooner gut the other man than let him stay in the same house as you.

He’d gouge the architect’s eyes out if they even settled too long on you.

It’s one of the reasons you’ve come to harbor feelings for him.

He is handsome, he is brilliant, but most of all, he is kind even when you have nothing to give him in return aside from your time and friendship.

You repeatedly stamp down the warm bubbly feelings within you that try to rise to the surface, repeatedly telling yourself that there is no chance that such a fine specimen as Alhaitham would return your affections.

Archons know just how many times you’d fingered yourself to thoughts of him during your heats. How you imagined scenarios of him coming to you in the dead of night, whispering sweet nothings and promises of breeding you full, just as nature had intended.

But there’s no way that could ever happen…right?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"'m sorry…didn't know…it'd come early this…year…!"

You are a pitiful mess as you lie on the grassy ground, your body overheating from the inside as the symptoms of your heat swiftly overtake all rational thought. According to your calendar, it wasn’t supposed to happen for another few days!

He memorized the exact dates of your cycle, so he knows full well just when you’ll be perfectly ripe and ready for the taking.

Had you not forced his hand in the first place, he’d have gladly waited for your regular heat.

“Don’t l-look at me…Haitham…!”

How can he not look upon the stunning sight of you looking so hot and disheveled because of your need to be mated and bred? It is a sight he will commit to memory for the rest of his life.

You desperately force down the beastly instincts that urge you to submit to the nearest virile male and present your soaked cunt that begged to be bred. It is humiliating, especially because Alhaitham is forced to watch your lewd and debauched display.

It brings him such glee at the knowledge that no one will ever get to see you like this.

Whether it was your upperclassman Tighnari, your friend Cyno, or even Kaveh, none of them will ever have this privilege.

You don’t even want to think about how you’ll face him after this.

Because why would he ever want a mere beast like you?

It is his misfortune that he wasn’t born a beastman like you were. However, he’ll make sure to make up for what he lacked tenfold.

You sniffle, feeling small tears pricking the corners of your eyes as your body and mind fight one another. Your hands move to cover your face, unwilling to let him see any more of the pitiful sight you made.

There’s no need for you to look for a mate from the other beastkin clans.

He’d rather burn Gandharva Ville to the ground than hand you over to the likes of Tighnari.

Just because the other male was your senior and studied under the same sage didn’t mean that he’ll let that damnable fox sink his claws into you.

“No. I believe I have a better solution for your plight,” with one hand, he pins both your wrists above you as he settles himself in between your legs.

“Mate with me.”

His words send a shock through your body, floppy bunny ears standing ramrod straight as you gaze up at him with large eyes, heart beating like a drum as the weight of his statement registers in your mind.

“Don’t you see? It’s simply because our bodies are compatible with one another that your heat opted to arrive earlier than expected. Your body already knows what your mind has yet to even comprehend,” Alhaitham’s turquoise orbs seemed like they were almost glowing in the dark as they gazed down at you like a predator eyeing its prey.

You were always the only one meant for him, even if you didn’t realize it at first.

And yet, you don’t feel a single ounce of fear.

Rather, you want to be devoured by him.

You want him to stuff you full with his cum again and again until his seed takes root in your awaiting womb and bears fruit.

You want him and will gladly take everything he’ll give you.

“Alhaitham…mate with me, please?”

#lexsssu writes #genshin impact #alhaitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #crossposted on ao3 #genshin impact smut

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happilychee · 2 months ago

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fairy tail power scaling headcanons

fairy tail's magic system is based on vibes and so are my headcanons

♡ natsu is by far not the strongest member of the guild, but he is the most feral. it's not that natsu has more magic reserves or complicated spells at his disposal. he just won't stop. barely any magical energy left? he keeps going. broken bones? he keeps going. bleeding out? he keeps going (when lucy asks if he's ever cauterized his own wounds, he doesn't meet her eye.) body on the brink of collapse, bruised and mangled? he. keeps. going. if natsu needs to win a fight, he's going to win, at any cost.

♡ in terms of magical power, mira is stronger than laxus. her transformations increase her physical strength to inhuman levels, not even mentioning her magic. however, due to burying her magic for years after lisanna's death, mira has very poor stamina. she can one shot most of her enemies, but if they're as strong or stronger than her, she's in trouble. her magic depletes very quickly if she stays transformed for too long.

♡ laxus, on the other hand, has very good magical stamina. his magic reserves run deep, he has good control over his spells, and what comes as a surprise to many is that he's not just a brute, he's quite strategic. if he draws out the fight, he can definitely beat mira.

♡ the fact that she's younger by a good few years doesn't stop erza from being on par with mira and laxus. like laxus, if she drew out the fight with mira, she'd definitely win (although I think the three are pretty evenly matched in terms of magic reserves.) erza, however, has the same feral edge as natsu. where laxus has some basic self-preservation instincts, erza does not. she will fight until she physically can't if it means protecting her family.

♡ no one stands a chance against erza in hand-to-hand combat. they just don't. maybe if gajeel, natsu, and laxus teamed up with their enhanced dragon slayer strength they could land a few punches, but erza would still wipe the floor with them.

♡ at the start of the show, I'd put erza as the strongest of team natsu, then natsu a teensy tiny little bit above gray (gray has better control over his spells and his magic, and they're at about the same power level, but natsu has the slight advantage of dragon slayer strength and being Like That), and lucy as the weakest. as the show progresses, I'd say lucy rises to the same level as natsu and gray as they all get stronger, although she's not really an offensive mage the way that gray and natsu are. I think on average, wendy is a little weaker than natsu, gray, and lucy (her focus is healing and support, and she's significantly younger, after all), but in a pinch, she can be as ferocious as natsu.

♡ sting has a better grasp on dragon slaying magic than natsu. he's a healer, and oftentimes he functions as both offense and support, so he has to know the inner workings of his magic. sting's offensive attacks are as strong as natsu and rogue's, but they take up less magic and stamina because sting also heals during battle. the reason he lost against natsu in the grand magic games was because he was too busy fangirling and got shy😔

♡ because sting and rogue's magics are reliant on light and shadow, their environment affects them significantly more than the other dragon slayers. sting gets much weaker fighting at night, while rogue gets significantly stronger. their power levels fluctuate more than say wendy's, because she almost always has access to lots of oxygen. wendy probably gets affected the least by environmental changes, followed by gajeel and natsu, then laxus and cobra (lightning and poison aren't as accessible as metal and fire), and finally sting and rogue.

#oh my god I wrote something #I'm curious to hear other ppl's thoughts abt power scaling in fairy tail bc it's so whacky #lychee writes #fairy tail #fairy tail headcanons #natsu dragneel #mirajane strauss #laxus dreyar #erza scarlet #gray fullbuster #lucy heartfilia #wendy marvell #gajeel redfox #sting eucliffe #rogue cheney

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draculasfavoritewife · 6 months ago

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Wild Honey

Summary: Gale is one stubborn son of a bitch, but if anyone could get him to open up, it's always been you.

Pairing: Gale Hawthorne x fem!District 12!Reader

Warnings: ANGST. Idiots miscommunicating and falling out. Heavy tension, sensuality, and implied smut at the end. Also by far the most sexually charged eating scene I have ever yet written, SO sorry everyone, that really deserves its own separate disclaimer lmao. Ye have been warned.

I would like to preface this by saying I know Gale stans sometimes receive hate, and while I do not condone his more problematic actions, I do deeply understand why he is the way he is -- most of my favorite characters in any franchise have done morally challenging things, but I will always fall in love with a survivor, and most times in dystopian fiction survival is messy and comes at the cost of someone else's. It is also worth mentioning that I was watching Hunger Games during one of the most difficult periods of my life a year ago, when a loved one's life was hanging in the balance and Gale became the comfort character I turned to in order to cope. He will always hold a particularly fond place in my heart 🖤

tl;dr -- If you don't like Gale Hawthorne, feel free to not read. No reason to be mean to anyone :)

*Takes place during Catching Fire

He hasn’t been the same since she came back.

That much is clear to anyone two degrees north of blindness. But it could be anything, really. His work in the mines is draining on both body and soul, the added responsibility of being the Everdeen family’s sole provider as well as his own would exhaust anyone.

Yet Gale Hawthorne is probably the only one who could still be standing tall at this point, his proud stride never faltering, shoulders broad enough to hold up all of Panem if he had to.

The man’s just tired, people say.

Tired and angry at the world, let him be.

What else is new?

Gale has been wearier than a young man should be and angrier than most could know for as long as you’ve been part of his life.

It’s not that.

No, it’s the sadness darkening his gray-blue eyes and the new tightness in his full lips that you see setting in whenever he looks at her. Whenever her eyes dart away to seek out Peeta’s instead, or stare straight through him at the phantoms of horrors he would never quite understand. You see him reaching out more often, trying anything and everything to bridge the yawning rift that has opened up between him and Katniss ever since her return, and see how with each misplaced gesture, every time he tries to be soft, another piece of him turns to stone inside.

And it breaks you, to watch and know you can do absolutely nothing about it.

You’re surprised to find him hunting alone the next time you go out beyond the fence; you would have assumed she was with him as she usually is. You’ve known Gale at least as long as she has, but perhaps the fact that you don’t rely on him for sustenance has made the two of you less likely to travel together.

And besides, whatever complicated relationship the two of them had, you had never wanted to insert yourself into that mess.

But for whatever reason, today he is alone, anger and something deeper sharply visible in the movements of his nimble fingers as they field-dress a wild turkey on the floor of the small clearing you’ve emerged into, his brow furrowed and mouth harsh.

You say nothing for several minutes as you pull your bow and quiver from their stash, testing the pull of the string, fiddling with a crooked fletching on one of your arrows. Your relationship has always been different from what he has with Katniss — you would be lying if you said you weren’t sometimes jealous of how much time she gets him to herself, but you also doubt that he talks to her the way he does to you.

There are pros and cons to not needing him in the same ways.

“What?” he snaps when you’ve stood there too long; he knows you’re too efficient to need that much time to prepare your gear.

You shoulder your bow, staring down at those heavy eyebrows, long ebony lashes, and the rainy-sky eyes that are still stubbornly avoiding yours.

“I don’t know, Gale. You tell me.”

He sighs, long and annoyed. “You’re gonna stand there all day if I don’t, aren’t you.”

You give a noncommittal noise and make a show of leaning against a tree to keep watch for Peacekeepers while he finishes his work.

The thanks you get for that is little more than a grunt. “Well don’t get comfortable, I’m almost done. And keep up — I still need more than this or we’ll have a lean few days.”

“When have I ever not kept up with you, Hawthorne?” You raise your eyebrows at him, playfully miffed.

There it is, the cocky smirk that pulls one corner of his pretty mouth slightly higher than the other. “That a challenge, Spark?”

You roll your eyes in mock disdain of the nickname he’s used forever (“because you’re small, but I know you’ve got a blaze in there somewhere” he’d half-teased). “Why, are you gonna try and run away from me?”

It’s his turn to shrug. “How badly do you want to talk, I guess?” He’s loading the bird’s carcass into his satchel, wiping off his hunting knife and preparing to head out.

A quick grab and you’ve shouldered the bag instead, ensuring he can’t abandon you now without also abandoning his prize. “Pretty damn badly, I guess.”

Gale huffs a breath out through his nose. “God, you’re stubborn.”

“Look who’s talking.” You brush past him, aiming for a deer trail that takes you through some hidden haunts that usually yield rabbits and even some bigger game on occasion. “Now come on, spill. You’ve been acting more pissed than usual, and that’s saying something.”

“Hm. Very funny.” He easily lifts his own hunting gear once more and falls into step behind you. “Hunt first. Talk later. I’ll be even more pissed if we scare off our dinner.”

You turn and give him a brisk nod, grinning to yourself when you face forward again.

It may not sound like much, but that was practically a promise that he will talk to you eventually.

And you’re nothing if not patient enough to outlast him.

The times the two of you have hunted together, your ambition and his tenacity tend to be a deadly combination, and as luck would have it, a rare buck deer had crossed your path today, resulting in an even more substantial promise of survival than the turkey. As the two of you worked quickly to prepare the carcass for packing it out, you could feel the tension ebbing away between you, could tell by the way Gale’s strong shoulders relaxed and his jaw unclenched that the immediate worry of ensuring his mother and younger siblings had enough to eat this week had faded.

He would never say as much out loud, but you know it keeps him up at night when they do go hungry, can imagine how he must pace the floors of his house at night, cursing himself for falling short of the herculean standards that the loss of his father set upon him.

He should be able to sleep somewhat peacefully tonight, knowing they will survive another day thanks to him.

“That was a good shot,” he says after a while of working in silence, and there’s a deep-running warmth threaded through his tone. “You really slowed him down.”

You shove his shoulder, making him laugh and then scold you for jostling him with a knife in his hands. “Not so shabby on that killing shot yourself, Hawk-eyes. You’ll have food for awhile.”

“You’re not getting away without some of it,” he insists. “It’s as much yours as mine.”

And because you know refusing Gale an act of service is a surefire way to start an argument and guarantee his sullen silence again, you agree that you’ll take a sizable portion back to your family when the two of you head back. Placated for the time being, he finally lets his tongue run — about how he’s managing in the mines, what his siblings have been up to, how even in the midst of his exhaustion, he still lives for the end of the work week when he can escape to the forest again. There are new themes of thought that surface and submerge like fish between his words, murmurs of rebellion, thoughts of standing up to the Capitol at last, but they are hushed and quickly moved on from.

No matter how much you might support him, he doesn’t want to worry you too much yet.

“What about you and Katniss?” you finally prod, trying to ignore the familiar jolt of envy that tastes so sour on your tongue whenever you say their names together in the same breath.

He stills; when his eyes flicker up to yours again they’re guarded and cold. “What about me and Katniss?”

“Well, she’s conspicuously not here with you.” You flick flyaway hairs away from your face in irritation, the damp air making them cling to your skin. “Don’t be like that, Gale. I’ve been your friend long enough to not deserve your cagey act anymore. Let me in. Please.”

He stares up at you for so long from his position kneeling on the forest floor, you standing over him, pleading him with your eyes to let someone else shoulder part of the heavy load he carries for once. And you’re struck by those traitorous thoughts again in the silvery silence — how unreasonably lovely he is, with that sharply angled jawline, and those softly curving lips, that thick dark hair you’ve always secretly wanted to tangle your fingers in as he leans down, your name on his tongue and a teasing glint in his melancholy eyes —

“I think I made a mistake,” he finally mutters. “I know I can’t understand fully what she’s seen or who she is now, but is it completely wrong of me to just wish things didn’t have to change?”

The man who means more to you than anything has never looked more lost and uncertain than in this moment of admission, and you sink to your knees in front of him, suddenly overtaken by a wave of softness that takes a second to fully process. “I’m sorry, Gale, I am. We all change, and I know how it feels to wonder if someone still cares or not.” You shake away your own uncertainties you’ve been having ever since she came back and he’s been chasing her attentions around.

“It’s only natural to want to pick up right where you left off, I get it.”

His gaze sharpens, though the rest of his face remains calculated and unreadable. “Have I been ignoring you lately, Spark?”

It seems like a genuine question, as if running back through the last few months in his mind he now acutely senses your absence from them.

You reach out, trailing the tips of your fingers ever so lightly down his cheek. The gesture isn’t novel, you’ve used it to comfort him before, especially when you aren’t sure how much physical contact he wants on a given day, but something feels different about it today, some electric shiver passing between you that makes his mouth twitch and causes you to pull your hand away as if shocked.

“I need you too, Hawk-eyes,” you murmur, almost under your breath. “I need you.”

To your dismay, the intimate moment abruptly ends; he tears away from the echo of your touch and is on his feet again in an instant, eyes now pale and hard as ice as he smolders down at your upturned face.

Reeling with confusion and hurt, you try to understand what just happened. “Gale, wait! What did I —?”

“It’s that damn word,” he half-snarls, but you hear the raw pain bubbling beneath his attempt at anger. “Need. My family needs me, the District needs me, Katniss needs me to be there when she can’t find what she needs from anyone else. Everyone needs me, Spark.”

You stare wordlessly into his face, silently begging him to help you understand. His eyelashes glimmer with droplets from the mist and maybe something else, the anger draining away as quickly as it had appeared.

“I would just like to be here because I’m wanted for once.”

He’s gone in only a handful of long strides, the undergrowth rattling in his wake.

And you’re left alone in a space all at once too cold and quiet, wondering what the hell it will finally take to make it through those impenetrable walls and at last touch his solitary wounded heart.

The sun has sunk lower in the sky by the time you find the fallen tree beside the stream and discover its unexpected bounty. You’re not too far from where you left the deer, knowing neither you nor Gale can pack it out by yourself, but far enough away to give him space if he goes back there first.

He and his prickly attitude leave your thoughts momentarily, however, when you see the bees returning to the gutted form of the dead tree. Where there are bees there might be honey, and your mouth waters at the distant memory of that sweet, energy-filled delicacy. You swiftly fall to the work of building a small, smoky fire and holding the billowing branches underneath their main entrance, waiting for the buzzing to slow and finally fade out before carefully peeling away some of the cracked wood and extracting your prize, leaving a piece behind of course for the hardworking insects to enjoy themselves.

Wrapping the majority of the honeycomb in leaves that you know are safe to be in contact with food, you settle at last in a spot looking over the water, ready to enjoy a taste of your labors.

Closing your eyes, you let the first drop of sun-warmed sweetness land on your tongue, and the sound of appreciation that escapes your throat is shamelessly suggestive of something else.

So you freeze for a second in horror when Gale’s familiar voice rumbles through your senses.

“So is this your little secret, or were you planning to share with me?”

You compose your thudding heart and suddenly hot face, glancing up at where he now towers over you, arms crossed over his broad chest and a wicked smirk on his handsome face. By the high-tilted eyebrow that asks a sensitive question without really asking, he definitely heard you, and he wants you to know that.

So you hold eye contact with him, even as the thick honey continues to drip down, painting your tongue in cloudy golden shades of wildflower sugar.

And to your gratification, you don’t think you imagine the way his eyes dart away ever so briefly, or how his own tongue runs across his lower lip.

“I was gonna share,” you finally say, your own voice coming out slow and sticky after swallowing. “But I didn’t know where you’d run off to.”

“Hm. I’m not convinced.”

He lowers his tall body to the ground beside you, reaching for your piece of honeycomb, and because he seems to have let go of his earlier flash of annoyance, you let him take it, gaze now glued to the entrancing picture of him as he opens his own mouth and lets the sweet amber substance drizzle between his parted lips, tongue lifting to capture any stray drops that threaten to escape.

“Don’t be selfish,” you tease, but it comes out strangely heavy, and something kindles deep in your chest as his eyes slide sideways to pin themselves to yours.

It’s an oddly incriminating image almost, though you couldn’t name why, to see him stare you down like that with fresh honey glistening on his lips and fingers; he, however, doesn’t seem to feel any such sense of indignity.

Without a word, he holds the waxy section out once more, his free hand coming up to your face so that his thumb gently coaxes your lips apart again.

“You want more?” he asks, a silky hum.

You have no idea if he’s even talking about the honey anymore, but you nod anyway, too breathless at how close he is, how much bigger he is than you.

So he complies, trickles the comb’s gleaming goodness into your mouth with an intense focus that you can hear in the roughness of his hot breath as it washes across your skin. His chest is inches away from yours, one of his muscular thighs resting between your legs. You’re aware that your own breathing is turning shaky, and you gasp softly when a splash of honey rolls from the corner of your mouth and starts running down your face.

Gale is quick, but not quick enough, and though his other hand catches some of the rogue rivulet, he can only watch as the rest rolls to your chest, landing on the stretch of exposed skin right at the tops of your breasts, a single drop of gold hovering just above the scooping neckline of your black shirt, daring him to take some sort of action to solve the predicament he has caused.

His eyes move up from the now very rapid rise and fall of your chest to your widened, startled gaze.

You look like a wild animal he’s surprised on the hunt, and he now finds that he fiercely hopes whatever comes next doesn’t spook you away.

“Can I?” he whispers, honeycomb now forgotten and set aside.

You nod your assent, keeping your focus fixed on his face.

A hand approaches your body with all of the steady patience you’ve seen him exercise when stalking his prey, and the touch of two fingers to the delicate skin below your collarbone is warm and gentle. His hands are beautiful too, broad and long-fingered, the veins that hint at his great strength clearly delineated in the low-slanting sunlight.

You watch like a fascinated outside observer as those work-roughened fingers swipe the honey away, a shiver fluttering across your flesh as you feel the way he smoothly follows the swells of your bust and the dip between.

He catches the tremor he caused and pulls away, looking back up at your face even as he licks the honey from his fingertips, and you wonder what’s running through his mind, and if it’s nearly as incendiary as what that simple action sends through yours.

“Alright?”

It’s a one-word question that leaves his mouth as something like a purr, though you sense the true concern behind it.

He worries he’s gone too far, and he’d never forgive himself if he pushed you into anything you didn’t want, no matter how small.

He cares about you too much for that.

“Yes.” You blink and gather your scattered thoughts. “Better than alright. Gale…?”

He leans even closer, bringing your faces only a mere breath apart.

The blue-gray eyes have gone as feathery soft as mist in the early morning, and the sight makes your chest ache with something you cannot quite name.

“You didn’t get all of it. I’m still sticky.”

Gale searches your expression for confirmation, wary of his next move. “You know what you’re asking?”

Your hands are on his chest now, and you can feel that despite his much more outwardly collected demeanor, his heart is beating just as hard as yours.

“I want your help,” you tell him firmly, and you feel the way that simple word, want, finally pierces his armor, makes him twitch like the bite of a gnat.

So he bends down, and the moment his mouth connects with your chest, time stops.

It’s a lightning strike, crackling through your entire body.

His lips are cool, chilled by the evening air, and they’re every bit as perfect as you’ve always imagined. You could stay there forever in the mesmerizing trap of his kiss, but the addition of his sultry tongue, sweeping a slow track along the path his fingers had gone only a few minutes before, is what fully unravels you, sending his name from your own mouth in a whine and prompting one of your hands to slide up his neck and into his hair — and it, too, is everything you’ve dreamed of, dense and wild and begging to be tamed by your grasping desperation. He growls in surprise at the unexpected sensation of your fingernails, but you feel rather than hear it, the vibrations of his voice thrumming deep inside your body.

You know the entire exchange must only take a few minutes, but it seems like an eternity that he’s there, sucking the honey trail from your skin, his still-sticky fingers leaving behind more prints that he also endeavors to remove. You pull his body closer to yours, until it seems you breathe one breath, share one heartbeat as he rocks you back and forth with the barely restrained desire to push you over until he can cover you completely.

But it can be deadly to lose concentration in the woods, especially so close to nightfall, and regretfully the pair of you pull away in unspoken agreement, staring at each other and trying to understand fully what just happened.

“We should get a move on,” Gale finally huffs. “That deer won’t carry itself.”

Temperamental, taciturn Gale.

Always concerned with the practical side of things.

No more words are exchanged between the two of you as you pack up the day’s yield and slip back into the somewhat relative safety of the Seam. The meat is stored away at Gale’s house (he knows you’ll come back for your share, or else he’ll find you and force you to take it) and at last there is really nothing more left to do, so you step out the door and into the lengthening shadows.

When you look back, however, he’s still standing there in the doorframe, and there’s a tentative curiosity written across his face, a reluctance to have this be goodnight and goodbye until his next free day.

And you could lie and say you don’t feel the same way, but you and Gale have never lied to each other.

“What?” you tease, echoing his demand of much earlier.

He opens his mouth, then closes it again and shrugs helplessly. “I…I don’t know, Spark. Where do you want…this…to go?”

You ponder that, taking in the familiar sight of him with warm fondness. He looks tired, shoulders slouched and face smudged with gray dust from the mines, but there’s something different there tonight, a fragile hope behind his resting sullen expression, some aura about him that pleads with you not to leave him alone tonight.

Even a man as strong as Gale Hawthorne has his limits.

So you give in to temptation.

“The washtub at my house is bigger, you know. And we both could use a hand cleaning up.”

He steps down from the threshold to follow you back to your home.

You know what you’re really offering to him.

And so does he.

When you wake with first light, he’s already long gone. Only the dip in the other side of your worn mattress remains to suggest another body was actually there.

You’re not surprised, and not really hurt. He has his job to get back to, after all, a family to feed and a whole village to look after. But you wonder briefly, after having watched him fall asleep with his arms wrapped around you and his face hidden in your chest, long eyelashes leaving butterfly kisses against your flesh, what it would be like to watch him wake up, too.

You imagine his eyes are even prettier then, hazy with sleep and not yet hardened to withstand the day’s toils ahead.

Last night feels like a strange dream of lukewarm water and skin on skin, sporadically interspersed with starkly clear images of his well-muscled form and those clever hands traveling across the width and breadth of yours. When you close your eyes you can still feel his heavy weight on top of you, pressing you deeper into the mattress, and you feel oddly empty and untethered now in its absence.

Only the dark blossoms his mouth left behind on your body and a selection of new — but not unpleasant — aches tells you that what you shared was in fact as real as this morning.

What it means going forward, you don’t know.

But you don’t regret a single moment of it.

As you dress and prepare to head out for the day, your mother’s voice calls you into the main room. “One of the younger Hawthorne children brought you something — said it’s from your friend.”

You see it there on the table, a folded scrap of rough paper and a single daisy, still fresh enough to mean he probably cut it on his way back to his house.

A small smile creeps across your lips as you unfold the note.

Spark —

I don’t want this to be just a one-time thing. At least, not if you feel that way too.

Sorry I had to go. I wish I could have stayed.

You may not need me to survive, but you made me realize something.

I need you.

— Gale

Hastily re-folding the paper, you tuck it away into your shirt pocket, close to your heart.

Stubborn Gale Hawthorne.

He’d never been much of a talker, so you know just how much those simple three words at the end of his message really mean.

For the man who needs no one to admit he can’t go on without you?

He might as well rival the old poets in their epic declarations of love.

Gale is much like the wild honey that started all of this, you realize, as you snatch a piece of the comb on your way out into the harsh world beyond. Once you manage to get past his defensive sting, there are so many intoxicating flavors to taste within.

And whatever he still needs to work out with Katniss….

He doesn’t want this to be a one-time thing.

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