#but just imagine all the terrible flirting | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

soaps-mohawk · 9 months ago

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 7 : Sweet Strawberry

Summary: You're not a soldier, you're just an omega. You shouldn't have to remind them of that, yet you find yourself needing to. Price makes it up to you in the best way possible.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language, angst, panic, fluff, suggestive content, terrible flirting

A/N: Not entirely happy with it but it's done and I can move on from this one. I struggled so much with this chapter omg. Also, I just wanted to make it clear that I am not from the UK, I've never been to the UK, I'm simply going off of prior knowledge and what Google can tell me. So, if there's any inaccuracies, I am so sorry.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

You’re expecting the knock when it comes. You’d been standing in front of your door for almost five minutes, and you get it open almost before he’s finished, hand still raised. He gives no sign that betrays his surprise, if he feels any at all, instead he simply looks you over before turning on his heel and marching towards the door.

You close your door behind you, slipping down the hallway after him. It’s raining again, though you had prepared for that, flipping the hood of your jacket up as you hurry after Ghost. He threatens to disappear in the darkness of morning, slipping between the street lamps like a specter. It’s not often you get to see the true danger in them, the threats that they pose, the things that make them good at their job. You can imagine how many on his opposing side have been caught unawares by the way he seems to flow with the darkness around him.

You are significantly less graceful and quiet, feet slapping the wet pavement as you speed walk to keep up with the giant alpha. You can almost imagine the look on his face as you plod along behind him. If your lives depended on your silence at this moment, well, it wouldn’t entirely have been your fault. If he didn’t walk so fucking fast...

He’s at least courteous enough to hold the door open for you, though perhaps that was simply something that was deeply ingrained in him. Manners that become unconscious practice, even when you despise the person you’re with. He leads you down the hall towards the practice room again, unlocking it and flipping on the lights. He empties his pockets and removes his shoes and sweatshirt, before moving to one of the punching bags.

You can already predict what your lesson today will entail. Your knuckles have almost completely healed since your little fit a week ago. You quickly strip off your jacket and toe off your wet shoes, moving to join him without having to be told.

“Do you know how to wrap your hands?” He asks, holding out two rolls of hand wraps.

“No.” You shake your head. It’s not entirely true. They had shown you once while you were with the CIA, but that had been weeks ago and you’re sure you’ve forgotten the right way to do it. Even if you tried, he’d likely sigh and do it himself anyway.

He lets out a breath, pocketing one of the wraps before grabbing your right wrist. His hands are just as rough as you remember them being the day you punched Corporal Allen, calluses dragging against your skin as he meticulously wraps the fabric around your fingers. You watch him, trying to memorize how to do it in hopes that maybe, eventually, you’ll surprise him and manage it yourself.

He finishes your hands quickly before wrapping his own. You flex your hands, trying to get used to the feeling of the wraps. They’re not too tight, shockingly. You had half expected him to choke your fingers until they’re purple just because. But, you also know Price will be looking for any mark or sign of injury as soon as he sees you at breakfast. The thought of him laying into Ghost for even a bruise as your stomach twisting, and not in a bad way.

“Make a fist.” Ghost says, crossing his arms as he stands in front of you.

You stare at his bulging muscles for a second too long, quickly curling your fingers as your face warms.

He takes hold of your hand, inspecting your fist. “Not bad.”

“I did grow up with brothers.” You murmur.

“Did they ever hit you?” He asks as he turns you to face the boxing bag.

“Only playfully.” You say, missing the subtle edge to his voice. “Dad would have caved their heads in if they ever tried.”

You can’t see the way he’s staring at you as he stands slightly behind you, but you can feel his gaze as it lingers for just a second longer than you expected it to. You’re not sure if maybe he doesn’t believe you, or maybe he knows there’s more to the story. You’ve hardly spoken about your family since your arrival, but they seemed to accept the fact that they haven’t been your family for years now as a valid reason.

“Get into your fighting stance.” He finally says, moving around you as you take the stance you had perfected last training session. “Good.” He says, looking you over. “Now throw a punch at the bag.”

You squeeze your fists, imagining Corporal Allen’s face on the bag before you throw a punch, barely managing to move the bag.

“Punches like that are what will get you hurt.” Ghost says, extending your arm. “You can throw your weight, which is good. That’s why you were able to throw Allen off his feet. You’re asking for a broken arm, though. Keep your arm flat and facing downwards through the entire punch. Aim with the knuckles and twist your lower body for support.”

He throws a punch at the bag, the sound of his fist hitting it loud, and you watch the bag swing back and forth violently. He could probably punch through you if he wanted to. Your pitiful punch wouldn’t even stun him.

He stops the bag from swinging, having you throw repeated punches at it. He fixes your form and technique as you go, teaching you different kinds of punches. Your arms quickly get tired, and you know you’re going to be sore again. Maybe you should take up some weight lifting or something. You could ask Soap to help you.

You go until your arms feel like they're going to fall off, your shoulders burning. “I can't anymore.” You whine, breathing heavily from the exertion of throwing punches for 30 minutes.

“You have to learn to push through the pain.” He says, looming over you. “You think in a fight, everyone will just stop because your arms are tired? Or you're a little sore?”

He has a point.

You take half a step back as he invades your space, leaning down close to you. “If they're out for blood, they won't even stop even as you're bleeding out in front of them.” His eyes are dark, biting into you, speaking volumes of his knowledge and experience. You wonder how many times he's been in that situation, how many times he's had to fight quite literally for his life. He steps away from you, moving towards the center of the mat. “Come on. I'll teach you some combinations.”

You don't want to follow him. You want to curl up in a corner and nap for the next four hours. You don't doubt he'll find a way to force you, though, so you move to the center of the mat with a sigh.

He teaches you different combinations, working through them over and over. You're sloppy, mixing up which punch is which, which move means what. It only gets worse as you get more and more tired, but Ghost is relentless.

Finally after almost an hour and a half of training, he calls it. Your legs are shaking and you can barely lift your arms to unravel the wraps from around your hands. You sink onto the floor, laying out flat on the padding as you try to catch your breath.

“Come on.” Ghost says, lacing up his shoes. “You'll have time to shower before breakfast if we get back now.”

“Wait. Just gimme a minute.” You breathe, not even sure you have the willpower to get up from the floor, much less the muscle power.

He lets out a sigh before approaching you, bending down to slip his hands under your arms. “On your feet, soldier.”

He lifts you easily, far too easily. Your legs shake, nearly giving out as you're forced onto them. You pout, ignoring the ache in your bones as you're forced upright.

“‘M not a soldier.” You murmur.

“In here with me, you are. You want to learn to fight, you get treated just like everyone else I've taught.” He says, glowering down at you. “Now get your shoes on and let's go.”

Your brows pull into a frown, but you do as he says, slipping your shoes back on and your jacket. You had hoped perhaps he would have a little mercy, given your status and inexperience, but it seems you're not even being awarded that. You know part of it is his revenge for you invading his protective circle around Soap, for kissing Soap in front of him.

The frown doesn't leave your face as you follow him back to the barracks, having to almost run to keep up with him.

“You look tired.”

“I am. I had training with Ghost again this morning.”

“How is that going?”

“It's hard.” You admit, sinking back in your chair. “He's hard on me. He sees me as a soldier, not an omega.”

“Have you brought this up to him?” Dr. Keller asks, crossing her feet as she relaxes on the couch across from you.

You nod. “Yeah. He said I have to push through it, because if I wind up in a real fight, they won't go easy on me.”

“Well, I can’t say he’s wrong about that. But, that’s still no excuse.” Dr. Keller tilts her head at you. “You could bring it up to Captain Price. He is your pack alpha, and he’s also Lieutenant Riley’s. I don’t doubt he’d bring it up to him on your behalf.”

He would, but you don’t really want to stir the pot in that way. The last thing you need to do is become a tattle-tail. It’s quiet between you for a few moments, Dr. Keller shuffling her papers as you mark a clear end to that conversation.

“How did you do on your assignment? I see you’re wearing a different sweatshirt this morning.” She says, eyeing you.

You’re wearing Price’s sweatshirt, the one he gifted you. You’ve been wearing it almost every day, his scent still clinging to the fabric. Your face warms as she stares at you, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah, but...I didn’t ask for this one. Price gave it to me after I told him about where my other one came from. I uh...I kissed Soap. And Gaz.”

“Oh?” Her brows raise, and she writes something down on the paper. Your face warms even more as you watch her pen move with every letter. You can only imagine what she’s putting down. “Is that something you wanted? I know we talked briefly about it last time.” She says.

You nod. “Yes. I did want it. I...I also...kneeled...with Price...Did a couple times actually...”

Dr. Keller’s mouth opens in surprise, her eyes shining as she looks at you. “You did? That’s huge! That’s an incredible development! Did you initiate, or did he?”

“I did.” You say bashfully, sinking back further into the chair. “Both times.”

Dr. Keller smiles at you, looking almost proud. “This is a big step in the right direction. How did it go? Were you able to relax?”

You nod. “Yeah. It was nice. He was...gentle. He did it right.”

“Good. How did you do coming down from it? I know it can be intense and difficult for some omegas.” She asks.

You shrug. “Fine. I felt it a bit the morning after, but it wasn’t too bad. I fell asleep on him both times.”

“Oh?” She lifts an eyebrow. “Did you stay with him?”

You shake your head. “No, Gaz took me to my room both times.”

“Good. That’s good practice, for when your heat comes. Shows how much trust they have in each other.”

You hadn’t really thought of that. There was a lot of trust involved in omega’s heats. Omegas have to trust their alphas to take care of them while they’re blind with insatiable need, but both alpha and omega have to trust a beta to keep them alive. Your heat will trigger Price’s rut and make him lose control for a while, and it will be up to Gaz to keep you both fed and hydrated. He’ll be the one to help you both afterwards as well.

“Have you started nesting yet?” Dr. Keller asks.

You shake your head. “No. Don’t feel any drive to either.”

Dr. Keller hums as she writes something down. “Well, it has only been two weeks. Though, perhaps if you can manage to ask for some things to make your space more comfortable, that might help ease you into it.”

You chew on your lip, tugging at the sleeves of your sweatshirt. You know she’s right. Until you’re comfortable and feel safe enough, you won’t feel the drive to nest. You’ll need to nest before your heat arrives. Otherwise, it’ll cause issues for both you and Price.

“When...when should I be worried?” You ask.

“Hmm...” Dr. Keller looks at her calendar. “If you’re not feeling any sort of drive to nest by our next appointment, then I’d say we may need to consider using some exercises to help jump start it.”

“Exercises?” You ask warily.

“All easy things.” She reassures you. “Things like scent introductions, tactile explorations, and some bonding exercises might be helpful as well.” She writes something down on a sticky note. “I’ll explain everything in detail and you’ll get to choose whether you want to do any of it or not. No one’s going to force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with, alright?”

Tears prick your eyes at her words, and you furiously blink them back. It’s a little late for that kind of sentiment. Your presence here alone was thanks to a long line of people forcing you to do things you’re not comfortable with. It was easy to get lost in the excitement and the emotions of bonding with a pack, easy to forget that you would never have chosen this place had you ever been given the option to choose.

You would have gone far from the military, far from this kind of life. It’s your duty to bond with an alpha, but what if you don’t want to? What if it’s all a front, and as soon as you’re claimed the curtains rise and suddenly everything is different? What if Price isn’t as kind as you’ve come to believe him? Just one squeeze too tightly around the back of your neck while you’re kneeling and everything would change.

How easily he could take everything from you.

“You want to talk about what’s going on in your head right now?” Dr. Keller asks, breaking the silence between you two.

You hadn’t even noticed you’d been staring off into space, lost in your thoughts. Of course she knows something’s changed. She’s spent years learning the ins and outs of omegas and all the secrets you can only imagine. She’s probably just as in tune with subtle changes as the four well trained soldiers that make up your new pack. Maybe even more in tune with them.

You shake your head, keeping your gaze on the floor.

“Remember nothing shared in this room leaves this room. It’ll always only be between us.” She says softly.

You’re panicking. You can feel the pressure rising within you. You’re like a grenade and someone is about to pull the pin. You’re afraid you’ll spill everything to her, afraid you’ll let out things you’ve successfully kept buried for years and years. Things you’ve left behind, things you’ve had to move on from. Things you can’t afford to let out now.

“I’d like to be done now.” You silently curse the way your voice shakes.

Dr. Keller’s brows pull into a frown but she nods. “Okay.” She slips her papers into her notebook before standing. “Let me grab my keys.”

You stand as she moves to her desk, grabbing her keys from the drawer. She leads you from her office, thankfully staying quiet as you walk through the rain towards the barracks. You’re still panicking, the turmoil inside you probably projecting the sour scent across the entire courtyard but you don’t care. You can’t.

“Remember, if you ever need anything, I’m usually in my office.” Dr. Keller says as she drops you off at the door.

You feel guilty as you hurry to your room, shoes squeaking on the tile. You feel bad for cutting the appointment off early, you feel bad for feeling the way you do. Later you’ll be grateful for Dr. Keller respecting your boundaries and not pushing, for following through with her promise and letting you be in control of the appointment.

Right now you don’t care. Right now you can’t care. You’re too lost in your turmoil, the bitter scent of your distress seeping out from under the locked door.

“...can ye talk tae me, hen? Let me know yer alright?”

The soft voice coming through the closed door pulls you out from your burrow under the thin blanket. You blink blearily at your phone, trying to see the time. It’s just a little past the normal time you go to lunch with them. How long have they been knocking on the door?

“Come on, lass.” Soap’s voice comes through the door again. “I dinnae want tae have tae kick in the door.”

You force yourself out from under the blanket, pocketing your phone before quickly moving to your door. You throw it open, Soap’s eyes immediately scanning you as you rub tiredly at your eyes. You don’t doubt he’d kick in your door if he felt he had to.

“Sorry,” You yawn. “I was asleep.”

His eyebrows raise as he stares down at you. “Ye were asleep? Ye weren’t kidding about bein’ a heavy sleeper.” He leads you from the barracks, crossing the courtyard towards the mess.

“One time, when I was about two or three, my dad took us to some demonstration on base.” You say as you begin walking to the mess with him. “I fell asleep about halfway through and slept through a howitzer going off.”

Soap lets out a laugh so loud it echoes in the courtyard. “Ye slept through a howitzer?”

You nod. “Yup. My dad never let me live it down. I heard it all the time. ‘You’ll have to try hard to wake her, she slept through a howitzer once.’”

Soap chuckles, leading you into the mess. “Ye are a deep sleeper.”

You shrug. “I did say so. My phone will wake me up though. Alarms, calls.”

“I’ll keep tha’ in mind.” He says as he guides you through the line, making your tray for you.

You sit between Price and Gaz as usual, feeling a bit on edge still despite your nap after your appointment. You hadn’t gotten to sleep for very long, not nearly long enough to clear your head completely. You know they can tell, Gaz slowly shifting closer and closer to you, Price’s gaze flickering to you out of the corner of his eye every so often. Even Ghost’s eyes pass over you every so often as they sweep across the mess.

You wonder if he feels responsible.

You hope he does.

Soap walks you back to the barracks after lunch and you spend the afternoon burrowed under your blanket again. You’re exhausted and sore after a long morning of training and your appointment. You wish you could sink back into sleep, let the emotions pass without you having to feel them, but you’re too awake now. Too aware of them as they prickle in the back of your mind.

Dinner passes without incident, but you can’t ignore the feelings still stirring within you. You feel agitated and on edge, not even pacing your room helping you. You let out a breath before you put your slippers on, slipping out of your door. You make your way down the hallway, turning right instead of left like you would if you were heading for the rec room. The door is cracked open and you pause just before you reach it, suddenly feeling nervous. You shouldn’t really. There was no reason to be nervous, yet you can’t help the urge in the back of your mind to turn tail and race back down the hallway to the safety of your room.

“You can come in, unless you’d prefer standing in the hallway all evening.” A voice calls from inside the office.

Your face warms a bit at getting caught, but he could probably hear you coming down the hallway. He could probably smell you too.

You push open the door, slipping inside before closing it behind you. Price stares at you from his desk as you stand there, shifting nervously on your feet. You feel agitated, on edge still. You’re worked up, and you don’t quite know why.

“Everything alright?” Price asks, likely picking up on your nervous energy.

Yes. You want to say, but then you’d have to come up with a reason as to why you sought him out, why you feel so worked up. You could just kneel for him. It’s what you should do, let yourself be eased into a peaceful state of mind. Let him take care of you.

“I don’t know.”

The words are hardly more than a whisper, your voice trembling just as much as you are. Your chest feels tight, your breaths becoming shallow. You're not sure when he got up, when he even moved. His scent wraps around you, warmth encompassing your being as your face is pushed against his chest.

“I need you to breathe for me.” Price says, pressing your ear against his chest. You can hear the steady thump of his heart, the air flowing in and out of his lungs.

You close your eyes, trying to match your breaths to his. It's hard, your body fighting your attempt to regulate it. You close your eyes, focusing on the soft fabric of Price's shirt against your cheek, the warmth of his hand on your head as he keeps you pinned against his chest. It's not constricting or suffocating. It's grounding, keeping you from drowning in your own thoughts.

He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to as he holds you there, letting you calm down. You begin to slowly relax, your arms wrapping around his waist, fingers gripping the back of his shirt.

“Want to tell me what’s going on?” He murmurs, lips brushing the top of your head.

“I don’t know.” You whisper, still clinging to his shirt. “I’m just...I feel off. Ghost was being hard on me this morning and then I got upset during my appointment and I’ve just felt on edge all day and I can’t relax because I can’t get comfortable!”

Price tightens his grip around you just slightly. “What do you mean?”

You huff out a breath, squeezing your eyes closed so the tears don’t escape as the words leave you in a flood before you can stop them. “The blankets aren’t soft enough and the pillows are too thin and it’s too dark and I’m tired of smelling like bland soap!”

Price hums quietly, squeezing you gently as a tear slides down your cheek. “Then we should do something to fix that.”

“But I shouldn’t need it!” You cry, trying to push away from him, but he keeps you tight against his chest. “I’m supposed to be a good omega and adapt and learn to be comfortable where I am.”

“That might be what you were taught,” He says, letting you push away from his chest, but he wraps his hands around your arms, keeping you in front of him. “But things don’t have to be that way. We should have taken care of something like this sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t even think of it. You shouldn’t have had to ask for it.”

You blink up at him, genuinely surprised by his words. “I...what?”

“We all have our own little comforts that we keep. Soap sleeps with a stuffed bear. Don’t tell him I told you that.”

A small smile tugs at your lips at the mental image of Soap snuggling up with a teddy bear.

“You deserve some comfort too.” He says, squeezing your arms.

“But, it’s not...regulation.” You say.

“Doesn’t have to be.” He says. “You’re not a soldier. Even then, the only ones going in there are us. The only thing I can’t approve of is painting the walls. Unfortunately the prison grey has to stay.”

You can’t help but laugh, wiping the tear from your cheek. “I suppose that’s alright. Just...as long as it’s not as dark and maybe a soft blanket or something. That’s really all I need.”

He hums, staring down at you. You can’t quite figure out the look on his face, something shining in his eyes. “We’ll get it figured out.” He says, squeezing your arms again.

“Get some shoes on. We’re going on a trip.”

You look up from your book, staring at Price as he stands in the rec room. He’s dressed in civilian clothes, arms crossed as he stares down at you on the couch. You mark your place in your book, pushing yourself up to sit. It’s a Saturday afternoon, and unlike last week they had the day off, which means you do as well.

“Are you going to make me hike through the woods for two hours again, sir?” You ask, pushing yourself up to stand.

“No. We’re going into town.” He says.

You blink at him. You haven’t been off base since you arrived, and you figured you probably wouldn’t be getting that opportunity any time soon. “Can I ask why, sir?”

“We’ve got some shopping to do.” He says simply, turning and leaving the rec room.

You stand there shocked for a moment before you’re following after him, slipping into your room to put comfortable shoes on and grab your phone and a jacket. You don’t even have a wallet to carry around to make yourself feel better.

Price is waiting by the door for you, a car parked outside. You’re slow to approach him, suddenly feeling a mix of emotions. He’s doing this for you. He’d really taken your conversation last night to heart and now he’s going to go spend money on you that he doesn’t need to.

“What’s that look for sweetheart?” He asks, standing in front of the door.

“You don’t have to do this.” You say, staring up at him. He seems so tall like this, so...imposing.

“Course I do.” He says, his gaze softening just slightly. “Should have done it sooner. You deserve to be comfortable too.” He says, turning to open the door.

You follow him out, climbing into the car when he opens the door for you. He gets in the driver’s seat, the car rumbling to life. He drives to the front gate, passing off two ID cards to the guards. He passes one to you when the guard hands them back, the gate in front of you opening.

“That’s your ID card. Gets you on and off base.” He explains as he drives away from the gate. “I doubt you’ll be leaving on your own, but just in case.”

“Thank you, sir.” You say, slipping the card under your phone case for the time being.

He glances at you, a small smile on his lips. “You can call me John, if you'd like. You don't need to be formal when we're in private.”

“Yes, sir.” You make a face, biting your lip at your automatic response. “Sorry. Old habits.”

“From the institute?” He asks.

You shake your head. “My dad, actually. He was a firm believer in respecting authority figures. All ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’ by the time we were old enough to know the difference.”

“Sounds like my father.” He says, staring out at the road ahead. “Old grizzled military man.”

“Do you still have contact with him?” You ask curiously. You don’t know much of anything about their families, their backgrounds.

“Not really. Beyond holidays, neither of us really make an effort to talk to the other. After mum passed, there wasn’t much to talk about.” He says.

“She was the glue.” You say, watching the trees pass by the car.

“Yeah.” He huffs out a laugh. “As betas usually are.”

“Do you have any siblings?” You ask, curiosity getting the better of you. You know next to nothing about them, while they likely know your entire life story.

“No,” He shakes his head. “Just me. You have a lot of siblings.”

You nod. “Seven at the time I left for the institute. Could be more now.”

“They never tried to keep contact with you?” He asks.

“Nope.” You turn to look out the window. “The institute didn’t really encourage it either, because we were being prepared to join new packs. That’s hard to do when you still have bonds with your old ones. I think they might have forcibly ended some. I know there were some omegas that tried to keep contact, but it became less and less until eventually it just stopped.”

Price’s hands tighten around the steering wheel just slightly. You wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been paying attention. Silence settles in the car as he drives, farmlands passing until the houses start getting closer and closer together. You stare at the buildings as he drives through town, a blend of historical and modern.

“It’s beautiful here.” You say, watching people and cars pass by.

“I suppose so.” He says, glancing at you. “I grew up in this area.”

You turn to look at him. “You did? I didn’t know that. Then again, I don’t know much about any of you.”

“You can ask us, you know.” He says. “We don’t have to be that secretive with you. At least not about ourselves.”

He pulls into a parking lot, opening your door for you and helping you out of the car. You slip your hand into his, holding it as you cross the parking lot. You stare up at the store. ASDA. You’ve never heard of it before, though you suppose the stores would be different here too.

Price drops your hand to grab a cart, the store bustling with people. You hang onto the edge of the cart, staying close to Price’s side. “We’re here for you.” He says, guiding you through the aisles. “Get whatever you want.”

He’s led you to the homegoods section, your eyes widening at the entire aisle of blankets and bedding in front of you. You try to take it all in, but you feel a bit overwhelmed. There’s so many choices, so many options.

“Pick out as many as you want. Don’t worry about the price.” He says, before you can protest. “We get paid decently, but don’t have many chances to use it. Let me do this for you.”

You stare up into his eyes, the sincerity in them, before you nod, turning back to the wall of blankets before you. You study them, running your hand along them to find the softest ones, doing as he says and ignoring the price tags. You settle on a couple soft ones, grabbing a throw blanket as well that you can pack around to the rec room if you want to. He takes you to the pillow aisle, and you settle on a pair of fluffy pillows, as well as a couple decorative ones as well.

“Here.” He slips a big plush strawberry into your arms before you leave the aisle, your cheeks warming as you look at it. “Makes me think of you.”

You preen at his words, holding onto the strawberry as you make for the lamps and nightlights, settling on a cat shaped one that will sit on your desk and changes colors. You pick up a few other items before heading for the toiletries, finally setting the strawberry in the cart as you zero in on the soaps and body washes. You smell all the strawberry scented ones, trying to find the perfect one.

“Why strawberry?” Price asks as you put a strawberries and cream scented body wash in the cart.

“Compliments my scent.” You explain as he leads you to the shampoo and conditioner. “We had a scent specialist come to the institute one time as an activity. We all figured out what our scents smell like and what notes compliment them the best.”

An arm wraps around your waist before you can look at the shampoo, pulling you back against a broad chest. Price’s nose presses into your neck and he inhales deeply. He lets out a content hum, his beard tickling the sensitive skin of your neck. “I think you’re right.”

Your face burns hot as he presses a gentle kiss against the side of your neck before releasing you. You stand there for a moment, trying to calm the heat rushing through your body and focus on the shampoo. You hear him chuckle as you shuffle forward, your face still burning as you smell the shampoo bottles.

You settle on one, holding onto Price’s arm as you continue around the store, picking up a few other items and a couple for himself as well before heading to the checkout.

You hold on to Price’s arm as you leave the store, sticking close to him as he loads the bags into the trunk. You can feel the slight tension in his body, the way his eyes scan the parking lot every few seconds. You can’t even begin to imagine how hard it must be for him to relax, especially out in public. How fast his mind has to be running, how alert he is to everyone and everything. A threat could come out of nowhere, could come from anyone.

It must be exhausting.

“Hungry, sweetheart?” He asks as he buckles his seatbelt.

“Always.” You answer, leaning on the center console.

He smiles. “What are you in the mood for?”

You blink at him. Most of the restaurants you know probably don’t exist in England. “Fish and chips?” You offer, pulling up the one British food you’re confident in naming.

“Fish and chips it is.” He says, turning on the car.

“I have yet to have real fish and chips.” You say, settling into the passenger seat.

“Well, I know the perfect place.” He says, pulling out of the parking lot.

You don’t have to go far before he’s parking on the street and helping you out of the car. His hand settles on your lower back, guiding you down the street to a fish and chips shop.

It's too early for the dinner rush, the shop mostly empty and quiet. Price orders for you before guiding you to a table, and you let him sit facing the door and front window. He doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to. They seem so relaxed on base, though you suppose that's the place they feel the most comfortable. You can't even imagine the kinds of things they've seen, the horrors they've been subjected to.

You don't want to think about the things they've done.

Your eyes snap downwards as Price's hand slides across the table, closing around yours. You don't want to think about the things he's done with those hands. The lives he's taken, the people he's tortured. Will he ever turn those hands on you?

They've given you no reason to fear them yet. They've all been kind, polite. Even Ghost hasn't truly given you a reason to fear him, despite his obvious disapproval and hard exterior.

You know nothing about them.

You've known them for just over two weeks. You can't possibly have any understanding of who they are, how they express their emotions. What if they get upset? What happens when they get angry? What if you anger them?

“I know this hasn’t been easy for you. Any of it.” Price says, drawing you from your worried thoughts. “I know you were taught to expect this, perhaps not this exact situation, but something like this. Being sent off to some strange alpha to join their pack, bonding with complete strangers. None of us were expecting this either. It’s been an adjustment in a lot of ways, but I want you to know that we’ll take care of you. You need anything, you tell us. You want anything, we’ll do our best to make it happen. We’ll keep you safe.” He lifts your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “I promise you that.”

You want to believe him. You really do. They haven’t given you any reason to not believe it.

It’s only been two weeks.

You continue to talk with him as you eat, making light conversation, getting to know him a bit more. Despite the trickling uncertainty in the back of your mind, it feels good. It feels like a date, something you had dreamed of before you presented, something you had imagined happening when you finally got old enough to start looking for potential mates and packs.

Of course, back then, you had thought you’d be an alpha.

It had been expected of you.

Price has his arm wrapped around you as you walk back to the car, his hand on your hip. It’s possessive almost, and it makes your stomach flutter. Price is the only one you haven’t kissed yet, well, besides Ghost, but you’re certain you’d wind up through a wall if you even thought of trying. It’s almost ironic that Price would be the last, considering he’s going to be the one claiming you, the one you spend your heat with.

You stare out the window as the buildings fade into farmlands again. The sun is setting, painting the world in oranges and reds. You still feel a bit warm from Price’s possessive hold on you, his teasing in the store. You can still feel the tickle of his beard on your skin, his lips pressing against your neck.

You jump when rough fingers trail down your arm, pulling it from where it had been resting in your lap.

“You were right.” Price says as he lifts your hand to his face, pressing his nose against your wrist and inhaling for a moment. “Strawberries are the strongest note in your scent.” He lowers your hand again, lacing your fingers together. “What’s got you all worked up over there.”

You stare at him, your face getting warm again. Of course he can smell it. You can smell the muskiness beginning to form around the edges of his scent. Desire. “You haven’t kissed me yet.” You say, moving his hand into your lap. “You're the only one that hasn't...well, besides Ghost.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh. “You sound disappointed.”

You untangle your fingers with his, letting his hand rest on your thigh. “What if I am?”

His fingers flex against your leg, the muskiness of his scent strengthening. “Then maybe we should fix that.”

The cocktail of scents in the car is intoxicating, and you feel bad for the poor beta soldier at the gate when Price rolls down the window to hand off your IDs.

Price is out of the car as soon as it's parked, moving around to your side to open the door. He pins you against the side of the car as soon as you're out, caging you in with his arms.

You stare up at him, head swimming with the musk laced in his scent. You can see his eyes shining in the light next to the door of the barracks. He looks like a hungry wolf, the back of your neck prickling with excitement.

He leans down, breath fanning your face as he gets closer and closer to you. You press yourself against him, hands gripping his shoulders as he presses his lips to yours. His lips are surprisingly soft, his beard tickling your face. He growls quietly against your lips, pushing you harder against the side of the car.

You let out a quiet sound in response, hands gripping his jacket. His hands slide from the car to your sides, sliding down to grip your hips. You can feel the muscle hidden beneath his jacket and shirt, the strength that he possesses. He may not be purebred like Ghost, but he’s still every inch an alpha.

You let out another quiet sound as he pulls away, pressing a caste kiss to the corner of your lips. “Bloody hell, now I know what those boys were on about.” He breathes, leaning his forehead against yours.

“They were talking about me?” You ask, pulling back slightly.

“Only good things.” Price grins, leaning down to kiss you again. “Sweet as sugar.” He breathes, kissing you again. “And just as addicting.” He pulls away from you, his hands resting on your waist. “We should get your stuff inside so you can get it all set up. Want me to fetch one of the boys to help?”

You bite your lip. “Or you could just do it.”

He stares down at you, something flashing across his face but you can’t quite make it out in the low light. “You’re sure?” His voice is quiet, taking on that soft tone it often does when he speaks to you.

“You’ll have to eventually.” You shrug. “Might as well start now.”

He leans down, kissing you again before pulling away, opening up the trunk. He grabs most of the bags, only leaving the pillows for you to grab before he leads the way into the barracks. You open your door, stepping in first before he follows. You dump your pillows on the bed, and he sets the rest of the bags on your desk.

“Blankets in the wash.” You say, digging them out of the bags, pulling the tags off.

“I’ll take them.” He says, fishing out his stuff from the bags before taking the blankets from you.

You switch out your pillows for the softer ones, organizing the decorative ones just the way you want. You squish the strawberry to your chest again, a smile forming on your face before you flop back onto the bed, sinking into the soft pillows. It’s almost perfect, you think.

“Comfortable?” Price’s voice rumbles in the doorway, a smile on his face as he stares at you.

“Much better.” You say, sitting up and placing the strawberry in its place.

The two of you finish taking everything out of the bags, decorating the rest of your room. The posters on the walls, and the nightlight on your desk. It feels far more homey already, and you know you’re going to sleep well tonight once the blankets are out of the wash.

“Thank you.” You say, looking up at Price. “This really means a lot.”

“All in a day’s work, love.” He says, pulling you into his arms again.

You lean against his chest, resting your head over his heart, listening to it beat steadily against your ear.

You wake up suddenly, yet you’re not quite sure why. There’s no one in your room, your new nightlight easily showing you that. Your mouth is dry, but there’s a line of wetness down your chin. You reach across your nightstand, your phone illuminating the time.

Just past one a.m.

You smack your lips, feeling thirsty after the excitement of the day. You’d forgotten to grab water when you left the rec room and you huff out a sigh. You don’t want to get up, but now that you’re aware you’re thirsty, there’s no stopping those thoughts.

You don’t even bother with slippers as you pad to the door, opening it up. You leave it cracked as you sleepily shuffle towards the rec room, the barracks almost dead quiet this late. You grab a bottle from the fridge, unscrewing the top before drinking a few gulps. It’s cold and tastes divine, soothing the dryness of your mouth. You screw the top back on, closing the fridge before heading back towards your room.

You turn the corner, still half asleep, nearly yelping as you slam into a chest. You stumble back a couple steps, staring up at the covered face looming over you. You gulp, holding the bottle to your chest.

“S-Sorry.” You stutter.

“You’re out of bed.” He says quietly, voice rumbling in the silence.

“Thirsty.” It’s all you can manage as you hold up the bottle.

He stares at you for a long moment, eyes flickering all over your face. His chest is heaving, almost as if he had been running before you ran into him. His hands are closed into fists at his sides, knuckles almost white with how tense he is. You think for a moment he might be mad, but you can’t catch any whiff of ozone in the air. Your nose prickles at the scent, but it’s not anger.

Your tired brain can’t make sense of it, yearning to sink back into the softness of your bed again. You slowly shuffle around him, taking cautious steps, waiting for him to reach out and stop you, but he doesn’t. He simply watches you go, standing there in the hallway as you slip back into your room, not moving until he hears the click of your lock slipping into place.

NEXT ->

Taglist:

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @linaangel @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows, @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10, @cassiecasluciluce @darling006 @sheep-from-rad @ohgodthebogisback @willow-sages @scythemood @daniblogs164 @mirzamsaiph

#call of duty #call of duty fic #x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #poly 141 #task force 141 x reader #omegaverse #a/b/o #alpha/beta/omega dynamics

3K notes · View notes

ozzgin · 10 months ago

Note

Request/Idea-

Male Yandere Lawyer x Female Embroider Reader (a lady who works as a tailor is fine too)

Imagine a man falling head over heels for that newly employed lady who hand embroiders beautiful handkerchiefs in a luxury shop he visits to get his custom suits! And he just trying to coax her into dating him, marrying him, and becoming his stay at home wife (and mother of his children eventually) 🥰🤭

Age difference? I need some DILF Daddy energy more in my life (but don’t make him an actual father…yet)

P.S. I adore your OCs and writing. And your artwork is way too fucking good! You’re art is just *chef’s kiss* infuckingcredible

-👘

Ooh, you know what this reminds me of? I have a yaoi volume from Scarlet Beriko, “Queen and the tailor”, about an interior designer that visits a legendary tailor whose suits will supposedly help you achieve success. The tailor turns out to be a scary looking, blunt man but nonetheless extremely talented. I liked the premise a lot, so it’s definitely interesting to try out a different perspective.

In this case I have the image of a patient, soft-spoken reader and a hurried, short tempered lawyer. Comically different but in a way that eventually works out, you know? Also thank you for the kind words!

Yandere!Lawyer x Embroiderer!Reader Headcanons

Featuring a Reader that is blissfully unaware the lawyer she just stared dating has their entire life together already sorted out.

Content: female reader, age gap, older yandere, obsessive behavior

Your eyes begin to hurt mildly, so you look out the window and blink repeatedly, trying to refresh your poor sight. Such detailed works always strain you terribly, but you love seeing the finished result. Others must, too, given your handkerchiefs are often sold out the very same day. Right before your needle pierces the silk canvas anew, the door opens with a burst and you jolt. An older man in a suit, arguing loudly over the phone. He’s drumming his fingers over the counter, eyes darting around in search for an attendant. You know the type quite well, so you hurry over with the hoop still in your hand. “Might I help you with anything?” You mouth discreetly. He turns to you, stares for a couple of seconds, and promptly ends his call.

Out of all the places, he certainly didn’t expect regretting his rusty, unpolished flirting skills in a luxury tailor shop. Yet here he is now, clumsily mumbling something about his new suit he’s come to pick up and wondering how to connect that with your number. The name’s the easy part, as it’s neatly and conveniently printed out on the little badge pinned to your collar. Everything else, not so much. You excuse yourself and return moments later with his order. Shit. You tilt your head, confused by the delayed response, worrying whether you forgot something. Next time. He’ll figure it out for sure next time he comes here.

If there’s one good thing about his career, it’s that his eyes have been trained to spot every detail. For example the embroidery hoop you gently held while speaking to him, so he knows exactly what his next custom order will be. Truth be told, he didn’t anticipate your popularity and long waiting times, but a calculated raised tone with a sprinkle of intimidation has convinced the employee to assign him to you as earliest priority. Whether he can flirt remains to be seen, but arguing with others? Child’s play.

“Thank you for coming again today.” You bow slightly and extend the gift bag. “Although, I must say…I’ve never seen you using these before. What has caused your sudden interest in handkerchiefs?” Rather bold of you to begin such conversations, but your curiosity is too great. No matter how hard you try, you can’t imagine why a blunt, nonchalant man like him would abruptly become passionate about embroidery. A lover? You smile faintly at the idea. Whoever it is, they’ve taken quite the challenge upon themselves. The lawyer frowns at the inquiry. It seems you’re just as observant as him. Maybe this shall be the pretext he can finally cling onto. So he presents it in the factual truth you’d hear in a courthouse: it’s his excuse to see you. You raise your eyebrows in surprise. Well now, isn’t it just silly? He could’ve simply asked. Buying countless expensive handmade items instead of plainly confessing his intentions…He stumbles, flustered. The same man whose ruthless reputation has even reached your humble ears is anxiously awaiting your response with a deep blush on his face.

The childlike innocence doesn’t last long. You’ve agreed to date him and that’s great, but he’s a man with little time that has known exactly what he wants for many years. When he laid his eyes on you he didn’t imagine cheesy coffee dates as you discuss your favorite color and cautiously breach the topic of intimacy. What’s the point? He’s already certain he’ll spend the rest of his life with you. Skip the unnecessary steps. On the other hand, you’re not as cooperative as he’d wish. Truly, the tangible proof that opposites attract. You’re always calm and take your time with everything. It’s almost frustrating how easygoing you are. When asked when you’re moving in with him, you just smiled and wondered out loud what could be wrong with your small studio above the shop. Marriage? Good question, you never thought about it.

Oh, the irony. Last time a client was being particularly difficult, your lawyer boyfriend pulled him out by the collar under the mortified stares of the other attendants and shoppers. The exact attitude he himself would’ve shown before, yet this time it’s different. Of course it is, it involves you. His thin patience runs out if it’s you. That’s all there is to it. Can you blame a man for following his heart? They say you should always chase your dreams; he prefers hunting them down efficiently, and the shotgun is pointed in your direction. His sweet, exquisite prey he can never get enough of.

Finally you agree to move in with him. Your hesitation was maddening and he’d started coming up with downright psychotic alternatives to convince you, such as your studio burning down after a vicious attack of some unknown hooligans. So it was rather wise of you not to push someone that knows the law like the back of his hand, even if you aren’t aware of it yet. He enthusiastically guides you around your new forever home, omitting unimportant details. The spare office he emptied for a future nursery? You’ll get to that later.

He can’t wait to spoil you. See, that’s the advantage of dating an older man. He’s gotten his life sorted out a long time ago. All that was left was finding you. You just need to be a darling and behave. He knows you will. After all, you’re his talented little embroideress that won’t have to worry about anything else ever again.

#female reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #male yandere x reader #yandere imagine #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere fic #yandere lawyer #tw yandere #yandere oc #yandere original character #original work

4K notes · View notes

misshugs · 7 months ago

Text

₂The Cameragirl² || snc

After an eventful night in the haunted asylum, you and the guys began looking at the footage, only for you to start making cocky remarks that might've set a spark you weren't expecting.

contains: just fluff and reader trying to be funny (but failing miserably), cheeky comments from reader, cursing, slight flirting? idk i suck at it

a/n: "part 2" of The Cameragirl, no need to read the first part though! but for context: you got choked by a ghost and you almost died but colby saved you by giving you mouth to mouth

[part 1] [part 2] [part 3]

word count: 2.3k

[u n e d i t e d]

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

You don't exactly remember when you fell asleep, you're just sure that right after you fell on your bed you were knocked out.

It wasn't something that happened often, but boy you were tired due to last nights events. Beause of that and because of your commonly terrible sleeping habits, Sam and Colby didn't even want to bother you much.

They did however check on you after they woke up hours later, making sure you were still breathing. The experience has somewhat made them paranoid about what could happen to you.

Although they cleansed you before returning, they'd much prefer to be one hundred percent sure you were alright.

The problem was, you were a light sleeper. After they finished checking up on you, your eyes opened up slightly. Groaning a bit from the ache in your body from the fall you had a couple of hours prior. You stretched yourself nonetheless.

Yawning, you sat down and rubbed your eyes. Taking your phone from your nightstand, you looked at the hour. 01:17 PM. Sighing softly, you stood up and fixed yourself up before walking out of the room.

Looking around, you heard mumbling from the other room. It was the office. You walked inside and saw them both looking back at the footage.

You furrowed your brows. Usually, you were a part of this process. Why did they begin without you?

Since they haven't noticed you yet, you started walking closer without making any sounds. As quiet as you possibly could, you basically stood behind them, watching the footage.

"What're you doing?" You asked, gaining a scream from Sam and a jump from Colby, almost falling off the chair. A smile grew wide on your face after that reaction.

"Fuck! You scared me!" Sam exclaimed, putting his hand on his chest.

"Oh my god, my heart." Colby said, hiding his face in his hands.

"That's for beginning without me." You said, crossing your arms on your chest.

"You were sleeping so soundly after all that happened, we didn't want to disturb you. And... we were curious... sorry." Colby admitted. You sighed.

"It's alright, I guess. What's this part?"

"We just started watching the part where... it happened." Sam said, looking at you.

"Ooh, okay. Then go back, my head's a little fuzzy, I can't remember clearly what happened, I want to know." As you said that, they nodded and ran back the video.

You didn't miss much anyways. They rewined right when they began arguing about it not being a good idea and whatnot. They haven't seen the whole night or anything, they just skipped right to the end.

After the arguing and the preparation for everyone to go into their respective corridors, the challenge began.

They paused the video. "Even though it made sense, it was still strange for you to be so persistent about it, was it not?" Colby said, looking at you. "Also, can you please sit down? There's a chair right there. You're stressing me out."

"No." You quickly answered.

"Why?" He asked.

"I don't want to, it's my fight or flight mode. It's easier to run while standing up." You giggled softly, which gave them both a sense of peace that you couldn't even imagine.

You were their everything, and thinking that their everything could've ended up like that made them so overprotective that they would've absolutely slept with you that night... to keep you protected, of course.

"Also, my legs feel numb, I don't want to cut the circulation again, it felt weird last time." You admitted.

Sam quickly stood up, concerned. "Are you okay? Do you need an oxygen mask again or something?? Water?"

"Wha- no. Calm down. Jeez." You said, grabbing his shoulder and making him sit back down. "Anyways, about the video. Um... I do remember having this urge to do it. I don't think it might've been anything bad, but I did have this... feeling, I guess."

"Maybe it wasn't you?" Colby said, raising a brow. "Maybe something was making you feel that way, just so that you were left alone... like it happened." You thought about it.

"I... guess it's an option." You shrugged.

"It could've also been a possession. It is said that people tend to quickly switch emotions when one is possessed." Sam continued. "Or... it could've also been the fact that you were so indifferent about it all."

"I'm just used to it, it's not like I don't believe."

"Yeah, but since we were making our reactions so... extra in comparison, maybe the spirits were trying to target you?" Colby added.

"...yeah, it does add up. Well, continue. Let's see what truly happened. I genuinely can't remember." They nodded and the video rewined.

As you began walking through the corridor, you began to speak on the video, it was almost automatic when you heard your voice that you started whining. "Oh, fuck no. Nevermind. This is so cringe. I remember this."

They started laughing and kept on watching although you pleaded for them to skip it. You tried to stop it yourself but Sam quickly held you back, hugging you and your arms, unable to move.

You didn't have the strength at the moment to try and get out of his grasp, but you tried anyways.

Not like it mattered. Not like you minded, actually. In the way he was holding you back, he basically let you sit on his lap while watching.

You didn't mind at all.

"You guys know I suck at youtube, I was trying to be funny, it didn't work." You laughed a little bit while your voice also seemed on the edge of breaking, mainly fake crying.

"What do you mean? You did great." Colby said, hiding his smile underneath his hand. Listening to your cute attempts on making jokes. It melted him.

"I can see you trying not to laugh, Colby." You fake cried again.

"Whaaat? I would never." He said. Sam didn't hide anything. His smile only giving away how much he was actually enjoying this version of you. If only you were open enough for them to be able to record and replay more of this.

A couple of minutes into the video, you started panting, heavy breathing could be heard. It was when you began to explain that you could barely breathe. "It feels... hard to breathe." You said in the video, your lips visibly shaking.

As you began walking faster, you could see through the video that you stopped on you tracks. Blinking your eyes as you looked at, what you remembered to be, a figure.

You tried to breathe.

"Holy shit. Holy shit! Did you see that?" Sam said, letting you go and pausing the video and quickly going back a couple of seconds. You stood up from his lap to let him search quickly.

"What?" Colby asked. Confused, you got closer. He started playing the video once again, this time, slower. You could see the light on your neck moving.

"Holy fuck. Look at that. It looks as if something is like, pushing on your neck. Like pressing onto as if you're getting choked." Sam explains, pointing at the marks on your neck where there seemed to be a dent suddenly forming.

"Oh my god." You said as you touched your neck, remembering what happened barely a couple of hours ago. Colby had his mouth wide open after watching that.

"That's... that's poltergeist activity right there. It's undeniable." He said, looking at the both of you. You nodded, shocked at how much power this entity seemed to have. "We need to get you properly cleansed, we can't be having another demon up someone's ass." He contined, looking directly at Sam, who seemed offended. You chuckled.

As they continued the video, they heard the soft 'help' that you could barely spit out, your voice breaking in the midst of it. The quick movement of the camera as you turned around only to be thrown to the floor. Seconds later, watching as you tried to crawl back but your body seemingly giving up as quickly as you tried to do so.

It broke their hearts, even more so knowing you tried to scream for help. And so, the camera kept rolling for what felt like an eternity.

"How long did it took for you guys to come look for me?" You asked, seeing as the video kept going.

"So far, it's been five minutes..." Sam said softly, painfully watching the screen.

"Oh my god, I was dead for five minutes?"

"Don't say it like that." Colby looked at you, almost sad. Fear went through his body at the thought of not have gotten there on time.

"It is true though... oh, there are my heroes." They smiled softly as you said that. As you heard the conversation they had while you were unconscious, you scoffed. "You guys thought it was a joke?"

"Hey, listen. We've had our jokes and giggles with extreme pranks before, it could've been a possibility." Colby put his hands up in defense, looking at you truthfully. "Honestly, I was wishing it was."

"Sam. Call 911. This is real." Colby said on the video. Before you could completely understand what was going on, you saw him kissing you.

Well, saving your life, but touching lips nonetheless.

Your cheeks started switching colors. You obviously don't remember much, but your brain didn't thought about the fact he had to give you some oxygen back.

Your fingers touched your lips softly as you were watching. They seemed to be immerse on watching what happened, thankfully. You don't think you could handle their stares right now.

Trying to calm yourself down, you saw yourself waking up. No further from that, you saw as Sam helped you up for a split second before the camera was turned off.

"And that's the footage alright. Wow." Colby sighed and looked at Sam, and then at you.

"That was... something. I can't believe we caught that on camera... it's proof, yeah, but... you were seriously hurt." Sam says, looking at you. "Are you... okay with this?" He asked, you looked at him, confused.

"What? You mean for posting it? Oh yeah, I don't mind. Don't worry about it. I'm safe and sound anyways." You said, smiling as you put your hands on your hips.

"Just making sure you're okay with it." He said and you nodded, understanding his kind gesture.

"So..." You began, gaining the attention of them both. "Are you gonna keep the part where Colby kisses m- uh, gives me mouth to mouth?" You quickly correct yourself, trying to act cool. Not leaving your stare from the screen.

"What?" They smirked at your sneaky comment.

Fuck.

"What?" You asked back looking at Sam, seemingly ignoring their cocky smile as much as you could.

"What did you say?" He asked.

"If you're gonna keep the mouth to mouth on the video."

"Not that, when you stuttered." Colby obliged, making you nervous.

"...I said Colby?" You raised an eyebrow, looking confused although you perfectly knew what they were talking about. They shook their head.

"You know what we mean." Sam says, reclining back on his chair, getting comfortable as he looks at you, amused by the situation. Mimicking Sam's actions; Colby lied back, a hand underneath his chin, smirking back at you.

Like Gods. They looked like Gods.

It was driving you insane.

You sighed, "I'm just saying. A bit upset that that was my first kiss with any of you- I mean, not like I was... waiting for one anyways, of course. Ahem." You started mumbling at the end, looking away while scratching the side of your neck.

It wasn't anything strange for all of you to have some sort of stupid flirting in between conversations, but usually they were extremely noticeable jokes.

These? Oh. These weren't jokes. These were genuine mistakes.

And a part of you hated these silly accidents. Mainly because they knew.

"There seem to be a lot of mixed signs in what you're saying." Colby said, smiling at Sam then looking back at you. "I'm a bit confused in what to believe here."

You shrugged. "Believe what you want to believe, good sir."

"It's just that I don't know if we're on the same page, you know?" Colby continued, looking at Sam. "I only know he's with me."

"Oh, for sure." The sexual tension only filling the room even more. Usually, the jokes were seemingly too overboard and hence, you could tell they were that, plain jokes.

Usually.

Just like your silly little mistakes, these weren't jokes.

"And what does that mean?" You raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, we know what we want. We don't know if it is what you want though."

You sighed heavily, seemingly loosing yourself for a moment as you whined. "Dear God, why are y'all so hot?" You looked up, dozing out of existence after thinking about their looks, their positioning, their everything.

Wait.

WHAT DID YOU JUST THROW OUT OF YOUR MOUTH?

You accidentally said your thoughts out loud.

How does that even happen?!

When you realized what you've done, your eyes went wide, quickly looking at them. "Oh. Fuck. I didn't just- oh God." You didn't even wait to see their reaction as you began walking away. They quickly stood up, and you quickly sped up.

You started laughing but you were absolutely dying inside out of embarrassment. "Come back here!" Sam yelled as he got a hold of you and hugged you from behind, quickly throwing you over his shoulder.

"Let me gooo!" You yelped, moving your legs as you laughed purely by reflex. He held your legs in place. You were blushing hard.

"Nu-uh. We're gonna have a chat, young lady." Colby said, crossing his arms as you looked at him with a pout on your face. Sam turned around and slapped your ass, walking back to the room. You yelped, not expecting the sudden movement.

"A nice, long chat." Sam said as you sighed.

Oh boy. It's gonna be a long night.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

how do you guys like the banner? i got creative(ish)

also pls tell me what you thought about the fic, cause i don't really know if i did good with the idea, i did want them to review the footage but i also wanted a bit of tension or something extra to make it spicy, i'm not sure if i did a good job tho...

thank you for reading!

-nikkõ

smol taglist: @lemonnightmare @yourfavoritefangirl @stardollswrld

1K notes · View notes

essycogany · 3 months ago

Text

Rare But Not So Rare Sonic Moments

Sonic Swooning Over Amy

So, Sonic’s been kind of the driving force of Sonamy recently. Let’s analyze that.

I’ll show Sonic having feelings for Amy in almost every media aside from Fleetway and the two cartoons she isn’t in. I’ll also present the “whys” in more detail then just “Amy calmed down.” While that’s part of it, I’d like to add my own can of worms. And possible headcanons too. Bear in mind I never grew up with Sonic, so forgive my mixed opinions.

While I love Amy having a crush on Sonic like the energetic sugarplum she is, nowadays Sonic’s oddly been the drive of their dynamic. Any examples of it beforehand? Let’s look outside of the games first.

Sonic X

This Sonic takes more time to himself. He’s introverted, so his feelings for her isn’t displayed as obviously as the others. In fact, most people think he didn’t like her in this show because of how much he runs away. He even manipulated her by flirting in one episode. In my opinion this show has Sonic running away from Amy more often than not. Hot take: Sonic and Amy never had a real conversation either. They don’t…talk like they do now. Unless you count,

“Oh, Sonic I love you!” “Ah! C’mon, Amy. Knock it off!” No, it wasn’t constant but still common.

From my point of view, the conversations were short lived to none existent. It was the same in the earlier games too. Compared to how they talked to other characters or now, you might be able to notice. At least until Sonic And The Black Night were he talks to both The Lady Of The Lake and Amy. The two would also have visual gags of Sonic getting aggressively hugged by Amy. Or Amy falling on her face while trying. Aside from one moment in Sonic Riders where Sonic put Amy in danger, it wasn’t good or bad. Just cartoony for lack of a better term.

Maybe I’m just insane. You decided.

Anyhow, their dynamic in X is clearly built on actions. Like Amy giving Sonic a seashell bracelet and Sonic giving her a rose. Those little things. While I do prefer them being able to hold longer conversations, I don’t mind how X handles them. But let’s get to Sonic’s crush. I assume in Sonic X Sonic is conflicted. He’ll run away from Amy or try to pull from her on most occasions and others Sonic would constantly hold onto her when he doesn’t have to. For a long period on time no less. Amy’s the same way. One moment she’d be head over heels and other she’s bashful. Goes to show how young they were I guess. I have no clue as to why Sonic liked her back because there wasn’t much to go off of. Except the bracelet moment or her general kindness like feeding him one time. She was a bit much to him and most characters back then.

It’s possible Sonic just liked her and that was it, but I’d imagine due to all of the hand holding and small reciprocated gestures were enough to convey something was there. Straight forward and simple like the show itself. I headcanon this Sonamy being where the boyfriend gets dragged into a relationship and is fine with it. This version of Sonic’s attraction seems to be chaotic pink hedgehogs apparently.

Sonic Boom

Should I even explain it? Might as well because not only do I have something different to say, but these two haven’t been brought up much. Sonic and Amy’s romance mostly is played for laughs. Not saying their love for each other means less because of that, but the humor is the main reason they exist. Much like why in the main canon they started out the way they did. Regardless, I’ll dive deeper into Boom!Sonic’s affection for Amy to the best of my ability.

Boom!Sonic is egotistical, so whenever he thinks Amy’s crushing on someone else, it bothers him. Apparently he’s the only one she’s allowed to like. No “Radical Speedsters” or “Celebrities” can take her attention away from him. Like in Sonic X he tries to keep his crush to a minimum. Even though both him and Amy are terrible at it.

The moment in “Fortress Of Squalitude” a episode where everyone is a bit rude to Amy, close to the end Sonic says, “We may have a hard time saying it Amy. But…well you know.” Then she responds with, “Yeah, I know.” It’s such a sweet moment. Not as powerful as most moments with them but for Boom it’s very nice. Sonic and the others still value her as part of the team, but it’s Sonic who expresses it out loud. Goes to show how much he cares about her for even attempting to open up in this instance. Didn’t even have to finish the sentence. Amy understood perfectly. I also noticed how much he tries his best to impress her. When he needs to returned her book back, finds her hammer in Archie, (Vector did it in the show and Sonic got jealous) shows off randomly or dreams about her, and stopped racing to get her some eggs in one episode.

The funny thing about this Sonic is how much of a people pleaser he can be. Especially since the towns people are very spoiled and ungrateful. He wants to be needed and that’s possibly why he goes out of his way to do special things for Amy like go out on picnics, implied dates, and comforts her. She’s very take charge in Boom and Sonic has no problem calling her out when he needs to. Much like Amy in the show and games. Sonic will even put effort into doing things he doesn’t feel like doing for her. How honorable of him. Sure, sometimes he tries to make her jealous and isn’t perfect, but he tries. I believe Sonic likes Amy because again like Sonic X Boom isn’t canon, so more outright reciprocated feelings are allowed in this case. Not to mention the dude likes being shipped with her in the show. Which is a win in my book.

Sonic enjoys bugging Amy much like a playful boyfriend. He probably admires her leadership, but I’m saying this by observation. It could be for anything. Maybe he thinks she’s cute when she’s mad and finds her temper amusing. It could also be for her stubbornness. Some people like each other because of how much they can relate to their partner and in Sonic Boom’s case they’re two cuts of the same cloth. Although still different, due to the show’s theme, they carry the same condescending, slightly self centered, hotheaded, stubborn, and humorous traits. But they’re still good hedgehogs with a heart of gold and usually makes reasonable decisions. Not to mention they’re both equally shy about their crushes. In Sonic Boom, Sonic and Amy is that married couple who doesn’t get along much, but when they do you’ll understand why they stay together.

Reboot Archie Sonic

I haven’t read the comics (unless you count watching a few dubs and internet reviews) but I’ll give my limited thoughts. Luckily there’s not much to say. Although most people believe it was unintentional, I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch that someone from Archie thought it was a fun idea to have Sonic crush on somone in this reboot. Maybe it’s unintentional but it doesn’t seem that way.

I’m basically using this part of the post to ramble about how Reboot Archie’s Sonic still manages to be a casanova. He’s like a mixture of his old self and how he is in the games. That’s also why he acts the way he does around Amy. Could it also possibly mean he’s meant to like her canonically too? Reboot Archie did have to follow a more accurate way of writing Sonic after all. Anyways, let’s run down the list of Game!Sonic if he was allowed to be down bad for Amy like they’re already dating. Which is how I view this continuity. It’s basically if Boom and X had a weird fusion and this version of Sonic’s crush was the result. Except here he manages to be more bold and upfront. He knows what he’s doing. Here’s a run down.

First of all, THIS. No joke, more of these interactions would send me to the moon. I would explain why but the panel speaks for itself.

Sonic says, “I was worried about you.” Which he hasn’t admitted to her before this to my knowledge. He states this by giving her a side hug. Along with other out of nowhere physical affection and flirting. Not to single out Sonally fans. Sonic and Sally clearly have a close connection people appreciate and I respect that. In any case, Sonic and Amy in Reboot Archie also matches energies so much. They’re both clearly running off the same brain cell. You’d think they were together. They’d be a chaotic couple that’ll do the most outlandish things and somehow manage to survive them. After willfully risking their lives they’d do it again because being normal and safe is boring. I promise you, this version of Sonamy would be a huge force to be reckoned with.

-I’d also like to mention my friend Salty showed an example of Sonic being jealous of Knuckles coming with Amy on a mission and it’s brilliant. Dude gets all bratty about it too. Archie!Sonic does not play around. The post in question.

Sonic Prime

Already talked about this in another post, but I want to mention it again. Prime!Sonic is the most sensitive version of the character, so it’s no surprise he displays his admiration for Amy freely and out loud.

This moment says enough on its own. Sonic’s like this throughout the entirety of Prime and even changes the tone of his voice when speaking to or about her. It’s so authentic and adorable and makes him stand out against other variants.

Amy’s crush on Sonic in Prime is up to interpretation, but I don’t think she likes him in that way personally. Like other characters, Amy tends to be done with Sonic’s childishness. Guess she thinks he’s probably too immature to be boyfriend material whether she has feelings or not. Sonic on the other hand, acts how you wouldn’t expect. I personally see him as his own interpretation, so I’m fine with it. If he wants to have goo-goo eyes for Amy in Prime, it’s cool.

Prime!Sonic has it bad and I wouldn’t be shocked if he’d be the one wanting to go out on dates. Maybe he’d cook dinner for her sense he cooks in the show. I’d imagine Amy declining at first, but does it after his constant begging. They’d be swapped version of most emotional to least emotional. Prime!Amy would be a girlfriend who feels more like a parent than a partner.

Unleashed/Black Night

No one can bring up Sonic Unleashed without the lovely Amy meeting the Werehog scene. I love how Sonic didn’t like Amy hugging him, but right after she left he solemnly mopes around for probably the first and last time. He’s never in any game slowly moped around disappointedly before. Proving he only has certain reactions when it comes to Amy Rose. At least in some continuities. Unleashed gives you a choice to go on a date with Amy or not. Then the next game Sonic Team followed through with it, but ended up having Amy mad at Sonic for missing it. At least Sonic tried. Not to mention his reaction to The Lady Of The Lake and him flirting is fun to watch.

See how Sonic still likes her back but it isn’t because she’s “calmed down?” She’s still the same excitable love strucked Amy. There must be something more to it. Other than the obvious answer with Sonic Team wanting to do something with the pear. I have no idea why but having multiple hints even in the past must’ve been done for the fun of it. “We created this love interest but then railed back to Sonic not reciprocating her feeling. But we still want to market them as a couple in some way.” This franchise never cease to confuse me.

Amy encouraging Sonic in one of the cutscenes could’ve been where he started liking her back. Not in the way he does now, but he admired her none stop compassion and might’ve wanted to return the favor. “Eh, she’s sweet. Maybe a date won’t be so bad.” The fact he went out of his way to get her a chilidog and flirted with a different version of her should tell you enough. Of course it would take a while before anything else happened.

IDW/Sonic Frontiers

Yeah, after issue 2, Sonic’s never felt the need to run from Amy. From the comics to Sonic Frontiers there’s a lot of moments of Sonic being somewhat emotionally candid. Not by much, but close. I believe Amy’s the reason for that in a way. Sonic’s not afraid to hang out with her anymore. He even hugs her back on some occasions. “Ames” was a nickname from fanfics and Boom which became canon over time and he occasionally calls her that.

Sonic wishes to share an umbrella and spend more time with her. He also gets excited to see her more often. It’s like Reboot Archie but slightly toned down. At least up until the hard to trigger lines from Sonic Frontiers. The same game where he outright admits to being worried about Amy and smiles back at her with a Coco looking between the two. Then he supports Amy’s decision to leave etc. We all know where we are now.

Crazy how the more you look into this franchise the more tiny details you notice. It’s also crazy how much Sonic’s been into the love interest he originally was already supposed to love. To me, Sonic had a crush on Amy in Unleashed but fell in love with her in IDW. What makes Sonamy gripping though is how unique it is compared to most romantic relationships. Leaves it to be more entertaining whenever something unexpected happenes. It keeps you engaged.

Why Sonic Crushes On Amy?

1. Amy doesn’t want to slow him down. Obviously because of IDW issue 2’s love confession with Amy saying “I can’t change you. I don’t want to change you.” Amy joins Sonic and he includes her more often because of that. His speed is no match for her persistence anyways.

2. She shows compassion and love for those around her. Not just to Sonic, but everyone. She’s the definition of soft hearted. Even for people Sonic and his friends would be weary about. Think about now in the recent comics and games where Sonic’s trying it out. I do think it should be more of Amy’s thing then Sonic’s but it just goes to show how much she probably inspired him. Who knows? Even in the past he had respect Amy for her tenderheartedness.

3. Amy’s energy matches Sonic’s. Though sometimes she can be overly enthusiastic compared to him. Even before now, Amy’s always been adventurous and that’s probably something Sonic liked from the start. Not in a romantic way, but in a respectful way. If he were to have a partner he’d need someone to keep him grounded and be on the same level. No exceptions.

4. Her loyalty. No matter what Sonic does (including times she disagrees) she’s one of Sonic’s most loyalist companions. Obviously other characters are too, but Amy has her being a long time childhood friend/Sonic 06 and Unleashed going for her. 06 for trusting Sonic over Silver and Unleashed for still loving Sonic despite his transformation. Heck, before she knew who the Werehog was she wasn’t disgusted. Amy’s commendable for that.

From all these points here physical attraction isn’t included. What I like about both characters is their crushes don’t stem to how they look. Though it is worth mentioning Sonic has called Amy “Radiant” in TMOSTH, but that’s probably the closest we’ll ever get to an outright physical compliment. From Sonic at least.

- Side note thanks to @saltynsassy31 again, Sonic and Amy’s dynamic can be summed up as not a relationship but rather a situationship. Yes, it’s a real word. What does it mean? Basically two friends who has crushes on each other but doesn’t do anything about it. Just a fun detail for you guys.

Why Did Sonic Run From Amy In The Past?

I’ll make this quick, but the reason Sonic ran from Amy wasn’t because he didn’t like her. On the contrary. Sonic always could’ve ran at his normal speed to get away from her. Sonic’s the fastest thing alive. Why would he let someone he “didn’t like” catch up to him? I personally think he enjoyed the thrill of the chase. It’s why I believe he misses it nowadays. Though I do understand Sonic didn’t often treat Amy like a friend. Not in a way I can understand at least. Not that I think their relationship was bad, but from what I’ve seen, it was more told then shown due to Sonic and the gang not including her on missions. Amy normally had to catch up with them which was a running gag. Especially in SA2. It might be why some prefere her in stuff like Reboot Archie, Boom, IDW, and Frontiers. Because Amy’s friends includes her on adventures now. At least in my opinion. Correct me if I missed anything.

Final Headcanon

Since Sonic in the games has been the one to push the Sonic side of Sonamy much more then Amy does for herself, I’d like to think in most cases (especially as their dynamic grows) Sonic would start carrying other versions of him traits like trying to mess with her.

He’d want to get her to chase him more often and Amy would probably ask once or twice, “What’s going on and why are you acting weird?” He’d definitely play it off as him fooling around. Sonic doesn’t know much about romance, but he does know what Amy likes. Maybe he’d ask her out or go on a bunch of traveling missions. Anything to get her to pay attention to him again. After all, there’s been examples of the guy feeling ignored by her in and out of canon. It’s possible.

-There’s also a consistent detail where Sonic’s finally ready to open up but has to deal with Amy doing her own thing. Or when he’s face with different variants of her, he’s flirtatious with them. For the fastest thing alive, he has terrible timing when it comes to making his mind up.

Conclusion

Welp, there you have it, darlings. Examples of Sonic crushing on Amy more than some would think. It’s a Sonic character analysis and Sonamy post all in one. I know there’s more, but I think this gathers examples from the actual content.

Stay Creative! 💜

607 notes · View notes

dcxdpdabbles · 25 days ago

Note

just imagining danny finally finding wes in cassandra's curse all

danny: you have something that belongs to me

wes: damn it fenton! shit like this is why your parents think we're dating

danny: i thought it was your constant obsession with me and the fact you spent months following me with a camera trying to get proof of my identity

tim: *watching his maybe boyfriend flirting with a cute hero*

tim: i can work with this

Given the circumstances, Wes is resting relatively well in his hospital bed. He hasn't seen Tim Drake since first waking up….in a sense. This may have something to do with people's odd reaction to the word "meta."

As far as the people in this world are concerned, Wes is a newly changed meta due to his encounter with Joker.

He isn't sure what that means, as the hospital staff talk about it like he would already know, and he hasn't had much time to find information on the subject. Based on how people behaved, he can conclude that there was a lousy stigma against Metas, and he wonders if it was like the stigma associated with the AIDS crisis.

Some nurses seemed nervous about touching him, and Wes almost felt terrible if it weren't their actual job to have bedside manners.

Wes's days have mostly been filled with watching late-nineties TV shows, doing reruns in his hospital room, and letting the staff check his vitals. He sometimes listens to the radio, but it is only fun if he can dance along to the songs.

It's been about two weeks since his kidnapping.

Whatever the Joker did to him left him feeling weak beyond words, and the most he could bring himself to do without falling flat on his face was wobble his way to the toilet. It took forever to gather enough control to do things like type on a laptop the staff lent him or sat up without flaring his entire boy with pain like the first day.

We could tell this world was different from his own. After living in Amity and surviving whatever new crazy thing happened to Danny, he recognizes portals to other worlds or dimensions.

Just looking outside his window told him how different things were. The cars rolling down the street were less bulky, made smaller, and had smoother edges. The build boards were replaced with giant TV show casting ads, and people walked around with little rectangles resembling buttonless PDAs Tucker was so fond of.

If the more advanced technical devices didn't scream another world, then the fact that his clear blue-sky small town was replaced with towering buildings and grey skies of a large city led Wes to believe he was nowhere near home.

How long would it be now for Danny to find him? He figured he was somewhere close by regarding worlds, seeing as a Clown-Ghost (?) could easily break through the barrier.

He would try calling out for him- as some forms, he had seen online for ghost hunting claimed to say the ghost's name would summon them- but that wouldn't help the secret relationship allegations that the student body had flung onto him and Danny.

At least the nineties sitcom he was forced to get into didn't exist in his world, so they were entertaining when he ignored all the badly aged jokes. Wes sighs, slumping a little in place, trying to ignore the soft ache in his back.

A knock interrupts one of the characters, yelling, "We're on a break!" for which Wes is grateful. He would scream if he had to hear that man complain about his relationship being in on the rocks for not having proper communication. "Come in."

The door flings open to show his favorite nurse. Caroline Hill was one of the few who didn't mind touching or treating him like an average person. She also brought him the laptop, staying by his side while gently encouraging his stiff fingers to type. She laughed when Wes's mind was utterly blown when pressing buttons proved too complicated and flipped the thing into an interactive screen.

She called it a 2-in-1 laptop, but Wes was stuck on the idea that the screen was touchable and that people could use their fingers as a mouse. This world was so cool.

So yes, Wes liked Caroline, so he respected her preference and didn't point out he could tell it was Tim Drake dressed in drag. If she wanted to be known as Caroline and work under that name, then who was he would kick up a fuss about it?

She always answered to feminine pronouns, and the other nurses treated her like any girl Wes, encounter so even if it wasn't simply drag. She was Caroline, and he would treat her as such until she told him otherwise.

"How are you feeling today, Wes?" She asks, voice slightly raspy in the same way that told him she was purposely attempting to make her voice higher but falling short.

He smiles at her. "Same as always. I managed to stand alone without feeling like my legs would give out on me this morning."

"That's great!" She spreads a blanket over his legs, the fabric warm from a heater. He mentions "Gotham" was far too cold for his liking. "What about your meta gene? Any progress?"

She asked a lot about that. Wes wasn't sure what she was hoping for, what the meta was, or if it was safe to admit he had no idea what was happening. On the one hand, it may help him get better treatment if only to earn some respect, but on the other hand, what if metals were targeted by the government, much like the GIW?

He figured it would be better to shrug and act like he was aware but weary of speaking about it. She offered him a small smile, moving the conversation along while checking the machines he was hooked to. He didn't know what half of them did, only recognizing the heart monitor and breathing tank.

On the screen, one of the characters is talking about the betrayal, and he scowls at it. If you sat and talked things through, this wouldn't happen.

Caroline laughs. "But then we wouldn't have a show."

He frowns, "Yeah, but it's not hard to have conversations like that. It's essential in relationships to tell your partner what you expect."

"Speaking from experience?"

Wes flushes, "I haven't dated that much, but my last relationship ended because we wanted different things."

"Well, it's good to know you, and he was mature enough for our age to-"

"Her."

Caroline pauses, blinking owlishly at him. "Pardon?"

"Her. My ex was my old girlfriend." Wes clarifies.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you liked boys, given that you call out for Danny whenever you sleep. " She looks flustered and babbles a little, which doesn't make Wes feel better.

"Why does everyone say that about Danny and me?" He mutters, closing his eyes and trying not to sink in the ground. "I'm bi, and bi-myself but I'm not that desperate."

Caroline offers him an uncomfortable smile before quickly finishing her visit and running out of the room. It's probably for the best.

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #Cassandra's curse in Gotham #Part 2 #Tim/Wes #Caroline Hill #Tim is undercover trying to figure out the new Meta #He is unaware that Wes knows #Wes can see though any disguies

440 notes · View notes

going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 8 months ago

Text

It's a Match! || 141 x reader

[ Chapter 8 ] || [ Chapter 10 ]

Pairing: Ghost x gn!Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.2K~ Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: i think Ghost always steals Soap's hygiene products bc he cannot be arsed to buy some for himself.

Chapter 9: Drinks?

The moment the helo touched down, the soldiers descended, each of them parting ways as they went about their regular business, returning their gear to the armory, debriefing, showering, eating…

Almost a whole hour after their arrival, Simon threw himself down onto his bed, his skin dewy from the shower, his hair combed to the front and dripping over his face.

He popped open the top drawer of his nightstand and fished out his phone and charger. He set the charger up and turned on the phone as it charged up.

Simon didn’t often use his iPhone. Sometimes he forgot he even had it. The only times he did was to check Soap’s and Gaz’s insta/snap stories (because he liked being up to date on what they were doing) and when they were all on leave and had parted ways, so he could check the groupchat.

Once the phone turned on, he immediately beelined for Tinder and opened the app. The app lagged a bit at first but, open loading up, he saw it.

99+ likes, 99+ messages.

The big majority of them were girls, too young for him, thirsting for him, even with his face being hidden. He always knew he could attract people, so it didn’t exactly surprise him.

Rolling his eyes, he flicked his finger over the screen until he found your chat and clicked on it.

Simon: I’m back and in one piece. Simon: I think you need to wish me luck more often.

He didn’t expect you to answer him immediately, even if it was only 6 P.M. on a Tuesday and you’d likely be at home and free, considering the job you listed on your profile.

However, the Read notification popped up under his text almost immediately and your dm came right after without the app even announcing you were typing.

you: omg i was literally JUST checking to see if you had said anything you: welcome back!

The text made a smirk take over his scarred lips before he bit the bottom one and typed out a reply.

Simon: Have you been waiting to hear from me for 3 weeks? you: noooo Simon: That’s frankly adorable. Simon: Didn’t think I’d have gotten in your head that strongly. you: oh piss off simon. you: ur not that great. Simon: You’re still texting me. you: sooo???? Simon: So, I can’t be that terrible. Simon: Got your attention, didn’t I? you: oh piss off you: ur so cocky and for what Simon: Not cocky. Just sure of myself. you: no Simon. No? you: no 😤 Simon: Okay then. Simon: Suddenly not sure of myself because you deemed it so. Simon: I’m very insecure now. Simon: Is that better? you: stop being such a bloody smartass 🙄🙄🙄 Simon: You’re breaking my heart, sweetheart. Simon: I can’t take this. Simon: Going to go hug my pillow and cry some more. you: oh no you: i’m making the giant cry? 😱 Simon: Is that a dig at my height? you: YES Simon: My God, I’m going to cry even more. Simon: I’m being bullied. you: good!!! 😤 Simon: I’m making you pay for my therapy. you: pay for it yourself!!!! 🙄 Simon: How about I pay for dinner for the two of us one of these days instead?

You didn’t answer immediately after that. You always did that whenever he flirted with you and spoke about taking you out.

Simon had a shit-eating grin on his face, imagining that you were all annoyed at him behind the screen. He was right in guessing you were shy about going out, he assumed.

you: no. you: but you can buy me a drink tonight.

His jaw dropped and his eyebrows raised just a bit.

Simon: It’s a Tuesday night, are you sure? Simon: You know going out for drinks on a Tuesday is usually a sign of alcoholism? you: ur backing out now? you: wheres all that bravado of yours? Simon: Oh no, sweetheart. I’m not backing out, I’m asking if you’re sure. you: if i wasnt i wouldnt have invited you. Simon: Fair enough. Simon: Where? you: the same pub i met up with john at maybe? Simon: Rog. Simon: 30 minutes. you: i need longer to get ready. Simon: That’s fine. I’ll still be there in 30. you: are you going to be wearing the mask? Simon: 🤷‍♂️ you: SIMON you: YOU CAN’T BE PULLING OUT THE EMOJIS LIKE THIS you: YOU STARTLE ME EVERY TIME. Simon: Good. Simon: See you soon.

Setting the phone down on the mattress, Simon got up from bed and took off his towel, tossing it over the back of his desk chair before opening the top drawer of his tall dresser, grabbing a pair of black boxer briefs and putting them on.

Then, he rummaged through the other drawers looking for his one ‘going out shirt’™️ (which was actually a black long-sleeve compression shirt) which he put on along with a pair of dark jeans. It was a simple outfit.

Then he slipped on some black boots. He threw on a leather jacket over that and tucked a black neck gaiter into the neckline of the t-shirt, hiking it up to cover his mouth and nose.

Barely a minute later, he was making his way into Soap’s room and across the small space that separated him from the bathroom.

“Going somewhere, L.T.?” Soap probed from his spot at his desk, eyebrows raised and his eyes locked on the older man’s with intrigue. He rarely saw Ghost in civvies and even more rarely did he see him without a hoodie.

Unlike Ghost, Soap had made his officer’s quarters into his own living space, having brought in a gaming computer and chair, a small beanbag, and had plenty of knick-knacks around.

“Going out.” Ghost said simply as he grabbed Soap’s hair gel and squirted a glob of it into his hand before lathering them and using them to run through his blond locks which were exposed without the hoodie or signature balaclava.

“Out? On a date?” Soap asked Ghost as he quickly jogged up to the bathroom door, watching as Ghost fiddled with his hair.

“No. Just drinks.” Ghost replied as he tugged a bit as his hair to make it stand up straight.

“Is this someone you found on Tinder…?” Soap probed as he leaned his shoulder on the bathroom door, a boyish grin on his lips.

Ghost looked over at Soap out of the corner of his eye as he finished fiddling with his hair and rinsed his hands under ice cold water in the sink.

Soap took Ghost’s silence as an affirmative response. “Pro’lly a shag too, hm?” He joked, earning him another glance out of the corner of his eye. “Bloody hell, L.T. tell me all about it later, yea?” He laughed.

“Fuck no.” Ghost added as he grabbed one of Soap’s cologne bottles and raised it up for a sniff before scowling at the scent and setting it down again.

“Aw, c’mon L.T.!” He pleaded.

“Get your own date, MacTavish.” Then, he just made his way right out the door, forcing Soap to move out of the way, looking a bit like a wounded puppy.

“I’m not getting anything interesting on there!” Soap lamented with a sigh.

“No? Well, I’m sorry for you, then, Johnny.” Ghost quipped as he opened the door again and stepped out into the hall, leaving Soap behind.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

taglist: @daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @infpt-zylith , @xxshadowbabexx , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark , @zombie-freak , @wittleespur

@severenswife , @enarien, @agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago , @sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine , @kneelforloki , @comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 , @gazspookiebear , @mynameismisty , @reap3erslov3 , @reaper-chan666 , @poohkie90 , @kitwithnokat , @stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust , @thriving-n-jiving , @blckbrrybasket

#ikea writes 💚#it's a match! fic #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #text story #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod smut #simon ghost riley x reader

1K notes · View notes

fourmoony · 7 months ago

Text

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝟐

f!reader x PT!Jamie (modern au) 1.5k words

summary: reader has a bad gym experience and jamie gets protective

cw: working out, mention of potential injury, mentions of sexual harrassment (ass grabbing)

sidenote, that I've seen a lot of this behaviour in the gym before and it makes me sick. writing about it and imagining how jamie would handle it makes me less sick. imagining big strong pt!james making the world better, one set of keys at a time. please, always be aware of your surroundings if you are working out at the gym, especially alone <3

James pulls you out from under the bar of the smith machine by the hips seconds before it clatters to the ground with a sickening thud and clang of metal. You stumble under his harsh hands, land on the ground at his feet and let out a pained whoosh of breath. Luckily, the gym is empty save for the two of you, sparing you the embarrassment of having people watch the commotion.

He's on you in an instant, gentle hands that cradle your neck as he crouches in front of you and pushes your head from side to side with a little pressure from his thumbs. All you can do is blink, try to process what, exactly, just happened. "You're not sore here?" James asks you, brows furrowed and almost touching in the middle, his fingers pressing into the base of your neck.

Your first thought is that James doesn't suit frowning. A silly thought, considering you almost decapitated yourself with a one hundred kilogram squat rack. "No. Just my ass from crash landing." You don't fail to notice the way your voice sounds distant, detached.

James' hands are warm on your neck, a burning touch that you want to lean into. You don't, and it's gone as James collapses down across from you, his elbows resting against his knees. His face turns stern, "What's going on?"

You feel like you're being scolded, and maybe you should be. It's a well known fact that form is everything, that being distracted in the gym can lead to serious injuries. You'd known you wouldn't be able to focus today, you'd known you should've stopped that set and corrected yourself when you could feel the weight more in your back than your legs. But, you hadn't. You're distracted, you're angry. You'd walked into the gym full of frustration and it'd almost ended terribly.

Tears fight their way to your eyes and they burn. You feel a lump forming in your throat that forces you to look away from James. Kind, patient James, who allows you the moment to collect yourself as you pull your legs to your chest. "Shitty week." It comes out mumbled, your voice defeated.

James nods understandingly. "A shitty week doesn't make you lose focus like that, though. There's something more to it."

It's not like James to push. He's friendly and he's kind, he can be a menace when he wants to be, and sometimes you even think he's flirting with you - but he never pushes. You want to open up, you want to step out of that weird area of professionalism you can never seem to get past with him. But unloading your shitty week on him doesn't feel like the way to do that. So you shrug, pulling your knees to your chest until your chin rests atop them, "I'm just stressed. I'm sorry I didn't say anything, I knew my form was wrong but I was too distracted to stop and fix it."

"I don't care that your form was wrong," James shakes his head as though offended you'd think such a thing, "I mean," He pauses, searching for the words, "Obviously, I care that it was wrong because you almost got hurt. But what I mean is that you should've told me you were stressed, that you were feeling a bit distracted."

You find yourself nodding, eyes downcast at your crossed ankles.

"I was waiting for you to correct the form yourself. If I knew you were distracted, I'd have told you to stop. I'm sorry, too." James' voice has turned soft, less stern. He nudges his foot until it's in your line of vision, tapping it against yours until you're looking up.

He's waiting with a smile, his eyes gentle and patient. It feels odd. New, foreign. You can't really describe the feeling. "A guy grabbed my ass in the gym, yesterday." You breathe out, unsure really of what it is that's made you tell him.

It could be that you trust him. It's hard not to build trust with someone in James' position, it's literally his job to stop things like one hundred kilogram bar bells falling on top of you. Or, it could be that not telling anyone, reliving how powerless you'd felt, going over everything you could've done differently, it's eating you alive. Sharing this with James, who sees every day what gyms are like, how people in some gyms behave, you have a feeling that he'll get it. That he'll help you process.

But, he doesn't say anything. Just stares with a look that you can't read. The muscles in his arms shift, his hands clenching around each other tightly, and his jaw clenches. You think he might not say anything, though, you know James is better than that. The silence stretches until the tears in your eyes abate, then James finally croaks, "He what?"

Your veins crackle with the anger in his voice, the darkness that clouds his eyes. You'd never have imagined James in such a light if he wasn't sitting right in front of you, the very picture of livid. You shrug, as though feigning nonchalance might abate the white hot anger you know very well the feeling of. "I was doing those stupid kick back thingies you're always on about. Just messing about as a cool down, trying to correct my own form. He came over and started giving me advice, which I thought was just him being nice."

James shakes his head, remorse like a white sheet of dread across his beautiful face. You swallow, picking at a hangnail on your thumb, "He kind of just," You shift your hands as though grabbing your own hips, "Grabbed me like that and my throat went dry. When he was leaving he grabbed my ass and said 'you're welcome'."

"You didn't report him to the gym staff?"

You shake your head, lip trapped between your teeth. "I wasn't even planning on telling you until I nearly killed myself with the smith machine."

James sighs, one of his hands coming up to rub at his face. He looks nauseous, almost. "I'll get you a set of keys for this gym. You can work out here, from now on. No one will bother you."

It's a nice offer. It makes your heart swell and your cheeks heat. James has always gone above and beyond. He fits you into his schedule despite your crazy work hours and never charges you for the session if you have to cancel day of. But the reason you don't have a membership at his gym is because it's not in your price range. So you smile, kind, if a little tight lipped, "James, you know I can't."

"I'm not saying get a membership. I'm saying I'll get you a set of keys. You can come and go as you please, even after work, whatever time you want." His voice is thick, his eyes earnest and almost pleading.

"I can't ask you to do that."

James scoots closer, fingers flexing as though he might reach out for you, but is stopping himself. He chases your gaze, waits until he has it, until your lips part under the weight of it and your heart hammers against your chest, to speak. "You're not asking. I'm offering. I can't believe that happened to you and it makes me so angry. I'm not going to sit by and do nothing about it."

You sigh, unwilling to argue when James sounds so passionate, so sure of himself. A smile makes its way to your lips, timid, unsure, "Thanks, Jamie."

He nods. "Any time."

"Are you sure the owner won't mind?" You ask.

James grins, some of the mischievous twinkle returning to his eyes, "He's my best mate, it'll be fine."

He offers you a hand as he stands, the storm clouds passing and the weight already lifting from your chest. It feels brighter, in the gym. You take James' hand, let him pull you up. He does his signature move of tugging you until you're stumbling towards him, his laugh echoing off of the concrete walls when you curse him out for it.

"Start from the beginning?" James asks, moving to return the smith machine to where you need it to be.

You take a breath, watch the way his shoulder muscles strain against his top as he bends and lifts. It brings a smile to your lips, the feeling of familiarity you hadn't felt upon entering the gym earlier. "I believe I was at five reps when I dropped the bar."

James tsks, "Dropping it doesn't count as a rep. Call it four."

"Cruel."

James only winks, offers you his award winning smile as you settle yourself under the bar. This time, with the correct form. He nods, and you twist to unlock, eyes on his in the mirror.

"That's one." He grins, crossing his arms over his chest.

You consider dropping the bar on his head, next.

882 notes · View notes

froggiewrites · 3 months ago

Text

Follow Through

Pairing: Ace x Reader

NSFW

Summary: Portgas D. Ace may be a flirt, but he doesn't think he deserves more than that. You try to prove him wrong. Warnings: Smut, Self Loathing, Very Little Hurt/Lots of Comfort Word Count: 5.8k Crossposted from Ao3

His hands are warm.

That was your first thought when you met Fire Fist Ace. You quickly learned that the rest of him was warm, too, from the top of his head to the tip of his toes, from his beautiful smile to the depths of his heart. But the hands were first, calloused yet gentle, holding yours for a handshake and welcoming you aboard. You were reluctant to let go of them, barely able to muster enough willpower to pry yourself away. They were comforting, but enough to engulf your own but barely gripping, ensuring he didn’t cause you any discomfort.

The second thing you noticed was his smile, boyish and bright, and the way it made your heart flutter. There was something terribly honest about it, in a way that not many men let themselves be. He never held himself back in his joy, always busting into a wide smile and a laugh that made his whole body shake. You can’t even remember the joke you made to make him react in such a way, but you do remember your own smile falling as you just stared in awe at him. He was beautiful in a way that felt so very alive.

You couldn’t hide your feelings for him then, and you certainly can’t do it now. You’ve been with the Whitebeard Pirates for nearly six months, long enough to truly embrace your new family and friends. And they’ve wholly embraced you too, giving your life a meaning you had never had before. It felt so right to finally have a place in life, and people who accept you for who you really are. But with acceptance comes familiarity, with familiarity comes comfort, and with comfort comes the constant needling teasing that only comes from someone who truly loves you.

“Staring again? It’s getting a little sad at this point, honestly.” Thatch’s words may have a little edge to them, but his tone is light and teasing, without a hint of malice. He’s been kind to you, as he is to everyone, so you don’t take it too personally.

“Yeah, so I keep hearing.” Your eyes are still on Ace, laughing with his head thrown back without a care in the world. He’s so handsome like this, shining in the sun and absolutely bursting with joy. He’s always like this at banquets, stuffing himself full and laughing like he’s never known sorrow. He always draws your eye, but especially in moments like this. He’s surrounded by people all smiling just as widely as he is; he tends to have that effect on people.

Thatch laughs a little. “And you don’t plan on doing anything about that?”

“Not really.” The idea of it makes your chest seize. It’s terrifying, to imagine change, and even worse to imagine how it all could go wrong. As much as you’d like to, you can’t imagine any response to your confession but rejection. Some kind, some less so, but you never imagine a yes. How could you? How could such a man want you? Want anything less than the perfection he deserves?

Thatch sighs. “You both are a nightmare to deal with, do you know that?”

You finally let your eyes leave Ace to look at Thatch with confusion. “What do you mean?”

He sighs again, significantly more dramatically than the first time. “Nothing. Just…I think you should tell him, ‘s all. Nothing will change if you don’t.”

“Would that be so bad?”

“To never know if your feelings are reciprocated? Yeah, sounds pretty bad.”

“No, but–You don’t get it. Yeah, I won’t know. But I’ll get to stay by his side. I’ll get to stay his friend, his confidant. Can’t that be enough?” You don’t want to get greedy. You don’t want to demand more than you’ve earned.

“Maybe it could, I guess. But why should you settle for ‘enough’ instead of reaching for happiness?” You hate it when he makes a good point.

“Enough doesn’t hurt.”

“Neither does more than enough.” He pats your shoulder soothingly. “And a little hurt is worth it in the end. You’re stuck in limbo, right now. But if you say something? Well, who knows where that might lead.”

You had resigned yourself to limbo, back when you first saw his beautiful smile and known you were smitten. You weren’t used to getting what you wanted. But oh, to imagine a life where you did. To imagine a world where he knew your feelings and you knew he felt the same. Where you were able to see that beautiful face first thing every morning, and last thing every night. What a life that would be. You would never want for anything again. “...Maybe I could say something. Someday.”

“Maybe someday soon.” He pats your shoulder again before walking away, probably back to the kitchen to make up for the dent Ace made in the food for the feast.

Someday soon, huh? You try to imagine it. A day where you look him in the eye and tell him how deeply you care about it. You couldn’t open with telling him you love him, of course. Didn’t want to scare him away. And you couldn’t say you liked him like some teenage girl with a crush. You wanted him to know it was deeper than that, a feeling that ran to your bones, to your soul. How could you say it?

Your eyes flicked back to him, and they met his. He was grinning at you, toothy and wide, like he always did. And you returned it, like you always did. A moment you had lived a thousand times, and hoped to live a thousand more. It always made you feel so warm and fuzzy, soft at the edges. You could just melt, looking at him like this. You could fade into nothingness and not feel a moment of regret if you just got to see that smile one last time.

He waves you over, and your feet begin to move, helpless to his whims. Before you know it, you’re sitting directly next to him, his arm slung around your shoulder as he excitedly regales you with a tale of his latest adventure. Your shoulder is pressed into his chest and you try not to pay attention to how hard and strong it feels against you. His warmth radiates through your shirt, and you feel it slowly moving through your body, melting you further into him. It takes all of your concentration not to lean your head into his chest and make a home there.

“Hey, are you listening?” The arm around you jostles you a bit, bringing you back to earth.

“Oh, I–um–”

“I know it must be distracting being so close to someone this hot, but really, you gotta keep it together.” His tone is light, and his smile full of mischief. He pulls you a little closer, and speaks quieter against your ear. “I’m trying to impress you, y’know. It doesn’t really work if you don’t listen to how cool I am.”

Your face flushes, and you scramble for a response that doesn’t show how flustered you are. “Oh, is that what you think you are? Cool?”

You can feel him smirk against your ear. “Well I guess it’d be better to call myself hot.” He blows on your ear and you shoot up, hand pressing against the side of your face as you desperately try to cover the red seeking its way up your neck. He laughs good naturedly, and puts his hands up in some form of surrender.

You skitter off, throwing yourself into the throng of people, trying to catch your breath. He teases you often, hands reaching just a little closer than appropriate to certain places where his eyes like to linger, words just a touch beyond friendly. But it doesn’t mean anything, you tell yourself.

But could it?

Maybe someday soon echoes in your head.

Maybe someday could be today. Maybe you could say something. You could be brave. His bravery is one of the things you admire most about him. You could try to imitate that, in some small way. After calming down, you seek him out, like a moth to a flame, and pull him aside. “Can I talk to you later? Once everything calms down a bit?”

He regards you with a good natured concern. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. I just need to talk to you. Nothing’s wrong or anything.”

He smiles at you fondly, though you could swear you see something in it—some sort of nervousness, unsteadiness you aren’t used to seeing in Ace. “Well, good. Yeah, we can talk later. Party’s winding down now, so we can probably sneak off soon.”

“Good. See you soon, then.” You skitter off before you lose your nerve, not seeing the way his eyes follow you across the room.

Soon turns out to be over an hour later, once half the crew has passed out drunk and the other half has dragged the first half back to their beds. You meet Ace on the deck, in the cool ocean air, and admire the way he seems to shine in what little light there is. He smiles at you, and the moon seems dim in comparison.

“Hey.” His voice is quiet and deep, and it plunges right through you.

“Hey.” You twitch nervously, hands fidgeting and eyes focused anywhere but him. “I…Sorry, I’ve been rehearsing this in my head over and over and I forgot everything I was going to say the moment I saw your face.”

You expect a reassuring smile, one that he usually gives freely when you’re nervous, but his mouth remains flat. “It’s alright, take your time.” The words are right, but the tone is wrong.

You persevere. “You’re…really special. To me.”

“Is that so?” He leans against the railing of the ship, hair blowing in the breeze, moonlight dancing in the dark strands. His energy has gone strange, unfamiliar in a way you have never known him to be.

“I really care about you, Ace.”

He isn’t looking at you. His eyes are to the sea, staring into the horizon, a million miles away. They’re devoid of their usual warmth, you realize. There is no mischievous twinkle, no crinkle at the edges indicating a smile.

“You shouldn’t.” His voice is soft, but not tender. It’s filled with resignation, with shame, with a deep seated self-loathing that startles you so badly you almost flinch.

You realize the downside of this beautiful, burning flame: he cannot see himself. He cannot see his own brilliance past the light in his eyes. He thinks himself weak and small and ugly, and you have no way to show him how wrong he is. He carries this burden silently, as he does all his burdens, because he thinks he has to. Because he thinks his only use is as a candle burning itself down to keep the rest of the world in the light.

You take his hand in yours. He jumps a little at the contact, and he looks at you with confusion, like he can’t figure out why you’re still here, why you haven’t already run from him. “But I do. And I don’t think anyone gets to decide how I should feel except for me.” You start to slowly rub your thumb over the back of his hand, and he looks at you with such a horribly lost look it makes you want to weep.

“I don’t–” Ace tries to keep his voice from cracking, choking down any sound that gives away the weakness he is so desperate to hide. “I don’t understand why you would want me.” Why anyone would want me remains unsaid, but it hangs in the air between you nonetheless. He takes in a ragged breath, still holding back tears, and the hand that isn’t holding his cautiously makes its way to his cheek, gently tracing over his freckles.

“Ace, I can say with complete and total honesty that I don’t understand how anyone wouldn’t. You’re the most wonderful, kind, and passionate man I’ve ever met, and from the first moment I saw you I knew that you were going to be important to me, even if I didn’t know how. You’re strong, brilliant, fiercely loyal, fun—You’re just…warm. Like the sun. Like surfacing out of cold water on a summer day and feeling the sunlight on your face. Like napping outside and feeling it wash over you and gently pull you back to sleep. Like seeing the first ray after a storm and knowing everything is going to be okay, even if you don’t know when.” You trail off, a bit embarrassed at going on for so long with no response, but when you see how he’s looking at you, your breath catches in your throat. He’s so vulnerable, so open, and looking at you with the sense of awe and wonder you once thought exclusive to gods and angels and Ace himself. The warmth is slowly making its way back into his eyes, softening his face and making him look younger. His mouth is slightly open, lips parted as though he was about to speak but couldn’t choose between a confession of love or a prayer.

“You–you really mean that.” His voice is little more than a whisper. It isn’t a question, just a simple statement of disbelief. “You really feel that way about me.”

“I do. And all of that still isn’t enough to really describe it. You’re…everything, Ace. Everything good and kind in this world, and then some.” He doesn’t believe you. You can see it in his face, his lack of understanding. He knows your words are sincere, that you mean everything you say, but he doesn’t understand that you’re just finally putting into words the unspoken truth of this world, the one that everyone who has ever met him understands instantly. It is one of the few things that you can rely on in this world, that you know will forever be true: the sun will rise in the morning, the world will keep spinning, and Ace will always be good.

“You’re wrong, you know. I can't–I’m not anything special. I’m not even anything decent. Every good part of me is borrowed from someone else. I’m stubborn, and angry, and–”

“So?”

He blinks. “What?”

“I never said you were perfect, Ace. I never thought you were. You’re just wonderful. That doesn’t make you flawless. It doesn’t make you inhuman. And all of the best parts of you are all you, Ace. You’re just too close to see it.” You try to let go of his hand so you can fully clasp his face, cradle him like he deserves, but he grips it tightly, pulling it to his chest. He’s frightened to let you go, like the moment your hand leaves his you’ll disappear, slipping through his fingers like so much else has.

“I don’t believe you.” His voice is soft, without much fight in it.

“I know. I wish you did, but that’s okay. I’ll tell you as many times as I have to. I will spend every day for the rest of my life telling you, if you let me.”

“That sounds like a proposal.” There’s a hint of a smile in his voice, just a small amount of his humor leaking through. There was a question in it as well, a quiet could it be? One day, when I believe you, could it be?

“Maybe it could be, someday. But I don’t want to skip any steps. I want to remember each and every little minute I have with you, every moment, no matter how small. If you let me, of course.”

You weren’t expecting him to kiss you. You weren’t expecting his lips to brush against yours so softly you almost didn’t feel them at all. You weren’t expecting the press to continue until you can feel every inch of them, chapped and cracked, against your own. The hand not holding yours rests on your cheek, pulling you closer and taking your breath away. You had imagined your first kiss with Ace many times, most of them as fiery as the man himself. But you had never pictured such tenderness, such care. He holds you like you’ll crumble beneath his fingers. The gentleness of it makes your chest ache, and you feel like maybe you really will shatter under his touch.

Even when your lips part, you stay close, breath mingling and foreheads pressed together. You open your eyes to stare directly into his, and the pure adoration in them brings tears to your eyes. The only thing you can see are his shining, beautiful eyes and the freckles dotting his cheeks, and you don’t know if you ever want to see anything else again. It’s every beautiful sight you’ve ever seen reflected back at you in a single image, in a single tight frame, and if you died right now you could rest easy knowing that you truly had seen all of the beauty and glory and grace this world had to offer.

“I would let you.” His voice is barely a whisper. “I would give you everything I had. I would let you take anything from me.”

“I’d rather share it, I think.”

He closed his eyes at that, basking in the idea, imagining a life for two. A life worth living, perhaps. “I think I’d like that.” His smile grows wider, though you cannot see it as he lifts his head and drags you forward into his chest. He presses your ear against his heart, and you can hear its beating, quick and growing quicker. He rests his chin on the top of your head, and lets out another whisper. “That’s for you. Always has been.”

You sit like that for what feels like hours, intertwined and listening to Ace’s heart. It calms to a steady beat, and soon after that he slides you down onto the deck so he can lean against the railing of the ship. You’re unsurprised when you hear snoring shortly after. His arms around you don’t loosen at all in his sleep, holding you tightly like you’ll be gone when he awakes if he even thinks about letting go. The weight should be suffocating, but instead it’s soothing, warm and heavy in the same way as a thick comforter.

When he awakens, you ask him a quiet question that has been nagging at your heart. “Ace, why did you hit on me so much? Why were you so kind to me, if you didn’t want me to care about you like this?”

When he talks you can feel it rumble through his chest. “I never said I didn’t want it. I wanted it more than anything. I couldn’t stop myself from getting closer, even when I knew I didn’t deserve it. I kept telling myself that it was fine, because you didn’t want me anyway.” He laughs a little. “Clearly I was wrong.”

You turn around in his arms to face him, your noses brushing together. “I don’t think there’s a world where I don’t fall for you, Ace. I think I’d always want you, in any way I could have you.”

“In any way?” His voice takes on a tone you’re a bit more familiar with, but even underneath the flirtatiousness there’s a vulnerability beneath it, like he’s still checking, testing if this is solid ground that won’t fall out beneath his feet.

“In any way, Ace. Any way you’d let me.” You kiss the tip of his nose, keeping it light, allowing him to make the choice here. He can pull out if he wants, pull away, and you will take whatever step he wants.

He responds by pinning you to the deck.

You let out a soft squeak, and at the sound his eyes darken a bit, though he’s still clearly holding himself back. You can see the question in his face: Is this alright? Do you want this?

You kiss him hard, and he finds his answers in your lips.

His hands are everywhere, spreading their warmth, and you feel like there’s a fire spreading in your blood. You can feel the tips of his fingers digging into you through your clothes: your hips, your breasts, your thighs. It feels like he’s everywhere, and you can barely keep up. Your own hands brush against his chest, and you cannot seem to pull them away when you hear what might be a soft whimper against your lips when your fingers make contact with his nipple.

You tweak them lightly, and he pulls back as he makes another sweet keen. “Not fair, sweetheart. You can feel so much of me, but you’re so covered up.”

“Not my fault you don’t own any shirts, Ace.”

He laughs a little, his hands reaching for the bottom of your shirt. “May I?”

“Oh, ever the gentleman. You may.” He removes your shirt slowly, seeming to drink in every inch of skin being revealed. His fingers finally lightly brush against your bare skin, and you burn so hot you think there will be nothing left of you when this is done. When your shirt is gone, he stops all movement for a moment, just staring at you in the moonlight. His gaze bores into you, eyes filled with a mix of lust and affection that makes your stomach flutter. He adores you. He wants you. He needs you.

“God, you’re so…perfect.” His voice is thick with emotion. “You’re really here. This is really happening.”

“I was just thinking the same thing.”

“You’re even better than I imagined, and we haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.” He reaches back to unhook your bra, and sucks in another breath at the sight of your bare breasts. “God, I’ve never wanted anyone more.”

Before you can respond, tell him that you feel the same desperate pull toward him, his mouth is on your chest, and you let out a moan. You can feel his teeth lightly drag across your sensitive skin before his tongue reaches your nipple, his hand reaching up to roll the other between his fingers. He rolls his hips lightly against you, and you let out an even louder cry before he lifts his mouth.

“Not too loud, sweetheart. Don’t want to risk anyone hearing.”

“It—ah!—It’s probably a bit late to start worrying about that considering where we are.”

He pauses, as though he just now realized you’re entirely out in the open on the deck. He considers for a moment, before calmly picking up your shirt and bra, stuffing them haphazardly into his pocket, and throwing you over his shoulder.

“Ah! Ace!”

“You don’t need to start crying my name quite yet,” he laughs. “I don’t want anyone else to see you. I’d like to keep this sight to myself.” His hand rubs against your thigh as he says it, but the gesture strangely feels more fond and affectionate than it does lustful. He carries you to his room quickly, stumbling over bottles or other pieces of evidence from the earlier banquet but somehow ensuring you’re never jostled. He doesn’t put you down even as he locks the door behind you, even as he kicks on his heavy boots and slips off your own shoes. Only after this does he flip you gently onto the bed, pressing you lightly against the mattress and ghosting his lips against your own. “Are you ready for the main event, sunshine?”

“I’ve been dreaming of it since the day we met.” You’re breathless at your admission, but you have to let him know.

“Oh, me too. But we’re about to blow all those dreams out of the water.” His smile now is one you’re familiar with, a cocky boyish grin that fits him perfectly. “I’ll start.”

With that, his hands slip below the waist of your pants, and they slide you out of them with ease. As soon as your thighs are exposed, he’s on them, kissing you tenderly before nipping hard enough to leave marks. You know tomorrow the evidence of this will be there, something that proves what you and Ace have here together. You can’t help but be pleased this will be more than just a memory.

He makes his way up your thighs slowly, teasingly, before you feel his breath against your panties. Even before he’s made contact he’s breathing hard, chest heaving like he’s physically holding himself back. His nose makes contact and you whine, hands fisting the sheets beneath you. He licks a strip up the fabric, and he groans at the wetness seeping through. His voice is thick with want as he quietly murmurs, “Fuck.”

His hands rip your panties down before diving in. You can feel his tongue as he savors your taste, making absolutely shameless slurping noises echoing through the room. You keen sweetly, and he moans into you, hips rutting into the mattress. His lips and tongue find your clit as one of his hands leaves your thigh and one of his fingers enters you. He works it slowly, teasingly, before adding another and curling them, finding a spot that makes you whimper.

When he hits a particular sweet spot with his fingers while his tongue circles your clit you can’t help but reach a hand down to grab his hair, which makes him groan even louder, a deep sound that rumbles through his chest. At the same time his hips slam hard into the mattress, and the hand still on your thighs grips tight enough to bruise. It instantly loosens, his fingers moving gently across the spot as if apologizing. His fingers inside you start pumping faster, his tongue maintaining a steady pace, and you can’t help but scream “Ace!” as you cum onto his face.

He works you through your orgasm, fingers and tongue still moving until your thighs stop twitching. When he pulls back, you can see his face is covered in your slick, from the bridge of his nose to his chin. He pulls his fingers slowly out of you before making eye contact with you and sticking them in his mouth, sucking on them without looking away from you. When he’s done, he pops them out of his mouth and runs his fingertips against his freckles, collecting more, only to bring his hand down to you. You open your mouth without thinking, and the pads of his fingers are pressed against your tongue as you can taste yourself.

“Best meal I’ve ever had,” he mutters with a cheeky smile, before taking his fingers back and leaning in to kiss you.

“Do I get one too?” You ask it quietly, eyeing the belt buckle hiding him away from you.

He chuckles. “As much as I’d love to indulge you, I think if I don’t fuck you right now I’m gonna go insane.”

With that, he reaches a hand to his belt, unceremoniously throwing it across the room and wincing when you both hear a loud crash. He quickly recovers, sliding off his pants and boxers and setting them gently on the floor next to the bed. “Just in case,” he mutters, and you giggle.

Your eyes take in his cock, as big and beautiful as you’d imagined it, and you can’t help but let out a quiet noise of appreciation. “Like what you see?” He asks cockily, but you can see a blush working its way over his cheeks, painting him a gorgeous shade of red.

“It’s just as beautiful as the rest of you.”

“Beautiful? Not handsome? Not hot?”

“Beautiful, handsome, hot, pretty, gorgeous, all of it. They all apply.”

“Is that so? I think some of those are better applied to you, pretty girl.” He leans down to capture your lips, one hand reaching down to align himself with your entrance. He slowly rolls his hips forward, sliding in at a torturously slow pace, as you moan into his mouth. When your hips make contact you feel so stretched you might burst. He reaches both hands up and intertwines his fingers with yours, pressing you firmly but lovingly into the sheets.

His lips leave yours. “You ready for me to move, princess?”

“God, yes, please.”

He slides back slowly, before starting a steady pace hammering into you. He stares at your face, soaking in your expressions, before starting his work marking every inch of your neck as his. You cry out whenever he finds a particularly sensitive spot, and he always notices, nipping and sucking harder.

It all feels delicious, but it just isn’t enough. You buck your hips up into him, whining, “Harder, Ace, please!” You feel him smile against your neck before he pounds into you so hard you begin to see stars. You feel a coil building in your gut, tighter and tighter as you feel every bit of Ace’s warmth seeping into you, taking you over, making you his. You squeeze your eyes shut, face twisting, as you feel the edge get closer and closer.

Ace finishes his ceaseless attack on your neck, and you can feel his breath against your lips. “Want—ah—want to see your face as you cum. Want to look in your eyes. Ah—please open your eyes, sweetheart.” How could you deny such a heartfelt request? You open your eyes to see him looking at you with pure awe, like he still can’t quite believe this is happening. He looks at you like you’re a miracle, an angel, any and everything holy in this world.

With one final roll of his hips, you’re pushed over the edge, tightening around him and crying out, and you only just barely manage to keep your eyes on his as you lose yourself in your pleasure. He finds his own end just after you, and you can feel warmth as he spills into you. His hands tighten on yours, grounding you both, and as your orgasms both come to an end his head falls into your neck.

You sit in the moment for a few minutes, catching your breath, reluctant to part. Ace moves first, slowly pulling out of you, hissing from the overstimulation. He does not, however, let go of your hands. He simply pulls out before falling back on top of you, nose pressed in the crook of your neck.

You kiss the top of his head. “Ace, I think we probably need to clean up.”

“Probably,” he mutters, just barely awake. He nuzzles deeper into you.

“Ace, once we clean up we can both go to sleep.”

He looks up at you with wide, pleading eyes. “We could also go to sleep now.” The dim moonlight coming in through the window reflects on his face, making him look positively angelic.

You sigh. “We could…at least let go of my hands so I can hold you.”

He gives you a heart-stopping grin as he lets go of your hands and flips you so you’re laying on his chest. You wrap your arms around him, and he wraps his own even tighter around you. “I knew you’d see things my way.”

“I always seem to.”

He kisses the top of your head tenderly as his hands rub gentle circles onto your back. His expression is peaceful, but you can see a cloud of worry briefly pass over him. “Do you promise to still be here when I wake up?”

“I promise,” you say quietly. “You couldn’t get rid of me now even if you wanted to.”

“Good,” he mutters quietly. “I–” his words catch in his throat, but you know what he means. You can feel it in his touch, see it in his face.

“I know, Ace. I do, too.” You could say the words now, they could burst out of your chest at any moment, but you pull them back. You should say them together.

“I really care about you,” he murmurs.

“I really care about you, too.”

His snoring starts soon after, and as loud as it is you can’t help but be lulled to sleep by the sound.

#ace x reader #portgas ace x reader #one piece x reader #portgas d ace x reader #ace x you #ace x y/n

660 notes · View notes

tvhsleb3ww · 9 months ago

Text

FOURTH TIME'S A CHARM! - MIYA ATSUMU

summary miya atsumu had lost hope on finding the one for him after multiple failed relationships before you came along

swearing, suggestive (mentions of getting laid), flirting, light punching(does that count as violent?), pure fluff honestly, some twins bickering

his first girlfriend was when he was 13. he had just gotten popular for being the best setter in the district. surely, many girls had gone up to him and tried to befriend him. he wouldn't deny the attention because we all know miya atsumu loves attention. especially from cute girls his age.

the relationship wasn't long, probably around 3 weeks or so. it was the first time tsumu had broken his piggy bank with his dad's hammer to take out some cash and use them to buy his girlfriend some chocolate.

it ended when tsumu hit puberty and had a terrible break out. the girl was probably freaked and it was the first time tsumu cried over a girl. they never even had the chance to kiss like he had imagined!

the second girlfriend was when he was in his third year of highschool. it was a much more serious relationship and he developed strong feelings for the girl. it was the first time tsumu went on multiple dates and had a girl over.

despite that, he got dumped once again after high school ended and his said girlfriend is going overseas for her studies.

things started to heat up a bit as he reached his early twenties. due to his rising fame from the volleyball industry and his incredibly good looks, women especially models, are interested in him.

likewise, he's not one to deny attention and affection from hot ladies. oh, he loves it.

starting from there, he had a couple flings and hook ups. he even got popular with the supermodel ladies for being amazing in bed. although, he was never one to try and find a relationship.

that changed after he met a girl at a club. he was one hundred percent sure that she was the one. the way she was hitting on him, wrapping her arms around his neck. his breath hitches everytime they interacted and thus it was his first real relationship in a long while.

it lasted for six months or so after he got dumped for a CEO bastard. he then started to think maybe he was never meant to find his other half. maybe he was gonna die alone.

that thought had him awake at night and as much as he is scared of that predicament, he can't really do anything to change it. he just accepted his fate right then and there.

and it all changed when he locked eyes with you.

it was official. osamu had opened his restaurant for approximately two years now! to celebrate this achievement, he had decided to close the store for a day to throw a small party to celebrate.

of course, all his family and friends were invited. atsumu's volleyball team, his friends from high school, his relatives, everyone!

"samu! congrats man!"

tsumu exclaims with a bright smile as he pulls his twin brother into a hug. osamu quickly hugs him back before giving him a punch on the shoulder, making atsumu yelp.

"ey! the hell was that for, ya twerp!?"

he pouted at his brother as osamu just chuckled. osamu crossed his arms over his broad chest, a gentle smile on his face as he watches his twin brother being dramatic as usual.

"that's for bein' late, ya asshat. yer team already started eatin' ages ago"

osamu rolled his eyes as atsumu just chuckles.

"i had somethin' to take care of"

"oh shut yer mouth, i know you've been sleepin' and forgot"

"ey!"

their interaction went on with some laughter and some light punches. the usual miya twin interaction. after some minutes, atsumu had left to join his team at the table.

"hey, you're late! good thing, the food isn't finished yet"

bokuto chirped as he started to prepare a plate for atsumu. he grinned at this, mumbling a small 'thank you' but before he could sit down he's been told to go get some drinks from the counter.

"wha? but a was just about to sit!"

"just take it, that's your punishment for being late"

he pouts and huffs but he goes anyway.

he walks towards the counter and as his fingers wrap around the bottle of sake, a hand was grabbing it too. his eyes widen slightly as he turns his head to take a look at the dude who's taking his drink.

at that moment, he felt like he had died and ascended to heaven because holy fuck was that an angel right beside him? he had never seen anyone this pretty before. and god, her eyes! he could stare into them for as long as he can.

maybe, he was staring for too long with his mouth agape because it caused you to clear your throat to get him back into reality.

"sorry, were you taking this?"

you quickly asked him and for a second there, you could've sworn you saw heart shaped pupils. he immediately took his hand away from the bottle.

"well, i was gonna but it's all yours if you want it, pretty"

he says with a flirty tone added with a flirty wink as he leaned against the counter. your lips curled into a smile at his flirt, cheeks also growing a tad red. you fixed your hair and he swears it's love at first sight.

"thank you"

you mumbled, giving him a smile before you walked away to your table. he sighed dreamily as he watches you from afar. how can someone look so pretty? your hair, your eyes, your body. the way you were staring at him judgingly made his heartbeat skyrocket. he found it so hot and cute.

he never rushed to osamu so fast in his life before. osamu, who had just gone out from the kitchen was quickly pulled into the nearest VIP rooms by his brother.

"hey! what the hell is your deal!?"

osamu groans at his brother. atsumu grabbed his shoulders.

"listen, am askin' ya as yer big brother-"

he rolled his eyes at that, big brother my ass. just by 5 minutes.

"do ya have a friend that's absolutely fuckin' hot and gorgeous ya'd feel like ya died an' saw an angel?"

osamu narrowed his eyes. what an overexaggerated question. he thought about it for a minute.

"are ya talkin' bout (y/n)? i mean, she's the only female friend i have"

(y/n). what a cute name. he sighed dreamily again when he remembered their interaction. osamu raised a brow at this.

"(y/n)? ya mean the girl of ma dreams?"

"ugh, ya lovesick idiot. yer supposed to be celebratin' my achievement not get laid"

atsumu shot him a glare and lets go of his grip on osamu's shoulders.

soon enough, they both leave the room to join the party again. osamu went to see some of his college friends and atsumu had gone to join his team.

on his way, his gaze falls on you. you looked so beautiful under the orange lights of osamu's restaurant and were you talking to his grandmother?

not only beautiful but friendly and good with old people. his heart beats faster when you laughed at whatever his grandma said because you look amazing, fuck.

and at that second, he locked eyes with you. you kept the eye contact with a gentle smile on your lips.

with just a small wink from you, he knows. he knows that he's fallen too deep for you.

#miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu x you #atsumu x y/n #atsumu x female reader #haikyuu x reader #miya atsumu #hq atsumu #hq x reader #haikyuu x you

1K notes · View notes

ghost-proofbaby · 5 months ago

Text

kissing lessons

summary: you and robin have already shared several firsts as best friends: your first time holding hands, your first time cuddling someone, your first time flirting. so what's a little platonic kissing?

pairing: robin buckley x fem!reader

warnings: lots of sapphic pining, yearning, etc. assumed unrequited love. hopeless crushing. doing romantic things and claiming they're totally platonic when they very much are not. mentions of reading trying to conform to the 80s standards by dating a boy. reader is explicitly female (which should be given since robin is canonically a lesbian)

wc: 3.4k+

a/n: this one was a long time coming. it's based off of my own first kiss, loosely.

part 2

Being best friends with Robin Buckley has always been about growing – together.

Life has a plethora of lessons for young souls to learn in time, and some of those lessons were simply hard. The first time you picked up a musical instrument and attempted to play your very first note, and it sounded atrocious. Nothing like the movies, more difficult than you could have ever imagined. The first time you walked the halls of your high school, and the terrifying first wave of panic at the realization you’d need to learn the map of the lands in order to navigate that maze for the next four years. The first time you walked into a classroom all of two minutes late, and the first shatter of embarrassment in your chest as every eye in the room turned to you. The first time you trip over your own laces on your way to Chemistry, the first time you impulsively cut your hair with the kitchen scissors, the first time a boy asked you out as a joke, and the first time someone asked you out genuinely only to fumble over every single word. Your first school dance, your first time cooking pasta from scratch, your first time attending a concert without a chaperone.

Firsts, firsts, firsts. Life is simply full of them, and they never get any easier or kinder, but having a best friend at your side certainly makes it all bearable.

Robin Buckley was that rock for you. And you, for her.

It’s sort of how you got into this mess to begin with.

“It’s going to be weird, isn’t it?”

“It’s not going to be weird unless we make it weird, Robin.”

“How can I not make it weird? Where would my lips even go?”

You’re both lucky that no one is home to hear all the shrieking currently occurring in your small bedroom. Only the posters on your wall and your teddy bear you’ve had since you were five are witnesses to the current predicament occuring.

Robin had been the one to suggest it, in all fairness. Graduation was next week, and there had been a lot of reminiscing flying about. All the firsts, all the hopeful lasts, and all the fatal moments you needed to drag by the hair to the backyard and bury six feet under.

The topic of conversation had veered pretty erratically, turning left towards that one stubborn B left on Robin’s postcard as a result of her refusing to attend her assigned tutoring for Geometry last year, and then sliding right as you’d huffed about that one girl who had been an absolute menace towards you sophomore year when you’d botched your improv solo at a band concert. But in the last five minutes, it had finally straightened out – it had finally begun to follow the trail of a line of remembering that no one else would ever be allowed to know outside of you and Robin.

You’d brought up the first date you’d ever gone on. A ridiculous milkshake outing with some guy in your freshman English class that had left you feeling more confused than starry eyed or lovesick as the books promised.

The date that had caused Robin Buckley to offer to hold your hand at random, in private moments, the week leading up to it. Just so you’d know how it felt. Just so you could figure out how to best intertwine your fingers with someone else’s without feeling terrible foreign about it all.

It had been platonic. You both swore it had been, shrugging carelessly as you’d let your palm meet your best friends.

And you’d felt more every time your skin brushed hers than you had the entire night with that boy. Spent the entire date wishing it was Robin’s knuckles bumping yours when you’d reached for that damn strawberry milkshake.

“Against mine, I’d hope.”

The dissection hadn’t ended at the hand-holding. Next, the two of you had wistfully recalled the sleepover in which you’d first decided to learn how to spoon one another. Robin had read about it in a magazine, you’d never had firsthand experience, and it just felt right to suggest. Robin had rambled for a good five minutes before you’d tugged her back into her bed and commanded her to just lay there as you figured out where you arm should go as your body curved along the back of hers.

It had been nice. Really nice.

You’d never gone out on another date after the Great Milkshake Catastrophe, as the two of you had called it. Robin claimed none of the boys at school could handle her eccentricism. Both of you, young girls fumbling about the world, starving for touch completely unaware. You told yourselves everyone cuddled with their friends. You told yourselves it was normal.

But then, you’d switched positions, Robin being the big spoon as the teen magazine had described, and you swore your heart had burst when her arm wrapped around your waist and her fingers slotted between your own against your abdomen.

You’d fallen asleep in that position. Awoken to Robin’s face pressed right into your chest as you’d spread out on your back. Ignored the flaky drool stain left behind on your skin when she’d finally joined the living once more. Pretended like you both hadn’t had the best rest of your lives as you’d clung to one another through fading dreams and subtle snores.

It was normal, right? It had to be, because it was nice, and it had become a part of your normal sleepover rituals.

Friends used each other’s boobs as pillows all the time, as Robin had defended.

“Yeah, but, well-” Robin cuts off in her current stricken rambling, throwing her hands out around the air between you two, “What about when it’s more than just pecking? You know? All that gross shit, where tongues get involved and spit is exchanged and, oh God, should we be sucking on some mints right now or something? Oh my God, what if you’re allergic to my chapstic-”

Gross shit.

The not-so-clever code word the two of you used whenever describing any sort of romantic interactions. Kissing, making out, sex. The things all of your peers were regular experiencing, sometimes even displaying in public, that the two of you only turned your noses up to.

You didn’t want to suck the face off of Connor in your fifth period pottery class. The only person you could imagine on the receiving end of that that didn’t make your stomach turn was sitting right in front of you now, eyes wide and cheeks flushed as she clearly panicked.

“I’m not allergic to passion fruit Lip Smackers, Robs.”

The switch to a passion fruit flavor was new. Robin had been using the strawberry flavor religiously prior, but had recently offered it to you with the excuse of your obsession with strawberry flavored things.

And now, you’d been using it daily. Trying not to think about how many times her lips had been on it prior to yours. Trying not to think about how many ways you could twist it into some sick secondary kissing metaphor, to have your lips slick with the same sticky substance as hers had been so many times before.

Tried not to think about what Robin Buckley’s lips tasted like, period. Easier said than done when the thought crosses your mind every time you lick your lips moment after application, getting the faux sweetness all over your tongue.

“You could be. And how would we even know? I can’t even drive! If you start to have an allergic reaction, I can’t even take you to the hospital! We don’t have a c-”

You can’t do it anymore – any other day, you relish in the sound of Robin’s voice as she’ll squeal on and on about everything and anything. But not today.

You cut her off with a kiss.

The very same kiss you’d both timidly agreed upon when you’d both realized graduation was next week, and neither of you had had your first kiss.

The same deal as the cuddling. The same deal as the hand-holding. The same deal as all the pick-up lines and flirting you’d try out on each other, the same deal as all the sweet ‘love notes’ you’d write for one another and slip into backpacks and binders alike.

The same deal as that fluttering in your chest every time she looked up at you at the local pool, eager to see if you’d witnessed her flip beneath the water. The same deal as all the nights you’d cried into your pillow after being pestered about if any boys at school caught your eyes, because you knew they hadn’t and they never would. Your eyes were already too busy, completely captured by the sight of the brunette now pressing her lips against yours.

None of the boys at school could ever compare.

Passion fruit and strawberry mingles within the short peck, freckled cheeks and nose smashing against yours in the most awkward fashion possible. It could be weird; it should be weird.

It’s not.

When you pull away, Robin is completely stunned into silence for quite possibly the first time in her life. And her lips are shining with some of your residual spit, and her cheeks are the perfect shade of rose that no actual flower could capture.

Mother Nature herself could never replicate the girl in front of you. The girl you’d been best friends with for six years now, the girl you’d pined relentlessly for for just as long.

Only you’d just recently realized it. Somewhere between the lip smackers exchange and the movie night in which you’d intertwined your legs on the couch and felt the weight of her between your hips as she’d passed out.

Looking at her now sort of feels like realizing it all over again. Sort of like looking out over a precipice, and taking a deep breath, because you know you’re leaping off the cliff. No scared looks over your shoulder, no hesitation as you throw your foot out into mid-air.

The kind of rush you’ve never felt with a boy, and never will.

“Was that…” she whispers, voice hoarse before she clears it, batting her gorgeous lashes and taking the shakiest of breaths, “Was that good?”

“I dunno,” you lie, “I think we should try again.”

It’s like a dance, you soon realize. Following her steps, guiding her with your own. She slides her way up closer, and you press your back against your headboard. Her hands are shaking when they brush your outer thighs, and your blood is racing as you tug on her elbows to guide her to straddle your lap.

You both had said, after all, you needed to learn to be better kissers. That you couldn’t leave high school without having shoved your tongue down someone’s throat at least once. Your words, not hers.

Your desperate attempt to make sure that someone was Robin Buckley. Your pitiful attempt to have the one thing you don’t think you’ll ever be allowed to hold.

The weight of her on your lap is nice. The feeling of her lips returning to yours is nice. The way neither of your hands know where to go as you let your lips linger together a few seconds longer than the first time is nice.

It’s far nicer than Connor from English could ever make you feel. It’s far nicer than that poor boy at the diner ever was, though he tried his best.

You’re the brave one, when it’s all said and done. You’re the first one to let your palms settle at her hips, squeezing ever so gently to feel the softness beneath slot perfectly into your hold. You’re the first one to timidly include tongue, parting both your lips, trying to ignore the shivers running up your spine as all you can taste now is passion fruit lip smackers.

Even with your own lip balm, you know your lips are horribly chapped. Dreadfully thirsty and desperate to absorb all the love you know isn’t yours to claim at this moment. Chapped lips, quivering hands, shaking breaths. Unsure movements and the ringing question in the back of your head of am I doing this right?

Is she feeling what I’m feeling?

Maybe she is, maybe she isn’t. But she’s kissing you back. Her tongue is meeting yours in movements that are nothing like the movies, shy baps that you both will probably laugh about later. Kitten licks to test the waters.

And then there’s the retreating. The rock of her body as she settles her weight closer to your knees, and her tongue is put away in favor of just letting her lips slot between yours in slow and lazy movements. You can feel every deep breath she takes through her nose between the kisses, you can smell her perfume seeping into your psyche every moment she spends so close to you.

The only lesson being learned right now is that you were an idiot. You were an absolute fool, and you are absolutely in love with your best friend.

“Better?” she questions when she pulls away entirely, and you try not to whimper. Try not to show her how badly you want this, need this.

You hate the silence and you nearly wish she’d start babbling again. You wish she’d give you a reason to kiss her and shut her up, if for nothing more than to taste passion fruit and yearning all over again.

You’re quiet for a few beats, staring at her as your chest heaves and your heart begins to twist up into terrible shapes. “I… Yeah. Yeah. I think we’re getting the hang of it, don’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely,” her nervous smile breaks, and you wish she wouldn’t continue the thought, but she does, “You’re gonna be a pro in no time, breaking boys hearts left and right when you kiss them like that.”

You don’t want to break a boy’s heart. You want to break hers – you want to entirely implode her heart the way she has yours, and have the honor to know it was mutual. A mutual destruction you both dove into headfirst. You only want to kiss Robin like this, forever. You only ever want to know how right her hand feels in yours, not some guy who can’t even choke out the right words to invite you to the cinema.

You want, and you want, and you want.

And just as you bite your tongue, decide against pouring out all your affections all over your bed sheets and pulling her right back into you again, desperate to share air with her and only her, you can hear your front door slamming over.

Robin has never moved so quickly in her life. Jumping off your lap, leaping to the edge of the bed as a feverish blush overtakes her entire body. As though she might be embarrassed, as though she might be regretful.

You still haven’t moved from your position, back sticky with sweat against the headboard, when your parents walk past your open door and say hello.

They probably don’t even hear your sad and quiet excuse of a returned greeting, too enraptured by Robin’s own excited quip of saying hi.

Your parents love her. Adore her in a way parents should care for their child’s closest confidant. They treat her like their own daughter, and Robin’s parents do the same for you. Once a month, your mothers meet up for mimosas over brunch and probably giggle about how lucky their girls are to have one another.

You get it. You love her too. But certainly not in the way you should love your best friend.

They finally leave, and Robin is quick to turn to you, eyes shining with all the stars and sunshine the Universe could have to offer, “That… um, thank you.”

“For what?” you laugh breathlessly, finally shifting forward, looking down at your thighs that had served as a temporary home to the girl who holds your heart, trying to swallow down any shame and all that rapid longing.

“For… you know,” she smiles, a secret for the two of you to only ever keep, never sharing with the world. Selfishly, you almost enjoy the sentiment, “I’m sorry I was acting so weird about it before. You were right, it didn’t have to be weird unless we made it weird. I’m lucky to have you as my best friend, you know? And like I said, if you’re…. You know, doing that with boys, you’re going to be a certified heartbreaker. The world isn’t ready for my best friend. Besides! Another thing checked off the list, right?” she pauses, and you swear the smile has gone sad, but you can’t risk the projection, “Now we can both say we’ve done… that… before graduation! And-”

You speak before you can think better of it, interrupting her entirely, “I think I need more practice.”

She stops in her tracks, eyebrows raising wildly and eyes turning to saucers, “What?”

“I think…” your head reels, desperate to come up with an excuse to kiss her again. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually. “I think I need more lessons, yeah? Like, I don’t know. More practice,” Oxygen evades you in desperation, giving your best puppy dog eyes, system in overdrive as you stare at her lips and your voice drops to a careful whisper, “My parents are out of town next weekend… Maybe we could try again then? Same time?”

You swear her smile shifts, and you hadn’t even noticed the ingenuity in it previously until she dazzles you with one that must be real. As if you’ve just made her year, lightened her load, offered over your first born to the darling girl.

“Well….” she moves her eyes across the room, focusing on a polaroid photo of the two of you pinned to the wall above the desk, “I mean, we did say lessons, plural. I can see if Steve will cover my shift on Saturday night if that works?”

Am I doing this right?

“That definitely works.”

Is she feeling what I’m feeling?

“Perfect. It’s a…. date, then.”

“It’s a date.”

It’s not. Only to you, never to her.

But it’ll be enough. It’s enough to know next Saturday, she’ll be back here, in your bed and in your lap, getting that passion fruit chapstick all over your lips and shaking your chest from the inside out until it’s ready to burst.

One day, you might be the brave one, when it’s all said and done. You’ll tell your best friend all the ways she feels so nice, and all the ways you want to capture that niceness in a bottle for the rest of your days. You’ll tell her the way you have no interest in the boys at school and how you’re cursed to forever be the heartbroken, never the heartbreaker, and only ever at her hand. The very same one clasping yours as she stands at your front door, thanking you vaguely once more, grinning ear to ear as she gives you three tight squeezes that are completely lost on you.

Today’s not the day, though. Today is the day where you spend the night in your self-made cage, face buried in the pillow, noises somewhere between desperately muffled screams of frustration and dry sobs of torture leaving your lips as you picture the way she’d looked after the kiss. Her eyes softly shut, her lips still puckered, her neck entirely exposed as she tilts her chin back to look at your ceiling through her eyelids. Picturing the way that next time, you’ll try to convince her the two of you should learn the art of neck kisses. Picturing the way that next time, maybe you’ll grab her hips a little harder or let your hands wander a bit farther to her thighs.

Tonight is the night you have no idea amongst your pity party, that Robin Buckley is on the other side of town, experiencing the exact same turmoil as she longs for the girl who tastes like her gifted strawberry lip smackers – the very same one Steve Harrington berated on her to get rid of when she’d vomited out all the ways she hates fake strawberry flavoring, but you love it, and she’d convinced herself if she bathed herself in enough of it, you might just want her the way she wants you.

Tonight’s not the night, though.

One day, the kissing lessons will simply be kisses. One day.

ghost's taglist: @emmaisgonnacry @figmentofquinn @bebe07011 @barbedwirebats @ayooooo0

@neverlearnedcivility @munson-enthusiast @digwhatudug @wow-cam @daddysmodifiedprincess2

@cancankiki @gothmingguk @nix-rose @thesesuggestedblognamesbegreat @chevelle724

@madaboutjoe @take-everything-you-can @josephquinnsfreckles @thebanisheddreamer @water-loos

@dailyobsession @whenshelanded @happy-and-alone @alwayslindie @royale1803

@onegirlmanytales @whyamiheresomeonehelp @mrsjellymunson @live-love-be-unique @hazydespair

@gothvamp1973 @kennedy-brooke @kittydeadbones @hollysleeps @hellojameshowyadoin

@munsonzgf @browneyes8288 @videogamesandpoorlifechoices @siriuslysmoking @mandyjo8719

@d64d-n0t-sl66p1ng @acenby-weirdo @hazydespair @royale1803 @batkin028

@ninejlovebot @charliewb1996 @imwaytoolazyforthis @definitionwanderlust @idkitsem

join my taglist!

#ghost's stories #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x you #robin buckley fanfic #robin buckley #stranger things #this was a little more sad than i expected

718 notes · View notes