#ask desert eagle

[nukacourier]

do you have anything for long range combat? i go for the eyes if i have a good chance to hit. overall stay as far away from the deathclaw as possible, you try melee and youre dead

I did it!!! It just took a million tries since a lot of the combat is based on chance

Dogmeat actually did the killing blow funnily enough lmao

[sunsburns]

i have a thought, and it might be silly, but i have always wondered what a little bit of ‘innocent’ gunplay would be like with wade wilson. (18+)

he doesn’t seem like the type to be opposed to it if you asked, he might look at your a little funny at first, and make a joke or two, but once he notices the sincerity in your tone, his eyes light up like a fucking christmas tree. he's already running to your shared closet, skipping and pulling out his gold-plated fifty-calibre desert eagle pistol arrows (yes, the ones he stole from nicepool).

wade kisses you like it’s the first time all over again, a little nervous around the edges, but he looms over you with enough confidence which makes you moan into his mouth.

“oh, fuck, baby, this is the nastiest thing i’ve ever seen,”he huffs out between a laugh and a groan, holding the handle of the gun near his crotch while slowly pushing the barrel near your inviting mouth. your tongue peaks out, sticking the tip of it into the muzzle and wade enthusiastically moans. “so dirty, oh my god. we’re gonna have to get you checked for lead poisoning.”

you pull away, a playful roll to your eyes with a tinge of annoyance, “wade-“

he snorts, “sorry, i’m just a chatty bitch tonight, huh? i still can’t believe this is happening,” he pats your cheek lovingly, slowly easing you back to his gun, watching your lips part wider and take as much of it in as you can. “go on, hotstuff. suck it like you mean it.”

and you do, eyes fluttering shut as you run your tongue along the bottom of the barrel, letting the muzzle scratch at your throat. you sputter when wade pushes your head in before pulling you back, watching your spit dribble and drip, the gold sparkling under the dim lighting of the lamp next to you.

you can feel the way your panties grow damp, spot the way his dick twitches in his sweats that are resting far too low on his hips. and with the way wade is smiling at you, a little breathless, far too silent, you can’t help but grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him into a deep, hot, and messy kiss, where your teeth clash and your tongues explore each other.

wade pushes you down on the bed, running his free hand over your skin before it settles by your jaw. his other hand trails the barrel of the gun up your inner thigh, a delighted giggle escaping him when you moan and arch your hips when he presses the weapon against your clothes pussy. “you like that, huh? shit, i wish you would've told me about this kink of yours sooner. would’ve fucked you with my gun a long time ago-“

“wade.”

“right. sorry, i’m just so horny right now. you’re better than porn at this point. so sexy. i haven’t been this hard since puberty.”

[princesssmars]

desert eagle

another rodeo!abby x reader | p.i

seeing the star of the rodeo secretly in the night has been fun, but things start to get tense from miscommunication. but it’s amateur bull night down at the cow belle, and you’ve still got a few tricks up your sleeve.

wc : 2.619

contains : fluff. reader is hard headed. jealousy? fxf smut. strap on sorry to the people sick of it </3

a/n : you thought it was over ahaaaaa. wdym part one was in APRIL i suck at this. why are all of the desert eagle position pictures slightly different its pissing me off.

truly, everything currently going wrong was all abby anderson's fault.

it's a humid saturday night at the cow belle, and you're pouting while nursing a beer as your friends chatter around you. they'd taken you out to your favorite spot to try to brighten your spirits after noticing your sour mood, hoping some alcohol, dancing, and flirting would fix you right up.

but it was hopeless, for a dark cloud seemed to be hanging over your head the whole night. an annoying, sweet-talking, six-foot, blonde braided cloud.

it was established after your first extremely hot and extremely long night together with abby a few weeks ago that you both had an understanding. no strings, no attachments, no labels. you weren't gonna let a big beautiful woman butter you up only to leave you in a ditch, not after the last time. you'd go to the other's house, have rough messy sex, and maybe have some nice conversation, before heading your own way and repeating it the next week. no more and no less.

but god, you should've known it wouldn't last. ever since that first night when her silky smooth drawl convinced you to stay just a bit longer, to sleep in her bed with her shirt on! you might as well have woken up and cooked her breakfast in bed with a 'good morning, honey.'

who could blame you really? ever since you'd set eyes on abby anderson you knew she was something else, a beautiful force of nature that wouldn't budge until she wrecked you so thoroughly. at the time you were as horny as a coyote in may and saw that as just what you needed, a prized golden notch on your belt. a completely different way from what you do now.

right now you were trying to telepathically burn holes into the back of her beautiful head as she flirted with that hussy donna mayfair, an admittedly gorgeous girl with a big personality, big hair, and big...well, y'know. you look down at your chest and slightly straighten your back before roughly shaking your head after realizing this damn woman has you comparing yourself to a mayfair! of all people! the thought only upsets you more and you down the nearest drink to you, ignoring your friend's whine at the loss of her whiskey.

the small and reasonable part of your brain knows you have no right to be upset. after all, it was you who just a week ago insisted to a blushing abby that you truly did want to just keep things casual. you felt bad a little bit, she'd shown up to your hookup flushed and high off of another rodeo win with a tiny bouquet of your favorite flowers, explaining when you asked how she knew that she noticed them on the motif of your favorite pair of figure-hugging jeans. the bastard.

the relaxed but downcast look she wore after your rejection is a stark contrast to how she looks now, pearly whites showing when she throws her head back at some joke donna told, a large hand coming to rest on the redhead's waist. you can see her preening, foot nearly popping up as she swoons over the female goliath giving her all of her attention. it's enough to make you throw up. or maybe it was drinking all that busch light. whatever.

you must not have been very discreet with your glances because suddenly blue eyes are lifting up and focusing on yours, the shock of being caught forcing you still as your finger circles the rim of your next glass. you try to keep normal 'we're two normal people and definitely not recently gone sour fuck buddies' eye contact, but your body betrays you when your eyes flick down to her hand still on donna's waist. when you look at her again the corner of her lip is quirked up, never looking away as she pulls the redhead in closer and whispers something in her ear, the girl visibly going weak in the knees while abby licks her lips-

"well slap my ass and call me sally, come over here hon!" your darling charlize breaks you out of your..whatever that was and picks you up from your stool to drag you over to the event area, a few people drinking while gathered around the brand new bucking machine as one of the bar hands tinkers with the controls.

"what about it char, 'm really not in the mood..."

"oh don't be such a sourpuss, jus look at this!" she gently grips your chin and tilts your head to a nearby wall, a small white poster detailing a month-long mechanical bull contest as soon as the thing was completed, and each winner would get free drinks and $500 cash prize.

"jeez, since when did the belle bring in bucks like that?"

"doesn't matter. in one weeks time you're gonna put on a hot little outfit and win us those free drinks. and hopefully the cash takes your mind off of your situationship."

"oh yeah? and what makes you think I'm gonna be the one to win?"

"honey, ive seen the most hardass women look at you like well-trained pups. you've gotta be the best ride i know.”

so a week later you’re back in the same spot, hair pulled up and donned in your cropped and tied plaid shirt and your cutest pair of daisy dukes as you wrote your name down on the sheet of others trying to win the prize.

your friends are gathered around you, ever the voices of support as they fuss over you and give you words of encouragement. and while you do smile and laugh with them you can’t help from occasionally looking at abby, back with donna as her group hangs around the edge of the bull area.

“y’know i’ve never heard of someone bagging a hot ass woman, rejecting a relationship with said woman, and then pining over and trying to make that same woman jealous.” savannah fixes your hair while judging you, making sure it won’t get in your face so you can see what you’re doing while up there.

“stop questioning me, i’ve already been doing that myself.” your mumble makes the girls laugh before one of the workers comes to tell you that you’re up after the next person. you give them a nod before walking over to the small gate that leads to the bill, right next to-

“hey, looks like our little buckle bunny is gonna ride an actual bull! make sure to give us a nice show, huh bonita?”

you can’t help but smile when manny comes up beside you to throw an arm over your shoulder, nudging your body with his. the rest of his friends are here of course, including she who shall not be named with her new beau at her side.

“you’re gonna ride the new bull? well i hope you know what you’re doing, don’t want you to end up getting hurt now.” donna asks, grasping your hand in hers with a genuinely worried look on her face. damn it, now you were starting to feel bad.

“now don’t you worry, hon. i’ve got quite a bit of experience in riding.” you throw a wink her way before looking at abby next to her, not noticing the flustered look on donna when all you can do is revel in how you caught abby staring at your exposed stomach. before you can try to tease her about it your name is being called up and you're heading into the pit.

you graciously accept one of the workers' help to get you up on the bull, ignoring some of the catcalls that ring out when your shorts ride up an inch or two. you make sure to do everything you've seen others do (and maybe you watched a certain someone's videos to prepare yourself), steadying your dominant hand on the saddle while your free hand is raised above your head.

the experience is fast and hard just like you like it, the bull spinning and bucking so fast its almost enough to make you dizzy. as much as the cheers of fellow patrons make you want to look up and revel in it, you know you need to watch the bulls head to prepare for each time it turns, thighs tightly squeezing its sides. it's only when you hear the timer start to count down from ten that you look at everyone again, blowing a quick kiss to the blonde that's staring you down.

once the machine stops moving you are helped off and guided back to your incredibly loud friends, all happy to hype you up and start planning how much of the expensive high shelf drinks they wanna get. when you're announced as the winner only a few minutes later the night quickly becomes one filled with dancing and laughter.

you wave goodbye to your friends as their truck speeds away from your street, blowing you kisses as they yell for you to have a good night's sleep. you can't help but smile as you place your bag down in your kitchen, ready to wash the sweat from dancing off your body before sleeping through the night. unfortunately, some absolute boar decided now would be a good time to come knocking at your door."

"alright alright, im comin'!" your shouts do nothing to dissuade the steady banging against your door, nearly slipping on your hardwood floors as you rush to undo the locks and see who it is. "i really hope i owe you some money or else i'll"

"or else you'll what?" the sound of abbys voice makes you freeze, the woman resting against the doorway with one hand in her pocket and the other above your head. you need to blink away your surprise at not only her being here but the fact she is now only a few inches from you, close enough that you can smell her signature scent of pine-

"can i come in? or are you gonna keep teasing me like you did at the bar?"

"i did no such thing, you must have me confused with one of your many other flings." you flippantly address her as you turn around back into your home, hearing her quickly trail behind you and lock your door.

"ohh you'd like that, wouldn't you? gives you a reason to be so difficult for no damn reason."

you ignore her words as you head into your kitchen and retrieve yourself a glass from the cabinet, pouring yourself some water and downing it in a few gulps. jesus it's hot, is she hot? she doesn't seem so, minus the fact the sleeves of her shirt are rolled up and straining against her arms.

"no, i was in fact celebrating my win if you didn't notice. although I'm pretty sure you did, it'd be hard to miss my brilliant technique. maybe i can give you a few tips, i watched some of your shows and honestly hon, you're a bit sloppy."

you try to keep your tone cool while she moves closer and closer to you, eventually taking your empty glass and setting it down before placing both of her arms on either side of you, caging you into the counter, and blue eyes darting between yours and your lips while you speak.

"so you've been watchin my videos, huh? i'd invite you to actually come watch me, like I've already done before, but that would require you to stop ignoring me."

"you had donna mayfair to keep you company, i really doubt you noticed i was gone-"

she kisses you to shut you up, and you really wish you could've said you resisted her for long, that you didn't throw your arms around her neck and wrapped your legs around her waist as soon as she set her palms on your ass. you don't have the time to be embarrassed when shes carries you to your bedroom, removes your clothes before she does the same to her own, and reveals the strap she'd been wearing for who knows how long.

"yeah, not so mouthy now, are you?" abby smiles from above you, admiring how fast she's got you fucked out beneath her while you erratically lift your hips up to meet her short and shallow thrusts. the crooks of her elbows are helping to hold your legs in the air, your hands gripping your thighs to help give her easier access as she pounds into you.

"ab's, fuck, please."

"please what? use your words, beautiful."

"please, 'm sorry i won't ignore you again just- just do something, anything."

she puts on a sickly sweet lovestruck smile, and whispers a small 'god, you're lucky you're cute," before starting to fuck you exactly how she knows you like it. it's fast and hard, yes, but there's a hint of something more in the way she stares at you, how you lift your head for a kiss and she gives it to you without a second thought.

your hands start to claw at her waist, gripping the muscle to try to bring her impossibly closer every time her hips meet yours and her strap presses into that spot that makes your eyes damn near cross.

before you know it your orgasm is creeping up fast, unable to say it but of course, abby can tell regardless, how the resistance between your legs steadily increases and how your moans turn into desperate little whimpers.

"c'mon, you can do it. cum for me sweet girl."

all you can do is shake in her arms like a petal on a leaf, moaning and mewling up to the high heavens as abby pushes you through your orgasm, not stopping her thrusts until you weakly push at her arms to signal her to stop.

you fade in and out of consciousness while she takes care of you, the feeling of a rag cleaning your skin and more water being guided to your mouth all seeming to happen in a few seconds. when she finishes you blink your eyes open at her, admiring just how pretty she always seems to look after taking away your ability to walk.

you stare at each other for a moment, her palm coming to fix a few stray hairs on your face before you reach up to grab it and pull her into bed beside you. you pull the covers above the both of you, ignoring her raised eyebrows and know it all smirk.

"well, im not rude enough to send you home after all of that. might as well make yourself comfortable."

she chuckles, reaching over to turn off your bedside lamp before cuddling you from behind, her soft skin like its own blanket against yours.

"whatever you say, bunny."

when you wake up in the morning it's from the gentle rays of the sun peeking through your curtain and into your eyes, the smell of coffee and bacon quickly filling your nostrils when you notice your...partner, isn't in bed with you.

quickly throwing on a robe and padding your way into the kitchen, you can't help the warm feeling that grows inside of you at a shirtless abby pouring two cups of coffee while two plates of a small breakfast are already plated on your table.

you come up behind her and wrap your arms around her waist, pressing a kiss to her shoulder when she slightly jumps at the surprise.

"mmm let me guess, you remember how i like my coffee too?"

"i'll remember whatever you want me to, sweet thing."

and right about now that didnt sound too bad.

[coughloop]

seeing my dogs ears perk up and asking what it hears and it barks perfectly mimicking the sound of gunshot fired from a desert eagle held in the left hand

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

❤ Yandere Boss ❤

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female reader

WARNINGS: Noncon.

--

◾ Yandere!Boss who is an objective, short-tempered man.

Many people perceive him as rude and impolite, but in reality he’s just someone who doesn’t have patience or the desire for pleasantries or small-talk. He can’t afford to lose time with whatever social bullshit people like to entertain themselves with. 

He built his company from scratch, his hard-work elevating a practically fundless start-up into what is nowadays a highly-profitable corporate business. 

He - unlike those nepo-babies - is a self-made businessman, his net-worth going little beyond the billions. 

◾ Yandere!Boss who demands his employees to do their absolute best when it comes to their work performance.

Mistakes have no place in his organization and he’s rather ruthless about them, loudly berating at cowering employees for being ignorant and careless. 

He’s personally involved with even the smallest task, eagle-eyes looking out for any possible mistakes.

◾ Yandere!Boss who, despite his frightening behavior, is someone who’ll fight for the work force’s right, arguing left and right with board members for the chance of raising paychecks. 

Good and effective employees should get rewarded, that’s his filosofie.

◾ Yandere!Boss who gets a tingle of annoyance when you join his office.

Fresh from college, unnecessary optimism coloring your features as you wander around the hallways. That hideous glow of pure innocence that you carry around making his hand twitch, fingers just itching to grab your pretty neck. 

He gets so frustrated at how childish you are. The way you see the world - so bright and perfect - is far from the ugly distorted reality.

You see the world through magical, rose-tinted glasses while he sees it as it truly is. Life isn’t a fairytale and there are no charming princes coming to the rescue. 

◾ Yandere!Boss who fucking hates the way you act all offended when he says hurtful truths, that know-it-all look plastered on your face. As if you know more about business - his business - than him. 

Sometimes he abruptly stops the conversation and leaves, before his anger gets the best of him and he ends up doing something he regrets. 

◾ Yandere!Boss who just finds himself in his office, deeply zoning out thanks to the help of a cup of whisky. His mind plagued with the fantasies of manhandling you, to fuck the illusions out of you.

To fuck the snobby attitude from you, pounding your little hole till you’re all sore and ruined, his cum leaking from you.

To make you scream - plead for mercy - until your throat is horse and your voice breaks, that stupidly nasally voice of yours. 

◾ Yandere!Boss who’ll dwell a personal vendetta against you, carefully following every single action of yours, preying on the tiniest mistakes as a way to shout at you.

It’s either a calculation mistake in one of your presentations, a poorly structured report or even an unsatisfying answer to a question he asked you. 

He’s so done with you, his mind set on showing how the real world works. That mistakes have consequences. 

◾ Yandere!Boss who won’t care if you threaten to complain to HR about him forcing you to stay over hours to complete sudden tasks you were given at the last minute.

As if he’d care about HR - it’s his company for fuck’s sake. What are they gonna do?

Kick him out when he’s the one signing their paychecks? 

◾ Yandere!Boss who has enough of your “better than everyone” bullshit and snaps.

Thank god that the office was desert, no one in sight otherwise he’d be in big trouble as he grabs you by the neck, violently dragging you to the safety of his private dark-windows office. 

Once he’s got you in that spacious room, he’ll waste no time in tossing you to his desk, disregarding the wail you let out when your body slams against the wooden desk, your poor hip colliding on the hard edge.

Your pathetic attempts to push him away barely bother him, his body stronger with adrenaline and excitement as he’s finally gotten his hands on you. 

◾ Yandere!Boss who wastes no time in shoving himself inside you, burying himself into that dry naive pussy that has been troubling him for all these months.

Rewarded by the irrelevant weeping that slips from your shaking figure as he absolutely rails you, his strong hands digging into your flesh as he mercilessly pounds into you. 

Doesn’t care if you’re hurting or not, because this will give you an important life lesson for you to learn. That you’re not above anyone. Shattering your pink pretty dreams is the wisest lesson he has to offer you. Maybe then you’ll be less of a spoiled delusional brat. 

◾ Yandere!Boss that fucks you more than a few times, his stamina never lowering even after he’s cummed several times inside you. Doesn’t care that you’re incredibly sore and barely conscious, your body limp in his arms.

You gotta give him what he’s owed for dealing with your annoying ass so many times.

All those times he had to restrain himself from giving you a nasty slap to your face, just to see if some intelligence could be activated. He needs to get all of that hatred out of his system and he will. 

◾ Yandere!Boss who leaves you with a bruised pussy and battered spirit after he’s done with you, giving you a warning look before leaving the office.

He certainly hopes that you’ve learnt your lesson but if you haven’t, he won’t complain about teaching you some manners again. 

[theharddeck]

start the new year right (jake seresin x f!reader)

pairing: jake hangman seresin x fem!reader (no y/n)

synopsis: what could be worse than a delayed flight with lost luggage? driving back to san diego with your nemesis. and what could be worse than that? the car breaking down in the middle of the night, on new years eve. and of course, the motel couldn't have a 2BR room available...

word count: 8.2k

warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI: explicit PiV sex, oral sex (f!receiving), bc of who i am as a person overstimulation, not the BEST communication/consent, but everything is consensual! it's just implied; normally i'm better about explicitly asking and confirming

A/N: happy new year, friends! what would my year be, if not ending with me sitting down with a stanley of chamomile and writing more than i've written the whole previous month? hope this new year is gentle to y'all.

Natasha: Hey girl! Just got an alert that your transfer flight was delayed? Are you good?

You: ‘good’ as in ‘safe’, ya

You: ‘good’ as in ‘en route’, not so much. They overbooked the flight and the next one they have available is Wednesday morning

Natasha: nooooooo

You: At least my luggage is on its way to SAN… I’m considering renting a car and just making the drive from Vegas myself

Natasha: I love you and I trust you

Natasha: but an overnight drive by yourself after an already-long day is not the move

You: ugh I know, but i don’t know what else to do

Natasha: …mkay i have a solution but it’s not the one you want

You: let’s have it

Natasha: jake’s flight also rerouted through LAS

You: absolutely not

Nat: you didn’t even hear the actual plan!!

You: if it involves me and hangman, the answer is no

Natasha: it’s just a five hour drive, you can be adults/play nice with each other for five hours

You: when has Hangman ever been an adult about anything

Natasha: fair point

Natasha: but he is also currently texting me saying he’s stranded

Natasha: you know one-way car rentals are stupid expensive

Natasha: and he likes to drive so maybe you could sleep on the way

You: stop being logical

Natasha: i do not want to get a call from the nevada state police when you fall asleep behind the wheel on New Years Eve in the middle of the Mojave

You: good, add a guilt trip to the mix

Natasha: is it working

Me: …

You: it’s working

Natasha: (Ryan Gosling!Ken gif: SUBLIME!) 

You: lol

You: ugh okay text me his number

Natasha: can’t believe that after 8 months stationed at the same base you don’t have his number

Natasha: mkay just sent

Natasha: you have to promise not to kill each other

// 

Three hours later, you were really glad you hadn’t made any promises to Nat that you couldn’t keep. 

Because not only had Jake insisted on renting a truck (“I need the legroom!”), and that you didn’t need to stop in Barstow for gas (“trust me, sugar, I’m an Eagle Scout–I know we can make it to east LA”), the gas-guzzling monstrosity had fizzled out somewhere between exits along the 15.

Now the hood was smoking, there was no way you were getting your security deposit back, and you were just as stranded as you’d been when you first texted Natasha from the airport. 

Only now you were in the middle of the desert, and your phone was almost dead.

Four hours later, you had walked three miles back to the last exit and were checking into a truly shady motel, straight up refusing to talk to Jake because somehow, incomprehensibly, the only room available was one with one (1) king bed. 

Four and a half hours later, you were dripping wet, trying not to shiver because the shower you took to warm yourself up had backfired, since the motel towels were basically handkerchiefs and your wet skin made the room seem extra cold. You hadn’t wanted to wear your airport clothes to bed, but since your luggage was already in San Diego, that left you with just a cropped tee and boyshorts. 

“You okay in there?”

You glared at your reflection in the foggy mirror, since Jake was on the other side of the door.

The audacity of him.

When you’d first met Jake “Hangman” Seresin, you’d been determined to endear yourself to him.

He was a couple years older than you, and pretty close to infamous after that stunt he pulled in eastern Europe a few years ago. He was ruthless and reckless and good enough to get away with both, and you’d hoped that if you befriended him, he could teach you a thing or two during your own time at Top Gun. 

And he was ridiculously beautiful, which maybe – maybe – had your admiration veering slightly into crush territory. But you’d locked that down, determined to view him platonically, and not let that get in the way of any instruction he could give. 

Of course, the first words out of his mouth had been “Honey, you gotta know there’s easier ways to get your MRS degree than to become a naval aviator.”

Your crush and respect had evaporated on the North Island breeze, and it’d been downhill from there.  

You had no idea why, but he had been openly antagonistic at any given moment since then — doubting your competence but disguising it as care for your safety, and tagging a misogynistic “sweetheart” at the end of every condescending sentence. You’d ignored him as much as you could, hoping he’d get that he wasn’t in Dallas anymore, and that shit didn’t fly with you, but that had only egged him on. 

But now you were exhausted, cold, stranded in the middle of the desert, and practically naked to boot, and he had the gall to act like he cared if you lived or died. 

“I’m fine, Hangman,” you said, swinging open the bathroom door and beelining for the bed, hoping you could get to it fast enough that Jake wouldn’t make a comment.

Or before your tits froze off, at least. 

You didn’t look over at him as you dove under the covers, trying your hardest not to think about the last time these sheets had been washed, much less bleached.

Of course, the comforter was tucked into the foot of the bed, and you wrestled with it for a few moments before giving up, and hauling the topsheet up over your body. It was paper thin, but it was a semblance of covering, and you lay stock-still, closing your eyes and hoping sleep would magically deliver you away from this situation. 

A moment later, the bathroom door opened and shut again. 

You could hear the sounds of Jake brushing his teeth with the toothbrush and toothpaste you had bought from the “concierge” in the lobby (a relic of a man who looked like he did Civil War reenactments for fun, and seemed highly amused by your outrage at the available accommodations). 

You would’ve passed the time on your phone, but the last of your battery had given up the ghost while you were in the shower. 

A minute or two passed, and the bathroom door opened and closed. From behind your closed eyelids, you could hear Jake shuffle over to the lightswitch, and then he stopped. 

You waited. 

He didn’t move. 

“What do you need, Seresin?” you asked, tersely. 

“Are you cold?” 

Your eyes popped open, wincing at the brightness of the lights, still overhead. A quick glance down at your body made your skin heat – your tee was skin tight, and the thin topsheet did little to cover you; you crossed your arms over your chest, hiding your pebbled nipples, continuing to stare at the ceiling and avoid eye contact with Jake. 

“You could turn off the lights,” you muttered. 

Technically, the cold wasn’t his fault. 

But it was his stubbornness that got you here, so that had to count for something. 

“I was just asking–” Jake started, and you interrupted him.

“It’s the desert in December,” you snapped, “yet, for some reason, this motel has the AC on; of course I’m cold.”

As if on cue, the machine in the windowsill rumbled to life. 

You closed your eyes. “Please, just turn off the light.”

The light switch flicked off, and if it were anyone else, you’d have appreciated the immediacy of the response.

But it was Jake, and he didn’t merit any kind of gratitude, so you didn’t say ‘thank you’.

Silence stretched. 

You heard a rustling, and a moment later, you felt something land on your upper body. You flinched, pulling the material away from you on instinct, and identifying it by touch as Jake’s sweatshirt. 

You opened your eyes, peering through the shadows of the room. The curtains were thin (you were sensing a theme here), letting in lights from outdoors, and you found Jake still standing by the door. He was digging through his backpack, clad in a white tank and boxer shorts, apparently also not wanting to wear airport clothes to sleep, but that didn’t explain why he had chucked his sweatshirt at you. 

“What is this?” you asked.

He looked up, shrugged slightly, and went back to rifling through his bag. “I run warm.”

You pursed your lips. “Jake, I–”

“I had a jacket on over it at the airport, okay? Promise, it’s not dirty.”

That hadn’t been what you were going to ask, but you paused all the same. 

You appreciated that he was reassuring you, and you did remember that he’d been in a jean jacket at the airport. You’d noticed it against your better judgment, thinking he looked like an A-List actor as he walked through the airport towards you, all broad shoulders and smiles, like you were friends. 

“Can I have a pillow?” His question interrupted your recollection, and you frowned in his direction. 

You were clearly on half of the bed, Jake could see which pillows were for him to use. Did he expect you not to have one?

You pointed to the pillow you  weren’t using, confused, and he laughed quietly. 

It wasn’t a sound you heard much from him.

Normally Jake laughed like he was proud of himself, reclining in the golden light of the world around him, blessing you all with his presence. This was a different sound, less pretentious, somehow warmer. 

“Yes, I can see it,” he said, his voice still amused. “But I need it over here, for the couch.”

You blinked.

The couch was maybe three feet long, an atrociously patterned aberration that you’d tossed your carryon onto, and not looked twice at. Jake didn’t explain anything further, but there were still only two pillows on the bed, and you couldn’t understand why he seemed to think you didn’t need more context for why he wanted to decorate the couch with one of them. 

“Why?” you asked. 

Again, that quiet chuckle. 

“Because, sweetheart,” he said, and you bristled on instinct, “that’s where I’m sleeping.”

You couldn’t have heard that right. 

“You’re not sleeping on the couch,” you said.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch,” Jake said, stubbornly. 

“That was never up for debate,” you snorted. “Jake, we’re adults. We can share the bed. You’re not going to fit on the couch.”

“I’m an Eagle Scout,” he grumbled. “I can sleep anywhere.”

“Yes, loyal, brave, clean, etc, I’m sure,” you said. “But I’m not sure how helpful you’re going to be tomorrow, when you can’t drive that monstrosity of a truck due to your back spasming from being rolled up on that couch all night.”

You watched through the shadows as Jake stubbornly tried to wedge himself sideways on the couch. Sure enough, his knees were practically bent up to his navel, and even through the darkness, you could see the furrow in his brow. 

“You could drive it,” he said, too obstinate to accept defeat.

“I will not,” you returned, “drive a vehicle that ostentatious.”  

“Says the pilot,” he grumbled.

“Naval aviator,” you shot back. “Jake, it’s an enormous bed. Get over yourself, get into it, and the sooner you settle, the sooner it’ll be morning, and we can leave.”

He deliberated, the mulish man. 

But eventually he pushed himself off the couch, clambering across the room. The bed dipped as he slid into it, and reached down for the comforter, still wedged into the bottom of the bed. You tried not to be annoyed when he yanked it free easily. It was probably just momentum, or that you’d loosened it up for him. While he was rearranging the comforter, you pulled the sweatshirt over your head, and tried to be calm about the situation. 

His sweatshirt was somehow still warm. 

It smelled amazing, like cedar and fancy cologne.

And also sweat, which you tried damn hard to ignore.

It was cozy, and you snuggled into it, and a moment later, Jake settled. Thankfully, the bed was big enough that you didn’t have to touch each other, but that didn’t mean you could ignore that he was there. 

In bed. 

With you. 

You snorted, thinking how much of a dream this would’ve been to you eight months ago, before you met Jake, and he dashed your crush to pieces. 

“What?” Jake grumbled, and maybe it was the proximity, or maybe exhaustion from the day was setting in, because his voice sounded almost gentle. 

“Nothing,” you shook your head. “G’night.”

“Night,” Jake said. 

You rolled onto your side, pulling your feet up under you, and folding your hands under your face, so you didn’t have to touch your skin to the pillow. Of course, that brought the sleeve of the sweatshirt to just under your face, and you were surrounded by the delicious smell of it again. 

It distracted you for a moment. 

Just a moment. 

Then you had to acknowledge that, even with the sweatshirt and the newly-added comforter, your wet hair was no match for the chill of the room. Your legs felt exposed and the sheets felt like they were damp and wet, and you tried your best to ignore it, but soon you were shivering. 

You tried to be still, you did. 

But when you heard the bed shift as Jake turned towards you, you winced into the darkness, unsurprised. 

“Sweetheart…” he started, and you shook your head, refusing to look back over at him. 

“I’ll be fine, I just need to fall asleep.”

Jake let that statement hang for a moment, just long enough for your shivering to start up again. He cleared his throat. 

“Um,” he said, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think he sounded nervous, “I meant what I said earlier. About running warm.”

This time, you did turn over, trying to read his expression in the shadowy darkness. He looked…open. Like he really was altruistically suggesting sharing body warmth, nothing malicious and none of his normal teasing. 

You were suspicious, but not enough so that you could ignore that it was a better idea than freezing yourself to sleep. 

“You sure?” you asked, and Jake grunted, which you figured was as good a response as any. Actually, it was pretty damn good, because if he sounded eager, you’d be creeped out, and if he was uncertain, you’d feel guilty. But being matter-of-fact about it gave you the courage to scoot across the bed. 

“How do we do this?” you asked, and Jake reached for you. It was an easy movement, natural, enough so that it surprised you when he hesitated before touching you. 

“Can I…?” he trailed off. 

“Sure,” you shrugged, hoping you sounded half as unaffected as he did. This was fine, this was normal. Just a guy who was SO obnoxious that it made you forget how hot he was, suddenly not being obnoxious, and basically punching you in the face with his hotness.   

His hand settled on the small of your back and damn it, he was warm. His touch was soft, gentle, almost nervous, and he pulled you closer to him. You realized you’d expected him to turn you over, press your back to his front so that you’d be spooned, but instead he just wrapped you in his arms. He reached around you to tuck the comforter between you and the mattress, insulating you with his warmth. 

Your head was in his chest, and with his arms bracketed around you, your breath heated up the space between his tank and your face. He’d even managed to slot his arm under your head, so your face still wasn’t on the pillow. 

Cuddling with someone new was usually awkward, a tangle of limbs and expectations, but with Jake, it wasn’t. It was…damn it. It was pretty close to perfect.

“Good?” he asked, and he sounded different, with your cheek on his bicep, and your nose practically pressed against his chest. It was like you could feel his voice, rumbling around you, somehow more comforting for the proximity. 

You nodded, not wanting to hear anything new on your voice if you tried to respond. 

Jake hummed. 

A moment later, you realized his thumb was moving. Nothing major, just a small movement between your shoulder blades, a reassuring stroke. It was a comforting motion, gentle, and it wasn’t long before his warmth and his touch lulled you into a sweet sleep. 

You startled awake to the sound of guns. 

Not guns, fireworks. 

Damn it, it was New Year’s Eve; how had you forgotten? 

Jake stirred too, a deep breath expanding his chest, and leading you to realize his head was resting on top of yours, his chin tucked on top of the crown on your head.

“Is that–” he mumbled and how dare he, honestly, how very dare he, because he sounded great. Fuck him, for that, frankly. 

The situation washed over you, half asleep and fully cognizant of how random it was. You didn’t mean to start, but soon you were laughing, your shoulders shaking. 

“You okay?” Jake asked, a thread of concern in his voice, and that didn’t help any. 

“Just the universe’s sense of humor,” you said. 

You didn’t know how, but you knew he was confused and you should’ve been worried about how you knew that, how you weren’t cold at all, how if you looked up, you’d know what a  sleep-mussed Jake Seresin looked like, but all you could think was that this was so, so stupid. 

You took a long breath, starting to explain. 

“I just can’t believe this is how I’m starting the next year of my life,” you laughed. “Like, I’m fine, right? I’m doing alright on a career path I love, I call San Diego home, I have great friends and I’m doing as good with my family as anyone could be. And where am I on New Year’s? Stranded in a motel off an exit that’s literally not even town, cold enough that a guy who hates me is cuddling me so I can be still enough for him to go to sleep, with a dead phone so none of my friends or family can wish me a happy new year, and I–”

“Wait,” Jake pulled back, and you frowned at the interruption, “why do you think I hate you?”

You stared at him. “Are you serious?”

“Uh, yeah,” Jake said, having the gall to look confused.   

“Jake,” you said, disbelieving. “You’re literally constantly a jackass to me. You’re constantly undermining me, doubting or heckling. You throw in a – frankly overwhelming – amount of southern charm and expect that to distract from the fact that you’re being outrageously patronizing and—”

Jake kissed you.

You weren’t expecting it, and it was so sudden that it thoroughly cut off your train of thought. All you could do was comprehend fleeting sensations and emotions. Jake’s lips were soft, the pressure of them light and teasing against yours. His arms tightened around you, like he was steadying both of you. In the same way you’d sensed his confusion, now you sensed his apprehension, and an unfamiliar determination. 

Just as quickly, he pulled back. 

“I don’t–” his voice was rough, and he cleared his throat. “Christ, I don’t hate you.”

You licked your lips, annoyed that they had the audacity to tingle in response to him.

You wanted to ask what the hell that was. 

You wanted to ask why he was looking at you like that. 

You wanted to ask what that expression meant but more than anything, you wanted him to kiss you again. 

Your arms were curled up between the two of you, and it took so little effort to curl your fingers in the front of his tank and pull him to you. His mouth was on yours a breath later, and his hand was on your jaw, angling your face so he could kiss you properly. 

Of course he was a good kisser. 

Fucking of course he was, he had to be, but it was one thing to know it in an agnostic kind of way, and another to feel his lips pressing into yours. You shivered when his tongue swept over your bottom lip and when you mirrored the motion, something in his chest rumbled, and Jake parted his lips for you. 

He tasted faintly of toothpaste, and he had some kind of chapstick on his lips that was sweet, and you couldn’t get enough of him. His arms were still around you and he was so warm, so broad, and you couldn’t help but press yourself against him. When your arms wound around his neck, Jake broke away from you. You could feel his chest rising and falling quickly, and his hands fell from your back to your waist, as if holding you in place. He turned his head slightly, kissing lazily at the corner of your mouth, down your cheek, to your jawline. 

“That’s not how I wanted to tell you,” he murmured against your skin, and this time when you shivered, you knew it wasn’t from the cold. 

“You still haven’t told me,” you managed, eyelashes fluttering at the teasing brush of his lips, while you tried to look at him.  

To your astonishment and delight, Hangman blushed. 

Sheepish wasn’t an expression you were used to on him, not unlike bashful, but you thought it suited him. He looked like he was gearing up to say something and, curious though you were, you didn’t want to get into that right now. It was late, you were still exhausted, and just a few moments ago, you’d thought he hated you. 

If his expression now was any indication, you and Jake had very different conceptions of flirting. 

“Look,” you said, before he could say whatever he was hyping himself up to say, “this is probably a lot more complicated than either of us were prepared for. So, it’s the New Year…we could start it how we want the year to go.”

Jake’s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he smiled softly, a sweet expression on his face. He turned his head to kiss the palm of the hand you had looped around his neck. 

“Cuddling,” he said, at the same time you announced, 

“Orgasms.”

You would never forget the expression on his face. 

Sweetness morphed into amazement, and then quickly into hunger. 

“I can pivot,” he said quickly, and you lifted your chin. 

“You sure?” you teased, “Don’t want to strongarm you into–”

Your sentence ended with a squeal when Jake turned quickly, flopping onto his back, and pulling you on top of him. Your knee was between his thighs and you couldn’t hold back your grin as you looked down at him. Just like with this kiss, he was letting you lead, but being so clear about what he wanted. 

And who were you, to decline?

Kissing him from on top of him felt different, felt amazing. 

You could appreciate how sturdy he was, and when you relaxed slightly, you found yourself straddling his thigh. You’d been a part of plenty of dogfight football scrimmages, and Jake was never one for longer board shorts; you knew exactly how strong his thighs were. But it was one thing to see them on display, and quite another to feel them flexing between your legs. 

One of Jake’s hands was inching under his sweatshirt that you wore, warm fingers spreading across your stomach as you moved over him. 

God, he felt so good, so few layers between his skin and your core, and the pressure of his thigh between your legs was so good. You kissed him again, tongues tangling and teeth clashing, as you ground against his leg. 

When you moved, you felt the hem of his boxers slide against your leg, and sue a girl, you were curious. You shifted slightly, moving your thigh higher, and when you rocked your hips, your thigh brushed against his cock. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Jake gritted as you moved against him, and you thought maybe you didn’t mind the petname, when he sounded like that. 

You braced yourself on the pillow behind him and moved again. 

It shouldn’t be this hot. 

But it was, he was, and you felt pleasure spooling through you, just from his leg between yours, and his gentle touch against your skin. How he reacted to you, how he moved under you, it was so good, like a promise. 

“Not gonna lie,” Jake said, his voice still rough, “I really like you in my sweatshirt.”

Your mouth fell open when he pushed his hips up to meet you. 

You both stifled a gasp at the motion, the sensation with so few layers between the two of you. Jake’s hands crept higher under your sweatshirt, almost tentative, and you leaned into his touch, encouraging. His hands cupped your breasts, and your head dipped to the side in relief. He made a sound of satisfaction, just enjoying their weight in his hand, then his wrists moved so his thumbs could brush over your nipples. He rolled them, and you felt it in your core, your thighs clenching. 

“Love you in my sweatshirt,” Jake repeated, sounding dazed, “but I wanna to see you without it.”

You leaned back immediately, pulling the sweatshirt over your head. 

You missed the warmth of it immediately, but Jake’s gaze was worth it. His expression bordered on reverence, and he actually licked his lips, looking up at you. You wiggled on his thigh, heat pulsing, needing something from him, your skin prickling under his gaze. 

Jake frowned, the lust in his eyes overtaken by concern. “Too cold?”

You certainly weren’t toasty, but you couldn’t say you cared.

“I would’ve thought you’d have a solution to keep me warm,” you teased, and Jake seemed to accept the challenge. 

The hands that had been on your breasts dropped to the back of your thighs, and a moment later he had pushed you back. You were on your back, feet in the air, and Jake turned you gently on the bed so you were resting on the pillows again. You settled in, expecting him to lower himself between your thighs, and were surprised when instead he reached back for the comforter. 

Maybe you had misunderstood, he didn’t actually want…

He pulled the comforter over his head, over your shoulders, and you blinked disbelieving at a Jake-shaped figure under the blanket, moving to the base of the bed, between your legs. 

You were fairly confident, but that was a lot to ask from someone on a first date, and this wasn’t even that, and you ducked under the comforter as well. 

“Jake, you don’t have to–” you protested, realizing belatedly that there was nowhere near enough light to be able to make meaningful eye contact. 

“You said orgasms, right?” Jake said, his voice full of a familiar smugness. 

He settled at the base of the bed, crouching, and through the darkness, you could tell he was looking in your direction. His hands were intentional on your legs, letting you know where he was, giving you time to tell him if you weren’t okay with something. 

If he was offering, you were beyond okay with this. 

“Right,” you said weakly. 

His hands trailed up your thigh, his warm touch light, and his fingers closed over the band over your boyshorts. You nodded, a sound he heard because your head rubbed against the comforter.  

He kissed your thigh. 

It was a feather light touch, a brush of his mouth against the sensitive skin, but it was so gentle that it reassured you. He kissed your other thigh, then higher, and one of his hands felt up to your stomach, and he pushed, an unsubtle prompt. You lay back against the mattress, nerves and desire warring within you as Jake kissed higher.

You felt a brush of his tongue when he reached the edge of your underwear and your breath caught. 

“Plural?” Jake asked, and it took you a minute to understand his question.  

His fingers pulled at the edge of your boyshorts, peeling them slowly down, his mouth pressing gentle kisses as he revealed more of your body. He was exploring by touch what he couldn’t see, so slow and perfect it was overwhelming. 

“There’s two of us,” you managed, back to his question. “Hence plural.”

Jake laughed, a soft exhale against your skin. He’d bared you to him, and you shifted, like you were seeking his touch. 

“I know this is new for us, sweetheart,” he mumbled, a kiss to your hipbone, then the opposite, “but that’s not how this is going to work.”

You bit your lip, nervous again.

You were new to this with him, and some guys thought oral sex was some kind of prerequisite – check the box, half ass it for thirty seconds, guarantee she’ll let you hit it – but something told you Jake would be different. 

You were panting, anticipation making you breathless. 

You whispered his name and it was like he was waiting for permission, because he leaned into you. His first kiss against your pussy was gentle, just as sweet as those kisses he’d trailed up your thighs. It was so sweet it made you squirm, and Jake chuckled, a sound you felt as his breath ghosted over you. He pulled back long enough to draw an audible breath, then his tongue licked over the whole of your cunt, a long, torturous swipe that had you trembling.  

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he said, muffled, and your hips bucked. “You’re already wet for me.”

You reached under the comforter, your hands tangling in his hair and Jake hummed his approval before following your prompting back to your pussy. He lapped at you, learning you, and when he trailed up to circle your clit with it, you couldn’t stop the cry that escaped you. 

“That right, honey?” he asked, sounding smug, and he circled your clit with his tongue. You felt a hand slip from your hip to your entrance, rubbing over you as his tongue played with your clit. He kissed you, teased you, and when he pushed a thick finger into you while his lips closed over your clit, you moaned. 

“Feels so good, Jake,” you cried, and you felt him shudder at your voice. 

You heard it too, how wrecked you sounded, and it was his fault. Your hips were pushing up into him, chasing the suction of his mouth, the pull of his fingers. He was only a knuckle or so into you, but his finger was so wide, thicker than your own, and you moaned at the unfamiliar intrusion. 

It was Jake between your legs, Jake’s wicked smile, sharp tongue, capable hands, Jake who was working you with his fingers and mouth. He felt so good, and your body felt like it was humming to a frequency he set. 

You trembled as he sheathed a finger in you, you moaned when he sucked your clit, and when his teeth brushed over your clit, the pleasure coursing through you snapped. Your fingers in his hair tightened, and Jake groaned when you pressed your pussy harder against his face. He groaned like he wanted it, like he craved that reaction, and you came hard.  

He coaxed you through it, gentle and steady as he’d been so far, and as you came down, you pulled slightly at his hair. 

“Jake, that was–” you gasped, and you felt him laugh again. 

“Honey, what part of ‘plural’ is so hard for you to understand?” he asked.

And he pushed another finger into you. 

Your back bowed off the mattress; you were so sensitive and it made everything Jake did to you feel so much more. 

His mouth traveled down to where his fingers were pressing into you, and he curled them into you. You heard an obscene slurping sound, and your eyes rolled back as you realized he was pulling your release out of you, tasting it from his own fingers. 

“Like honey from a honeycomb,” Jake mumbled, his voice thick, and you whimpered at how he sounded. 

A moment later, his lips closed over your clit again, and your head thrashed against the pillow. 

“Jake, I just–” you panted, but he sucked again and you broke off on a moan. “I can’t, I just – fuck, give me a second– oh, that feels so good.”

Jake either didn’t hear you or he wasn’t listening. 

He was following your body, the way your hips were pushing up into him, the way your cunt was clenching down on his fingers, and it was like he was drunk on the taste of you. He suckled on your clit, his tongue laving over you, stoking you higher again. He felt so good, and you were sure you were telling him, but you were fast losing confidence in your ability to form words. 

You lost track of time, there was just pleasure, and the heat from Jake, and the way he was working your body. 

“You gonna come for me again?” Jake coaxed, pulling back to blow a long stream of cool air over your clit. You flinched, you writhed, you would do whatever he wanted, as long as he didn’t stop. “I think you can do it, honey, it was so pretty the first time. This pussy is so good, doing such a beautiful job coming for me, tasting delicious and I bet you can do it again…”

Your legs felt limp as he licked over you again, tasting where his fingers fed into you, pumping them and pulling pleasure out of you. His tongue flicked over your clit, a maddening pattern, and when his lips closed, he sucked hard. It was so strong, so unreal, and you shook as you came again. 

“Ah, there it is…That’s so good, sweetheart,” Jake soothed, and you weren’t sure if he was talking to you or your pussy, and you certainly didn’t know which was hotter. 

He continued to stroke inside of you, his thick fingers pulling you through your orgasm, keeping you grounded, keeping your pleasure coming. 

You weren’t cold anymore. 

In fact, you were burning up, and Jake didn’t seem like he wanted to stop. The moment he felt coherency return to your posture, he dove back in. You genuinely didn’t think you could stand another orgasm from his mouth, and you let go of his hair – he wasn’t listening to you anyways – and flipped back the comforter. 

God damn, he was so hot. 

He looked up from between your thighs, the lower half of his face smeared with your arousal, and he fucking licked his lips, before smiling up at you. His hair was in complete disarray, and you could tell his whole upper body was flushed from overheating, and he looked so smug, so proud, and he had every right to be. 

“C’mere,” you asked, and it was enough. 

Grinning, Jake crawled up the bed, caging you with his arms again. 

He hesitated, unsure what you were okay with, but you kissed him hungrily. You could taste yourself on his lips, on his tongue, and you felt a sort of possessive pride that it’d chased away the cloying sweetness of his chapstick. 

Right now, Jake tasted like yours, and you were obsessed. 

When he realized he could, Jake returned the kiss with enthusiasm, his tongue sweeping into your mouth. 

Your hands smoothed over his back, curling in the hem of his tank and pulling it over his shoulders. Jake wouldn’t separate from your lips to let you pull it over his head and you giggled as he kissed you through it, like an infinity scarf. You felt up his back, hands delighting in the contours of muscles that you’d only admired from a distance, before you caught yourself. 

He was so strong. 

Warm and toned and big, intoxicating to think of him over you. Finally, he ducked his head to chuck off the shirt, and the motion lowered his hips to yours. You both groaned at the brush of his cock between your thighs, and then Jake was kissing you with fresh urgency. You hadn’t seen him yet, though he’d had his face in your pussy, and you reached between the two of you. 

You felt him over his boxers, and Jake broke off the kiss at your touch, his head dropping to your shoulder. It was like he couldn’t contain himself, and his hips pushed into your touch. You explored the shape of him through the thin cotton, your own hips rocking into him on instinct. 

Fuck, he felt big. 

You felt a small bit of wetness near the fat head of him, and you moaned as your thumb rolled over the leaking precum, rubbing his sensitive head. 

“I have a – shit,” Jake broke off, his hips rutting into your touch, and your head fell back. “I have a condom in my wallet.”

“Of course you do,” you teased, and it would’ve been more effective if you didn’t sound so needy about it. 

You turned your head to press a kiss to his cheek, then scooted out of the bed. 

The room felt freezing outside of the bed, but it was refreshing, as you darted over to his backpack. You found his wallet, and the condom inside it, and when you got back to the bed, Jake had only moved to push himself up. He was kneeling in the middle of the bed, and he shifted as he pulled off his boxers. 

“Holy shit, Seresin,” you whispered, not even caring that your voice sounded reverent. 

His cock was beautiful, thick between his thighs, bouncing parallel to the bed. Jake gripped the base of it loosely, like he had to do something while he watched you watching him, and you crawled back to the bed, still staring, kneeling so your knees almost touched his. 

“Can I?” you asked, holding up the condom. “Please, sweetheart,” Jake said, his voice so gruff and gorgeous. You licked your lips and ripped the foil, but hesitated before you pulled it out. 

“I’m clean,” you told him, sitting back on your thighs. “Um, we should still use this, but I just wanted you to know.”

Jake caught your chin between  his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head up to him. He kissed you quickly, short and sweet, and there was something unexpected in his eyes when he pulled back. 

“Me too, sugar,” he said, his voice deep. “Thank you.”

You couldn't be sure what he was thanking you for, but you felt like you should be thanking him. For making sure you felt good, for thinking of a condom, for making you feel so cared for. So you tilted your head, reached between you to where he was loosely fisting himself, and replaced his hand with yours. 

You pulled your hand loosely over him, obsessed with the warm feel of him, how thick he was in your hand, how heavy. Jake’s hands hovered like he wasn’t sure where you put them, and they settled on your upper arms, like he needed you to keep his balance. 

It didn’t stop you from leaning down and guiding his tip towards your mouth. 

Jake groaned, a beautiful, strangled sound, and it was lost to you when you first tasted him. 

This wasn’t the proper angle for a proper blow job, and you wanted to feel him, but you were curious, and your tongue lapped at him. His skin was scalding hot, and a pearl of precum beaded at the end of his cock, like an invitation. You licked it into your mouth, moaning at the salty, rich taste of him. 

Jake’s hand fell to the back of your head, not pushing, but like he needed to steady himself. You licked over him, acquainting yourself with him, learning the veins and sensitive spots, knowing you’d want to come back to them later. Too soon, Jake’s hand tightened in your hair. 

You looked up at him, hoping he’d like the picture of you from this angle. His jaw clenched and his eyes fluttered shut, if that was any indication. 

“Need to be inside you,” he ground out, and opened his eyes. “That mouth is so sweet, honey, gonna make this be over too soon. I want to feel that pussy.”

God, you wanted that too. 

You pushed yourself back up, pulled the condom out, and rolled it over his thick length. His thighs were shaking, you noticed, and it filled you with something like tenderness. That he’d get you there twice, then let you play with him, then say “please”, like fucking you was a privilege. 

When your hand reached the base of his dick, condom secured, he surged forward to kiss you. You swayed on the bed, kneeling in the middle of it, his hands cupping your face, yours on his waist. Both pulling, both needing to be closer, and when Jake lowered you back down, you followed his prompting eagerly. 

He settled you back against the pillows, back how you’d been when he’d driven you to the stars with his tongue, but this time his handsome face was right over you. When he settled over you, you closed your eyes against the intensity of the moment. You were both fully naked, and it felt so heavenly to have so much of his skin pressed against yours. He was warm, strong, all around you, and you needed him in you too. 

You spread your legs, letting him rest deeper between your thighs, and whimpering when his hot cock brushed against your stomach, then down. 

“Don’t know how slow I can take this,” Jake said, like he expected you to have a problem with that. 

“I want to feel you,” you told him, honestly. “Please.”

Jake kissed you again, pulling back to press his forehead to yours as he guided his dick between your thighs. 

You’d had two orgasms. 

You’d had his fingers and his tongue loosen you, you were plenty lubricated, but when Jake’s cock pressed against your entrance, you realized it hadn’t been enough. 

“Holy shit, Jake,” you gasped, as his fat head pressed against your pussy, waiting for resistance to melt. 

“Relax, baby,” he whispered hoarsely, “you can do it…You’re doing so good, just a little bit of give, come on…”

You whimpered at the new endearment, but there was no way. You felt needy, cloying. You could fit him, you knew it, but it felt—there.

He eased in, just a breath, and you felt like sobbing. It was so good, so overwhelming, so fucking tight, and you needed the rest of him. 

“Jesus, honey, you’re so tight,” Jake said, he sounded choked, and you loved it. 

“More,” you whimpered. “Please, Jake, want to feel you…you’re so big, I need more, please, please.”

“Honey, you can’t say things like that–” Jake gritted, your words driving his hips forward. 

You could tell he was trying to go slow, but the feeling of him forcing his cock into you had your legs shaking. You wanted it, needed it, and if begging was the way to get it, begging you could do. 

“Want to feel your thick cock, Jake,” you whispered, and he shivered. He was bracing himself against the headboard, and you could feel his arms shaking as he fought to keep from driving into you. “You feel so good, need to feel you so deep…want to come on your cock, please, Jake…come on and fuck me.”

He groaned like he was in pain, as he pressed deeper into you. 

He was trying to go slow, trying to be gentle, but you wanted to be mindless, you wanted your whole being centered around the deep push of his cock. You wiggled your hips, and sighed as he sunk deeper.  

“Thank you,” you breathed, and his hips punched forward again. 

“Jesus, sweetheart,” he muttered, and you would’ve laughed, but you were too overwhelmed. 

This was what you wanted, this was what you knew he could give you. Your hands dropped from his shoulders to your breasts, squeezing and massaging your breasts as he sank into you. You turned your head to look up at him, and found him staring, slack jawed, down at you in awe. 

“You make me feel so good,” you coaxed him. “Please, Jake…fuck me.”

Jake growled, a sound that came from deep in his chest, and his hand fell between you to brush over your clit. 

You jolted at his touch, your hips opening impossibly wider, and a hotter, stronger arousal racing through you than the steady, heavy press of him. Your hips bucked up, and you tweaked your nipples, working yourself up onto his cock rather than pressing him into you. It took a couple more burning minutes, and you were both coated in sweat by the time he was seated in you. 

“Baby…” Jake breathed, his voice a dream and you had to resist the urge to purr. He was so warm, all around you, inside you, it felt like he was grounding you. 

Then he moved.

His first pump had your back arching, your knees jolting up, your eyes flying open. Fuck, how did he reach that part of you, how was there room, how were you–

Jake laughed, a deep, dark sound. 

“That's what you wanted, sweetheart?” he asked, and he moved again. You cried out, overwhelmed, perfect.

“This what you were begging for?” Jake grunted, between strokes, “This what you were asking so prettily for, and now you have me, and what’s that, baby, can’t find your words? What’s wrong?”

Nothing was wrong, not a damn thing, but you couldn’t summon the wherewithal to tell him. All you felt was pleasure, pounding and sweeping, full and as good as eternal. 

“This pussy is so fucking tight, sweetheart,” Jake swore, his head lowering to kiss down your neck. He sucked at the skin there savagely, needing a distraction, and you clenched around him, when his lips closed over your pulse point. “Pulling me in, so tight and warm. You look so good around my cock, honey, you wouldn’t believe… Like a dream, like a fucking wet dream, but you’re here, stretched around me, taking me so good…”

You moaned as he found a rhythm.

The headboard was banging against the wall with the strength of his thrusts, and he pounded into you. There was so much he hadn’t said, so much he couldn’t say, but he pushed it into your body, swore it to you. He soothed it over your clit with his thumb, he promised it with his thick, heavy cock inside of you, and you felt yourself falling into it. 

“Please, Jake,” you managed, begging again. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything other than take the harsh fucking he was giving you, and craving it, needing it. 

“What’d’ya need, honey,” Jake groaned. “You have me here, so fucking deep, never felt this good, this right—what do you need, baby, tell me, whatever you need.”

Had the room been dark? Surely it’d always been bright light, sparking, blinding. 

Pleasure was rolling over you, suffocating, live-giving and you shook your head, moaning with every thrust of Jake’s hips. The only words you could manage were his name, and please, and it seemed to spur Jake on further. His thumb pressed hard into your clit as his hips sped up, and you felt the wave inside you cresting. 

“You’re close, honey, I can feel it, can feel how hard this cunt wants to come. Are you gonna do it, baby? Milk this cock, make it even tighter around me, want to feel that, need to feel your pussy twitching around me, sugar, please come…”

Your orgasm shattered over you, blinding and perfect. Your throat felt hoarse from your moans, or your breathlessness, but everything heightened. You felt like you were breathing with Jake, felt every hitch and gasp and shudder as he coaxed you through it. You felt like you were suspended in space, like the only thing there was was Jake’s arms around you and his cock within you and you needed, you needed, him to come. 

“Come in me, baby,” you whispered, your voice watery. “Need to feel you, want to feel how you’d fuck me to fill me, please, Jake, it’ll feel so good.”

“Fuck,” Jake shouted hoarsely, his hips thrusting harshly into you. “Oh, sweetheart, you feel too good, you’re so tight around me… I need to come, need to feel– fuck –”

You could feel his thighs shaking, his back tensing, and you turned your head to kiss him as he came. He moaned into your mouth, his whole body jerking as he emptied into the condom. You felt how strong he came, felt how thoroughly it worked through him, and it filled you with pride and satisfaction as he collapsed over you. 

You knew he meant to push himself to your side, but you didn’t let him go. 

You were just as boneless. 

You both lay there, a sticky, sweaty, mess, panting. It was like a dream, a daydream crossed with a fantasy. You were warm, comforted, sated, and the room was still cheap, the motel was still sketchy, but you were suddenly quite alright with this start to the year.  

//

tag list: @cheekymcgrath @laracrofted @callsign-fangirl @bradshawsbitch @bradshawsbaby @withahappyrefrain @hangmanssunnies @callsignspark @lewmagoo @mxgyver @sebsxphia @daggerspare-standingby @ryebecca @teacupsandtopgun @hangmanbrainrot @sometimesanalice @wildbornsiren @whoeverineedtobe @clancycucumber230 @javihoney and i think a couple folks have changed their URLS, so please let me know if you still want to be tagged!

[limethefirst]

Void Runners Pt. 3

pairings: Deadpool x Wolverine x teen!reader

warnings: heavy Deadpool and Wolverine spoilers, crude humor, violence, swearing

summary: Since being saved by Wade after your encounter with Cassandra, Logan makes you lead the way in the wasteland in hopes you know where they are.

Part 1 / Part 2

a/n: Per-chance I may have disappeared but that doesn't mean I won't finish this story, sorry for being gone so long, please forgive me with this 2000 word update! Enjoy the long awaited part 3

Currently the three of you were all walking through a grassy field, Wade was annoying Logan like usual as you walked in front of them—to be completely honest you were exactly sure where you were going but you knew you’d get there.

It was like the blind leading the blind but they didn't know that.

As they continued to discuss whatever...dumb things Wade could produce, a loud bark rang in the distance, seemingly catching everyone's attention.

You looked forward, as a strange little dog began to run into view. It was ugly, in an oddly cute way, it's tongue jumping up and down with each step it took.

Logan had a disgusted look on his face, while Wade seemed star struck. Wade began to take his mask off, his mouth agape; as the dog got closer the man fell to his knees, and opened his arms, letting the creature jump up on him and lick his face.

"Look at you!" Wade exclaimed, clearly excited, "She's coming with us,"

"No she's not," The man in yellow protested, obviously not wanting the extra company.

While they bickered you took the opportunity to get a closer look at the dog, it made a strange noise as you did. Although you could tell it enjoyed the affection it was being given.

"Sorry, sorry about that girl!" A voice rang, the group turning to look, saw a, what seemed to be more attractive Deadpool with long hair.

You looked between both men, confused at seeing two Deadpool's at once, more so one that said 'sorry' upon first interaction, "Who are you?" Wade asked, noticeably confused.

The other man stopped for a second to catch his breath, "Oh, I'm Deadpool, and I guess you're Deadpool too," He gestured to the Wade you've been traveling with, "But in here, everybody calls me 'Nicepool'."

You snickered at the name, the thought of a nice Deadpool now in your mind.

"Oh my goodness, wait till you see Ladypool. She is gorgeous," Nicepool began to ramble on, "She just had a baby too and.. woosh. Can't even tell." He told you guys, making a gesture with his hands to show you guys what he meant.

Logan gave him a confused face, while Wade added on, "I don't think you're supposed to say that."

"That's okay," Nicepool told you three, as his right hand went over his heart, "I identify as a feminist."

No longer being able to hold in your laughter from this entire interaction you let out an audible snort/chuckle.

All three men looked at you, Wade had a subtle hint of amusement within his eyes, Logan was just confused and Nicepool looked disappointed you'd laugh at the fact he's a feminist.

"Right," Wade said, deadpanning. Before he suddenly perked up, his attention caught by something, "Are those gold-plated 50 caliber Desert Eagle pistoleros?"

" 'Course, to match my ear huggie," Nicepool responded, a smile on his face while he showed off his gold.

"Can I have 'em?" Wade asked, sounding like a child wanting to open their birthday gifts early.

Nicepool laughed at him, "Over my dead body!" He responded still smiling.

You grimaced at the man, "You're gonna regret saying that to him.." you said, knowing Wade would take it seriously.

"You're fun!" He said looking between you and Wade, "And I guess you've already met Mary Puppins, AKA Dogpool. Careful where you touch her, she's 90% g-spot and she'll let you know it."

You looked back at the dog as Wade adjusted her in his arms.

"You let this little flirt out of your sight for one second and she starts shopping for a new papa!" Nicepool exclaimed, still smiling throughout the whole interaction.

You looked back towards Wade only to see Mary Puppins licking his lips and mouth, slightly disturbed by the strange sight.

"If you can't be a responsible pet owner then maybe you don't deserve this little unicorn!" Wade spoke as if a dog wasn't literally eating at his face.

Nicepool only smiled at him and put his hands together, "Guilty on all charges your honor. Shan't happen again" Nicepool bowed to Wade.

"Why are you so nice?" Wade asked, confused why this alternative version of him was so strange.

Nicepool once again smiled at him, "It cost nothing to be kind."

"Shutting the fuck up is also free," Logan added on, seemingly annoyed at the fact he was surrounded by technically three Deadpool's.

"Caliente!"

"This is Logan, he's usually shirtless but he let himself go since the divorce." Wade introduced as he tilted his head towards Logan, "And this little thing right here is Y/N, they're our little time jumper!" You wave a small wave, not wanting to be rude. Nicepool gave you a smile.

"Where's your mask?" Wade asked, a look of suspicion and maybe even a hint of envy on his face.

Nicepool, although still smiling, gave a confused look before regaining his happy demeanor, "Come on guys," He pointed at his face, a knowing look on his face.

Logan just looked disgusted and Wade was annoyed, "Ugh this guy, we're looking for a group of survivors."

"Oh they're out there, but merc to merc, you better hope you don't run into the Deadpool corp, yeah they're crazy!" Nicepool began to explain who they were and what they do, you've been in the void long enough to know who they were, fortunate enough to have never come face to face with them.

You didn't listen much after that conversation, only being asked by Nicepool if these hooligans were bothering you and if you'd like to go with him instead but you declined, more interested in leaving this place then having to be stuck with another Deadpool for the rest of eternity.

As you three were led through what seemed to be a corn maze you stumbled upon a car, that Wade did not seem to like one bit.

"No, no, no. Absolutely not, nu-uh what the- No, no" Wade continued to protest.

"Just get in the car" Logan told him, his tone already showing how he was getting annoyed.

"What's wrong with the car?" You asked Wade confused on why he didn't want to get in.

Wade looked offended when you asked him that, "This isn't a car, this is a Honda fuckin' Odyssey, throttle response sucks a cock, dated infotainment system. When Honda saw that the untreated chlamydia was makin' a comeback, they invented the Honda Odyssey to compete."

You looked at Wade, shocked at how much hate he held for the Honda Odyssey and at the relation he was able to make between chlamydia and a car.

"Get in the fucking car."

Nicepool smiled, his creepy little happy smile, "She'll get you there safe and sound, old Besty always does." Both you and Logan walked up to the car, getting ready to leave as soon as possible, "You're gonna have to give me my dog back though."

"I know. Listen, yes child.." Wade spoke to Mary Puppin's, as he pet her, showing his strange attachment to the furball, "If you ever wanna give her up, or if she needs a new home or if something should.. happen to you, I'd love to be her papa."

Nicepool laughed at Wade's subtle threat, "What would ever happen to me?"

Casually Wade replied, "Lots of stuff," This time the threat didn't seem to go over Nicepool's head.

He gave both you and Logan a nervous look, you could only reply with a sigh before you nudged Logan with your elbow, nodding towards Wade and the dog.

He sighed before standing up and walking towards the two, "Jesus" He muttered under his breathe.

Wade catching on quickly turned away, trying to run into the corn maze, being met with clear failure. "No! We're running away!"

You shook your head in disapproval still leaning on the car, "Give me that." Logan said grabbing the small dog from Wade's arms.

"We were so close girl" He tells Mary Puppins before she is given back to her rightful owner.

Logan handed Mary Puppins back to Nicepool, which then let him get into the car, while Wade slowly entered as well, clearly upset he wasn't able to take her with him. You got in as well, in the backseat of the car, giving a small wave to the little dog and her weird happy owner.

Logan started the car and began the long drive, giving you a little time to rest. Shockingly Wade didn't really speak much, until Logan got to the forest.

"Okay, I'm just gonna ask," Wade started off with, you slowly opened your eyes, still leaning against the window, your arms crossed as you listened in, "What's with the suit? First thing I did when I flamed out I took mine off."

"Drop it," Logan warned him.

"It's not that ugly,"

"Stop talking about my suit."

"Did you make it yourself? Been there."

"Quit. Now."

"The X-Men make you wear it? Those sons of fuckin' bitches. They are not your friends I'll tell you that!" Wade was not getting the hint at all, Logan looked as if he was about to burst, "Friends don't let friends leave the house looking like they fight crime for the Los Angeles Rams."

Logan replied snappily, not even looking away from the road for a second, "Shut the fuck up about this"

"Woah woah woah, watch your frown lines, angel baby, I'm just trying to bond a little bit."

"Yeah, well then talk about somethin' else," Logan let out an annoyed scoff.

"Fine!" Wade hesitantly said, you let out a quick sigh, thankful that Wade realized he should keep his mouth shut. Slowly you began to close your eyes again, hoping to get a little nap in during this ride.

Slowly but surely you drifted off to sleep, the exhaustion of today finally catching up with you. Although the peace wouldn't last long.

You had at least 15 seconds of nap time before the cars sudden stop made you hit your head against the back of Wade's seat.

"Ow!" You exclaimed, grabbing your forehead in your hands, Logan glanced at you, a glint of what you could only assume was worry evident on his face, before he turned back towards Wade.

"What do you mean if?" Logan's voice was raised, mad at whatever Wade had told him during your 15 second nap.

"I mean-"

"You lied to me, you don't have a fucking clue of they can help me fix things do you?"

"No I mean-" Before Wade could even finish his sentence Logan had let out his metal claws, digging them into Wade's leg.

You jumped back, a look of fear on your face, not worried that'd they attack you but that you'd get caught in the cross fire.

"Kid, get out of the car, now" Logan said, not even looking at you, his eyes stilled fixed on Wade. You knew you didn't have to listen twice, you quickly unlocked the door and jogged over to the thickest tree, hopping to use it as protection as the two men fought.

You thought the worst of it was over, you'd heard them yell a bit and assumed it was over once it went quiet but before you could walk back up to the car you saw Logan get thrown out of the car, that right there was your sign this would be an even longer day then it already was.

You watched for a bit before ultimately sitting down against a nearby tree and deciding you might as well take that nap now. You covered your ears and slowly drifted off to sleep.

You began to stir awake when you felt some arms around you and you heard the car turning on, but you assumed it was just one of them men thinking it was best to keep going on with the journey, so you put aside that thought and went back to sleep.

Until you suddenly were jolted awake by the sudden voice and quick movement of Wade, yelling what you assume was Thor.

[lafaiette]

I've seen some people ask for comparisons between Pen's Chinese and English lines, so I made a small compilation to show the biggest changes that most baffled me.

There is a kind Chinese player, Yu, who offered the fandom much of the info and insight contained in this post, and she was the first to shed light on these differences! Without her enthusiasm, I doubt people would have started investigating Pen's original lines ;_;

Under the read more because this is long!

Brief premise: the Chinese dialogues in the game are often less "harsh" than the English ones. For example, Qi can sound rude and condescending in English, while he's pretty polite, if not a bit aloof, in Chinese. Justice's lines in English rely on the typical "hey pardner" cowboy accent, while in Chinese he's very professional, almost overly so.

That said, the English writer who worked on Pen made it no mystery that he based his characterization of Pen on Gaston from Beauty and the Beast. There is even a line directly referencing the movie: "[...] when I was a boy I ate four dozen eggs every morning to help me get large. Now that I'm grown I have five dozen eggs [...]"

As such, English Pen sounds much different from Chinese Pen. He's more patronizing and rude, and the writer added stuff that it's simply not present in the Chinese text. So while in English Pen can sound like a knucklehead obsessed only with muscles and training, surrounded by adoring women and fans when in Duvos, in Chinese he shows a different, almost more innocent side, as if he were a very tall and big child who has never had a day of legitimate and healthy fun in his life (and that's carried across in some of the English lines - that's why his English version is a bit contradicting sometimes).

Here are some examples:

One of his lines as a Good Friend is:

Here it's implied that Pen gives the Builder a hard time not only to push them to improve themselves... but also because he likes doing it, referencing his friendship mission where he admits he doesn't like teaching people anything, he just wants to fight them.

Meanwhile, the Chinese version says:

I keep calling you a weakling just to urge you and encourage you to exercise hard and break through your limits. If you won't have me to protect you in the future, you will have to become an eagle for me!

Here "eagle" is a reference to the way Pen calls the Builder in Chinese: 小弱鸡 "little weakling/little chicken" - and the latter is a rude way to call someone in Chinese, especially if they are a man and the "chicken" character (鸡) is repeated twice (but 鸡 by itself is also slang for "female prostitute"... so if you want to read it that way, Pen can call the Builder "my little slut" when in a relationship. HEH.)

In any case the tone in this line of dialogue is much different from the one in English, and Pen sounds genuinely enthusiastic.

Another example:

At the start of the game, Pen asks the Builder to craft a Sword and Shield for Burgess, who apparently misplaced his own. It turns out Burgess hid them under his bed, so when the Builder tries to give the weapons they crafted to Pen, he will tell them to keep them.

As usual, the English version is mocking and patronizing ("Hah! That'd be rich!"). In the Chinese version, Pen first compliments the desert:

In this case, take it back and use it for yourself! Use it to explore the desert and fight those monsters - what a thrill! The desert is very dangerous, but it is also full of charm.

Then there is the line about Logan and his band:

Hey! Maybe you can still find traces of Logan's gang! If you subdue them, you will gain both fame and fortune! [Okay, see you next time] [not shown here]

Now, some romance stuff : >

This is the description for the Robo-Love Couch. In English it says:

Meanwhile the Chinese description:

Referred to as the "Love Sand Machine", Peng Hu specially built a loving sofa for you, pieced together from the remains of robot monsters in the ruins.

He specially built a loving sofa for the Builder. It seems like a silly detail, but wording is important!

And yes, Pen's full name is Peng Hu, 彭虎. Peng is his family name, Hu his birth name. Hu 虎 means "tiger", and now you can understand why Grace suspected him to be Tiger the spy. But that would have been too easy!

Peng 彭 is a common Chinese surname. Its original meaning is believed to be "sound of war drums" (sad implication), but it's also used as an adjective to mean "big". So Pen's full name can mean "big tiger" :D

Back to the couch! Lines are different during the date in Paradise Lost, too.

Come on, little weakling, come and sit next to me. Let's give this trophy a "kiss of victory"! Do you do this with everyone you date? Wait, it seems I'm regretting it a bit... Happiness comes too suddenly...... (Kiss Peng Hu)

In the English version, the Builder can ask "How many of these thrones have you built...?", implying that Pen has had so many lovers he can craft this couch in a matter of few seconds. But in Chinese, the Builder's question is much different, it's more like: "Damn, are you always so over the top when dating someone??"

One of the biggest differences is in this set of lines:

Okay.

Meanwhile, in Chinese:

Today's experience made me realize that love has used a deadly locking technique on both of our hearts. Let me no longer doubt the feelings between us. This love is true love! Now, I am even more unwilling to take my eyes away from you! Haha!

I MEAN.

Also, in Chinese Pen never mentions the infamous 12 girlfriends when the Builder and Grace question him in jail. Yu confirmed that throughout the game Pen doesn't brag about his love life or his popularity with women, probably also due to the negative way Chinese culture sees this kind of "bragging".

Not only Pen and many other characters are younger in Chinese Sandrock (Pen's age ranges from 25 to 27, while he's confirmed to be 31 in the English localization), but he's depicted as being not very experienced in relationships in general. He basically only knows how to fight, punch people, and destroy stuff. Anything else - having friends, being with someone who truly loves him and whom he truly loves, having a normal life - are something he never experienced before. He did date (see his final letter later), but he's not described being the Casanova of Duvos like he is in the English version. In fact, it seems people only liked him due to his body and status, and a remnant of this piece of characterization is left in the English text when he says:

Surely, you understand… I am quite the prize. I can’t take myself off the market just to become arm candy for you to show off at your little buildy guild awards or whatever it is! No, what I desire… is true love…

Furthermore,

In Chinese, he says during the Masterclass friendship mission: "To be honest, I never thought I'd be able to make friends, let alone with someone of your stature/body size! But here we are, with a sick relationship!"

In English: "You know, Skinny, I’ve never had someone I really considered a friend before. Furthermore, I always promised myself I’d never be friends with anyone who didn’t have an awesome cape, but… you made me break that promise."

"I never thought I'd be able to make friends" is different from "I’ve never had someone I really considered a friend before." In the first line, the focus is on Pen ("I don't know how to make friends; I'm not good at it; it's not for me; how do you do it?"), in the second it's on other people ("I've been surrounded by people all my life, but I don't consider any of them to be a friend of mine; yeah, I call this one 'friend', but... they are not really really a friend")

The Chinese line is much sadder, and it shows how lonely Pen's life has been. One of his main characteristics, after all, is being "special", "the strongest", "different from everyone else"; but more often than not, being special and different also mean being "lonely". ("I must say it gets lonely at the top… What I wouldn't give for a truly talented opponent who could really keep me on my toes! Alas...")

And now, the grand finale :'>

A screenshot from Yu's playthrough, Pen's final line:

Farewell, Yu. This time it's for real. You're free.

The Protector, the bracelet Pen will leave for the Builder in the cave, is called "Guardian of Love" (爱的守卫者) in Chinese. Its description says:

A very delicate bracelet that protects the wearer's wrist. Wearing it gives the wearer a feeling of being emotionally confined. Perhaps this feeling is similar to what Peng Hu often said, "Marriage is a boring bondage".

His letter in Chinese is also sweeter and sadder:

最近在这所谓的阿塔拉最高监狱，我也多了点时间思考，没法带你一起来陪我，多少有些遗憾。罢了，这事也怪我。不管怎么说，你也算是我交往过的恋人里最让我上心的，也是为数不多分手之后我还继续挂念的。所以，我打算原谅你了。对——我原谅你了。我想我们也没有机会再在一起了，你也不过是做了你那个位置该做的事，没什么值得抱怨的。我应该一开始就努力把你“招安”了，让你跟我一起，才是最妥当的做法。当然我也没怨你，你确实很优秀。我还留了个最后的挑战给你。在某个遗迹里，有我最宝贵的几样东西，如果你能拿到，就归你了。运用我教给过你的一招半式，要去到那里应该很容易。我亲爱的小弱鸡，这是我最后一次这样叫你了，我相信你的能力。记住，不要怠慢了训练。我们，后会无期。

Dear [name], I've had a little more time to think lately in this so-called Atara Maximum Prison, and I'm more than a little sorry that I couldn't bring you along to accompany me. Well, it's my fault. Anyway, you are still the most beloved lover I have ever been with, and one of the few that I continue to miss even after a breakup. So, I'm going to forgive you. Yeah - I forgive you.I don't think there's a chance we'll ever be together again. You're just doing what you're supposed to do in your position, so there's nothing to complain about. I should have tried my best to recruit you from the beginning, and it would have been the best way to keep you with me. Of course I don't blame you, you're indeed excellent. I also left you a final challenge. In some ruins, there are a few of my most valuable things, and if you can get them, they're yours. It should be easy to get there, using the tricks I've taught you. My dear little weakling, this is the last time I'll call you that, I believe in your abilities. Remember, don't slack off on your training. We won't meet again. (but 后会无期 can also mean "meeting at an unspecified/unclear date")

And finally, if romanced, Pen will leave for the Builder 5 pieces of gold, 2 diamonds, and 1 Protector. 521 (and 520) are a cute way to say "I love you" in Chinese, because when read aloud they sound like "我爱你, Wo ai ni, "I love you". But in some cases, 521 also means "Yes, I will [marry you]" - and Pen does drop a diamond ring after his final battle (apparently he drops it only if you romanced him, but it's unclear yet. I'm pretty sure he didn't drop it during my Fang playthrough, while he did drop it when I romanced him, but I'll need to check that).

WELP, this is pretty much everything I got on this! If the kind Yu will tell us more or I find anything else, I'll update this post!

[egoistsarchive]

Michael Kaiser Profile from Egoist Bible Vol.2 (2024)

Nationality: German.

Weapon: “Kaiser Impact”

Birthdate: December 25th.

Age: 19 years old (At the start of the Neo Egoist League)

Zodiac sign: Capricorn.

Birthplace: Berlin, Germany.

Family structure: Father, himself.

Height: 186 cm.

Foot size: 28 cm.

Eyesight: 0.9 in both eyes

Blood type: A.

Team: Bastard Munchen.

Dominant foot: Right.

Grip Strength: 80 kg.

Favorite soccer player: None.

Age started playing soccer: 15 years old.

Motto: "Become the symbol of the impossible"

Nickname: Blue Rose Emperor.

Strengths: Looking down on all other “humans”.

Weaknesses: I have a crazy bedhead. I wake up grumpy.

Favorite food: Bread crust rusks. When I was a kid, I used to make them with discarded bread from the sandwich shop in my neighborhood. The sugar and garlic flavor are so damn good.*

Disliked food: Milk. It brings back bad memories. And I simply hate the smell. Disgusting. Fucking nasty.

Best rice accompaniment: I don’t eat rice that often. Do tell me what’s good.

Hobbies: Reading. Psychology and Philosophy. I’m interested in the principles of human behavior.

Favorite season: Winter. Because loneliness suits me.

Favorite music: "Desperado" by Eagles.

Favorite movie: One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.

Character color: Metallic Blue.

Favorite animal: Stray dogs.

Best subjects: I didn’t take classes seriously.

Weak subjects: I didn’t go to school so I don’t know.

Fetish: Face of Despair fetish. I want to taste the depth of that person.

What makes you happy: Being regarded as an enemy. Just thinking about destroying them gives me thrills.

What makes you sad: Presents. I don’t know how to react to them. Don’t fucking need them. Just get the fuck out.

Ideal type: Someone beautiful, intelligent, and affectionate. 

Last year’s valentine day chocolates: 800. I heard they were delivered to the team's clubhouse.

Sleep time: 8 hours (7 hours+1 hour nap)

Where do you wash first in the bath?: Left chest.

Favorite smartphone app: Health app. Every morning I check my pulse, and I feel alive looking at the numbers.

Mushroom or Bamboo Shoots?: What are you talking about? Chocolate? Mushroom is fine then.**

What made you cry recently: When I squeezed my neck, tears came out. I looked at my face in the mirror and laughed.***

At what age did you stop receiving presents from Santa?: Never received any. Santa doesn’t exist.

What did you ask for a Christmas present from Santa?: Freedom.

What would you do on your last day on earth?: Regret. Thinking of how I could’ve lived my life differently. If tomorrow were my last day, I think I'd regret it.

What would you do if you received 100 million yen?: Whatever. Maybe I’d buy a rose garden.

What do you do on your days off?: Take a long shower, read, think about people I want to kill and about myself, take a shit then go to sleep.

What would you be doing if you hadn’t discovered soccer?: Committing crime. Starving to death

Who is your favorite historical figure?: Nietzsche. Freud. Napoleon. I’d like to talk to these three.

If you could only bring one thing to a deserted island, what would it be?: My soccer ball. Where would you go if you had a time machine, to the past or the future?: The future. There’s no salvation in the past, so the future is better. I want to see if there is salvation in the future.

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Notes:*…サンドイッチ屋で捨てるアレをもらって作ってた。 (...sandoitchi-ya de suteru Are o moratte tsukutteta) -> ”...made them using the stuff (bread) that was thrown away from the sandwich shop…”

**Kaiser is German so he wouldn’t know the legendary beef between Team Mushroom or Team Bamboo.

***Kaiser said 自分の首を絞めた時 (Jibun no kubi o shimeta toki) or “When I strangled my own neck”. The verb 首を絞める (kubi o shimeru) is “to wring the neck”, “to strangle.” 

Ness basically said the same thing in chapter.243 -> 自分で自分の首を絞めて･･･!?!?! (Jibun de jibun no kubi o shimete..!?) – and the official translated it as “He’s squeezing his own neck!?”, so we also went with ‘Squeeze’!

[babiedemon]

MISERABLE MAN . . . haymitch abernathy / reader

genre . . . fluff, post-war

warnings . . . age gap, mentions of war, swearing, sexual themes

inspired by miserable man — david kushner

haymitch was a drunk. he was a miserable old man with a bad temper and a lifetime worth of pent up trauma. even with the newfound peace, the end of the rebellion, the birth of a fair nation. you knew no matter the time, the level of freedom, he’d forever be a miserable old man.

you mulled over this as you approached his home, a looming tower of a house in the shambles of district twelve. you’d taken the train there, what was once a capitol luxury now a simple means of transportation. the gravel of the deserted district crunched beneath your designer boots, ricocheting off empty buildings of the desecrated town.

there was no response to the heavy knock you left on his door, or one of the side windows, or the back door. you’d almost given up hope, prepared to break the door off the hinges, muttering angry words to yourself as you rounded the side of the house, when you caught sight of a moving figure in the distance. you couldn’t mistake that mop of black hair for anything else in the world, the long hair of the former face of rebellion.

“hey, katniss!” you called over the wind rushing in the space between you. she brought her hand up to wave, a pair of squirrels dangling from her fingers, a slight smile on her softened face.

“hey, eagle eye!” she shouted in response, an echoing reminisce of your rebel nickname. “what brings you to twelve?” she was closer now, close enough for you to pinpoint where her eyes sat over her nose, the once hardened stone color softened to a plush storm cloud. she stopped a few feet before you, eyes giving you a onceover.

“here to see the drunk. any idea if he’s home?” you inquired, lifting your eyebrows. katniss tilted her head to the side, squinted against the piercing rays of the setting sun.

“knowing haymitch, he’s probably drunk off his ass right about now. he usually leaves a window cracked in the front if you wanna try getting in that way,” she suggested, switching the tails of the squirrels from one hand to the other in favor of scratching her eyebrow.

“thanks a bunch, kat. i’ll be sure to pay you a visit sometime before the week ends. lord knows i’ll have my hands full with mitch,” you hummed, slowly backing away as you spoke. she bid her silent goodbye the same way she’d bid her welcome, lifting a single hand as she parted ways toward her towering home.

you found the crack in the window almost as soon as you’d reached the top of haymitch’s stairs and pried it open, the metal frame squealing in protest as you forced the pane of glass wide enough for your body to fit through.

getting in was much harder, your body falling on the floor and taking out half the items displayed crudely on his windowsill. you were certain that you’d gained at least a few bruises from the tumble it took for you to reach the hardwood floor, a grimace on your face as you inspected your exposed, aching elbows.

“what the hell are you doing here?” haymitch sighed, his voice carrying over to the foyer from his place on the living room sofa. you couldn’t see him, and you doubted he could see you, but you guaranteed from your loud entrance he could deduce it wasn’t his usual visitor.

“is that how you greet all of your long distance girlfriends?” you asked dryly, pushing yourself up from the floor with a few grunts. you rounded the foyer into the living room, spotting haymitch’s salt and pepper curls from the entryway.

“‘s how i greet everyone, sweetheart. get used to it,” he muttered, making quick work of pouring himself another glass of liquor. his hands trembled violently, likely due to the withdrawal contorting his face, liquor splashing over the edge of his glass and pooling on the mahogany coffee table. you sighed as you seated yourself beside him, took the bottle from his hands, and shot him an unimpressed look out of the corner of your eye.

“how many have you had?” you asked, studying the hazy sheen over his stormy eyes. he tutted, lazily rolling his eyes, his body sinking into the cushions.

“only three today. woke up about six hours ago, so i’d say that’s pretty tame,” he remarked. you suppressed the agitated sigh and tipped the bottle, pouring a hefty amount of whiskey into his chosen cup.

“i thought for sure when you didn’t answer the door you were passed out in your own piss and vomit again,” you murmured, voice softened as you regarded him. he was aging, his stubble shining with a number of grey strands, the curls atop his head beginning to gain more of his eye color with every visit. he’d gained back a bit of weight in his cheeks and stomach since you’d last seen him, his face and gut now rounded out a bit more.

“i figured if it was important, whoever it was would find their way in,” he spoke, voice gruff, a pause interrupting his sentence. “i was right about both. it was important, and you did find your way. besides, i’ll have you know i happen to have cut back on my substance abuse, thank you.”

“you know i’ll always find a way to come pester you,” you mused, reclining next to him. you felt a bit of pride swelling in your chest, a smile growing on your lips as you processed his minor recovery from years of raging alcoholism. haymitch’s arm slid easily over your shoulders, an almost inaudible chuckle leaving his lips, the rim of his glass snuffing it at the source.

“you definitely are a pest,” he hummed, tongue lapping up the remnants of whiskey on his lips. “what brings you here anyways?”

“i was hoping we could spend some time together. i’ve missed you,” you spoke softly, your cheeks heating up with your admission. haymitch hummed, his nose brushing the top of your head, the smell of alcohol wafting off of him. you’d come to enjoy the bitter scent, associating it with the man you’d fallen for over the course of your teens and now early twenties.

“missed you too, doll face,” he muttered, letting his head loll against the back of the sofa. his fingertips, ever as tremorous, came to scratch at the itchy stubble spotting his chin. “got some geese around back if you wanna check ‘em out.”

“when the hell did you get geese?” you inquired, face lifted in amusement as your eyes traveled haymitch’s exposed windpipe. the skin there was red, flushed from his consistent substance abuse, and a few scratches laid about from his incessant scratching. your fingers reached to trace the raised lines, smoothing them over with your thumb.

“not that long ago. decided i needed a hobby. shit’s boring around here,” he grumbled, watching you curiously. he realized the source of your focus after a few seconds, clearing his throat embarrassedly. “my hands shake too much to shave now. can’t cut my hair either.” he gestured to the top of his head, where his curls fell unkempt to his chin. you tilted your head to the side, running your fingers through the knotted ends of his dark locks, a smile on your lips.

“i could always trim you up, mitch,” you muttered, picturing different cuts and styles framing his face. if only one thing benefited you from your days as a capitol stylist, it was the cosmetic knowledge. you got free cuts, free colors, free hemming. “i think you’d look pretty good with a shag. your curls would suit it nicely.”

“do whatever gets it out of my goddamned eyes,” he gruffed, grumpy as ever, prompting you to begin your search for his razors and scissors. for a reason you couldn’t place, you’d begun cleaning as you searched as well. you’d washed his clothes, polished the kitchen, dusted the paintings and tables, all whilst he lingered in every doorway with a bottle and glass in hand, eyes watching you with burning intensity.

“you look good cleaning,” he remarked, the devious smirk on his lips hardly hidden by his whiskey glass. he slunk towards you, footsteps slow and wobbly against the hardwood floor.

“you’re only saying that because i’m bent over scrubbing your toilet,” you muttered, standing straight up upon feeling his hips meet yours. he looped an arm around your middle, your heart beating out of your chest as you turned your face to let your gazes meet. his eyes, grey and clouded, held a heady desire you hadn’t seen in months. his body pushed yours partially forward as he leaned, settling his drink on the toilet lid in favor of taking full hold of both your hip bones.

you gulped, face red as you turned in his loose grasp, letting him back you until your hips met the bathroom counter. his hand settled beneath your chin, guiding your head up until your eyes settled back on his, his other palm settling on the marble beside your blushing body. his gaze was honed in on your parted lips, eyebrows furrowed and concentration painting his flushed face.

“haven’t seen you in ages,” he mumbled, voice breathy and depraved as a slight smirk quirked the corner of his lips. you let out a shaky laugh, looping your arms around his neck, toying with the greying curls jutting from the nape of his neck.

“i’m starting to think you missed me more than you let on,” you breathed, pupils dancing over the space between his eyes and mouth. his fingers slid, igniting a fire beneath your skin, thumb caressing your jaw and palm cupping the side of your neck. he let out a soft chuckle, leaning in just barely close enough for his chapped lips to brush the gloss from yours.

“that is the understatement of the century.” his eyes fluttered shut as he pressed a fleeting kiss to your buzzing lips, pulling away much too soon for your eager impatience. you sighed, breath fanning over his scruffy face, eyes squeezing shut as the smell of his musky body soap twisted with the stench of his preferred beverage.

“i’m supposed to be cutting your hair.” you chuckled airily, prying your eyes open to meet his lusted stare. he took a moment to process, no doubt distracted by the touch of your fingers to his exposed collarbone.

“you’ll have to wet my hair, right?” as he spoke, voice husky and eyes dropping to your body, he made agonizingly slow work of undoing the top few buttons of your dress shirt. you followed his train of thought, chest heaving against his fingers, eyes darting to the shower standing to your right.

“i like the way your pretty little head works.” you gripped the collar of his shirt, pulling him down to your level, lips taking his in a short lived, rough kiss. “strip, then.”

“you don’t have to tell me twice, sweetheart.”

you couldn’t help the boisterous laughter tumbling from your chest.

[inkmonster21]

Hearts Across the Divide

6.) A Kiss

Noa x Fem!Human!Reader

Series Masterlist

~oOo~

Loui and Teko push a large contraption onto the flat stones, a look of curiosity on their faces. Teko taps the contraption with his fingers, a confused frown on his face. “What is this?” he wonders aloud. Loui gently swats Teko's hand away from the record player, a mixture of pride and excitement in his voice. "Sister calls it… record player," he proclaims, his eyes filled with anticipation. he motions to a box of collected records nearby that they might not work after all this time. ”records.”

Loui freezes, his attention drawn to the sound of rustling nearby. He puffs out his chest, his body tensing as his gaze fixates on the trees. The waterfall's rushing sound makes it difficult to pinpoint the source of the disturbance. A figure suddenly surges through the trees and bushes, darting through the foliage with startling speed. The sight of the unexpected intruder shocks the two apes into silence.

Noa rushes away from Loui, mounting his horse in a panic. He races off through the trees, trying to escape, but the sound of Loui's calls chasing him from behind fills the air. Loui follows after Noa, running as fast as he can through the trees. Although he tries to catch up, Noa maintains a short lead. Eventually, Loui reaches his limit and has to stop to catch his breath. He watches as Noa rides off through the forest, disappearing into the distance. Loui glares at the disappearing Ape.

Noa gasps for breath as he continues riding away, the adrenaline of the chase quickly wearing off. He slows his horse, processing the event. Questions flood his mind. Had Loui been pursuing him? Had he known Noa was waiting for you? Noa can't help but wonder. Noa's heart pangs as he contemplates the possibility. Had you been caught? Was that why you hadn't shown up for your morning meeting? The uncertainty eats at him as he gallops further away from the scene.

As Noa returns to the Eagle Clan, he is warmly welcomed by his fellow clan members. Some greet him with nods and waves, others with friendly pats on the back. Despite his anxiousness about your absence, the comfort of the clan helps to calm his racing thoughts.

Dar hurries over to her son, her brow creased with worry. She repeats her question, concern etched on her face. “Gone since sunrise, son… Where were you?” Noa struggles to find an explanation but ultimately decides on the truth. "The waterfall," he finally responds, avoiding eye contact with his mother. It's not technically a lie, after all.

Dar takes hold of Noa's hands, her grip gentle yet firm. "It's a special day," she says softly, her voice filled with affection. "like to spend time with you." Noa's mind is suddenly jarred by the realization. It was his birthday. In all the excitement and worry over seeing you, he had completely forgotten about the significance of the day. Dar gently leads Noa towards the celebration. "Come. Others are waiting to celebrate." She glances at him, a warm smile on her face. Noa's thoughts are swirling, but he follows his mother's lead.

Noa lets his mother guide him toward the communal fire, his mind still caught in a whirlwind of confusion and worry. As they approach, he sees familiar faces of his clan members, all gathered together to celebrate his special day. But his heart is elsewhere, longing for your presence.

You are quickly ushered away by Keli, the moon now high in the night sky, casting a silvery glow over the village. The stars sparkle like diamonds, their flickering light a testament to the quiet anticipation of the late hour. You question Keli, curiosity piqued. "Where are we going?" you ask. She casts a furtive glance around the nearly deserted streets, checking for any onlookers, before replying in a hushed whisper. "Somewhere fun."

You follow Keli as she leads you toward your waterfall, the location where you and Noa often spend time together. Confusion colors your expression as you look at her, questioning her choice of destination. "The waterfall?" you say aloud. Loui and Teko suddenly leap down from the treetops, landing before you with huge grins on their faces. "Happy birthday!" they exclaim in unison, joy radiating from their expressions. You are stunned by the unexpected celebration, your eyes widening in surprise. Loui and Teko look ecstatic, and a warm feeling washes over you as you realize the effort they've put into planning a surprise party.

Loui lights various torches set up around the area, casting a soft, flickering light and illuminating the space. Your eyes immediately fixate on the record player sitting on the rocks, a rush of excitement. You can't help but gasp with awe as you rush over to the record player. "Where did you find this?!" you exclaim, your voice filled with wonder. Every record player you've found was always broken, and damaged beyond repair. How did they find this?

Loui and Teko watch your reaction intently, grins plastered across their faces. "the overgrown… outside of territory," Teko explains, his excitement barely contained. Your heart swells with gratitude as you turn to your friends, a mixture of emotions coursing through you. "Thank you," you say, your voice filled with sincere appreciation. "This means so much to me."

Loui encourages you to give the record player a try. "Go on," he says, waving his hand in a gesture of insistence. "You only one who knows how it works." You carefully select a few seemingly undamaged records, handling them with care despite the damage most of them show. After much struggle and several attempts, you manage to get the record player working, the soft strains of music filling the air.

Loui, Teko, and Keli let out ecstatic hoots of excitement, the sound of joy blending with the music. Their hoots echo through the waterfall, adding to the lively atmosphere of the impromptu celebration. As the music continues to play in the background, Loui reaches for a woven container, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Now for the dizzy," he declares, holding up the container with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

You furrow your brow at Loui's words, your curiosity piqued. "The dizzy?" you ask, not quite understanding what he means. He smirks and lowers the container. Inside was a juice. Made with fermented fruits, just for your celebration. “Teko found out… let fruit sit… then drink juice… makes you dizzy… good time.”

You regard the juice with slight trepidation, but eventually shrug your shoulders, deciding to give it a try. "Okay," you say, your voice betraying the slightest hint of uncertainty. You take a tentative first sip of the juice, expecting a sweet and fruity taste. Instead, it feels like a wave of warmth and fuzziness washes over you the more you drink.

As you continue to sip the juice, the world starts to spin faster and faster. At first, it seems manageable, but before you know it, the effect is getting stronger. One drink feels like two, and two feels like three...

The music continues to play, its melody blending with the laughter and hoots of your ape friends as they revel in the celebration. Despite the dizziness, you can't deny that you're having a good time. You spin around in a circle, holding a coconut filled with the dizzy juice, a smile plastered across your face. "This is fun," you giggle, feeling the effects of the juice intensify with each rotation.

Noa sits at the fire with his family, enjoying a meal with his mother, Anaya, and Soona. The atmosphere is cozy, the warmth of the fire adding a comforting glow to their gathering. Noa's mind remains preoccupied with thoughts of you and your absence from that morning. Noa's silence is uncharacteristic, and his mother soon notices. She glances at her son, a look of concern passing across her face. "something wrong, son?" she asks gently, a hint of worry in her voice.

Despite her questioning, Noa remains silent, keeping his eyes fixed on his food as he continues eating. The tension is evident in his shoulders, his body language betraying his inner turmoil. Dar frowns slightly, her concern growing further. "Noa," Dar persists, her voice filled with gentle insistence. "can see something is… troubling you." She reaches out to touch his hand, her touch warm and grounding.

Just as the conversation becomes even more strained, Anaya intervenes, quickly stepping in to explain Noa's mood. "Perhaps it is just the stress of the day," she suggests, trying to quell the worries of Noa's mother. “Noa, good leader… must be tired.”

Noa shoots a subtle, grateful glance at his brother, silently expressing his thanks. "I am tired," he says, doing his best to maintain composure. "It has been a long day." Dar's gaze flits between Noa and Anaya, her motherly instincts still on high alert. She knows there's more to his behavior than mere exhaustion, but she also trusts her son and believes him to be capable. "Some rest will ease your troubles," Dar says softly, gently running a hand through Noa's fur in a soothing gesture.

Noa tried to make himself comfortable, lying back on his pallet of animal pelts and furs, his thoughts filled with worry and concern. Despite his best efforts to relax, his worried mind kept his eyes open, refusing to let him rest. The events of the day played over and over in his mind, adding to his already anxious state. Noa watches as the bird, the majestic Eagle Sun, lands on his outstretched arm. With a deep sigh, he gazes into the animal's wise eyes, his heart heavy with worry. "Find her, Sun," he says quietly, gesturing for the bird to take flight. As the bird spreads its regal wings and takes off into the night sky, Noa can only hope for an answer and some sense of ease for his troubled heart.

You find yourself sitting on the rocks beside the waterfall, your gaze fixed on the night sky. The stars gleam like a thousand tiny diamonds against the canvas of the night, their light bringing a sense of calm and tranquility. You allow yourself to get lost in the beauty of the moment, letting your mind wander as you watch the twinkling lights above.

You watch as Eagle Sun comes flying towards you, his silhouette is easily recognizable. A mix of curiosity and intrigue washes over you, and a frown forms on your brow. The bird lands beside you with a soft flutter, its feet gently gripping the stone surface. It cocks its head to the side, eyeing you with an almost knowing look.

You greet the bird with a soft, adoring coo, "Sun." It flutters its wings slightly, as if in response to your greeting. The bird seems almost gentle and familiar with you, a bond formed over previous encounters.

Noa stands in the same spot, anxiously waiting for any sign of Eagle Sun's return. His worry and concern fill his thoughts, and he can't help but keep his eyes glued to the night sky. Another handful of minutes go by and Noa can not stop himself from defending his nest and mounting his horse ready to travel. Noa's heart grew heavy with worry. The idea of you being injured, trapped, or suffering was more than he could bear.

As Noa nears the waterfall, he pauses, his ears catching an unusual sound. It's not the usual solitary instrument you play, but a chorus of voices and various sounds drifting through the air. Noa's brow furrows in confusion, his horse snorting softly beneath him. Noa dismounts his horse silently, slowly making his way toward the waterfall. He moves with a stealth that comes naturally to him, his steps practically soundless as he approaches the source of the noise.

Noa crouches behind a large rock, peering over the edge cautiously. His eyes widen as he takes in the scene before him. There you are, spinning and dancing freely, a smile on your face. But there's something amiss in your demeanor, a sense of being dazed and disoriented. Concern mixes with relief, seeing you unharmed but clearly under the influence of something. He watches as you move carelessly, the signs of intoxication evident in your actions.

You sink onto the rocks, your laughter echoing through the night. You pick up the records lazily, your mind too muddled to properly focus on any titles or songs. The Dizzy juice has taken its toll, your movements sluggish and disorienting. Teko is passed out in a bed of moss, while Keli and Loui are too focused on each other to pay attention to you.

Noa picks up a small rock, aiming it carefully. He tosses it toward you, watching as it lands next to your thigh. The subtle clatter as the rock hits the ground seems to stir you from your dazed state, your head slowly turning in the direction of the noise. It takes a moment for you to register its significance, but then your gaze drifts upwards, scanning the surroundings.

Noa peeks over the rock, his eyes fixing on yours. The flickering light of the torches casts a soft glow on his face, highlighting the details of his features. There's a mixture of worry and relief in his gaze as he meets your gaze, holding steady. You scramble down the large rock, your feet finding purchase on the slippery surface. You move swiftly to the edge, where Noa stands waiting. The sound of the rushing waterfall mutes your hushed words, providing a veil of privacy.

“Noa!” You propel yourself into his arms, launching yourself at him with a joyful energy. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close, your bodies pressed together in a tight embrace. Noa, caught off guard by your abrupt move, instinctively wraps his arms around you in return, holding you tightly against him.

Noa can't help but melt into your affection, the feeling of your warm skin against his touch bringing a sense of comfort and familiarity. His hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently caressing the soft skin as he gazes into your eyes.

“I am so sorry. My family stole me away today.” Noa listens intently as you apologize, his eyes fixed on yours. He can see the remorse in your expression, and he shakes his head slightly, silently telling you there's no need for apologies. Noa notices the signs of your intoxication, the slight slur in your words, and the dazed expression in your eyes. Concern lines his features as he gently tightens his hold on you, his protective instincts kicking in. Noa gently pulls you away from the treacherous edge, his grip firm and steady. His voice is laced with worry and sternness as he expresses his concern. "You shouldn't be so close," he says softly. "not safe…. could slip and fall."

You smile at Noa, still feeling the need to cling to him. “But, it’s my birthday.” You frown with a light laugh. Noa's eyes widen slightly at your statement, a mix of surprise and realization dawning on him. "birthday?" he repeats softly, his grip on you remaining firm but gentle. He gazes at you as a frown crosses your face, his own expression one of a gentle mix of concern and affection.

Noa's heart skips a beat as he realizes the significance of today. It was your birthday, and it was his as well. A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he processes the information, the realization sinking in. Born on the same sunset, a coincidence that mirrored the very bond they shared. It was yet another twist of fate, another thread connecting them.

Noa's words come out in a rush, tinged with desperation. "I had to see you." His gaze meets yours, his eyes filled with a mixture of relief and concern. Noa's tone is filled with worry as he continues, "You did not show up this morning…. Was worried." He steps closer to you, his body still embracing yours.

You hum in agreement, your body automatically leaning into his embrace. The effects of the night’s events have loosened your inhibitions. Noa's fur feels soft under your touch, like fine silk against your skin. You run your hands up his arms, feeling the lean muscles beneath them. His breath hitches slightly at your touch, his eyes closing momentarily from the sensation.

You look directly into Noa's eyes, your voice full of reassurance. "Everything is fine. I am fine." Your words are meant to soothe his worries, to let him know that you're safe and unhurt.

You hear a distant commotion from above, the voices of your friends carrying through the still night air. It seems they are still engaged in the party, blissfully unaware of your absence. Noa laughs at the sound of the commotion above, a soft smile playing on his lips. "They are having a good time," he says with a faint hint of amusement, shaking his head in fondness.

You nod in agreement with his observation, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. You were having fun too, but this moment with Noa outweighs the event. You can't help but wish that things were different - that things could be easier for the two of you. You long to be together, to break the boundaries that society has placed on you. You wish you were brave enough to voice your feelings to him, to let him know the depth of your longing and adoration.

“Noa?”

Noa's heart beats faster as you say his name. "Yes?" he responds, his voice tinged with anticipation. Your mind is suddenly filled with the vivid description of a kiss from your favorite novel, the words washing over you like a soft wave. The heat rises to your cheeks as you recall the passionate scene and the emotions and sensations the characters experience.

You lean closer to him, mirroring the action of the princess in the book, your body drawn towards him like a magnet. Your pulse quickens, your breath hitches slightly in anticipation. Noa's brow furrows as he looks down at you, his confusion is evident on his face. "What are you... what are you doing?" he asks, his voice tinged with surprise and a hint of uncertainty.

You feel a wave of embarrassment wash over you as you realize that Noa has no idea what you are attempting to do. You quickly back away, apologizing sheepishly. "Sorry," you manage to say, your cheeks burning with a mixture of shame and bewilderment. Noa watches you backing away, a pang of longing in his heart. He regretted asking you to explain your action, wishing he had let the moment continue to unfold. He wanted to know what could have happened, to see where that moment of impulsive bravery could have led.

Noa's frustration with himself grows, his emotions tangled and his thoughts a mess. He longed to touch you, to find some way to bridge the gap between you, but the uncertainty and mystery of the situation only added to his confusion. He gazes at you, his expression torn. He wished he could find the courage to just act, to reach out and touch you without fear. But the unknown consequences and the potential risks loomed over him like a dark cloud.

Noa's voice is soft as he speaks your name, it comes out like a gentle whisper in the night. The sound of your name on his lips sends a shiver down your spine, his voice filled with a mix of hope, longing, and trepidation. Noa's confusion is evident in his shaking head, his frustration and uncertainty clear in his eyes. He looks down at his hands, then back up at you, his gaze meeting yours. The sight of your calm, comforting eyes brings a sense of peace to him, and he takes a deep breath, trying to find the right words to express his feelings.

Noa's voice is soft and quiet as he speaks, his words measured. "I have these... feelings," he says, his gaze fixed on you intently. There is a hint of fear in his voice as if he is afraid of scaring you away with the revelation of his emotions.

"I can not be away… from you," Noa says, his voice filled with raw honesty. "worry about you," he continues, his words tumbling out in a rush. "Need to make sure you were safe." His eyes lock onto yours, and the vulnerability in his gaze is palpable. He takes a step closer, the need to be closer to you overpowering his fear.

You feel a strong urge within you, a desire to explore every single path that leads to being with Noa. The possibilities are endless, the potential routes infinite. You can feel the pull of your heart and mind, drawing you towards Noa, towards the uncharted territories of your shared future. You nod in agreement, your small smile mirroring his feelings. "I feel the same," you say, your voice trembling slightly with the weight of your emotions. "I... I can't explain it," you continue, your words stumbling over each other, inadequate to fully describe the depth of your feelings.

A deep, urgent need pulses within you, and you stumble forward into Noa's arms, seeking his comfort and reassurance. "But... I need you," you repeat, your voice filled with a desperate longing. You bury your face into his chest, seeking shelter in the warm embrace of his body. Noa instinctively encircles you in his arms, holding you close against his chest. He can feel the desperation in your voice, the intensity of your need. His heart thumps loudly in his ears, his own longing mirroring yours.

He tightens his embrace, pulling you even closer as if trying to merge your bodies. The need to be close to you is overwhelming, and he buries his face into your hair, breathing in your scent.

Your name bounces off the rocks. Noa pulls his gaze up the rocks seeing a figure looking over the edge at the two of you. You look up to see Keli peering down at you from the rocks above, a mischievous smile on her face. You can practically feel the curiosity radiating off of her. "So..." Keli says, drawing out the word with a hint of playful teasing in her voice.

Noa tenses at Keli's arrival, his body going rigid. The memory of being chased earlier in the night was fresh in his mind, and his eyes darted from Keli back to you, his protective instincts kicking into gear. He remains quiet, poised, and ready for any possible threat.

Keli descends from the rock above and lands next to you and Noa, her eyes fixed on him with curiosity. Her gaze falls on the blue feathers tucked into his armband, the significance of the tokens not lost on her. She regards Noa with a mix of suspicion and intrigue, taking in his appearance and demeanor, and trying to gauge his significance.

Keli turns her gaze towards you, her question hanging in the air like a lingering mist. "Is this him?" she asks. She nods her head in Noa's direction, her eyes fixed on his face, waiting for your response. You can't help the smile that tugs at your lips as Keli asks her question. You sheepishly nod in agreement, your gaze darting between your friend and Noa. The connection between you and Noa is undeniable, and it's impossible to hide the affection in your eyes. “Noa, this is my friend, Keli.”

Noa turns his attention to Keli, his gaze locking onto hers. "Keli," he greets, his voice steady and polite. He nods his head in a gesture of acknowledgment, his eyes betraying a hint of caution. Keli's gaze shifts to you, her eyes filled with concern and a hint of understanding. "Loui went back to the village," she continues, her voice softer now. "He's getting more food, but he'll be back soon." Her words carry a warning, a caution for Noa's presence to remain undetected by the others.

Keli nods one final time, her gaze lingering on Noa before she turns and leaves, climbing back up the rocks and disappearing into the darkness. Her departure leaves you and Noa alone once again, the silence of the night enveloping you like a soft blanket. Noa's voice is soft and tinged with a mix of wonder and vulnerability as he asks, "You told her... about us?" The word "us" hangs in the air between you, its significance not lost on him. You can see the uncertainty in his eyes, the question of your relationship lingering unanswered in the space between you.

Noa's gaze locks onto your face, his eyes studying the soft glow of your smile. The effect of the drink has clearly loosened your inhibitions, and your words come tumbling out, full of affection and honesty. "You're all I think about," you say, your voice filled with warmth and sincerity. Noa can feel his heart hammering in his chest as he takes in your words. The depth of your admission and the truth in your eyes stirs something deep within him. His own feelings for you have grown stronger and stronger every day, and your admission only reinforces them. He swallows hard, his mind racing with a thousand unasked questions, a thousand things he wants to say but doesn’t know how.

Noa's voice is soft and laced with embarrassment as he confesses, "I... dream of you... often." He averts his eyes.

The admission hangs in the air, a confession of the thoughts and longings that plague his mind even in his sleep. The dreams featuring you have grown stronger and more frequent, each one a reflection of his unconscious desires and cravings. You step closer, “Can I… try something?”

Noa looks at you with curiosity, his eyes wide and expectant. He nods his head in agreement, a wordless yes that encourages you to continue. Noa's breath hitches at the feel of your hand on his neck, the warmth of your touch seeping through the thick layer of fur. He can feel your nervousness in the slight tremble of your fingers, and his body instinctively leans in towards you, craving your touch.

You find yourselves in the same position once again, your bodies drawn together by an invisible force. The air between you is charged with anticipation, the space between your bodies closing with each passing second. It feels like unexplored territory, a path you’re both eager to venture down.

Your gaze finds his, your eyes meeting in a tangle of emotions and desires. Your vision blurs, the world around you fading away until all you can see is him. Your mouths are so close, mere millimeters apart, and the heat of his breath on your skin sends a shiver down your spine.

Noa's eyes widen in surprise as he feels your lips pressed against his in a soft, tentative kiss. Your attempt to mimic the movements from the book is clear, and there is hesitation in your touch. He stiffens momentarily, caught off guard by your boldness, before his body melts against yours, responding instinctively to the sweet pressure of your lips. The kiss deepens, the barrier between you crumbling as Noa pulls you tighter against him, his arms encircling your waist. His mouth moves against yours in a gentle but urgent dance, his need for you growing with every passing second.

The sound of Keli's voice pierces the air like a gunshot, breaking the spell that had fallen over you and Noa. You both look up at her, your heart racing with a mix of fear and excitement. Her eyes widen in surprise as she sees the sight before her, and her urgent warning rings in your ears, "Loui is coming!"

Noa's grip on you tightens as you try to pull away, his desire to keep you close almost overpowering his common sense. But your voice breaks through his haze of desire, and he finally lets go, understanding the gravity of the situation. He leans back in, his lips still seeking yours, and you exchange another soft kiss. "Loui’s coming," you murmur into his mouth, your words a playful warning, a lighthearted note amidst the tension.

Noa is glued to you, his body pressed against yours in a way that makes it impossible to tell where one of you ends and the other begins. His mind is clouded with a fog of desire and passion, his thoughts consumed by nothing other than you. The warning bells are ringing somewhere in the back of his head, the knowledge that your brother is approaching like a distant and unwelcome reminder. You pull away, your chests heaving with labored breaths, the air thick with the intensity of the moment. You manage to gasp out the words, "You have to go, Noa." The reality of the situation crashes down upon you both, a harsh reminder that greater dangers are lurking just beyond this stolen moment of bliss.

Noa's eyes are hooded, his breathing still heavy from the kiss, but he nods in agreement, understanding the gravity of the situation. "I know," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. You can see the reluctance in his gaze, the struggle of his desire to stay warring with the need to keep you safe.

Noa backs away from you, his eyes locked onto yours, reluctant to tear his gaze away. He casts a fleeting look at Keli, a wordless show of gratitude for her support. Then, with a mix of determination and regret, he turns and climbs down the rocks, his mind hazy with thoughts of you, the warmth of your kiss still lingering on his lips.

Keli grabs your arm and pulls you up to the top of the rocks in a swift and hurried movement. As you stumble onto the peak, you turn to watch Noa make his descent, his figure growing smaller and smaller in the distance. A smile tugs at your lips as you regard him, the memory of your kiss still fresh in your mind.

Keli looks at you from beside you, a huge smile plastered across her face. "What was that," she echoes, her eyes glittering with curiosity and excitement. There's a hint of mischief in her tone as if she already knows the answer but wants to hear you say it anyway.

Your eyes are glued to Noa's diminishing figure in the distance, your mind still reeling from the sensation of his lips on yours. Finally, you tear your gaze away and turn to Keli, a sheepish smile on your face. "A kiss," you admit, your voice softer than a whisper.

[raph-fangirl]

Demon x Reader - chapter four, unedited

Here is chapter four!! Go read the first three chapters on this post.

Chapter Four

You gulped as you closed in on the diner. 

“Nervous, Princess?” Ares jeered from ahead of you.

“Never,” you lied, looking away.

Off in the distance, a strange creature caught your eye. It was hopping, kicking up dust as it bounded across the desert. It almost seemed like a wild hare, but it had antlers on top of its head. As you took in its odd form, a shriek sounded from above. You jerked your head up. An enormous eagle, the size of a plane, flapped its wings in the sky. You sped up your pace, closer to Ares, knowing that thing could peck you out of the sky if it wanted to. 

Other small beasts you hadn’t seen before sifted in the dust beneath your feet. They appeared to be salamanders but glowed red hot. You tried not to step on them as you walked, but they continuously circled around your feet and legs.

Ares’ dark voice boomed all of a sudden, commanding your attention.

“Now listen here, Princess. As far as anyone at the diner is concerned, you and me, we’re boyfriend and girlfriend, alright?”

WHAT.

You stopped dead in your tracks, gripping onto your wedding ring. “I don’t think so, mister.”

He whipped around. “Just play along, okay? And don't mention a word about last night. Just say we made a deal. You summoned me asking for a demon boyfriend and I agreed.”

“No way.” You furrowed your brows at him.

His nose wrinkled up, huffing in frustration. “You either go along with it or you’ll wish I’d taken your precious husband instead.”

That shut you up. He grunted like a gorilla and stalked off in the other direction. You just stood there, twisting your ring on your finger, peering behind you at the endless expanse of desert. It just went on and on, no division between earth and sky. 

Suddenly, your eyes widened. Words the demon had spoken the night before flooded your mind like a desert storm.

“You either go along with it or you’ll wish I’d taken your precious husband instead.”

“Once I’m done with you, you’ll wish I’d have killed you, you monster. I’m going to take everything you love away from you, just like you took everything away from me.”

“I didn’t even know you existed before last night. You weren’t exactly part of my plan, princess.”

The demon had threatened to take away everything Ruben loved. And well, he’d done just that. 

You shivered.

But was it on purpose? You thought you had performed a selfless act in saving your husband, but what if it was all a set up? And how could the demon have possibly known you’d take your husband’s place? You found the whole thing suspicious and weren’t sure if this was some ploy to get to you all along. But how could it have been?

You didn’t have time to think any longer before Ares cleared his throat at you.

“Coming,” you spat out, quickly catching up behind him.

The diner came closer into view, and so did its occupants. You were so close now you could see their snarling expressions. 

“Hold my hand,” Ares ordered.

“Excuse me?”

“Just do it.”

You faltered, looking between him and the beasts of the diner. Eventually you slipped your hand into his. They were warm, and rough. He tightened his grip on you as you passed by the first green monster that looked like it had come straight from the swamp.

“Ogre,” he whispered in your ear. 

You peeked back at the ogre to find it glaring at you with the nastiest expression. You jerked your neck forward immediately, then kept your eyes down, focusing on your sunflower shoes.

“Don’t look down, it looks suspicious,” Ares mumbled through gritted teeth.

“Then what in the world do I look at?” 

“Just look at me and laugh.”

You lifted your head up to find his eyes already on you. He had an almost pleasant expression on his face, at least as much as he could considering his permanent sneer and upturned nose. 

“I said laugh.”

You mustered up a chuckle.

“That was miserable. You sound like an elderly woman choking on her laxatives.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Well, at least I got you to smile.” 

He elbowed you and you nearly fell down.

“Hey!”

“Sorry, Princess.” 

“Ugh!” You yanked your hand out of his tight grip and crossed your arms. Was this the hell you were going to have to endure to get back to your husband?  

“Giant ahead. Don’t look up. Pretend not to notice.”

Almost immediately you looked up, barely catching a glance of the giant’s hideous, wrinkled face before Ares put his arms around you, forcing your head down. “I told you not to do that, darlin’,” he muttered, gritting his fangs.

You tried pushing away from him but he had you locked in tight. 

“If you can’t do what I say like a good girl—”

“‘Good girl’!” you exasperated, fighting to be free from him.

He pinned you down effortlessly. “Then this is how it’s gotta be.”

You huffed, feeling so pitiful, so completely helpless.

As you passed through the shadow of the giant, Ares pointed out an orc to you. It was smaller than the giant but larger than the ogre—which was nearly human size—and had tusks protruding from its bottom lip. Its long hair was pulled back into an elaborate braid, with feathers for decoration. 

“You can look at him, but not in the eye,” Ares said.

Your eyes immediately trickled down to the orc’s loincloth… the only piece of clothing he wore. You felt like you were going to puke.

Ares tipped his head to the orc as you passed by; the orc waved back.

More monsters came into view as you passed through the parking lot ridden with motorcycles, but it was all just orcs and ogres.

“Where are all the demons?” you asked.

“I’m probably the only one here, sweetheart.”

“Why? Aren’t we going to hell?”

Ares laughed. “No, no, you’re not ready for home sweet home just yet. I’m taking you to the land of the orcs. I’ve got a cozy little place there for us to camp out.”

“Will there be any humans there, in the land of the orcs I mean?”

He grimaced. “Not any full-blooded ones. But there may be one here.” He opened the door of the diner for you. “M’lady.”

There wasn’t really anything notable about the diner. It looked just like any you’d have back home, except the patrons were all very, very green. And loud. 

Rowdy did not even begin to scrape the surface of the diner’s atmosphere. Ogres flung darts off to the side, shouting as they hit or missed their target. Almost every table was full of helmet-wearing orcs raising their mug of beer, yelling for another pint. As soon as you made your first few steps in the door though, the diner quieted, all eyes on you. A few monsters at the bar swiveled around in their chair, staring you down, twisting their toothpicks between their yellowed teeth. 

A man behind the bar caught your eye. He was about as tall as a human should be, and his skin wasn’t green. You sighed with relief as he turned around, a genuine human man was drying mugs.

“Orlo!” Ares hollered, shutting the door.

“Ares!” The man opened his mouth, and to your disgust, he had two tiny tusks protruding from his bottom lip that you hadn’t noticed before. “And who’s this fine specimen you brought with ya today?”

You felt all eyes in the restaurant turn to you and Ares, waiting with baited breath.

“This here’s my girl.” Ares put his arm around you. “Summoned me up last night back on Earth, saying she just couldn’t stand her human husband any longer.”

You mustered up a fake smile, clenching your teeth together. Whenever you and Ares got a private moment together you were going to sock him right in the mouth. 

“I don’t blame ya there, cupcake,” Orlo said, slinging his towel over his shoulder. “I was raised back on Earth. And the men there just don’t do it like they do here. Plus I didn’t like havin’ to shave my tusks down every day. Hurts like a bitch.”

“You were raised back on Earth?” you said.

“Yep. Mom was human, dad was orc. But I guess I didn’t look ‘orc’ enough for old pops when I was born so, I just stayed with mom.”

“Wait… humans and orcs can—” You gasped, wincing at the thought of having to give birth to a monster.

Ares and Orlo chuckled. 

“Haven’t you taught this girl anything yet, Ares?”

“She’s got a lot to learn. This is only her first day, Orlo, give her some slack.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place, miss. We welcome all kinds here. Have a seat, anywhere ya like!” 

Ares took your hand, leading you to the bar. He swiveled around a seat for you, but it was practically up to your chest. 

“Guess that’s a little high for you, huh? Here.” 

“Woah, what are you—”

“Just trust me, Princess.” 

Ares slinked his hulk hands around your waist, picking you up and plopping you down in the seat like you were a babydoll. Your face burned bright red, almost as red as his skin. No man had ever picked you up before. Ruben had tried a couple times, but to both of your embarrassment, was never able to. Ares did it like you were a size two… And his hands had fit all the way around your waist. You had never felt so tiny before in your life.

Orlo slid some menus your way.

“The regular, Ares?”

“Yeah, man.”

“And what for the lady?”

You glanced over the menu, which to your surprise, had food you recognized. 

“Just, a burger?” you stammered.

“And what to drink?”

“Water, please.”

“Aww, come on now. We got soda, beer—”

“She’s been through a lot in the past 24 hours, Orlo. Just water,” Ares insisted.

“Whatever you say, boss.” He took down a few notes on a pad before shouting to his workers in the back, which you could see through the window in the kitchen door were all giants. One giant was blue even. 

The chatter in the restaurant seemed to go back to how it was before they caught sight of you. Your heart rate steadied.

“I– I thought they’d only have monster food here,” you said hesitantly.

The ogre a couple chairs down from you snorted.

“Best not to use that word around these parts,” Ares instructed. “It’s got the same connotation here as it does back in the suburbs, little lady.”

“But… isn’t that what you all are?”

“Isn’t that what all humans are?”

You knitted your brows together.

“Just stick to orcs, ogres, giants, demons. I’ll teach you the rest later.”

“Just how many more ‘kinds’ are there going to be?”

He rolled his head over to you, his eyes wide. “More than you can handle, sweetheart.”

You lifted a brow. “You underestimate me, demon.”

Before Ares could come up with a clever retort, Orlo returned with your drinks. The glasses were the biggest you’d ever seen, and there was no way that straw was fitting in your mouth. You fit your mouth over it, sucking up what little water you could.

“As much as I’d love to see you give head to a straw, you need your fluids.”

Ares raised his hand up and a puff of black smoke flew up into the air. He pinched a human-sized straw in-between his forefinger and thumb before tossing it into your drink.

You sipped. “I really can’t decide whether you’re a pervert masking as a gentleman, or a gentleman masking as a pervert.”

“Maybe I’m both.” He winked.

You slapped his arm.

“Ouch.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Ares grinned at you. His fangs were so close to your face now, they gleamed, sparkling pearly white. “Hey, Orlo, how ‘bout a chocolate shake?” he shouted, not taking his eyes off you.

“Comin’ right up, boss!” Orlo sounded from the other side of the bar. 

You cleared your throat. “I guess you and Orlo are pretty good buddies, huh?”

“Eh.” Ares shrugged. “I keep to myself mostly. Only come here when I’m in the area for work.”

“What do you do for work?”

Something caught Ares’ eye. “Tell ya later. Here it comes.”

Orlo brought out a platter of a world-record-sized burger. You choked on your drink as he laid it down in front of you.

“There ya go, cupcake. Told our giants in the back to make it as small as they could, just for you.”

Ares conjured up a regular-sized fork and knife. “Here. Better start digging now if we’re gonna make it to the embassy on time.” 

You picked up the fork and stuck it into the burger, your mouth still gaping wide open, in complete and total shock. 

“How the heck am I supposed to eat this monstrosity?!”

The restaurant quieted a little, the only sound the creaking ceiling fan above you.

“Didn’t I tell you not to use that language!” He tried to sound mad but could barely hold it together. “That’s a swear word in these parts.”

“But I heard you say it last night?” you parried.

“It’s different when we say it. When a human says it, that’s essentially hate speech.” He twisted a scewer-sized fork into his spaghetti and meatballs and then chomped down on the enormous bite. He slurped up, getting sauce all over his mouth. 

You grimaced, hesitantly taking a tiny bite of the burger. 

It tasted like rainbows.

“Oh, my god. This is the best burger ever!” You put down the fork and knife and picked it up with both hands, immediately chowing down.

“Hey, hey, not too fast now.” Ares dabbed your mouth with a napkin. 

You pulled away. “Buzz off! I’m enjoying my lunch.” You took another bite. “Mmmm… Wow.”

“And here’s y’all’s shake.” Orlo slid a pitcher-sized shake down the counter.

You dropped the burger and grabbed the shake, slurping it up through the monster straw. 

Ares just looked at you dumbfounded before sticking his straw into the shake. 

You pulled it back, hugging the scrumptious shake to your chest. “Don’t even think about it, demon.”

“Hey, I’m payin’! Don’t I get a sip?”

“After I’m finished you can.”

“We’ll see about that.” He reached out for the shake, his fingers barely scraping your chest, before he tugged it back towards him. You had no chance in sparring with a demon over a milkshake, you decided. So, you both leaned in, taking a sip together. You caught his eyes for only a moment. They weren’t just black and cold anymore. They had tiny golden sparks, fireworks shooting up into the sky on the Fourth of July. 

How pretty.

[avroravia]

☆ desert eagle. - I ☆

pairings: trailer park!dallas winston x f!trailer park!reader

summary: dallas can’t seem to keep himself from the pretty girl wandering throughout the park, now can he? but, it seems neither can she.

warnings: f!reader, swearing, familial descriptions, outfit descriptions, may not be time accurate (?)

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡

the blazing summer sun of tulsa beat down onto the park, yet everybody seemed unbothered. children continued running around, water guns in hand as they seamlessly weaved through all the trailers. teens funded the gas stations and mini-marts, with icees and cokes in hand as they flocked to the shade. adults were either at work, or running errands throughout tulsa.

wiping the sweat off of his forehead, dallas shut the hood of the car. he tossed his borrowed-box of tools onto the grass, before making his way to the entrance of the car owner’s trailer. living in the park wasn’t necessarily bad, just mundane. going from odd-job to odd-job, then party to party.

dallas’ boots thudded along the metal ramp towards the entrance. met with the sight of an open door, he rapped his knuckles against the frame before peeking his head inside. dallas didn’t see the woman who had originally ‘hired’ him, but rather a younger girl. you. your head perked up from the small mini fridge’s door, which you seemed to be stocking.

“money’s on the table.” you told him, gaze returning to your chores.

dallas examined the trailer further, narrow brown eyes darting from the dusty chandelier to the bruised wooden floors. despite the years of use, it was still relatively clean. he could see the crumpled 10$ bill on the dinner table, which he stuffed into the pocket of his dark-washed jeans.

as you stood up, dallas’ gaze was averted to you. he had known of you, but he never held more than a two second conversation with you. dallas recognized you as ‘angela’s best friend,’ having seen you many times in the shepard’s trailer when he went to visit tim.

once dallas’ brain had made the connection, he turned to actually look at you. he took in the sight of your brown, beat-up cowboy boots, low-rise denim shorts far too short for any mother’s taste, and a cropped budweiser shirt. with your lower midriff exposed and a hand on your hip, you waited for him to say something, anything.

“you- you’re angel’s friend, huh?” dallas asked, almost instantly regretting it. he thought his words were stupid.

“something like that, yeah.” you responded, a faint southern accent showing through.

stepping closer to him, you had an almost sinister smile on your glossed lips. you placed a manicured hand onto his exposed shoulder and slightly swayed your hip outward, making butterflies bloom from every crevice in his guts. regardless, dallas kept his unamused expression. brows furrowed and his drowsy brown eyes narrow per usual.

“s’dallas, right?” you drawled, thumb toying with the thick strap of his white tank top.

dallas only hummed in response. something about you seemed so enticing to him. it drew him in like a sailor to a siren, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it. despite the mixed feelings, dallas would be a liar if he said he didn’t like the feeling of your hands on his skin, or the way you looked at him.

“well, dallas,” you mused, “i’ll see you around then...”

he watched as you returned to tidying up the trailer, before taking your words as a cue to leave. stepping out the trailer, dallas shut the door behind him. his thoughts were kept clouded with the memory of you, and he swore he could still feel your soft hands on the skin of his shoulder.

grabbing the tool box, dallas made a mental note to return it to buck. though, the thought was quickly replaced with you. as he walked home, dallas looped your voice in his head, particularly the way you said his name.

man, would dallas get his kicks in with you...

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡

a/n: i hope you guys enjoyed this little drabble! i’m planning on making it a little series, on how tp!reader and tp!dallas first met along with the beginning of their relationship. once im satisfied, it’ll probably just be random moments in their relationship from then on. i’m also happy to take requests on these two and all my other readers >:)) my ask box has been so dry lately lmaoo!

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

Part 17: the stars are shining their brightest light

"We can get lost in fears that we make for days that feel black as night, but there in the dark, you'll find that the stars are shining their brightest light." -If You Love Someone by The Veronicas

Regent Masterlist Part 16

“This is my girlfriend, Queen Regent Jasmine of the Infinite Realms.” 

If there was ever a way to silence the Bat-family, it was with an introduction like that. 

Sure, Jason knew the family was fully aware of Jasmine Nightingale (thanks to Replacement), but he was positive that he had just rocked their world by just casually dropping the fact that  Jazz was not only royalty of the same dimension but also ruled it in the stead of the true monarch… He was certain that his family would figure out what he wasn’t saying soon enough. 

Beautifully executed and dinner hadn’t even started. 

The shock that permeated the room was delicious, feeding his ego as he led Jazz to their seats the furthest from Bruce, with Jazz safe at his side where he could intercept any perceived attack aimed at her. He’d ignored the rule about weapons at the table, packing his favorite desert eagle at his back and an ecto-gun strapped to his ankle that was a thoughtful gift from Danny. Jasmine had her bracelets uncharmed for the evening, desiring transparency with his family, and he knew how quickly she could summon her armor and Faithkeeper. They were as prepared as they could be and it made him proud that he had someone like Jazz to watch his back.

(He loved fighting back-to-back with her.) (Almost as much as he loved keeping her safe.) (The Lady and her knight.) (He was in love.)

It was Dickolas that spoke first, barely containing his excitement, “Little Wing, I’m so happy for you!” Which allowed pandemonium to follow from the rest of his siblings. 

“Oh my gosh-” 

“A member of royalty-” “-you’re-” 

“Jason pulled-”

 “gorgeous!” 

“New sister?”

“-is willing-” 

“A queen?!” 

“-to date you?” 

“Nice one man.” 

The once-Revenant could practically taste Jazz’s amusement, relishing in her amusement-bafflement-love as they waited quietly for the others to settle down so the couple could answer the questions no doubt waiting for them.  

The first question Jazz could answer was probably the one that she dreaded to answer. 

“How’d you meet?” Tim asked, eyes switching from Jason to her and back again. 

Jason was swift to reply, “At a bookstore.” “Got to talking and Jason asked me out.” Jazz added with a soft smile at the memory of a blushing Jason. 

The dark-haired girl at the table, Cassandra Wayne, signed something far too quick for Jazz to read completely. Though Stephanie translated right away, “Cass asked how long it took Jason to ask you out.” 

Jazz chuckled a bit and set down her cutlery to sign her response, though the movements were somewhat stilted- she hadn’t used sign language since the last meeting with Heppa, a mute acropolis amazonian that once acted as Jazz’s sparring partner while under Pandora’s tutelage. 

Some signs were muscle memory (stop, peace, fight), but others were difficult to recall. The ghost equivalent of ASL (ESL or ecto sign language) was far easier to fall back into than ASL, given that it also used emotions to communicate. [Two days, nervous, very cute.] Jazz signed, projecting the fondness-love she felt for her soulmate as she did. Cass tilted her head, the faint prickle of curiosity evaporating into the air almost as soon as Jazz registered it, but one of the other men at the table turned the attention away from the two women’s silent conversation. “I can’t believe little wing got a queen to date him!” Dick exclaimed. 

“Tt, a member of royalty should have better standards than to settle for Todd.” That comment came from the youngest Wayne, Damian, where he sat to his father’s left. The head of the house studied Jazz with a quiet air of protect-wariness. 

Ah, yes. They’d met as their alter egos- her the Regent and him the Batman. How concerning it must be for her to find her way into his son’s life and to his dining table with his other children. Bruce no doubt saw the evidence of the extent she would go to for Phantom. 

One slash, two, three Blood is on your hands already. 

Fourth, fifth slash Ask the ghosts if honor matters, buried amongst the ash.  Slash six, seven Sharpen your love into a weapon

“Jason is a wonderful person and partner.” Jazz replied, electing to ignore the DadBat’s stare into the side of her skull. Cass’s hands moved again, a bit slower than the first time, much to Jazz’s relief. [Do ghosts use sign?] 

[Yes. Emotions with words.] Jazz answered with a small smile as she once again projected her emotions, fondness-anxiety-amusement, for those present even if they couldn’t register them. 

“What are those shadows behind you?” Duke blurted out, eyes still locked onto something over Jazz’s shoulder. 

“Shades.” The manor was full of weak shades, no doubt belonging to ancestors of the Wayne lineage. “Weak ones” she clarified. 

Bruce spoke up this time, “The weakest form of ghosts?” he asked for clarification as if he wasn’t in possession of the Ghost Files, which she knew had information on shades. 

(Among other beings.) (She tried not to think about her own file.) (The evidence of patricide and matricide.) 

“Yes. These ones are probably just curious about my presence.” It was true, as far as she could tell. Jazz was the most liminal being in existence, after all, not to mention the Crown of Fire she bared as Regent. Thankfully, she couldn’t make out any hostility from the ancestral shades, not with her permission to be here and an escort of a Fraid member (Jason) was not an intrusion. 

“You are aware we know your identity,” Damian stated, with a glare that would cut down weak men. “And that you know ours.” 

(Well, no shit Sherlock.) (Jason’s Red Hood.) (No need for a corkboard and red string.) “Demon spawn-” Jason growled, but Jazz took his hand in hers to calm down the anger she could feel bubbling up to the surface. He took a deep breath in and out before he squeezed her hand back. “Damian. I trust Jazz with my life, she won’t betray us or our secret identities.” 

“Phantom trusted you with the Ghost Files. If he considers you worthy, then so will I.” Jazz swore. 

Dinner passed far quicker than Jason expected. He sat back and basked in his Lady’s presence at the dining table as she answered questions, as they had agreed before arriving. Bruce hadn’t spoken much, no doubt content to watch the interactions between his kids and Jazz. 

Jason hoped the old man could see how wonderful his Lady was. She was his guiding hand through darkness and fire, made his worries melt away, and offered him peace in his second chance at life. 

Gave him her heart, him, the eight-heads in a duffel bag crime lord. Let him meet her little brother, her reason for surviving thus far, her world. Let Jason’s scarred and bloody hands hold her close to his still-beating heart and Proto-core. 

He couldn’t offer her much, not really, but he could offer her a piece of him- this, his family, his Fraid. It wasn’t a lot, not when compared to what Jazz had given him before he ever knew her name, but it was all he had to give that couldn’t be offered so easily. 

(Jazz would never hurt his family.) (Not unless they hurt him first.) 

One day, the two of them would be comfortable in this manor side by side, but not now with the newness and wariness he could feel from his Fraid

Perhaps he shouldn’t ask Bruce for that favor quite yet. 

A/N: I am thrilled to announce that with this update the Regent is no longer in Hiatus! With the AO3 version comes more fuel to write (comments & kudos) and of course that gives me more encouragement to write. There will be gaps between posts still, but I will be posting parts again. AO3 link in Regent masterlist, parts combined into longer chapters. beta'd by the awesome @meditating-cat

Thanks for reading!

[nightingale-ghost-writer]

Maybe [Soap x Fem!OC]

Summary: Soap finds a kindred spirit during a trying time

Author’s Notes: This is a little of a long intro, feel free to skip it! I’ve been reading fanfiction for years, and I’ve started dozens of fics. This is the first one I’ve ever finished. (11.8K words!!!) It started off with me wanting Soap to get some medical care for his unaddressed injuries after Alone, and just exploded from there. I wanted to really highlight the bond he and Ghost formed, and then I wanted to give him love (because he deserves it!). I know it’s a bit sparse on the Price and Gaz side of things, but I feel like their bonds with Soap are sort of assumed going into this game. This game, to me, is about Soap learning that sometimes the right thing to do isn’t always so obvious, and Ghost learning to work with a team, thanks to Soap. I loved this campaign dearly, so I have a lot of dialogue carried over from scenes I really wanted to set. That being said, I changed some stuff to better incorporate my OC, Daniela. Writing reader-insert fics is a skill I just do not possess. If you’re reading, I hope you enjoy it!

And to my dear @uselsshuman, who is the furthest thing from useless, thank you so much for your encouragement to write this. Your writing and support really inspired me to get this done. This one’s for you. ❤

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or events from Modern Warfare

Warnings: language, canon-typical violence, suggestive content

Soap tucked himself behind a door, braced his back against the wall, and did his level best to breathe as silently as possible. He could hear the Shadows’ footsteps and radio chatter nearby.

He pulled back the hammer on the desert eagle he’d found in the café safe and held his breath. He didn’t want to get into a gunfight, not here. Not with them. He had decent cover, but his arm throbbed where a bullet was lodged, his ribs stung where his plates had kept him from another, his whole body ached from his jumps and falls in the city, and he was almost certain he’d damaged something in his left hip the day before. 

That particular injury came from running along cliff faces to escape the cartel, which was bad enough. Adding the Shadows to that? That was terrible.

As the footsteps faded, Soap let out a slow, low breath and slumped to the ground. He let his eyes drift shut, just for a moment, taking stock of his ability to get across the plaza to the church. To Ghost. As if he knew that he was being thought about, Ghost’s voice crackled through the comms.

“Soap?“ he asked softly.

“Ghost,” whispered Soap.

“You alright?”

Soap opened his eyes and took a deep breath, peeked around the door, and answered “Think I found a way through, LT.”

“Shadows are everywhere. I’ll hold ‘em off until we RV in front of the church and secure a vehicle for exfil.”

“Roger that.” Soap crept up through the shop, taking care to stay low and move quietly.

“Give ‘em hell, Johnny. We’re almost there,” rumbled Ghost. After a moment’s pause, he added “Listen, I picked up an ally. Should help us get out of here a little easier. You’ve just got to us and we’ll get to a vehicle.”

Soap’s eyes narrowed. Ally? In Mexico? Only two people came to mind, and they were both “detained”.

“Is it Price?” he asked after a moment’s thought.

“No, one of Alejandro's Vaqueros. Wasn’t on base when Graves moved in. Showed up, realized something was wrong. We found each other killing Shadows, decided to team up.”

Soap chanced raising his head to peer out of the shop window. Seeing no Shadows, he moved for the door. “And you trust ‘im?”

“Enough, at least for now.”

“Copy that, LT. I’m on my way.”

He wiggled the door handle, but of course, nothing could be so easy. It was locked. So he pulled out the last of his makeshift pry tools, braced it in the door jamb, and pulled.

Lots of things happened all at once, then.

The door swung open. Soap yelled “Fuck!” while the Shadow said “what the- GET DOWN!”, and hit Soap with the butt of his rifle. The Shadow called his position, Soap heard “kill him!”, and then the Shadow dropped to the ground. Soap scrambled back, pressing the heel of his hand into his eye and groaning. His vision swam and his ears rang and he couldn’t get his bearings. Two more Shadows, running for the building, dropped to the sharp report of silenced sniper fire.

“Holy hell. Ghost, was that you?” Soap asked.

“Who else?” snapped Ghost’s rough voice. “Now go!”

He scrambled to his feet. And ran.

He ran as fast as his bruised body would let him, ducking behind cars and spraying with an SMG he’d picked up. He heard gunfire coming from ahead of him and cursed, grabbing for his radio.

“Ghost, how copy?”

“Johnny, got company in the church and they are not here for forgiveness. Get to the steps, we’ll be there!”

In the last few meters, Soap saw Ghost come careening out of the church doors, followed closely by a much smaller figure dressed all in black. They both turned to shoot at their followers as Soap and Ghost called out to each other. Ghost vaulted over the wrought iron fence, followed by their ally, and the three ran back the way Soap had come.

“We need a vehicle. On me!” Ghost barked. “Stay sharp. They know we’re here and they know it’s us. They’ll send more.”

Minutes that felt like hours later, after a brief firefight, the three piled into a pickup, panting and on high alert. 

“Alright, Johnny! You made it.”

“We made it, LT.” 

After ramming two Shadows with their stolen pickup, and nearly losing Ghost to another, they peeled off down an alley. Soap sagged against the seat, closing his eyes again. His heart and head were pounding.

“How’s that arm, Johnny?” asked Ghost.

Soap raised his head. “I’ll live,” he answered. He shivered violently, once, and Ghost cast a concerned glance in his direction.

“You sure it’s not infected?”

“Of course I’m not sure,” snapped Soap. Softening his voice, he added “But I think it’s just the cold. Between the tunnels and the rain, LT? Feels like I’m back home.”

Ghost nodded slowly. For a long moment, the two just basked in each others’ presence, grateful to have made it back together. Then, Ghost said “Daniela, would you take a look at the Sergeant’s arm? Can’t have him dying on us.”

Soap’s head snapped around to lock eyes with the ally he’d forgotten. Later, he’d remember this moment as an indication of his quickly deteriorating state. In the moment, though, he couldn’t wrap his head around anything but the woman in front of him.

Sometime between their getting into the truck and down the street, the black balaclava and hood had come off. The woman staring back at him had light olive skin and a mass of shiny black curls plastered to her head by rain. A thin, jagged, silvery scar ran from her cheekbone to her jaw, and her full lips were pursed in a barely-there smile. Soap thought he saw scarred flesh at the collar of her jacket. But he couldn’t tear his eyes away from hers. They were the bluest blue he’d ever seen- dark like the ocean, clear like the sky on a cloudless night, and as sharp as glass. Familiar, somehow.

He hadn’t necessarily had expectations of how this ally would look, but this was as far from expectation as possible. He had pictured a man, but even the fact that she was a woman wasn’t most shocking of all. It was her beauty.

He flinched when her hand landed lightly on his right shoulder, pulling gently.

“No, we can’t,” she said. Her voice was soft, musical, lightly accented. The lilt of just those three words had Soap’s head spinning for, at least he thought, completely different reasons than it had been spinning earlier. He adjusted his body so that rather than leaning with his left arm over the seat, his right arm hung over. The woman looked straight to the wound, gently prodding the flesh around the bullet wound, and Soap bit his tongue to keep from hissing in pain.

“Does that hurt?” she asked.

Soap tried to be nonchalant. He shrugged and said “Not so much.”

Ghost snorted. Soap didn’t blame him. The words sounded strained even to his own ears. And based on the older man’s jokes about not watching the cartel’s videos of his death “more than once”, this seemed like just the kind of thing he might find amusing. The thought made Soap smirk. The woman rolled her eyes, setting them on his again.

“What’s your name, hen?”

“I am Daniela. You are Soap, yes?” Soap nodded. Daniela nodded as well, focusing back on his arm. “Your Ghost, he told you that I am with Los Vaqueros?”

Soap and Ghost exchanged a look at “your Ghost”. Now Soap really was smirking, and he imagined that Ghost was grimacing under his mask.

“Aye, that he did,” he replied. He watched as Daniela unzipped her tactical vest and tore a strip of fabric from the bottom of her shirt. She began winding it around his bicep, grimacing slightly at the wheeze of pain he couldn’t hold back.

“Well we have a safehouse. We’ll get there, stock up, get you patched up a little better, and come up with a plan.” After carefully tying a knot in the makeshift bandage, she raised her eyes to Soap’s again. “It’s the best I can do right now.”

“I appreciate it,” he replied. He held her gaze for a moment before turning to face Ghost. “Alright, Ghost?”

Ghost glanced at him again. Even behind the mask, Soap could see his expression soften. “Alright, Johnny. You did well back there.” Soap grinned, and could tell by the crinkling around his eyes that Ghost was grinning, too.

“All thanks to you, LT.”

The rest of the ride was filled with soft chatter about Alejandro, Los Vaqueros, Graves, and the safehouse… and Soap trying, and failing, not to feel Daniela’s burning stare on the back of his neck.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Soap thought he was done for when Ghost shouted for him not to move. His feet had just touched the safehouse floor and Ghost was perched in the window. Before Soap even had time to react, a throwing knife flew past his head, embedding itself in the column just a meter away. Then he recognized Rodolfo’s voice. 

“Quién está ahí?”

“Rodolfo!”

Rodolfo rounded the corner. “Soap, Ghost! You’re alive!” Soap could see the moment Daniela mounted the window. Rodolfo’s face crumbled, his whole body seeming to sag with relief. “Daniela!”

“Rodolfo!” She leapt from the windowsill, surging forward to wrap her arms around Rodolfo’s waist. His own arms came around her shoulders and the two rocked back and forth, holding each other, speaking in rapid-fire Spanish that Soap had no hope of understanding. Rodolfo kissed the side of Daniela’s head, holding her to him tightly. Soap looked away. His eyes met Ghost’s and the two shared a slight shrug.

While Rodolfo and Daniela chattered away, Ghost stepped toward Soap.

“Daniela should be able to fix up that arm,” he said. “She’s not a formally trained medic, but she has lots of field training and experience. She told me she’s been patching up Los Vaqueros for years.”

“Aye. How’d you say you found her? Fighting Shadows?”

Ghost looked her way, nodding. “Just a few minutes before I got you on comms, I heard a scuffle. Thought it might be you, so I went in to assist. Lo and behold, I find that one slicing up a Shadow. ‘Nother pair showed up, though, and one got her in a choke-hold. Would’ve carried her off to who knows where if I hadn’t shown up.”

Soap nodded slowly. He didn’t need any more explanation. He knew the implications of what Ghost was saying and it made his blood boil.

Ghost shrugged. “She trusted me enough since I’d just saved her life, and I trusted her enough since she was fighting them and didn’t raise her gun at me. Plus, I think she’s as dedicated to the cause as Alejandro and Rodolfo.”

“Why’s that?” asked Soap. But before Ghost could answer, Rodolfo cut in.

“Where were you guys?”

“On the run,” answered Ghost.

“I was on the run,” corrected Soap. “Ghost waited for me.”

Rodolfo nodded. “Of course, no?”

Dread sank in Soap’s stomach. “No-” he began. But Ghost cut him off.

“Yes,” he said firmly, locking eyes with Soap again. “We’re a team. All of us.”

That stunned Soap into silence. He’d known they’d bonded trying to escape Las Almas with their lives, but for all of his teasing about Ghost taking a shine to him, he hadn’t actually believed that Ghost would say the same thing.

He was touched.

Maybe even more touched by the fact that the legendary lone-wolf Ghost considered him part of his team. It was likely the highest compliment he would ever get from him.

So while Rodolfo and Ghost started in on their plan to get into the prison, Soap settled down against the safehouse wall with an MRE from Alejandro’s supplies. The adrenaline shot he’d managed to get his hands on in Las Almas was waning, and he could feel every sore muscle, the bullet in his arm, and his likely sprained hip sharply. He tried to tune in to the conversation, but his attention was immediately lost when Daniela approached him with a med kit.

She grinned a bit wryly at him. “Mind if I take a better look at that arm?” Soap nodded and braced himself to stand, but Daniela jumped forward, holding out a hand. “No, don’t get up,” she said. Soap settled back to the ground as she crouched by him, reaching for her makeshift bandage from earlier.

Soap studied her as she worked. Her hair had dried and now sat at least a few centimeters higher on her head, tight ringlets falling to her shoulders. Her eyebrows furrowed just a bit as she carefully removed the bloodied fabric. Her movements were calculated, washing the wound and looking at it closely.

“How did you join Los Vaqueros?” Soap asked. For a moment, Daniela didn’t acknowledge him. Then she raised her gaze to his.

Instead of answering his question, she said “I need to get the bullet out. It’s going to hurt. Think you can handle it?”

Soap nodded once, sharply. Her gaze softened. “I don’t have any painkillers. This isn’t going to be some… little pain. It’s going to hurt a lot.”

Soap cocked a wry grin back at her. “Just so long as my screaming doesn’t bother you,” he teased. A wicked spark lit in her eyes at that.

“It won’t bother me. Maybe I’d like to hear you scream.”

Soap’s jaw dropped. It was exactly the type of thing he’d say, but having it said to him was dumbfounding. Who was this woman?

Her smile only grew as she watched him try to compose himself. He was grateful when her gaze dropped back to the task at hand, sterilizing a pair of forceps. He was sure his face was flaming red.

“Los Vaqueros saved my life when I was sixteen,” she said softly. “My village leader refused the cartel’s demands, so El Sin Nombre set to burning the village down. I was one of three survivors.” That explained Ghost’s certainty of her dedication.

She moved to his right side, between his leg and outstretched arm, and gripped his bicep below the bullet wound.

“My whole family died that day.”

She set the forceps at the wound’s entry. Soap took a deep breath.

“I have burns all over my body from our house burning down.” That explained the scarring at her neck.

Soap lurched forward, gasping, when she dug the forceps in. The pain was so blinding that he nearly missed Daniela cursing softly in Spanish before sitting on his right leg, leaning her body against his to keep him from moving. Nearly missed. But didn’t. 

“Lo ciento,” she whispered, sparing him a concerned glance. He grit his teeth and leaned his head back against the wall, chest heaving as he took deep breaths through his nose. 

“I’m sorry,” he gritted out. “I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you.”

Daniela shrugged. “Alejandro pulled me out of that fire,” she continued. Her tone was light, but seemed forced. Soap wasn’t sure whether it was her attempt to calm him or to pretend her story didn’t bother her.

He felt the moment that the forceps grasped the bullet. Took a deep breath. Steeled himself. Nothing prepared him for the feeling. He’d been shot before, multiple times. Bullet removal wasn’t a walk in the park, but he hadn’t realized just how much the painkillers mattered.

Soap was not proud of the whimper he let out when Daniela yanked the bullet out in one clean motion. She dropped the forceps onto a medical tray and lightly patted his cheek before inspecting the wound closely, muttering about infection and pointedly not meeting his gaze. She poured antiseptic over the wound and reached for a bottle of pills. 

“Here, take these. Antibiotics,” she said. After watching Soap swallow the pills, she picked a needle and thread up out of the med kit and continued. “Rodolfo threw a wet blanket over me. They put ointment on my burns and fed me. They offered me a home. They taught me to fight. They’ve been my family ever since.” 

Soap felt a pang of kinship at her words. He flinched slightly when the needle pierced his skin, but the pain died to a dull burn as Daniela kept stitching.

“Now that, I do understand,” he said. 

“You have no family?”

“No. Just the 141.”

After a few more strokes, she tied off the thread and laid a hand on his chest.

“They are my brothers. We must get Alejandro back.”

Soap reached up to cover her hand, belatedly hoping she wouldn’t be able to feel his heart pounding when she met his gaze. “We will, hermana.”

The smile she gave him was small, but her eyes were warm. It lasted for a brief moment before she arched an eyebrow. 

“Hermana?” She leaned forward until her mouth brushed Soap’s ear and he was sure that she could feel his heartbeat stutter. “I certainly hope not.”

With that, she picked up her medical kit and sauntered away, leaving Soap to stare after her in shock.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Getting into the prison compound was easy enough. 

“Trash bin on your right, time to take out the trash.”

“Shut up, Soap, fucking hell.”

A giggle from Daniela.

“Shoot him.”

“No, got something else in mind.”

“Fucking beautiful, sir!”

Impressed mumbling from Rodolfo.

“Cut and paste him, Ghost.”

Soap and Ghost’s banter amused Daniela to no end, even though Soap was sure he’d never been so anxious in his life. Having Ghost’s life almost solely in his hands was a responsibility he never wanted to feel again. But working with Rodolfo again helped to ease his mind.

Nearly being killed by Alejandro was less than ideal, but made worth it to watch him reunite with Rodolfo and Daniela.

“Alejandro! Al- it’s me, hermano!”

“Coronel, relájese somos nosotros!”

“Soap, Rudy, Ghost! Daniela!”

“Didn’t think we’d leave you, did ya?”

“What took you so long, pendejos?”

Getting out wasn’t quite as easy. 

“Exfil vehicles are set. Ghost planted charges to help us get out.”

“With Johnny’s help.”

“Eh, I can’t call Soap ‘Johnny’.”

“Don’t. Only Ghost can pull that off.”

“Aww, really? Only your Ghost? What about me?”

“Yes, Johnny, what about Daniela?”

“Can it, LT.”

But between Los Vaqueros and the 141, they made it. Soap couldn’t put into words how much relief he felt upon seeing Gaz and hearing the old man’s voice. After being hoisted to the top, he and Daniela ended up shoulder to shoulder, her covering him while he detonated the Shadows vehicles.

“Have you been with the 141 long?” she shouted over the sounds of gunfire.

“The 141 hasn’t been around all that long,” he shouted back. “But yeah, I’ve been with ‘em since the start.” He raised his rifle, picking off three snipers with three shots.

Daniela raised an impressed eyebrow. “I can see why!”

Soap grinned wide, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye as he raised the detonator. “Would you be impressed if I told you I rigged the explosives for these things, too?”

Daniela returned his grin full force. “I would be.”

Soap’s grin only widened before he pressed the button, eyes locked with Daniela’s. He lowered his voice and said “Ka-freaking-boom, baby.” She’d giggled when he said it earlier, and as the APC exploded, she let out another delighted squeal.

“Handsome and clever? This is a good combination, Johnny,” she said. Soap was grateful that shooting was such second nature to him because in that moment, all coherent thoughts ceased to exist. When he managed to look back to Daniela, she was smiling slyly. She picked off a sniper from across the yard and Soap shook his head. Witty, intelligent, beautiful, and a good shot. 

When the door to their right crashed open, Soap threw himself in front of Daniela to cover her as they each shot one of the men inside. Ghost barked at Soap about weapons, and he came back to the wall with a grenade launcher. He released several grenades before the last of Alejandro’s men mounted the wall top, and then made sure that Daniela went down the other side before him.

When he stumbled getting to their transport out, he chalked it up to battle fatigue, which he told both Ghost and Daniela when they asked whether he was okay. Neither looked convinced, but neither questioned him. They did sit on either side of him for the ride back to the safehouse, though.

Daniela leaned close to him. “How do you feel?” she asked.

“Never better,” he lied. His whole body throbbed in varying levels of discomfort and pain. At least his head had stopped throbbing. Daniela leveled her gaze at him, and he returned a wide grin. She rolled her eyes and dropped it. Instead, she said “Thank you for covering me. You didn’t have to do that.”

Soap’s grin softened. “I know,” he said.

Back at the safe house, lively music played softly in the garage as Los Vaqueros cleaned weapons, loaded vehicles, and fed themselves. Soap felt slightly out of place, like he and the rest of the 141 were walking into someone’s home. Everyone either had something to say or shook hands with Daniela and Rodolfo as they passed, and they both smiled warmly at their friends.

Soap and Ghost made their way to an unoccupied pair of cots in the corner, observing their newfound comrades. Price had disappeared with Alejandro to formulate a plan, ordering the two to sleep. But exhausted as he was, Soap wasn’t sure he’d be able to.

He couldn’t get comfortable. No matter which way he turned, something ached or stung. He tried relaxing his muscles. He tried breathing deeply. He tried counting sheep. 

Every time he closed his eyes, he could see the fire and the blood from the streets of Las Almas. He could hear the screaming and the pleading and the gunfire. He tried covering his eyes, and his ears. Eventually, he rolled to his side, facing Ghost. He was startled to meet the Lieutenant’s eyes. 

“Simon?” Soap asked softly. 

“Johnny,” said Ghost, equally as softly. 

Soap chewed his lip. “Do you ever forget?”

Ghost held his stare, unflinching. “No. You don’t.” Soap hadn’t realized before, but Ghost’s eyes were bloodshot. He looked tired. He’d learned quickly that he slept infrequently, and for short periods of time. It made a lot more sense, now. Ghost rolled over, huffing out a soft breath. “But eventually, you’ll learn to sleep anyway.”

Soap stared at his back, wondering if he would. Wondering if Ghost ever had. He didn’t know how long he stared at his teammate, but it felt like hours later that someone sat gently on the end of his cot. He flew up, grabbing for the bowie knife he kept in his tactical vest. 

Daniela raised her hands, offering a tired smile. “Mind if I take a look at that arm?”

“Sure.” Soap swung his legs off of the cot, resting his hands on the edge. Daniela turned toward him, reaching out and carefully pulling off the dressing she’d applied that early morning. 

“How does it feel? Any sharp pains or itching? Any dizziness, fever?” As soon as she said fever, Soap realized he’d been sweating more than usual. He’d absolutely been feeling dizzy since that harrowing night on the run, but it seemed to have died down throughout the day. And now that he actually paid attention long enough, it was quite itchy.

“No,” he lied. Once again, those ocean eyes seemed to pierce his very soul, challenging him. She knew. But she didn’t say anything, simply reached into the med kit for the same bottle of antibiotics and handed him two. Soap took them gratefully. The team couldn’t afford to be without him, and Ghost would surely order him to stay back if he thought the Sergeant was at all compromised.

Again, she washed the wound with antiseptic, then applied a fresh coat of salve before covering it with a fresh bandage.

“Why are you awake, anyway?” she asked suddenly. Soap’s head snapped up, eyes flying to hers. She looked nearly as exhausted as Ghost, all bloodshot eyes and frazzled hair and sagging shoulders. Still gorgeous.

Soap shrugged uncomfortably. “Couldn’t sleep. What about you?”

She shrugged back, offering a small smile. “Couldn’t sleep either. It makes sense, though. You’ve been through a lot the last few days.” The last few days? When Soap cocked an eyebrow at her, she fidgeted a bit. “I, uh… I was there in the cartel house. When Valeria interrogated you.”

Several things clicked into place for Soap very suddenly. Alejandro had taken him to the elevator once he got into the cartel house, and another guard had escorted him out and down to the basement. Small, with ocean-blue eyes. Then at the oil rig, Alejandro had sent one man with Soap and Graves to the ship. Dani.

“You’re strong for your size,” said Soap in awe. Daniela had shoved him repeatedly through the hallway, even tapping the side of his face with the butt of her gun when he had begun to look over his shoulder.

She smiled wryly. “Sorry about that. We had to make it real, and we couldn’t risk any more comms than we had.”

“No, no, it’s okay. You did good,” said Soap. “Why can’t you sleep?”

Daniela shifted again. “I don’t do so well the night before big missions. I usually bunk next to Alelandro or Rodolfo, but they’re both… occupied. So, I came over here instead. To you.”

Soap’s heart melted. He was so drawn to this woman, and to know that she felt even a fraction of that bond made his heart swell with gratitude. “You can bunk with us,” he said quickly. Then, glancing around, he realized that there didn’t seem to be any available cots. “Take my cot. I can sleep in a chair.”

Daniela’s face had washed with relief when he spoke, but some tension returned as she looked down at her hands. “Don’t be silly,” she mumbled. “I’m not putting you out of your cot after the week you’ve had.”

“Well then, you’ll just have to share it with me,” teased Soap. He held his breath when Daniela’s head snapped up. He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to say anything so bold, but he’d taken it and run with it. “There’s plenty of space for both of us.”

“If I sleep on top of you, maybe,” snorted Daniela. Soap wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and Daniela giggled.

Soap softened his voice, speaking more seriously. “I really don’t mind sharing.”

She contemplated for a moment, sighed, and then rolled her eyes. “Fine. Just don’t complain if I crush you.”

Now it was Soap’s turn to snort. He lay down carefully, his back to Ghost’s cot, and raised his right arm. Daniela lay down beside him, turning onto her side and tucking herself under his chin. A perfect fit. Soap gently let his arm come down over her waist, laying his hand on the cot rail.

“This okay?” he whispered. She nodded. Soap nodded, too. His heart was pounding. He hadn’t been close to someone like this in… well, a long time.

The 141 was his whole life. There was always work to be done, and without a family to go home to, there was no real reason to take leave. On the rare occasion he did, he just ended up in his home town in Scotland. He’d flirt, constantly, but he seldom brought anyone home. He longed for something deeper, and sex alone could never fill that void. Plus, no one wanted to commit to someone who could be gone for months at a time.

But this? To be close to someone? This was filling the void just fine. Soap had to fight the urge to pull her further back against him as her breathing evened out, her body naturally leaning more on his own. As he dozed, he was proud of himself for staying still. He drifted in and out of sleep, dreaming empty dreams and feeling her shift against him.

As he finally woke up the next morning, he felt his hip aching fiercely. He started to shift to take some pressure off of it, and froze. Slowly opening his eyes, he saw Daniela’s wild hair. He groggily remembered that they’d shared a cot the night before. All of his pride at his self-control dissolved instantly when he realized that his arm was around her waist, holding her tightly to his chest. She must have turned over in her sleep, because her leg was thrown over his hip, pulling their bodies flush together. 

He could already feel a problem, and this was not the time or place. He had to get out of this cot without waking her up. He shifted back, then froze as Daniela’s hand ran up to the back of his head to tangle her fingers in his mohawk. Her eyelids fluttered, her fingers pulled lightly at his hair, and her leg tightened around his hips. Soap’s eyes fluttered shut as he swallowed a groan. Fuck. When he opened his eyes again, she was smiling at him sleepily.

“That’s the best sleep I’ve gotten in months,” she whispered. Soap nodded, desperately trying to get his body under control before she woke up any more. To his dismay, she nuzzled closer to him, nose rubbing under his jaw and hips shifting back and forth for a moment. Her eyes snapped open, eyebrows arching. “Feels like you slept pretty well, too, eh big boy?” Hells bells, this woman. Soap barely suppressed a full body shudder as she beamed at him.

“I didn’t, I’m not, I-” he stuttered. But Daniela placed her fingers over his lips, silencing him. Her eyes were full of mirth.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone,” she teased. Then she languidly stretched, pressing against him as much as humanly possible before climbing out of the cot and sashaying away, tossing a wicked grin over her shoulder at him. Soap turned to Ghost’s cot, which was blessedly empty, and then pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, still fighting for his body to cooperate. Hells fucking bells.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Alejandro called his men, all sound stopped. The place became a real base in that moment. Los Vaqueros and the 141 gathered around a makeshift operations table, listening intently as Price spoke.

“This is a fight against our own. We are not 141 and Los Vaqueros on this. We’re a team. Ghost team.”

Soap’s eyebrows shot up when the Captain dumped out a bucket of masks, then his eyes snapped up to Ghost. Ghost was staring at him, and Soap was almost certain he was steeling himself. Their silent conversation lasted only a moment before Ghost reached up, pulling off his mask, pausing before reaching for one from the table. Price reached a hand up to his shoulder.

“Good to see you again, Simon,” he said.

Soap carefully schooled his features in an attempt to soothe Ghost’s nerves, but he felt a distinct surge of pride in being one of the few to be allowed to know the Lieutenant. As the older man adjusted the mask over his face, the two shared another weighted look. Soap quirked up one corner of his mouth, shaking his head. Quite the opposite, indeed.

Alejandro laid out the plan to get into the Los Vaqueros facility. “We’ll infiltrate the base with two Ghost teams. Team one is Captain Price, Gaz, me, and one pilot. Team two is Ghost, Soap, Rudy, Dani, and Los Vaqueros.”

Ghost and Soap looked to each other and nodded. Then Soap turned to Daniela, raising an eyebrow. He mouthed “Dani?” 

She smirked, mouthing back “Johnny?”

Soap grinned. He looked to Ghost, who was shaking his head. But his eyes were crinkled with mirth.

“While Gaz and me locate and secure Valeria, Ghost team 2 will find Graves… and kill him.”

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ghost team 2 fought their way through the base to the HQ building, then fought their way through that. Soap and Ghost moved together like they’d fought together for years, and Daniela and Rodolfo effortlessly slotted themselves into their dynamic. Between the three of them, no Shadows made it more than a few steps into the open.

Watching Price’s helo go down had Soap’s stomach sinking. “Steamin’ hell!” Soap shouted. He and Ghost shared a heavy look while Daniela and Rodolfo cursed softly. Rodolfo quickly recovered, clambering up the wall with Soap’s help. Daniela followed after, lightly stepping into Soap’s linked hands before joining Rodolfo in straddling the wall. The two of them pulled Soap up quickly, who turned to Ghost.

“Ghost, you comin’?” he asked.

“No. Price and the pilot need help. You three finish this.”

Soap’s head whipped back and forth between Ghost and the other side of the wall until he saw something that made his stomach drop even more. “Look!” he shouted.

“That’s not ours!” shouted Rodolfo.

“Holy shite. Graves brought a fuckin’ tank!” growled Soap, dropping to the ground. He glanced at Rodolfo and Daniela. “You ready for this?”

“Hell yeah!” answered Rodolfo. Daniela nodded curtly. Soap motioned for the three to split up.

“Looks like the hunters are getting hunted now, huh?” came Graves’ sneering voice. “Ain’t that a kick in the ass?”

“Can’t wait to bake this bastard,” grumbled Soap. He, Daniela, and Rodolfo had run into different buildings. Rodolfo tried to call out C4 stashes, Daniela threw grenades as she could, and Soap gestured for both of them to stay down and inside. Then he ran for his life.

“You and your mexicano friends fucked with the wrong hombre, MacTavish!” yelled Graves.

“Come on out and let’s talk about it,” quipped Soap. Daniela snorted, and despite the severity of the situation, Soap found himself smiling.

Graves seemed altogether less pleased. “You think this is a fucking game out here? You wanna play war? Let’s play some fucking war, chicos! One of you dipshits needs to die last. Who’s it gonna be?”

“Go fuck yourself, Graves.” Soap threw a brick of C4 straight into the tank’s path, silently congratulating himself when it blew.

“You got a healthy disrespect for authority, Soap. I like that about you!”

“You’re Shepherd’s lap dog. You get paid to break the rules.”

“There’s only two rules here, boys. Walk away… or win. Guess which one I choose?” Soap vaulted through a window. It wasn’t high, but the landing still made his hip throb in protest. He grunted softly. “Shoulda gone home when you had the chance, Soap- you and that asshole with the mask, hiding behind that uniform.”

Soap’s temper instantly flared. “You wore that uniform,” he ground out. He was crouched by another C4 stash, trying to judge Graves’ location.

“That uniform was a limitation!” shouted Graves. “I shed that skin!”

“Like a fuckin’ snake,” Soap hissed.

“Like a fuckin’ soldier, son.”

“You had to make your own little army ‘cause you couldn’t hack it in the real one.” This time, Soap managed to stick the side of the tank with C4 as it passed. He ran, detonated, and silently cheered again when he heard the second explosion.

Soap managed to tune out most of the rest of what Graves said, until he turned his attention to Rodolfo. His Spanish wasn’t great, but he picked up the general idea that Graves was saying the 141 were no friends to Los Vaqueros.

“Oye, pendejo!” Daniela’s voice suddenly cut through the radio. Most of what she said was lost to Soap, but she sounded furious. He picked out the words “friends”, “assholes like you”, “good people”, and “brothers”, and “death”. Hermanos hasta la muerte.

Graves must have understood more than Soap, because his driving became erratic and he shouted back to Daniela in what Soap did recognize as poorly pronounced Spanish. 

Her distraction gave him enough time to sneak up behind the tank and lay one last brick of C4 between the tank’s body and tread. But just as he started to back off, the gun began to swing in his direction. Soap braced himself to run, and then froze. 

“Graves!” Daniela shouted. She had leapt up to stand in the window of the building directly ahead of Soap. As the tank's gun swung back in her direction, Soap scrambled to his feet, racing forward. 

“Pinche tu madre,” she sneered. 

Soap could hear the tank’s gun spinning up.

“No!” He shouted. Daniela’s head snapped in his direction. Her face fell when they locked stares, eyes flashing with anxiety. She took half a step toward him, but Soap launched himself through the window. In one smooth motion, he wrapped his arm around Daniela’s waist, yanked her against himself, and pulled them to the ground. He landed hard on his shoulder as he heard the tank fire and rolled her under him as fast as he could, tucking his head against hers and shielding them both with his arms. The building crumbled under the impact, sheetrock and dust raining down on them. Several chunks of sheetrock landed across Soap’s back. That’ll be a few new bruises.

As it began to settle, Soap raised his head just enough to look down at Daniela. They were nose to nose when she opened her eyes, hands coming up to run over his covered head. 

“Y’alright?” Soap whispered. She nodded frantically. 

“You?” He nodded. As he shifted his shoulders, bits of rubble fell off and cracked against the ground. He winced. 

He looked up and around. Graves’ tank was rotating, looking for them. He glanced to the stairs, then looked back down at Daniela. 

“Hold onto me,” he whispered. Daniela cocked an eyebrow, but wrapped her arms around his neck. Soap grabbed one of her legs behind the knee, wrapping it around his waist, and she smirked before wrapping her other leg around his back as well. As serious as the situation was, their position wasn’t lost on Soap. Twice in one day? He swallowed hard. C’mon, MacTavish.

As quickly as he dared, he crawled for the stairwell. He could see Graves’ tank through the doorway on the opposite wall, facing away. In the last meter, he leapt to his feet and ran up several steps, stopping midway to lean against the wall. Daniela slid down his body, resting her hands on his chest. Soap shivered. They were both panting slightly. Her eyes shone as she looked up at him. 

“Gracías, guapo,” she said softly. Then her hand snapped up to her earpiece. She started down for a moment, then looked back up at Soap. “Rodolfo moved to Los Vaqueros private channel. He says there should be an RPG downstairs,” she said. 

Soap nodded, clicking through channels until he could hear Rudy’s voice. “I’ll get it,” he said.

Daniela grabbed his arm as he moved, stopping him in his tracks. “Be careful,” she said. He nodded, clasping her arm. 

“I will.”

He crept down the stairs, peeking around the wall to where he’d last seen Graves’ tank. It wasn’t there. Staying low, he rounded the corner, eyes searching frantically for the RPG.

“Check under the counter, hermano,” whispered Rodolfo. When Soap glanced up, he could barely see the other man peeking around a doorframe across the yard. He crept to the bar counter, slid open the door as quietly as possible, and grabbed the RPG inside.

“Siiick,” said Soap, raising the RPG to his shoulder. With his back to the wall, he slowly made his way to an opening, searching for Graves. Not seeing him, he stayed. And breathed. And waited.

He could hear the thing driving around outside, searching for him or the others. He just hoped they were well hidden.

His radio crackled. “He’s heading your way, Soap,” said Daniela quietly.

“Rog’,” he replied. “Stay down.”

Carefully, he crouched and turned, ready to fire as soon as the tank came into view. He didn’t have to wait long. With a deep breath, he stood, pulled the trigger, and dove behind the cabinet again. The explosion from the tank seemed to rock the very ground. He realized that he’d never detonated the last brick of C4. Double trouble, then.

Slowly, Soap stood and leaned around the corner. Graves’ tank was a ball of fire, smoke and flames billowing into the sky. He heard Daniela step down the stairs, then felt her small hand on his shoulder blade. Rudy peeked around the corner of a doorway, looking around before stepping outside. Soap and Daniela did the same, cautiously walking forward.

“You did it, Soap,” said Rodolfo softly.

“You two and me, hermano,” said Soap.

“Brought a gun to a tank fight.”

Soap chuckled, smiling under his mask. “Yeah we did!” He reached for his radio, clicking back to the main channel. “Soap to Ghost- I’m with Rudy. Graves is KIA. How’s Price?”“Angry. Lost a good cigar in the crash. Pilot’s okay, too. Out.”

Rodolfo relayed the message to Alejandro. They all took a moment to breathe. And then they moved out to meet Ghost Team 1.

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Soap’s head was spinning. They had all known Valeria was a wildcard, but he didn’t think any of them had expected her to drop the bomb of information that a missile was in Chicago. Not even Alejandro. Price handed her off to Los Vaqueros almost immediately, the threat in his voice clear. Soap wasn’t surprised, and he didn’t expect to ever see her alive again.

He was surprised when he had to lift Daniela up and out of the container after she lunged for Valeria. He dragged her out kicking and screaming in Spanish, all curses and threats. Rudy followed them out first, trying to calm her down, but there was nothing for it. The other woman was single-handedly responsible for the deaths of all of her family and friends. Soap couldn’t fault her rage.

Gaz came out next, raising his eyebrows at Soap in a silent question. Soap nodded, affirming that he was alright. Daniela had stopped thrashing, but her chest still rose and fell quickly against his arms. He’d had to lean back against the wall, lifting her feet off the ground to keep her from beelining to the container. Now she stood, back against his chest, hands gripping his tactical harness where it crossed his thighs.

“I won’t pretend to know what you’re feeling,” Gaz began softly. He paced slowly back and forth in front of them. “But I do know that she’s not worth throwing your life away.”

“She stole my life!” hissed Daniela. “She took my family. She took everything from me! And now she’s doing it all again! More people will lose their lives, lose their families, if she isn’t stopped!”

“But she gave you a purpose,” said Gaz firmly. He’d stopped pacing, staring directly at Daniela now. “You’ll never let that happen to anyone ever again. We are going to stop her. And I know it’s not the same thing, but she gave you a family, too. Hell, she gave you two families. You, Alejandro, Rodolfo? Los Vaqueros? You’ll always have a family with the 141, now.”

Soap squeezed her just a bit tighter at that, his own silent affirmation. After a moment, Daniela’s hands released his harness and lay flat against his legs. She seemed to sag back against him. Her voice shook slightly when she spoke.

“Gracias, hermano.”

Gaz simply nodded before returning to the container. For several minutes, Soap and Daniela said nothing. Then, very softly, she said “You can let me go.”

“Aye? You won’t kick me in the shins and run off to kill her anyway?”

Daniela snorted at that. “No.” With one final squeeze, Soap let her go. As he did, Alejandro came storming out of the container, followed closely by Rodolfo. He moved straight for Daniela, gripping her shoulders.

“We’re going to be hunted men, Dani,” he said. “I’m not letting her get away with this. Rodolfo and I will handle her, and we’ll handle the cartel. But you…” He looked up at Soap, then back at Daniela. He pointed to Soap with one finger. “You need to go with them. I don’t want you to be a part of this.”

“Alejandro, no, soy-”

“No,” he growled. He tilted his head back to look at the ceiling, and Soap realized when he looked at Daniela again that he was tearing up. He lowered his head to her level, staring at her intently. “What did I tell you the night we found you?”

Rodolfo had turned his head away, shoulders stiff. Soap couldn’t see her face, but he could hear in her voice that Daniela was tearing up, too. “You told me you would always protect me,” she whimpered.

Alejandro shook her gently. “This is me protecting you, hermana.” He pointed to Soap. “That man will protect you with his life. You told me so yourself. Rodolfo told me.” He glanced back to Soap, who nodded, stunned. “And I can see it when I look at him, and the way he looks at you. You have to go with them. You have to get that missile, and you have to stay out of Mexico until this dies down. And then you know we’ll welcome you back with open arms.”

Rodolfo turned, reaching out a hand to hold Daniela’s. “This has always been our fight, mijá,” he whispered. “It doesn’t have to be yours. And I know you chose it, but this time… just let us do this for you. Sabes que te amamos.”

Price and Gaz had come out of the container again, Price holding Valeria. They both nodded to Soap, who nodded to Daniela when she looked over to him. Her gaze dropped, and then she looked back to her men.

“Yo sé que tú,” she whispered.

Alejandro moved to Soap while Rodolfo hugged Daniela.

“Go. You have work to do,” he said. Then he pulled Soap closer, and softly said “Take care of her.”“You know I will,” whispered Soap. He backed toward their plane. “Keep fighting the good fight, hermano!” he called.“To the bitter end, my brother!” said Alejandro.

“Good luck, amigos,” said Rodolfo.

Price shoved Valeria into the backseat of Alejandro and Rodolfo’s vehicle while Soap, Ghost, and Daniela moved to board the aircraft Gaz had already started up.

“Ghost!” called Alejandro. Ghost turned back, cocking his head slightly. “No te pierdas, hermano!”

Whatever Ghost said back, Soap didn’t understand. But Daniela smiled, blowing a kiss with two fingers that Alejandro caught out of midair and held to his heart. Then they turned, boarded the plane, and were away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Soap had long since abandoned his fear of heights. Walking down a 60-story building didn’t make him nervous, but the hostage situation did. Ghost’s calm helped him keep his cool, though, and soon enough, Daniela was getting hostages out of the building while Soap and Price moved on Hassan. They cleared entire floors of the building in record times.

“And that’s why they call him Soap,” mumbled Ghost. Daniela’s answering giggle warmed Soap’s heart. Upon hearing this, Ghost added “Did you know he’s the youngest one of us? Got in with the SAS at sixteen.”

“Sixteen? Soap, you get more and more impressive the more I learn about you!”

Soap’s face flamed.

Despite the hostages, the mission was going smoothly. Too smoothly. Then, Laswell announced that Hassan had the controls. Ghost confirmed visual on floor 46, and back out they went.

“Soap, we find those controls, it’s up to you to disarm that missile.”

“Copy that… done it once before.”

The RPG could have ruined the whole plan, but Soap and Price were both lucky that it missed them. They moved into the building as quickly as possible, clearing yet another room in record time with Ghost’s sniper support.

When Gaz called that they had the target cornered, Soap and Price raced in his direction. Then came Laswell saying that the missile was launching. Everyone was speaking at once.

“No, no, no!” screamed Price. 

“Fecking hell,” growled Soap.

“Watcher, where’s the target?” yelled Price.

“Unknown, we’re working on it.”

“Copy. We’re going for Hassan. This way Sergeant!” he yelled to Soap. Then, “Gaz, where’s Hassan?”

Price and Soap were rounding the corner when Gaz answered. “End of the hall! Hassan’s holed up behind those doors.”

Price’s response was furious. “Let’s clear this out and bag him, then.”

When they got the snake cam under the door, the whole thing went to shit. 

The door blew. Soap and Price flew back and Gaz collapsed like a bag of rocks. Soap’s ears were ringing, he was bleeding, and he could hardly breathe. Only Gaz’s quick recovery saved his life. He was dragged into cover before Price took a bullet and Gaz went back for him, too.

Everything after was a blur. One moment, Soap was leaping down a falling elevator shaft. The next, he was running from the man he stole the laptop from. Then hiding. Then detonating the missile with Laswell’s help. Then, running for his life, again. 

“Nicely done, Johnny. Now for the hard part,” said Ghost.

“That was the fuckin’ hard part, LT.”

“Let’s find out. You need to stay alive, take out the guards, and kill Hassan.”

Soap looked around frantically. “I just need a weapon,” he said.

“Make one,” Ghost replied. He sounded so nonchalant. It made Soap huff out a laugh.

“Aye. Like old times, huh LT?”

Ghost’s voice was fond when he said “Seems like yesterday.”

Soap replied with equal fondness. “It was yesterday.”

He hid. He ran. With Ghost’s help, he fashioned some makeshift weapons. Then he ran headlong into Hassan. Before he could react, his world went dark.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

When Soap came to, he was being dragged by his foot. At first, he wasn’t sure where he was. Then he recognized the office he’d been chasing Hassan through.

Hassan. It was Hassan dragging him along.

Sluggishly, his mind went through his team. Ghost. Overwatch. Price. Holed up trying to recover. Gaz. Unknown. Daniela.

Daniela.

Alejandro had sent her with him and he didn’t even know where she was, whether she was safe. His heart twinged painfully. He didn’t have time to think, though. Hassan was yelling about fire and thinking they could stop him. Soap couldn’t focus on it.

Ghost.

“Ghost,” he whispered into his throat mic.

“Soap!”

“Watch… the window,” he managed.

Something exploded.

Hassan dragged him to his feet. Still going on about invading, not attacking.

He thrust Soap in front of him, pushing him toward the window. Soap desperately tried to keep his footing.

“Soap,” said Ghost. Soap vaguely recognized panic in his voice. “Soap, I see him, but I can’t-”

“Take the shot, LT,” mumbled Soap.

“What was that? What are you saying?” Hassan had him by his vest now, shaking him violently. 

“Soap, I can’t get a clear-”

“Take. The shot.” Soap’s jaw was clenched. It took all of his power to hold onto Hassan’s wrists enough not to fall back. Hassan was still pushing forward, shouting, and Soap was fighting a losing battle. Hassan was going to push him out of the window.

And he couldn’t stop it.

“I’m sorry,” said Ghost.

Then, just as Soap’s heels touched the ledge, searing pain shot through his chest. He lurched forward with the impact, falling into Hassan.

Hassan’s eyes were wide. Soap thought he saw blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His rattled brain couldn’t make sense of it as they both fell to the ground.

“Johnny, MOVE!” roared Ghost. With the last of his energy, Soap shoved as hard as he could, rolling off of Hassan’s body. Another piercing shot rang out and Hassan’s head cracked backward against the ground. 

Soap blinked at Hassan’s body. Ghost was shouting for him through his earpiece. Suddenly, the pieces clicked into place.

“You shot me,” he said dumbly to Ghost.

“Oh thank God,” muttered Ghost. He could hear Daniela shrieking in the background, too.

“You saved me,” he said. The whole room seemed colorful and soft. Spinning. Like a carousel.

Soap smiled, head lolling down.

He could vaguely hear Ghost and Daniela and Gaz yelling, but he was too tired to listen. Just a wee nap. That’s all I need.

Footsteps pounded nearby. With great effort, Soap turned his head. It didn’t hold where he wanted it to, just flopped onto the ground on the other side. He watched a small black pair of boots race across the floor toward him.

“No no no no, hijo de puta. Por favor, Dios, no.” Suddenly, Soap’s head and shoulders were being lifted. Then he was dragged back against something soft. He looked up. Daniela was running her hands over his head, his chest, clawing at his tactical vest. “Por favor, Dios, no,” she repeated. Her voice shook as badly as her hands and tears streamed down her face.

“Hey,” Soap said. He grinned up at her. “Whassa matter? Why’re you crying?”

He reached a hand up to her, wiping her cheek with his thumb. He couldn’t keep it raised and it flopped back to his side.

“John Soap MacTavish, you’d better not die on me,” she muttered. She had gotten his vest loose and was pulling his shirt up roughly. 

“Hey, bonnie, at least buy me dinner first,” he slurred. He chuckled. It was silly. It was all so silly. He could hear Ghost yelling faintly, but he wasn’t sure why. Daniela was leaning heavily on his chest, and he wasn’t sure about that either.

Suddenly, he felt as though he’d been sat out in snow for a good few hours. “Hey, are you cold?” he asked Daniela.

“Hey,” Daniela said sharply. She gripped his chin between her fingers. “Look at me.”

Clarity hit Soap like a ton of bricks. He’d been shot. He was bleeding. Cold from shock. That’s why Daniela was crying and Ghost was yelling. He’d been knocked out. Likely had a concussion. He looked up at her solemnly, grabbing her wrist with his hand. Don’t die on me, she’d said. He was dying.

They’d talked quite a bit over their few days together. Talked about their hopes and dreams, and how those fit into their dangerous lives. Talked about their dedication to their teams, their values, their futures. Talked about growing up, their families, how they’d gotten there. 

She’d asked him if he’d ever been in love.

He’d said he hadn’t. But he wasn’t so sure that was true, any more.

When he’d asked her, she’d said “maybe” with a sly smile his direction, all twinkling eyes and rosy cheeks.

He blinked, hard. He wanted to know what that meant.

“What did you mean… when you said maybe?” he panted out.

For a moment, Daniela just blinked at him. Then her eyes softened, tears slipping down her cheeks as she understood his question. “I meant I might be,” she whispered. “I’m not quite sure yet. You’ll have to give me some time to figure it out.”

Soap hummed, eyes drifting shut. “I’m pretty sure,” he breathed. Daniela gasped, but he reached up to touch her cheek before she could say anything. “You,” he began, voice a whisper. “You are the most… the most beautiful, intelligent, amazing woman that… that I’ve ever-”

Daniela didn’t let him finish. Her lips were on his before he knew it. He was kissing her before even registering that she’d leaned down. Her lips were soft, just like he’d imagined. She tasted like strawberries and mint and salt. Tears. She kissed him desperately, and he kissed her desperately back. His hand slid back to tangle in her curls. So unbelievably soft.  He could hardly move his head, but she tilted her own to deepen the kiss. She ran her tongue along the seam of his lips and he moaned, low in his chest. He weakly tried to pull her closer. No point hiding it now. Besides, if he was going to die, what better way to go? More footsteps pounded in the door. He could vaguely make out Gaz and Price’s voices.

And then, above them all, nearly a full octave up in his panic, Ghost. “Johnny!”

Daniela’s teeth lightly grazed his lip. Soap sighed, then everything went black.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Soap woke to a gentle beeping. His head and mouth felt like they were stuffed with cotton. His body felt like one big bruise, but with shards of glass sprinkled throughout it. He couldn’t open his eyes. There was light pressure against his right hip.

He breathed deeply. Ouch.

Slowly, his eyes cracked open. The room was dark, but moonlight streamed in through a window out of the corner of his eye. He could see that the ceiling was bright white.

“Johnny?”

Slowly, he turned his head toward the familiar voice. As he did, Ghost rose to his feet from his chair, taking two quick steps to the bedside.

Soap opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Ghost scrambled to pour a cup of water, then gently helped Soap lift his head to drink. As he did, Soap realized what the pressure on his hip was. Daniela.

Her head lay at the junction of his torso and legs, black curls shining in the moonlight. The bags under her eyes were nearly as dark as Ghost’s grease paint. Her right hand gripped his thigh, and her left hand held his. She didn’t stir.

Soap swallowed several times. “What happened?” he finally asked.

Ghost’s gaze dropped to the floor. “Do you want the short or long story?” he asked. His voice sounded exhausted.

“How about the short one, for now?”

“I shot you,” said Ghost. For a moment, Soap thought he wouldn’t elaborate. Then, Ghost looked up to meet his eyes. “I shot you, Johnny. Because you told me to. Because you’re the best of us, and you’re clever.”

Soap nodded, eyes drifting shut, not processing Ghost’s words.

“You’re lucky I’m such a good shot,” Ghost added, grumbling.

Soap chuckled softly, wincing as he did. “That I am,” he said. “Hassan?”

“I shot him, too. Twice, actually.”

“Through me the first time, eh LT?”

Ghost looked unamused. But when Soap grinned at him, his eyes softened. “That’s right, Johnny.”

“Perfect shot, LT.”“You called it, Sargeant.”

“The best of us, huh LT?”

“Can it, Sergeant.”

For a moment, the two shared a companionable silence. Then, Ghost spoke so softly that Soap thought he may have imagined it. “I almost didn’t take it.”

“The shot? Why not?”

“There was no shot. He had you directly in front of him, and he would have thrown you out that window before I had time to move.”

“You still got him, LT. I’ll call that a win.”“We got him, Johnny.”

“I’m starting to think you really have taken a shine to me, Simon.”

Ghost hung his head before looking back up. “Maybe I have.” He turned, picking up his chair, and sat it right by the bed as quietly as he could. “That one has, for sure.” He nodded to Daniela.

Soap looked down at her. “How long have you both been here?”

“Since you got here,” Ghost mumbled. Soap’s head snapped back to him.

“And when was that?”

Ghost shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Four days, give or take.” Soap stared at him. Finally, he threw up his hands. “You, Sergeant, should have died.”

He lifted one gloved hand, ticking off fingers as he spoke. “You have a field-treated gunshot wound to your right arm, which was in fact infected. Thank your lucky stars that Daniela saw through your idiocy.” That explained a lot of little things he’d missed. Like a passenger in a getaway vehicle. “A bruised bone in your hip. Three cracked ribs. A grade four concussion. Multiple hairline fractures in your legs. And a shredded left pec from a 50 caliber bullet. Might I add that last one only missed your heart by centimeters?”

Soap snorted. “Well, that explains a lot about how I feel. Hell, how I’ve been feeling.”

Ghost just shook his head. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Thought we lost ya. Again.”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy, LT.”

“Good,” grumbled Ghost. He looked toward Daniela. “I had to pry her off of you,” he said softly. 

Soap looked down at her again. She looked younger than before, peaceful in her slumber. But he could see the exhaustion plainly on her face. “Yeah?” he asked. 

“Mhmm,” murmured Ghost. “Could hardly get her across the hall to shower.”

Soap let his eyes drift shut, exhaustion washing over him all over again. “Where are we, anyway?”

“Amsterdam. Laswell has friends here. We’re in a private hospital.”

“Price? And Gaz?”

“They’re trying to find a lead on Shepherd.”

Soap nodded sleepily, relieved that their squad was still intact. “She kissed me,” he murmured. 

“Doctors say she saved your life with that.”

Soap hummed, cracking one eye open to peer at Ghost. He shrugged. 

“Something about the adrenaline helping to push off the shock.”

Soap hummed again, letting his eyes slide shut.

“Sleep, Johnny.”

He did. 

When he woke again, sunlight was streaming through the window. He shifted slightly, and felt Daniela spring up when he did. 

When he opened his eyes, she was staring at him anxiously. 

“Good morning, beautiful,” Soap murmured. 

Tears sprang instantly to her eyes. She squeezed his thigh, standing and reaching her hand up to cup his face.

“Oh, Johnny,” she whispered.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry,” he said. He reached up a hand to hold hers against his cheek. “I’m right here.”

She shifted a leg up onto the bed, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his.

“I thought I’d lost you.”

“I’m right here,” he whispered again. “Ghost said you saved my life.”

She made a strangled sound, half laugh and half sob. “I couldn’t let you go like that.”

Soap shifted his hand to her face, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Well,” he said. “If you remember, I was a bit out of my mind.” He tilted her chin up gently, whispering “Care to give me another taste of those lifesaving powers of yours?”

Daniela lunged forward, sealing her lips to his. Soap eyes slid shut as he grinned, pulling her closer. Her mouth opened against his, and he ran his tongue against hers. When she whimpered into his mouth, the primal need to have her close overcame him. He leaned up as far as he could, cursing the sling on his left shoulder, chasing her mouth. His hand moved to the back of her neck, holding her against him. She straddled him carefully, elbows coming to rest above his shoulders. 

Her whole body shuddered when his hand came to rest on her hip.

His eyes snapped open. “I’m sorry-”

“No,” she cut him off, panting. She reached one hand up, threading her fingers through his mohawk. “There’s no reason.” Soap groaned when her nails lightly scratched his scalp.

“Woman, the things I would do to you if I wasn’t stuck in this bed…”

She shuddered again before she leaned down and kissed the place that his jaw and neck met. His whole body involuntarily arched off the bed, hand moving from her hip to the small of her back to pull her against him. She gasped at the contact. However light she was, her weight on his hip hurt. But he was too far gone to care. He leaned up again, gently sucking her lip between his as she sighed into his mouth.

His mind was clouded with the desire for intimacy with her. He wanted all of her. First in their single shared night, and now in their kiss, Soap saw waking up to her every morning, cooking together, trips to the stormy Scottish coast and the sunny Caribbean. He’d been drawn to her from the moment he saw her, and he knew from the way she looked at him that she’d been drawn to him just as much. He’d tried so hard to remain professional. To keep distance. To be a gentleman. To pretend he hadn’t fallen in love with her the moment he heard her speak.

Then she’d slept in his cot and he’d had to know what it was like to have her in his arms. Having tasted her once, there was no going back to professional and distant. Having tasted her twice? She owned him. There was no pretending, now.

His train of thought was interrupted by a sharp cough from the doorway. Daniela sprang up, scrambling off the bed with one hand covering her mouth. Soap’s head whipped toward the door. Ghost was there, finding something very interesting to look at in the ceiling, along with a pretty nurse who was smiling widely.

“Glad to see you’re feeling better, Sergeant,” she quipped. Soap grinned wryly first at her, then at Daniela. “My name’s Cat, I’m a friend of Kate’s. Mind if I take a look at you?”

Soap nodded, Daniela sat herself in the corner, and Ghost continued to pay close attention to the ceiling and walls. Soap narrowed his eyes, watching the Lieutenant closely. 

Cat turned to Daniela and Ghost. “Would you two-”

“They can stay,” Soap cut her off. Cat turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. He smiled. “Nothing they haven’t seen already.” When she helped him sit up and lift his gown off, Soap got his first real look at the damage. At Los Vaqueros safe house, and then later at their base, he’d been too rushed and too tired to really look at himself.

Purple bruises so dark they nearly looked black covered his ribs. Just above his boxers, he could see more bruising on his hip that was nearly green now. Scrapes and cuts covered his knees, his arms, his sides. The bullet wound in his right arm was healing nicely, but the skin around it was still pink and tender. He was grateful that his chest was wrapped tightly so he couldn’t see the damage from Ghost’s sniper.

Soap looked away.

“So Cat,” he asked. “How did you meet Laswell?”

“Oh, she and I met probably fifteen years ago. She was still on the field, back then. I was still in training, working in a field hospital. I patched her and John up after a rough mission. I guess she decided she liked me, because as soon as I graduated, she snapped me right up.” She turned to Ghost, who had finally looked her way, and smiled. “Good thing, too. I’ve fixed this one up more times than I can count, and Kate tells me he won’t let anyone else touch him.”

Ghost looked away again so quickly that he missed Soap’s gleeful expression. “Oh, is that so?” teased Soap. Ghost shot him a warning glare. Something to ask about later.

“I trust her,” muttered Ghost.

Cat beamed at him. She looked back to Soap, smiling conspiratorially. “Quite the compliment, eh?”

“That it is,” he answered smugly. Ghost held his stare, unamused. Soap looked back toward Daniela, eyes softening. She smiled back at him, looking tired but content. Cat was wrapping up her check, talking about physical therapy and taking it easy. Soap couldn’t wait to have a moment with Daniela again.

“Alright, well I’ll be back tonight to check in with you again. Simon, would you walk me out?” Soap’s eyes shot back to Ghost at that, but Ghost refused to meet his gaze. Definitely something to ask about later.

When Cat and Ghost had gone, Daniela came back to Soap’s side, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed. She gently took his left hand, careful not to lift it or otherwise disturb the bandages.

“Take all the time you need,” Soap said softly. Daniela lifted her eyes from their joined hands, cocking her head. He held her gaze. “You said I’d have to give you some time to figure it out. Take all the time you need.” Now it was Soap’s turn to look down at their hands. He grinned, lopsided. “I’ll be here.”

Daniela reached out, lifting his chin with her fingertips. Her dark eyes watered slightly around the edges. “I’m pretty sure,” she whispered.

“Oh, now that sounds familiar,” chuckled Soap. He leaned toward her, eyes flitting down to her lips. “C’mere, you.”

Their first kiss had been desperate. Their second quickly turned heated. This one was soft, slow, gentle. Exploratory and sweet. Soap stroked her cheek, looking up at her from under hooded eyes. “Tell me you feel it, too,” he whispered.

Daniela nodded, leaning forward to rest her forehead against his. “I feel it.”

“Yeah? Not just ‘maybe’?”

Daniela smiled wide, smacking his shoulder lightly. Soap laughed, loud and full, and immediately regretted it. Wincing, he smiled back at her. 

He was anxious to hear from Price and Gaz, and nervous about what would happen when Alejandro and Rodolfo called Daniela back. They’d have to go after Shepherd, and she might have to go back to Mexico. Maybe nothing would ever truly have a chance to start with them. Maybe they’d die. But maybe not. Maybe everything would be alright.

[vendetta-if]

Chapter 6 Part 1 Public Update 🎉

First of all: Happy Eid-ul-Fitr for those who celebrate it! I hope all of you have a good day so far!

Now, on to the Chapter Update! Chapter 6 Part 1 is 38.4K words long, which brings the total word count for the demo so far to 272.8K words!

This chapter was first planned to be only around 20K to 25K words long, but the amount of variations in this chapter is insane! But, at the same time, I'm pretty excited for you guys to finally see how the group will interact with each other for the first time!

Now, as some of you are probably already aware, what to expect from the chapter are:

Choose or create the group chat name for the team.

See how the citizens react to your actions at the end of Chapter 5.

See how the ROs interact with each other as you have your very first group meeting.

For those who flirted with multiple ROs, be prepared to see the ROs' reactions 😉

More sprinkles of Ash/Rin Poly flavour texts! 😍

Learn more information about the case and get ready for the next step in your hunt for the killer.

Have a conversation(s) with your RO of choice and flirt with them (if you want to, of course 😏)

What have been updated in previous chapters include:

MC's pistols are now changed from Desert Eagles to a variation of M1911.

Added an option for reader to skip the finger torture sequence completely in Chapter 5 (Skipping would bring you right to the part where the guy spill the info).

Added a little variation of flavour texts for MCs with kinky/coily hair during Chapter 2 shower scene.

Bug fixes and typos and grammar errors.

I'll start answering Chapter 6 Part 1 asks starting tomorrow and I'll tag them with #chapter 6 spoiler, so watch out for them if you haven't read the latest update and don't want to get spoiled! 😄

Also, please consider supporting me over on Patreon or Ko-Fi! 😊💖

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