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xzaddyzanakinx · 3 months

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Not That Kind of Guy

Part Sixteen: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, panty/scent kink, mask kink(Ghostface), gaslighting/manipulation, public/semi-public, spitting, cumplay, nude vids/pics, masturbation, oral, PIV, dick piercing, forced orgasm, bondage/blindfolds, biting/slapping/spanking/cutting, rape kink, NONCON/DUBCON/CNC, Somno, blood, knife, straight up murder, gun/knife violence, drug use GEN. SMUT [all possible tags, all may not apply]

Info: Ghost is too pleased with you over something he really shouldn’t be. You say things, his feelings get hurt. [diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread. MDNI 18+

The cool, end of summer winds blew over the bushes you crouched behind. The conversation between Ghost and Adam could be heard in choppy bits, mostly Adam’s side of the dialogue. His pained voice and sharp yelp carried loud and clear over to you. As you heard him shouting for his friends, you couldn’t help but pop your head up despite Ghost’s strict instructions to do the opposite. You couldn’t just ignore the possibility that a group of men might be charging at him any moment now. If you could help, even just a little bit, you would. Though it seemed to be an unneccesary fear, scanning the area quickly you noticed that the yard was devoid of any movement and the living room light in the cabin had been turned out. They’d abandoned their friend, no doubt barricading themselves inside the cabin at that very moment. Thinking quickly, you knew they all probably had their phones on them. If they hadn’t already called the cops, they would be calling them soon.

Pulling out your phone, you hid it behind your jacket sleeve, turning the brightness down. Once you’d wriggled around enough to safely switch it on and do some quick googling, you discovered that unfortunately for anyone in the area, the average police response time was about forty five minutes. But, as you looked up the county maps, along with the address to your cabin… you realized it might take them much longer to arrive. The lake sat directly on the county line, the county to the left had a police department fifty seven minutes away. While the one on the right had a department closer, yet inaccessible during certain hours.

A draw bridge along the river rose up and lowered manually, monitored twenty-four hours round the clock, seven days a week. It took five whole minutes to open, five whole minutes to close, and however long it took a large boat to chug along through the gap. If it were you, being tormented by Ghost and a boat was stopping help from getting to you… well, rightfully you’d be livid. Though you found yourself lacking the sympathy you should be experiencing for these boys. Of course they were horrible people, but violence wasn’t usually appealing to you in the least bit. You’d much rather Ghost confiscate their phones and drop them off anonymously at the police department on your way back to the city. Whatever they’ve done, there’s bound to be a shred of evidence on at least one of their cellphones.

You might’ve yelled out to suggest it, but you realized that would be very unwise considering you’d already broken your promise to keep your head down. So you stayed down, your phone now shoved back into your pocket with a timer set to vibrate in thirty minutes. You took a moment to strategize in the event that you needed to get the hell out of dodge at the first sign of flashing lights.

“Brandon! This guy’s tryna kill me!” Adam’s shrill voice rang out through the moonlit nightscape. Once again, unable to help yourself, you popped your head up, parting the leaves and twigs to peer through. You could barely make out a struggling figure on the ground, the large truck was obstructing most of the view, only allowing you to see beneath the vehicle.

You heard the unmistakable sound of metal singing, a sharp, shrill *schinggg*, followed by a shock-delayed roar of pain. The sounds weren’t quite right, the scream was in its place, but the blade and the squelch were in the wrong spots. You hadn’t heard the blade go in, you were only hearing it come out. You waited for a wet thud, but never heard one. Just rustling of clothes, Ghost’s unintelligible grumbling and footsteps heading away from you. Two sets of footsteps.

He hadn’t hurt him so badly that he couldn’t walk, just enough that he would be lightheaded from the blood loss within the next half hour. Adam stumbled in front of Ghost who directed his jerky, uncoordinated movements by his grip on the back of Adam’s shirt. You lost sight of them when their footsteps changed from soft thuds to louder *clunks*, they must’ve reached the porch.

“Say ‘Hi’ Adam.” Ghost shoved him toward the door, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched Adam struggle to comprehend his simple order. “Can you fucking knock at least?”

“Shit, I guess.” Adam shook his head and cleared his throat, his arms still ziptied behind his back. He tapped the bottom of the door with his sneaker, kicking just loud enough for those inside to hear. “Hey! Brandon! Zach? Zachary! Zach I swear to god if you don’t open this fucking door I’ll deny your membership!”

They could hear hushed, frantic voices behind the door as his frat brothers tried to decide their course of action. Adam was getting impatient, kicking at the door handle forcefully in hopes to break it off and gain entry by force.

“Here, I’ll give it a try buddy.” Ghost said, patting his shoulder before gripping him by the hair and bashing his forehead into the solid redwood door. “It’s rude to leave a guest at the door!” Ghost shouted ‘knocking’ on the door repeatedly with the side of Adam’s head.

“Fuck! Open the fuckin’ door!” Adam breathed in short, shallow inhales as if he might hyperventilate from the stress. His lungs starting to constrict and make his face turn red, a wheezing sound escaping his throat as his breathing became labored.

“Do you have an inhaler?” Ghost asked with a slight laugh, “Breathing in all that frat boy bullshit caught up to you?”

“I-I have asthma.” He wheezed, choosing to save his breath instead of wasting it by feeding into Ghost’s deliberate emotional jab.

“Are you gonna die if you don't get it?” Ghost asked annoyedly, seemingly miffed that he wasn’t able to get a real reaction out of him.

“M-may… maybe.” He coughed, dry and raspy, from deep in his throat. Adam was instinctively trying to reach up to hold his neck, unable to because of the zip ties, realizing he couldn’t only made things worse. Being denied the simple instinctive human reaction caused his panic to flare up into a frenzy, the formerly sure footed, bull headed, asshole was reduced to a scared kid on his knees, choking on air as he fought against his own body to breathe.

“Shit.” Ghost sighed and rapped on the window with his leathered knuckles. “For real guys, get this little shit his inhaler. Open the fucking door or I’ll bust the window.” He yelled, smacking at the glass with his palm.

“You come in first!” A voice from behind the door shouted as the doorknob jiggled loosely, practically hanging by a thread from the beating Adam had given it.

“Sure.” Ghost called out, certainly not planning to follow that demand. He grabbed Adam by his shoulders and lifted him up. Forcing him to stand on his own two feet before shouting for them to open the door again.

The door slowly opened just a crack, a fist holding a long knife used to filet fish lashed out wildly, aiming at everything and nothing at the same time. Ghost was thankful for his quick reflexes, as much as he wanted to ensure these guys didn’t live to see the morning sun, he promised he’d only scare them. So, he pulled Adam back and kicked the wrist connected to the hand holding the knife, causing the wielder to drop it with a hiss of pain. Ghost stomped on the blade, drawing his foot backward to slide it out of the way and out of reach.

“Great job, almost stabbed your buddy here.” He grunted, hefting Adam up and pushing him forward. “Somebody catch him, get him his inhaler.” He said in a firm voice, expecting nothing but compliance.

Adam fell to his knees and a lamp flickered on before illuminating the room in a soft yellow hue, allowing Ghost to see what was waiting for him behind the door. What he saw made him laugh out loud: the couch flipped on its side, the kitchen table pushed against the couch as some kind of make shift ‘fort’ and four guys with pots and pans for weapons.

“Where’s Gordon? Didn’t realize I was walking in to Hell’s Kitchen.” He chuckled, flipping out both his knives, making sure to flick Adam’s blood at his closest frat brother, just for fun.

“What do you want man? Why? His inhaler?” The youngest and most meek of the group, Zachary spoke up, “If you’re gonna kill us why get him his inhaler?”

“Who said I was gonna kill you?” He laughed, wiping the leftover blood on his jeans. “Get the guy his inhaler, please.” He gritted out.

“Alright.” Wyatt nodded, coming out from beneath the kitchen table, he warily made his way to one of the bedrooms and returned quickly with Adam’s rescue inhaler.

“Great job,” Ghost rubbed the two blades together in a crisscross motion before turning one toward Zach. “Get me everyone’s phones… keys too.”

“Yeah, okay.” He nodded quickly, tossing his own phone on the floor at Ghost’s feet. “Brandon, please.” He breathed out, thrusting out his hand impatiently when his friend didn’t hand it over immediately.

“I’m not giving that psycho my goddamn phone!” He yelled, shoving Zachary away from him.

“Don’t you fucking call me that.” Ghost growled, stomping over to yank Zachary back to his feet after scooping up his phone from the floor. “Hand it over, like I said, I’m not gonna kill you. Just do what I say and I’ll leave.”

“Th-thanks?” Zachary scrambled back out of Ghosts grip, giving him Wyatts phone before he joined Adam and his other friend on the floor.

“Mhm.” Ghost nodded over his shoulder at him, watching him move to regroup with his friends. He caught movement from the corner of his eye and quickly spun around, only getting clipped on the shoulder by the cast iron skillet Brandon was holding over his head as if preparing to bring it down on him again.

“Goddamnit!” Ghost yelled, rolling his shoulder and feeling the muscles pinch uncomfortably. Holding both knives in a back handed grip allowed him to swing them closed quickly, holding them in his palms tightly as he wound up to punch Brandon. “Tryin’ to be civil here.” He growled, connecting his fist to brandon’s chin in an upper cut hard enough to make Rocky cry.

His target dropped the skillet and it clamored to the ground in a loud crash, followed by the fool who thought it would be a good idea to hit Ghost with a frying pan. Once Brandon was on his knees, his mouth bloodied and split open, Ghost crouched in front of him and held his hand out. Instead of receiving Brandon's phone, Ghost was kindly gifted a spray of bloody spit over the white of his mask. He breathed in and let out a tired sigh, standing up he brought his knee up quickly and aimed at the same spot, this time getting a bigger, louder reaction from Brandon.

The yowl Brandon let out was ear piercing, with shaking hands he tossed his phone to Ghost and cupped his palm beneath his chin, spitting out globs of blood and something… meaty.

“Yuh mad meh bighth ma tong ov.” He looked up at Ghost, a sniveling mess of red saliva and sobs, holding up his hand where he held the tip of his tongue in his palm.

“I didn’t make you do that. You made a stupid choice and you got a shitty result.” Ghost scoffed, and shouted to Zach, the easiest to deal with out of them all, he was the most impressionable. “Go put this on ice.” He gestured to the hunk of flesh dismissively, groaning in frustration when he heard very loud, very messy, alcohol tainted vomiting coming from the right of him.

“You fuckin’ serious?” He half laughed, half barked. Shaking his head, he snatched the tongue and walked to the kitchen, thankful that all the cabins here had a practically identical floor plan. Muttering to himself he grabbed a clean solo cup and filled it with ice from the fridge, dropping the flesh into the cup and returning to thrust it into Brandons hand.

“Don’t lose it, they can sew that shit back on.” He sighed, gathering up the phones he took a seat in one of the kitchen table chairs, facing the group to keep an eye on them

“Not a single one of you called the cops?” He laughed, scrolling through call history on two phones at once. “Why’s that?”

“W-”

“Don’t say a fuckin’ word.” Adam coughed, glaring at Zachary.

“Let the boy speak.” Ghost waved off Adam, taking on the torch of authority over the group for the time being.

“I- well,” Zach swallowed hard, it was clear that the kid was in over his head. This wasn’t his normal friend group, he stuck out like a sore thumb, he was the lackey and being the lackey of the group is just about as well paying as being a doormat. “Adam, I have to. You know I have to.”

“No you don’t!” He lunged toward Zachary, with how they were all acting Ghost was almost positive if he left now they’d all end up killing each other anyway.

“Shut up.” Ghost barked, making a frisbee from one of the cellphones, catching Adam in the outer corner of his already bruised left eye. He hissed in pain, but gave no more complaints.

“Go on.” Ghost nodded to Zach, standing up so he could spin his chair around and straddle it, using the backrest to lean against comfortably as he listened.

“We didn’t rent this cabin.” Zachary spat out quickly, looking pale in the face as Adam smacked him in the back of the head, muttering something about ‘stupid freshies’.

“That’s it?” Ghost laughed, smacking both hands on his knees, rubbing his leather palms against his jeans.

“We broke in, it’s not ours.” Zachary nodded frantically, hoping the quicker he spilled his guts, the quicker the ordeal would be over with. “I’m supposed to be gettin-”

“Inducted into the frat, I know, I heard.” Ghost sighed, standing up and grabbing the back of Zachary’s shirt. “Look, take a good look. Do these idiots seem like the kind of people you want to be spending everyday of your life with for the foreseeable future?”

“N-no.” He shook his head, hands shaking with tremors of anxiety.

“Good choice. Did you drive here?” Ghost asked, getting a nod in response. “Great, it’s your car right?”

“Yes.” Zach nodded again, keeping his head down to avoid eye contact with his ‘friends’. Ghost pulled out the phones, letting Zachary take his.

“Now, before you leave I want you to make a quick little post and send a few emails, okay?” Ghost said, pointing to the cellphone screen. “Can I trust you to do that Zach?”

“Y-Yes sir.” He nodded, “What do you want me to do?”

“I’ve airdropped a bunch of screenshots from their phones. Email them to the Dean and the head of your frat house. Probably should take a good look at them yourself. You should know what you were about to agree to partake in.” Ghost said, kicking his boot straight into Wyatt’s chest as he attempted to tackle him. “That’s enough!”

Ghost shoved him to the ground, wrestling with him until he could get his hands behind his back. Busy with the wad of zipties he was pulling from his pockets, he didn’t notice Adam had recovered enough to join in on the scuffle. Just as he was pulling the ziptie around Wyatts wrists, Adam’s foot landed on top of Ghost, connecting with the back of his neck. A blinding pain rippled through Ghost, so quickly, so intensely that a wave of nausea washed over him like a tsunami. He felt green as he rolled off of Wyatt and out from under Adam who still had his heel on his shoulder. Ghost stood up, stumbling to his feet he forced himself to swallow the bile that crept up his esophagus. While Adam fell to the floor, unable to catch himself due to his restraints.

Ghost saw nothing but crimson red when he caught his balance, flipping out both knives in a backhanded hold, giving him the use of his fists and the convenience of a downward slash of his blade if needed. With one fist in front of his face, his other shot out to pop Adam on the cheek, tilting his fist to drag the cold steel down his ‘assailant’s’ arm. Blooming ichor cropped up through the deep split in the flesh, the heat of the fresh wound warming the blade for its next mark. Adam screamed, his hands and arms wriggling in an attempt to hold his bicep instinctually as he took in the sight of the gushing blood, in his panicked state he did what came to his mind first, trying to squish the meat back together by shrugging his shoulder up, tucking his chin there and pressing his arm against the floor.

“Listen here you little shit.” Ghost said, crouching down over top of the wailing guy beneath him. “I promised I wouldn’t kill any of you, I don’t like breaking promises. But, I’m not above it.”

“You wouldn’t!” Adam yelled, thrashing around, spilling his blood across the floor. Wyatt whimpering near the two of them as he pushed himself away with his feet on the slick floor.

“I would.” Ghost said, standing up and resting his booted foot on Adam’s skull to apply enough pressure to solidify his threat while he turned his attention back to Zachary. “You done?”

“I think so.” He nodded, handing Ghost the phone so he could approve the email and facebook post.

“Perfect, you should major in journalism. They’ll be begging for more on this story, might as well cash out.” Ghost said with a dark, deep laugh. “Nice to meet you Zach, get the fuck out.” Ghost shoved the phone back into his chest along with the handful of car keys.

Zachary took his phone and his set of keys, dropping the rest on the ground. He stood awkardly as though he weren’t positive that Ghost had meant what he said. Scanning the floor he took in the mess of furniture, blood, beer cans, and the quaking forms of the three frat brothers that he would be leaving behind.

“Wait. Where’s Justin?” Zachary asked, spinning around to look about the room, noticing the last member of their group was missing.

“Do you always travel in a pack?” Ghost grumbled, shoving Brandon and Adam together, lacing two more zipties through theirs to connect them. Then he brought Wyatt over, attaching him to the other two in the same manner, “Walk.”

“How do you expect us to walk like this?” Wyatt asked, a scowl on his face while the huddle moved slowly toward the coat closet near the front door.

“Well you’re walkin’ aren’t you?” Ghost growled, opening the door and uncerimoniously pushing them into the closet. He shut the door and grabbed the chair he was sitting in earlier, pushing it beneath the closet door handle to wedge it closed.

“Zach!” Ghost yelled, seeing the boy coming out of the kitchen with a large knife. “Seriously? I was starting to like you!”

“Wait!” Zachary screeched, throwing his hands up and dropping the knife to prove he wasn’t a threat. “Wait, i- i was just grabbing it to pop their tires.”

“Huh.” Ghost said, letting his body relax ever so slightly. “Okay well, did you find the other one?”

The yelling, screams and thumping coming from inside the cabin were too much for you to sit back and allow to go on, unchecked. You had decided after the loudest, most pained scream you’d heard so far rang out into the night, that you could no longer obey Ghost’s strict orders. After shoving your small backpack into Ghost’s larger one, you put it on and pulled the straps tighter to fit your smaller frame. Once it was secure enough that it wouldn’t hinder your ability to move swiftly, you made your way to the truck closest to you, hoping to stay hidden for as long as possible.

The gravel crunched beneath your feet despite the ginger steps you took, occasionally glancing toward the window and the front door of the cabin, willing Ghost to come out so you wouldn’t have to get any closer. After passing the truck, you ducked behind the Mazda, using it as cover when you spotted the front door slowly opening.

Peering through the dark glass of the car window you were able to make out a figure heading your way. Immediately retracting your sigh of relief when you noticed the height of the approaching person wasn’t nearly as tall as what you were expecting. As the figure lifted its head, rounding the corner of the house, your worries were confirmed. It wasn’t Ghost.

The weight of the possibility that Ghost really was the one crying out in pain was a pressure on your chest that went far beyond suffocating. It was chest crushing, lung squeezing, and breath halting. Without thinking you spun quickly, the gravel being displaced under your heel made a noise loud enough to have you clapping your hands over your mouth as you panted in short breaths. The soft rustling of the grass from the stranger’s movements stopped abruptly, replaced by an eerie silence blanketing the area. For a moment it was just you and your uncontrolled breathing, the adrenaline saturated blood rushing through you as your heart beat echoed in your ears.

The illusion of being in a bubble of silent safety was shattered in less than a second. A rough hand grabbed you by the handle of your backpack and pulled you up to your feet and against the side of the car.

”So it was you.” The male voice from behind you sneered, squishing your face against the hood of the car. “Where’s the other girl?”

”She’s not here, she left earlier. W-way before I came over here.” You lied, panicking as you swallowed the rest of your anxiety induced word vomit in hopes that he’d believe the shortened version.

“So it’s just you and the sissy-boy, huh?” He prodded, trying to unzip your back pack. “What ya got in here? You stealing shit too?”

”No!” You wormed your way out of one of the straps, turning uncomfortably in your attacker’s firm grasp to pry the bag from his hands. It’s one thing to disobey very clear and concise instructions. It’s a worse thing to get caught because of your disobedience. But it would be more than a metaphorical death sentence for Ghost’s gun to end up in the hands of someone else.

“No, I haven’t stolen anything.” Your voice evening out after being raised an octave from the initial startled ‘no’ from your lips.

”Then what’s in the bag?” He questioned aggressively.

In that moment, you knew you had two choices. You could give it up or have it forcibly taken from you. Though there was a third option tapping at the back of your head, the little devil on your shoulder pulling on your ear and hoping you’d take the chance.

”This.” With your decision made, no matter how poor, you followed through. Pulling out the pistol from the bag, pointing it directly at his chest.

”Whoa! Whoa, easy.” He laughed nervously, putting his hands up and backing off as his eyes darted around, looking for an out.

”The trunk.” Your voice stern in a way you hadn’t heard before. “Open the trunk, get in.”

You gestured to the back of the car with the gun, watching him closely while he moved with slow, calculated steps. You could practically see the wheels turning in his brain, but by the time you noticed, it was too late. The very second he opened the trunk, he tried shoving you inside.

Wether it was an act of the gods or a a quick tug from your personal imp, you’ll never know, but somehow your finger pulled the trigger. A loud blast echoed through the trees around you, the man stumbled back, holding his chest. The recoil of the pistol startled you, though the realization that the gun really had been loaded this whole time, startled you even more.

“Shit.” Ghost’s body flew on autopilot when the crack of the gun reached the cabin. A million thoughts ran through his head at once, but only one stuck out clearly. Only one held his attention. You.

Zach hit the floor, his hands over his head when he registered the sound for what it was, his ‘friends’ shouting in panic behind the closet door. He made not effort to free them nor to move at all, simply frozen in fear as Ghost stepped over him, through the threshold of the front door. Jumping from the porch he hit the ground in a full sprint, only stopping when he caught sight of you, arms out in front of you with the gun still in your hands.

Through the ringing in your ears, you heard muffled words as a gentle leather hand peeled the gun from your grasp. His hands searching you for any injuries, satisfied that the only wound you’d sustained was mental, he scooted you away, shoving his arms under the armpits of the corpse before hefting the body from the ground and into the open trunk behind you. After making sure he really was dead, Ghost wiped the blood off on the man’s jeans and carefully guided you to the side of the car, having you sit down.

”You’ve got good aim for such a little doe.” He said, trying to lighten the atmosphere just a tiny bit. “Here I was thinkin’ it was deer season.”

”No?” He sighed, patting your head and massaging your scalp with his fingertips before he straightened up. “Too soon?”

“Just a little bit.” You said, looking up at him from were you sat.

”Don’t cry, it’s okay.” He said, noticing the tears welling up in your eyes. “I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry about nothin’ okay?”

”Promise?”

“Promise.” He nodded, holding out his pinky finger and waggling it at you until you linked yours with his. “Good girl.” His voice was rough, but it was clear it wasn’t from anger. His body language was relaxed, like he was relieved.

He walked back to the trunk of the car and hummed to himself, a song that triggered a memory for you. It felt like years had passed since you’d heard it, but the beat came to the forefront of your mind with an image in tow. Followed by another, then another, and another. Ghost was humming the lyrics, but your mind was filling in the the missing instrumentals.

While you were busy trying to connect where and when you’d heard that tune, Ghost was busy cutting the shirt off the corpse of the frat boy you’d shot. With the blood soaked fabric out of the way the gaping wound in his flesh was easily visible. He let out a low whistle as he took in the damage from the close range shot. He shook his head with a little laugh and shifted his weight from one leg to the other, subtly giving his half-hard cock a bit more room.

He steeled himself for the next bit of his task, finding the bullet. He rolled his shoulders and shook out his arms to reposition his sleeves without having to touch them, before he sunk the middle and ring finger of both hands into the wound to pull it apart, lifting one side he dug around and pried open the rip in the muscle.

“Gross.” He whispered, making a gagging sound when he heard the wet tearing of the fascia, feeling the stringy substance snapping under his hands.

“Hey, sweetheart?” He asked in a soft voice, trying to get your attention without startling you.

“Huh?” You turned your head, only registering you were being spoken to after he snapped his fingers at you.

“Can you get me some gloves from the little side zippy?” He asked, pointing to the backpack now at your feet. “And there’s a thingy of wipes in the big front zippy.”

“Sweetheart?”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” You nodded, moving slowly as you came down from the chemical rush you’d just experienced.

“No, no.” He quickly shook his head when you stood up to walk over to him. “Just set ‘em up there.” He gestured to the back windshield with his elbow, so you did as he asked, recognizing that he was doing something that was most definitely unpleasant to witness.

“Thanks doll.” He nodded, bending down and wiping the blood on his leather gloves onto the ground, dragging his fingers back and forth through the grass.

He stepped on the tip of each glove to pull them off his hands, quickly switching over to the latex gloves to continue the dirty work he shielded you from. You’d been through enough, he already felt immense guilt for what he’d brought you into, there was no need to add insult to injury. Ghost picked up where he left off, prodding around beneath the flesh, he realized he’d have to dig a bit deeper. Separating the tissue from the muscle he forced his flat hand underneath the left pectoral as far as possible.

“Fuck.” He cursed, his middle finger following the rippled meat until he lost the bullet’s path.

“Bad news bears.” He called out to you, popping his head around the side of the trunk. “I need you to look in the toolbox in the back of that truck. Put on some gloves first though.”

“What? Why?” You asked, snapping the latex into place on your fingers after pulling out a pair for yourself.

“See if he’s got some bolt cutters.” He sighed, taking a deep breath before speaking again. “If he doesn’t have bolt cutters get me a hammer or crowbar. It’d be sweet if he has a crowbar.”

“A crowbar?” You asked out of curiosity, then thought better of it. “Actually, nevermind.”

You climbed up into the truckbed and lifted the toolbox lid. There were no bolt cutters, only small wire cutters. Two hammers, a plethora of screwdrivers and a random assortment of metal fittings and other equipment. Buried beneath a pile of ratchet straps you found the crowbar.

“Oh hell yeah.” Ghost chuckled, taking it from you as you held it out at a distance.

“Uh, probably should cover your ears.” He said apologetically.

He pulled the corpse from the trunk, letting it thump on the gravel so he could plant his foot firmly on the abdomen, leaning forward with the curved side of the crowbar in his hands, the flat side pressed into the space between his ribs, just beneath the left pec.

Ghost put his weight into the crowbar, sinking it in with one firm, downward shove. It was a difficult process, one that needed a balance between force and delicacy, Ghost was only experienced at one of those attributes. He pushed too hard, going through the connective tissue between the ribs as planned and down into the chest cavity.

A wet, goopy pop met his ears before the blood began to seep out of the punctured viscera hidden in the chest cavity.

“Oh, yum.” He muttered under his breath as he wiggled the crowbar back and forth as he pulled it up out of the soft substance he’d pierced. The noise was similar to the suction of pulling your fingers out of a jar of hair gel.

Ghost left the crowbar sticking up out of the wound to jog over to the stack of firewood lined up against the cabin, grabbing a thickly cut log. Passing it back and forth between his hands as he returned to the body.

Placing the log on the torso as he resumed humming the song from earlier. You made the mistake of looking over your shoulder, seeing his bloody hand on the open lid of the trunk for balance as he stepped up onto the end of the crowbar sticking out of the corpse.

Pushing down on it with his body weight, using the firewood as leverage to crack open the rib cage. You felt sick to your stomach when you saw him jump on the crowbar, hearing the sickening crunch and crack of bone breaking under the force of his movements.

Grateful that you couldn’t see what was happening below the car, only having seen Ghost’s upper body’s part in the act. Nauseated, you pulled the pink silk from your face, gagging loudly as you held your stomach and bent over.

“Shit, baby you okay?” Ghost asked, coming around to check on you. He hesitated, knowing his hands were covered in… unsavory substances.

“Get back.” Your hand out behind you to stop him from coming closer. “Just do what you need to do and let me throw up in peace.”

“Oh, princess I’m sorry.” He said softly, unsure of what to do. He was in clean up mode, he’d never had company during this process before. So he did what he knew to be necessary.

He couldn’t have you throwing up and leaving any more evidence of your presence at this crime scene. He grimaced, wiping his latex gloves with a baby wipe from the pack you’d set out. Then unzipped a pocket on his backpack, pulling out a large ziploc bag filled with smaller ones. He dumped the smaller ones out, handing you the bigger, quart sized one.

“If you’re gonna upchuck, make sure it gets in the bag.” He said patting your back, nodding at your grunt of acknowledgment and leaving you to your own devices.

With the rib cage popped open, he wedged his hand beneath it, feeling the squishy, slippery surface of one of his your victim’s lungs. He braved it by clenching his teeth tightly to distract himself from the sound and sensation accompanying his methodical squeezing of the organ.

“Finally.” He sighed in satisfaction when he felt the hard lump of metal buried in the lung. He pinched it to keep the bullet from escaping his hand, not wanting to go through the disgusting process again.

Now with it between his fingers, he was able to dig around with his other fingers to pull the lung out of the chest cavity to access the area with both hands to dislodge the bullet.

“Got it!” He said proudly, dropping it into one of the small ziploc bags.

He dumped the body back into the trunk of the car, not bothering to removed the crowbar or slide the lung back where it belonged. Slamming the trunk shut he cleaned up his leather gloves until they were good as new, switching them out once more.

He disposed of his latex gloves in the same ziploc bag as the bullet, then made his way to you once again. He was pleased to see that you had not thrown up and the color was returning to your cheeks.

“Alright, let’s get the fuck out of here.” He said, rubbing your back as he picked up the bag and started walking toward the woods with you.

“Hey what’s that song you-“ You started, thinking if you heard the name of it you might be able to place it with the memory attached.

“Zachary, buddy.” Ghost grumbled, hearing the boys panicked squeal as he emerged from the cabin with his phone flashlight training on the two of you.

“Who is that?” He pointed to you, causing you to turn fully to face him. “Oh my god, you’re that girl.”

Ghost threw up his hands in frustration, dragging one down the side of his mask. “This is my lovely lady.”

“Leaving?” Ghost asked, putting his left hand in his hoodie pocket.

“Y-yeah.” Zach nodded, moving slowly as he walked toward his car which just so happened to be the Mazda.

“We still cool?” Ghost asked, signaling you to stay put while he ‘escorted’ Zach to his vehicle.

“Oh, yeah of course.” Zach said nervously as Ghost opened up the driver side door for him.

“Listen, I’m sorry for all this.” Ghost said, sticking out his hand for a handshake as Zach climbed into the car.

“Right.” He cleared his throat accepting the handshake which gave Ghost the opportunity to pull out his gun from his hoodie pocket, pistol whipping him with his temple as the target.

“I was really hoping this kid wouldn’t get in the way, he was the only decent one out of them all.” Ghost grumbled, throwing the comment over his shoulder before turning his attention to the unconscious boy in front of him.

He grabbed another zip tie, pressing Zachary’s finger tips against the plastic before placing his foot on the gas pedal and pulling the tie to secure it in place.

Ghost reached around, turning the key in the ignition and leaning over Zach to put the car in neutral.

“Close your eyes.” Ghost said sternly, watching you to make sure you were listening. “Good. Turn around, stay there please.”

“Thank you baby,” He called over his shoulder as he started to push the car, getting it rolling toward the lake. Once it was close enough he put it in park and shouted out to you again. “Cover your ears!”

Taking Zach’s hand he wrapped his fingers around the grip, positioning his pointer finger on the trigger and putting his other limp hand in the left hand cut out in the steering wheel. He pulled the trigger, the bullet ripping through the soft flesh on the underside of his chin and straight through his brain, exiting at the top of his skull, lodging in the dented metal roof of the car.

Ghost let the gun fall along with Zach’s hand before throwing the car in drive and pushing down on his knee to put pressure on the gas pedal. Quickly jumping out of the way as he slammed the door shut. Stumbling back and falling on his ass as the car sped through the yard and straight into the lake, sinking slowly.

Ghost stood up, dusting himself off before punching the air in a little victory celebration before he had to return to ‘caregiver to shell shocked girlfriend’.

Ghost approached you slowly, a soft hand on your shoulder to alert you to his presence. He pulled you into his chest and crushed you in a tight hug, squeezing you as he rocked side to side.

“I know this has been a long, really not so great night.” He said softly, resting his chin on your head. “But I need you to tell me something okay, I need you to listen. Can you do that?”

You nodded against his chest, sniffling while you prepared for whatever it was he had in store for you this time.

“Did you touch anything with your bare hands?” He asked, loosening his tight grip around you. “Think hard. I need to know so I can take care of it.”

Your mind raced, you’d touched a lot of things. It hadn’t ever crossed your mind that you might’ve left fingerprints. Fingerprints wouldn’t have mattered if it had just been your original plan. Fingerprints wouldn’t have mattered if you had just listened to Ghost and stayed put.

“Chalk and spray cans.” You said, your eyes wide as if trying to see the various items you’d left evidence behind on. “The truck. The window. That car, in the lake.”

“Did you touch anything inside the car?” He asked, tilting your head back to look at you.

“Not with my hands. I bumped the inside of the trunk with my arm.” You said, crossing your arms to hug yourself while he held you.

“Did you keep your hood up? Touch your hair or anything?” He asked, swatting at your hand when your lifted it to touch your hair.

“No I don’t think so.” You shook your head, hearing him sigh.

“Okay.” He took a breath, “here’s the plan:”

“You, sit your ass right here.” He said, pushing down on your shoulder gently to make you sit. “I’m gonna go get the cans, and wipe down the window. The truck… do you remember where you touched it?”

“The side facing the woods, then I climbed up to get that stuff from the tool box.” You said, holding up your still gloved hands. “But I had on gloves for the toolbox.”

“Perfect. Keep those on.”

He patted your head and went about his tasks, making the clean up quick as he jogged through the yard and picked up the cans he’d tossed in a pile. Taking an alcohol wipe to the window and then using more than a handful as he roughly scrubbed the side of the truck.

Thankfully, it seemed that daddy’s money kept Adam’s car well maintained so he didn’t need to worry about leaving one side of the truck shiny and the other dirty. This trip was probably the only time that truck had ever seen dirt. He used what was left of the chalk spray on that side of the truck just to even it out, throwing everything away in a grocery bag to shove in his backpack.

Everything was in place, everything was handled, everything was fine. It was all fine.

Except for you.

Diary Entry: September 4th early morning

Okay, so here I am, in a goddamn tree, sitting outside your cabin, watching you walk outside every so often to vomit. Your sister and Luke think you’ve got food poisoning or some shit like that.

You’re mad because I made you strip naked before I would let you climb back in your window. You’re mad because I had to bag up your clothes to get rid of. You’re paranoid because there hasn’t been a peep from across the lake.

Luke made you cry because he was woken up by ‘really loud pops’ and he’s ’almost for certain it was a gun, how did you not wake up?’.

I made you cry because I asked if you were okay.

You made yourself cry because you just had to take one last look as we walked away and you of course thought you saw a few bubbles float to the surface of the lake. ‘Oh my god, what if they’re still alive?’

Baby. They’re beyond dead.

Speaking of, can I just say that it was fucking hot as hell to see you standing there with my gun like that? Holy shit.

Then realizing there was a whole person you blew to pieces in front of you? Lord have mercy, Lucifer take my soul.

I wish I could say it to your face. It’s a compliment, but I don’t think you’d take it that way. You’re just so perfect. You’re beautiful even in moments like that, with those fearful eyes and that pretty pout. The little blush creeping up your cheeks and the squeak you made when I took the gun from you.

If you weren’t so distraught I would’ve ravaged you right then and there.

I forget sometimes that you’re just a girl. You’re a girl that I love and that I just wanted to have a good time with. I just wanted you to have a little taste of danger. I didn’t want you to murder someone on accident. I didn’t want to kill Zach.

But they’re both at the bottom of the lake and there’s nothing I can do about it now.

I’m sorry that I seemed insensitive. I really didn’t mean to. I just don’t understand why you’re grieving a person you didn’t know. The guy you killed was a gross, horrible, disgusting waste of space. Zach was okay, he’s just fucking stupid and had to come out and get a look at you.

You understand right? I couldn’t just let him walk off after he recognized you.

Maybe you’ve learned your lesson. When I say something, I mean it. When I tell you to listen, it’s for a reason.

When the little voice in my head says ‘hey that’s probably not a good idea’ I think I’ll start listening. Sometimes.

Maybe.

Diary Entry: September 7th

I’m picking up the vibe that you’re alittle bit upset with me. Like actually me, Anakin. You texted me that you got home but I was expecting you to come over or ask me to come over… since you’ve been gone the whole weekend. But you didn’t.

Are you just that freaked out by the whole thing? I told you it’s not your fault. I don’t know what else to do. People die. Sometimes they just die alittle earlier than they’re meant to. That’s just the way of things.

I was there. Yet I still feel out of the loop.

Cause there’s only so much information I have you know? I have my side of the story. But you’re keeping yours locked up in the Fort Knox of your mind.

You can’t just ignore me because of one little mistake on your part. Yeah, it’s not your fault but also it kind of is. You should’ve listened, but if I get back on that thought train I’ll be riding it for the next few stops.

So instead let’s focus on how I’m going absolutely insane because you won’t even let Ghost inside your apartment. I’ve never been mad at you but I’m so close to being pissed. A door stop? Really? New window latch?

If I didn’t have cameras in your place I’d be worried you found some other guy to do the window latch installation. I was pleasantly surprised (also proud) to see you putting it in all by yourself. If only it wasn’t simultaneously infuriating.

I think I’m going to have to do alittle research to see how I can worm my way inside without actually causing any damage to the door or window. If you’d just leave the apartment for even a few minutes I’d be able to go in through the door. But no, of course I wouldn’t be so lucky.

I totally considered throwing a brick through the glass of your living room window but then it’d be a few days before the super would ever even get around to fixing it, you’d have a gaping hole that anyone could climb in through and I’d be sleep deprived because I’d be sitting out there 24/7.

The only upside to that would be getting to see you. Although I have a feeling you’d be even more upset if I actually did do that… so I won’t, even though it’s very tempting.

Is it completely horrible of me to be driven by ulterior motives as well? Tempting… I’m all worked up and it’s really difficult to settle for my hand after having felt the flower of Eden between your pretty thighs.

I need you. I need you in a bad way. So bad I very briefly let myself wonder if it would be cheating if I bought a fleshlight and taped your picture on it.

Logically, duh I know it’s not cheating but it feels like it.

Maybe I can invent Clone-a-Coochie. You know like the make it yourself, at home dildo? Great business idea if we’re being honest. A perfect replica of your perfect pussy? Bitch, I’d put that on display.

‘What the hell is that?’ ‘Oh this? Yeah, this is my girl’s pussy.’

Seriously, it’s basically the same concept of the Roman and Greeks always putting flaccid dicks on their statues. It’s art.

Art that has more than one purpose! I love shit with more than one use. It’s pretty, it can be fucked, it’s pretty. Look at that. Three whole things.

But even if I did invent it, I’d still have to get into your apartment to make it in the first place and then I wouldn’t even need it anymore because you’d be there.

I’m rambling. This is what happens when I’m nervous. You’ve made me nervous. If I didn’t hate taking pages from notebooks I’d rip this out because I’m a fucking idiot and wrote it in ink so now the inner thoughts that should’ve been kept to myself are in permanent physical form.

Notebook law is that you can’t tear pages from a composition notebook. If there’s one law I’m not gonna break, it’s that one. Cause that’s just disgusting, vile.

Anyway, the B train has been tossing around some thoughts while the A train plowed through the brain car that gets rid of my bad ideas.

B train says I should figure out how to get in your bedroom window. There’s no fire escape under it. You’re on the second floor and there’s no way I’m rappelling down the side of an eight story building.

My need for instant gratification said I could commandeer a fire truck. They have really tall ladders. But then I’d have to worry about hiding a fire truck and that would be practically impossible so honestly, it’s for the best that A train ran that one over.

So I think my best bet is to violate every single safety protocol on ladders and push the dumpster over, stick a ladder on top and close my eyes and hope I make it to your window.

So, if I see you, I’ve succeeded. If I haven’t. Maybe don’t look out your bedroom window.

Ps.

I just don’t understand. I’m sorry, I don’t. This would be just so much easier if you’d flap your fucking jaws like you love to do. Just open your mouth and speak.

Date: September 7th

Anakin has called, texted, emailed, knocked, unlocked your door and been sent straight back across the hallway.

Unable to look him in the eye after what you’ve done, you’ve repeatedly ignored and pushed him away. You tell yourself it’s because you’re suspicious of his behavior, because he was spotted by your sister’s husband at that store. That’s why you’re ignoring him.

It has nothing to do with the fact that you killed someone and watched your other (stalker) boyfriend kill another man and stage the scene as a hostage-murder-suicide.

Ghost left those boys in the closet, zip tied together. You’ve watched the news everyday on a continuous loop for the last three days and you’ve not seen a single hint of information regarding the crime. They’ve not been reported missing. They’ve not escaped to your knowledge.

What was reported on however, was that a group of young men affiliated with the Alpha Sigma Psi Fraternity from the upstate university are under suspension pending investigation into their ‘hazing practices and illicit activities’. No names have been released, just ages.

It seems that Ghost really did think of everything.

How? How does he know what to do? How did he perfectly situate a very messy crime scene to fit the narrative of frat hazing gone wrong? How did he find the proof and get it to the university? Is there actual proof?

By the time those boys are found everything will have been taken care of and seen as a closed case before it’s even opened:

A young boy, a recruit, was taken out to the lake for a weekend hazing ritual. The last of his ‘trials’ to join Alpha Sigma Phi. All was well, drinking, drugs, strip pong. A bit of good natured, easy to clean up ‘vandalism’ to get him loosened up before they go into his final initiation phase. Recruit finds out what horrible things his soon to be frat brothers have done and now want him to do, then he attempts to escape, kills in self defense, ties others up and plans to dump the body. Recruit digs around in the corpse to get the bullet to get rid of the evidence, realizes it’s too late for him, feels guilty and kills himself.

The only loose ends are the other guys in the closet. Why not kill them too? And if you’re going to go through all the trouble of taking out the bullet, then shoot yourself… what’s the point of taking it out?

Maybe it just shows the panicked thought pattern of a scared kid who messed up, fell in with the wrong crowd and couldn’t get himself out of it without violence being involved. Maybe it shows that a girl and her masked secret boyfriend tried to have a little fun and ended up committing double murder.

Ghost explained that Zach saw you, would be able to identity you if he went to the police, there was no choice. He had to kill him to protect you.

When you questioned him about his gun and if it could be traced to him he told you it was bought third hand, unregistered and given as a gift. Not to mention he’s never handled it with his bare hands and he filed off the serial numbers after he received it.

Because ‘you never know’. What does that mean? You didn’t ask because you didn’t want to taint your image of him further.

There hasn’t been a linear pattern of thought since that night, thoughts, ideas, monologues, even fully fleshed out daydreams have been overlapping and going straight through each other at an alarming rate. Silence is a distant memory, the constant chatter of your inner voice has become your new normal.

A voice, a real one, called out to you for the umpteenth time today. Pounding on your front door, you didn’t even bother to look through the peephole. You didn’t get up and tell him to fuck off. You even turned the sound off on your phone hours ago, when you checked it you had over sixty messages. Some from Anakin, some from Ghost, Luke and your sister. Even Vigo from the diner. Everyone was concerned about your mysterious absence.

You just had too much going on at once to deal with answering any messages or questions. Too much happening to explain why you’ve called in for the past two days. Brain too full to comprehend the email from your English professor, wondering why you’ve not turned in your online quiz.

How can you be expected to lead your normal life after killing a living being with your own hands?

September 8th, 8:43 pm

Ghost got into position, feet firmly on the ground with both hands flat on the side of the dumpster, thankful it was on wheels as he pushed the heavy container toward your bedroom window. It scraped along the wall, metal on brick making a horrendous racket that he was relieved only lasted a few seconds.

He didn’t need a 20 foot ladder of his own. So naturally he swiped one from a construction site, planning to return if before the sunrise. After he precariously secured and balanced the ladder against the wall, atop the dumpster, he made his way up to your bedroom window.

Luckily this window also had an incredibly old style of latch and you hadn’t replaced it. So, he was able to use his heavy duty magnet to wiggle the curved latch out of the ring that held the window shut. The only difference from your living room window was that this one was smaller, still plenty big enough for him to fit through, and a bit higher off the ground as well.

The awkward position of the ladder, paired with his teeny tiny fear of heights made it the slightest bit terrifying to enter the window feet first. Head first was the only logical solution. He was long enough to hit the floor with his hands and ‘walk’ the rest of himself into your room without harming himself. So he did exactly that.

Bending at the waist he shimmied until his legs were bent at the knee to help him balance, both hands on the ground as he pulled himself forward enough to get away from the wall so that he could drop his feet down one at a time. It was awkward and uncomfortable, however worth it and necessary in his mind.

Once he gained entry and the window was shut and locked, Ghost walked out of your bedroom to hear your shower running. He was tired of waiting. Tired of attempting to give you a bit of space, alittle leeway for your healing and health. He did the only logical thing, pull out a bent paper clip to jimmy pinhole lock of your bathroom door knob.

He cheered for himself internally when he heard the faint *click* signaling he’d succeeded in popping the simple mechanism of the button lock on your side of the door. Carefully and quietly he entered the bathroom, making himself at home on the sink counter to wait until you were finished.

He closed his eyes, listening to the water pelting your soft skin and the sound of your fingertips scrubbing shampoo into your scalp, the product bubbling up to cleanse the day away. The sweet scent was soothing, he’d missed it, now that he was able to smell you, feel your presence again… he was a thousand times calmer. His mind clearing enough to think rationally.

You were living and breathing. You were okay.

You were tangible again. He hadn’t gone a single day without you in such a long time that he felt like an addict experiencing withdrawal during your time away. He was finally getting that first hit that soothed the hurt, steadied the shakes and warmed the ice of his veins.

Spotting your robe and towel sitting nearby, he picked up the robe and held it to his chest to transfer some of his warmth to it. It was a simple gesture, one that wouldn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, but you were his everything and he’d been deprived of you for too long. He considered that maybe he needed to start doing more of these micro feel-good acts to keep you satisfied with him.

It wasn’t as good as tossing it in the dryer, but the dryer was at the laundromat and he really didn’t want to have to climb up that ladder again. Holding it to his chest was the best he could do and he hoped it was enough. He hoped he was enough.

The water shut off, the following sound was your hands wringing out your hair, the stream of water hitting the shower floor. Pushing back the curtain you looked down at the bath mat as you stepped out, nearly slipping when you lifted your head and saw Ghost sitting quietly. He gave an awkward, tiny wave and crossed his feet at the ankles, clasping his hands in his lap around your robe.

“How did you get in here?” Your voice quiet and distant.

“Doesn’t matter.” He said while you toweled off, holding up your robe for you to slip on.

You almost refused it. He wasn’t meant to be here, he hadn’t told you he was coming and you took precautions to make sure he wouldn’t get inside your home. Apparently, no amount of security could keep him away from you.

You couldn’t bring yourself to deny him the right to treat you to such a simple gesture. Not when he looked at you the way he did. You could see it in your minds eye, the puppy dog eyes and wobbly bottom lip. He was sulking and his posture screamed it. Sighing, you turned around to insert your arms one at a time. The fabric was warm, a plush cotton hug that you didn’t expect but were glad to have.

Before you could turn around Ghost used a soft touch on your shoulder to make you stand still while he searched the drawer on his left for your hairbrush. The wet strands were plastered to the back of your neck beneath your robe, his leather finger separating it to lay it over the fabric and smooth it out just a bit before starting out at the very ends, working his way up slowly.

He was quiet, it was rare that he go so long without speaking. Almost seeming like he was waiting for you to speak first, but no words would come. What was there to say?

Once he finished with your hair he hopped down from the sink countertop, guiding you to sit atop the toilet lid. He kept a hand on you the whole time he set up your hair dryer and sprayed your leave in conditioner, like he was worried you’d vanish if you weren’t beneath his fingers.

The continuous droning flow of air from the hairdryer was warm and soothing. Like a cozy white noise machine. You could’ve fallen asleep with the way he was brushing through your hair as he dried it, the bristles massaging your scalp with every pass. He was taking his time, an occasional pause to separate and section off the next bit of your hair, a quick swipe of his thumb against your neck, leaning down to simulate a kiss to the top of your head with his mask’s cheek.

He didn’t poke and prod you for answers like you expected. He was patient, seemingly content to be in your presence even without the use of conversation. It was surprising when you factored in all the incessant texts and voicemails he’d left you since you arrived back home.

Taking both your hands he escorted you over to the sink, gripping your hips to boost you up onto the counter top.

“Open.” He tapped your cheek, grabbing your toothbrush and toothpaste, scoffing like he was offended when you tried to take it from him.

“I’ll do it.” He insisted, shaking his head at you before carefully cupping your chin and pulling your bottom lip down slightly with his thumb so he could brush your teeth for you.

“Ready?” He asked, rinsing off your toothbrush and passing off the mouthwash to you. Ghost watched as you swished and spit, helping you down from the sink and walking behind you with a hand on the back of your neck.

He picked out your pajamas and helped you into them, treating you as if you were a porcelain doll. It was unsettling to see him so gentle and caring. This wasn’t his normal behavior. He had his sweet moments but characteristically he was moody, broody, grumpy and cynical.

“Do you think you can talk to me now sweet girl?” He asked, holding your face in his hands and swiping his thrumbs just beneath your eyes.

“You lied to me.” You said accusingly.

“No? What?” He asked, shaking his head like he was shocked you’d say that.

“You lied. You said you’d never hurt me, you’d never put me in danger.”

“Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t know they’d be so violent. I didn’t know they were that bad of people, I would’ve never-“ His voice was strained, his hands shifting so that one was on your neck, rubbing the column of your throat.

“Not that.” You scowled, “I’m talking about the gun.”

“I don’t understand what you mean. I told you I had one, I told you it was in the bag! I even told you to use it if you had to. Where’s the lie?” He asked, getting upset at your accusations.

“It was loaded for real? Like you for real were playing Russian Roulette with my life? You could’ve killed me Ghost!” You smacked his chest angrily, shoving him away when he held out his arm to comfort you.

“No! No it wasn’t loaded I swear.” He said in a panic, standing up and going over to your still-packed bags from your weekend trip. He dug around in the pockets until he pulled out the bullet he’d carved your initials into. You noticed the last initial had been carved over in the shape of a heart.

“See? It never even touched the inside I swear.” He said, handing it to you. He’d saved it for you, tucking it away for you to see when you finally unpacked. You almost felt bad that you’d practically forced him to ruin the gift of the keepsake. An odd keepsake, but still.

“Then… then how do you explain the bullet in there? I never saw you load it.” You asked, confusion coloring your words.

Ghost sighed, trying to take your hand but you pulled it away. He grumbled, forcibly pulling it over by the wrist, lacing his fingers with yours.

“I haven’t and will never knowingly put you in harms way. You are my everything, without you I am nothing.” Ghost leaned in, testing the waters to see if you’d calmed enough for him to put his arms around you.

“I would never forgive myself if you got hurt because of something I’d done.” You let him wrap you up into his warmth, his large hand cradling your head to his chest. “My purpose in life is to love you, keep you safe and happy. You becoming mortally wounded isn’t included in that list, not even in the fine print. Quite the opposite actually.”

“I swear on my life that it wasn’t ever loaded, you weren’t in any danger.” He whispered, “I loaded it before we went out, just in case. I like to be prepared and I’m so glad I was.” His other hand no stroking your hair. “It was fully loaded, you don’t remember seeing me load in another bullet for Zach did you?”

“No.” You winced at the memory, the sound of the car reving and splashing into the lake replaying in your mind.

“Exactly.” He nodded, his hands fidgeting. “My little doe, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you like that. You should’ve said something instead of letting it fester up like this.”

“Ghost, this has been… I don’t know. It’s been overwhelming okay? I can’t think.” Rubbing your face and running a hand through your hair. “I ki- I hurt someone.” You choked out.

“You did so well.” He said softly “I’m very proud of you. I’m just sorry I wasn’t out there with you so you didn’t have to face it alone. I know it was scary.”

“Scary?” You scowled, “it was terrifying!” You raised your voice slightly.

“I- I was worried! You said you’d be quick and it felt like it was taking too long… the yellin’ and noise.” Your voice was shaking and you didn’t even notice it, still speaking passionately. “I was afraid you were hurt! I’m sorry I didn’t stay put like you wanted but I couldn’t just sit there and not know if it was you that I was hearing!”

”There was a whole group of them and your went in there all by yourself like an idiot!” You yelled at him in a way you hadn’t done before. This wasn’t out of anger or frustration, it was fear.

The concept of you being worried for him was foreign to him, he’d never thought he’d be lucky enough to have you feel so strongly for him as Ghost. He knew it was definitely not the right time to push you down and let your sweet pussy milk his cock dry. But damn it all, if he wasn’t at least able to kiss you right now he may spontaneously combust.

“You were worried about me?” He asked so quietly his words dropped in and out of the vocoder. Ghost’s hands coming up to your neck, his thumbs under your chin to tilt your head up.

”God, you’re so stupid.” It came out much less angry than intended, more of whisper that trailed off into nothing more than a shallow breath.

There he was again, pouring out emotion without ever showing you his face. His eyes on you were comforting, like an embrace from the first sunny day in spring. The balance between you had always been a fragile thing, but it seemed that just like those sunny spring days encourage growth, something had begun to sprout roots.

There’s always been something so fascinating about flowers, one day they’re nothing more that a seedling, then in a blink of an eye they’ve bloomed and you missed it. The shock of waking up to discover the most beautiful rose carved from nature’s velvet had finally adorned the thorny landscape it had to endure on its path to life.

You’d failed to see something budding up and unfurling, now the bloom was staring into your soul, asking to be picked.

”Hey, I was jus-“ Ghost started, feeling a bit miffed by your words an the quick, almost eerie change in atmosphere.

”I was afraid.” A statement that could fit many situations you’d found yourself in with him, but it was being put to use in a different context now. “I was worried you’d be hurt so bad I couldn’t fix it.”

”Whoa.” Ghost shifted, bringing you closer, “Don’t cry. I’m fine, I’m right here.”

“Just bruised up a little.” He said, nuzzling into your neck, the cold, hard plastic used to be somewhat of an uncomfortable feeling on your skin, though now it was one you realized you’d miss if it were taken from you.

“You should see the other guy.” The grin beneath his mask was so wide it could be felt in the way he tilted his head against your neck.

For the first time in days, you laughed. Tiny fairy bells making music that Ghost felt privileged to hear again, he felt honored to be the one to bring you the first bit of happiness, reprieve, after such a horrifying experience for you.

You pulled back, smiling and eyes shining with tears that you’d have no need to shed. Ghost watched, seeing the wheels turning behind your pretty eyes.

“Ghost, I lo-“ Just as you parted your lips to speak, sweet words on the tip of your tongue, the moment was shattered by flashing red on your bedroom TV screen. “Oh my god, they found it.”

Formerly blush pink cheeks quickly drained of color as the news camera panned over a serene lake, the still waters now rippling with movement as the image zoomed in on a car being towed from the depths, the reveal showed something hanging from the drivers side door was followed by a startled yelp of shock from the in-field reporter on the scene. The video paused, the image blurred as the in-office news anchors scrambled to collect themselves. The male cohost held a finger up to his ear, receiving information live from the scene.

”Apologies to our viewers, it seems that Rebecca, along with other press on site have been asked to return behind press lines. Investigators have a sensitive development in the case and are requesting all live newsfeed footage to be halted effective immediately.” The man nervously looked over to his female counterpart, sharing a nod she announced that they’d update as soon as officials allowed it, directing the camera to join the weatherman for the latest forecast.

”Alright, no. You’re not watching this.” GHost stood up, snatching the remote from the bed beside you and shutting the tv off. Going so far as to pop out the batteries and put them in his pocket.

”Ghost, this is what I’ve been waiting to see, you can’t just-“

”Oh yes i can.” He growled, holding up a hand to stop you. “I’ll monitor the news. Give me your phone.” He stuck his hand out in a ‘give it here’ motion as you reluctantly passed it over to him.

”What are you gonna do? Hold my phone hostage?”

“No, I’m going to seize your internet capabilities.” He snorted, pocketing your phone, gingerly pushing your head back and away like an annoyed father who’s had enough of his kid tugging on his shirt sleeve.

”What? What if i need-“

”To google when the Byzantine Empire collapsed?” He crossed his arms and chuckled when you gasped. “I’ve been paying extra close attention to your search history. I’m so glad you filled your time away from me with educational Roman lore rather than researching the est way to die.”

You couldn’t refute his statement, it’s true. You weren’t depressed so much as you were just bored during your self imposed isolation. “I think it’s completely normal to want a few quiet days after the weekend i had.” You huffed.

”Yes, it would be different if your weekend had been a drunken rager,” He said, swatting your hand away from his waist when you decievingly attempted to wrap your arm around him as a front to steal your phone back. “It’s highly concerning and i think i had a right to be worried considering your weekend involved double homocide.”

”I guess that’s fair.” You conceded, knowing you probably had done a real number on him. Everyone else was worried and they had no idea about the reasoning behind your temporary hermit-hood.

“If you desperately need to know anything else regarding Ancient Rome during your no internet time, call me.” He said, crossing his arms.

”Anakin has a phone and a laptop. I bet he’d let me use those.” You countered, raising an eyebrow to see if he’d budge.

”Oh I’m sure he would.” Ghost nodded, leaning back on your dresser with his arms still crossed. “But you aren’t going to ask him are you?”

”So what if i do?” Your eyebrows pinched together in annoyance. You didn’t like the tone he was taking with you, it was so accusatory.

”Well I wouldn’t do anything to stop you if that’s what you’re asking.” He said, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. “Go ask him if you’d like.” He gestured to the bedroom door flippantly, challenging you.

”No.” You glared, frustrated that he was winning a game you weren’t prepared to play.

“Why not?” He asked, is hand on his masks chin as if he were stroking a beard in thought. “It wouldn’t have anything to do with you ignoring the poor boy since you got back would it?”

”N-no.” You snapped back at him.”Even if it was, it’s not y-“

“Tell me your love life is not my buisness one more time.” He grabbed you by the upper arm, turning you to face the door. “And I’ll march my happy as over there and introduce myself.”

”You would’ve done that already if you really wanted to.” You wriggled free from his grip, rubbing your arm.

”Let’s go then.” He said, pushing you toward your bedroom door and opening it with a dramatic flourish just to pick at you a little more.

“Anakin’s not even home, he’s at work.” You lied, at least you thought you were lying.

”You’re right.” Ghost nodded, “My bad, I’ll wait til our schedule lines up.”

”Think he can pencil in… lunch on Wednesday?” He continued, pretending to seriously look at the desk top calendar on your bedroom desk. He missed the way your lips down turned in a frown as he teased you.

”What do you mean I’m right?” You asked, turning him by his shoulder to face you once more.

”Huh?” He he questioned, not having heard your question because he was distracted by the Rubix cube he’d swiped off your desk.

”Stop that, pay attention.” You scowled, taking it from him and rolling you eyes when he clearly seemed annoyed. “You’re worse than a child.”

”No, I’m actually pretty good at solving them, here let me-“

”Oh my god can you please just back track for a second?” You huffed, watching him reach for it again, this time your facial expression stopped him before he got half way.

”Sorry.” He mumbled, pulling out your desk chair to sit in, manspreading and leaning back. “What’s so important?”

”What’d you mean I’m right?” You asked, gesturing to the door. “About Anakin not being home.”

”Well, he’s not home. You said so yourself.” He shrugged, reaching back out for the rubix cube. You left his hand empty, crossing your arms and walking away for a moment.

”Do you know where he is?” You asked, not turning around.

”Um no.” He laughed, standing up and appearaing behind you to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling your back to his chest. “Why? You afraid he’s gonna come barging in or something? We could give ‘em a little show.”

”Stop it. I’m serious.” You snapped at him and it took him back for a moment. He slowly released you, putting his hands in his hoodie pocket.

“Sorry doll, i didn’t mean to make you upset.” He said in a hurt tone, wondering what exactly he’d said that had went too far. He’s said much worse things about himself to you and he’d never gotten a reaction like that.

”You… you didn’t.” You sighed, turning around and glancing up at him for a moment before grumbling frustratedly. “I’ve just been thinking too much. I- I don’t know I’m just worried. I haven’t seen him, I don’t know if he’s home or… and I’ve been in my head… it’s been so much and-“

“Sweetheart.” His voice was low and warm as he addressed you, like a soothing balm.

“You know where I am.” He said softly, the weight of his words settled in your chest. You couldn’t put your finger on it, a strange tug pulled at your heart, telling you there was more to be said between those words.

Ghost sighed, returning to his spot behind you, tentatively reaching for you, giving you time to push him away again if you wanted. When you showed no signs of objection he pressed his half-hard cock against your ass, making you lean forward slightly to give himself better access to push up against your clothed cunt. A low grunt escaping him as he felt the warmth between your thighs.

“Feel that?” He asked, breathing raggedly, his hands coming to rest on your stomach before slipping one up under your shirt to settle in the valley of your breasts. “It’s me baby.”

“I’m here, I’m right here.” His voice soft and sweet, an odd comparison to the obvious upset in his voice just moments before.

“I can fuck it all better.” His gloved hand leaving your stomach in favor of honing in on the bundle of nerves hidden in your panties.

How could he expect anything other than enthusiastic consent when he spoke to you in that tone? The textured leather of his middle finger circling your clit in a feather light touch. His cock twitching, the rumble of the groan trapped in his chest resonated through you as he held you close. This wasn’t the normal experience with Ghost, this didn’t feel like a thrill or the promise of something new.

This felt meaningful and it scared you.

You nodded, not trusting your own voice, too afraid to speak your thoughts and feelings into existence. He let out a sigh of relief that you agreed, though internally he was preparing himself to hold back. He’d been so pent up, so needy and now he was here and you were vulnerable in a different way than ever before… he couldn’t in good conscience fuck you like a sex doll. Not even if he really, really wanted to. (He did.)

“Sit, get comfy.” He promoted you, tapping your ass with two fingers to prod you along so that he could turn off the lights and close your curtains. “Uh, I got rid of your pink silk thingy…” he said apologetically, hating that he had to use the rough, black cotton bandana on you again.

You didn’t answer, it was too difficult to separate your inner voice from your flow of spoken dialogue, having the two mixing right now would be disastrous. You just nodded, keeping your lip tucked away behind your teeth.

Ghost gingerly tied on the blindfold so he could remove his gloves and touch you with his bare hands, warm palms and rough fingertips dancing across your flesh as he removed the pajamas he put on you earlier. He was taking his sweet time to put you at ease, but it only served to make you feel… anxiety.

“Can’t see nothing, right doll?” He asked, smoothing his palm over your thigh, rubbing the blunt point of the mask’s nose through your folds, making you jump at the unfamiliar feeling.

“Mm-mm.” You shook your head, chewing your cheeks while a wave of nerves washed across your abdomen, feeling him lift up slightly to removed his mask.

Soft lips met yours after feeling his bare chest move up your body, settling his muscular body over yours. His pierced tongue sliding across your lips, clacking your teeth on its descent into your mouth to caress and lick the sweetness inside. His boxers barely containing the warm length pressed firmly against your wet core.

Rough, careful hands brushed over your tender flesh in the most sensual manner possible. It was nearly unbearable, the tingling heat that formed in the pit of your stomach from just the simple act. Ghost rutting his hips against you to give you the friction you so badly desired, his cock twitching when you moaned against his lips.

He hummed lowly, nodding in understanding as he kissed and nipped his way between your thighs to nestle his tongue into your sopping entrance, licking and slurping up the slick mess gathered there. The bridge of his nose bumping against your clit, the pressure deliciously fleeting. Those strong hands of his massaging and kneading your breasts, moving down your sides to your hips, one staying there to hold you in place while the other slowly twisted two fingers into your cunt, pumping them deep before withdrawing almost completely, just to do it all over again.

“Ghost?” You panted, mewling pitifully. He couldn’t answer verbally, not when you were so close, he didn’t want to risk losing his rhythm, he didn’t want to risk you identifying his voice without the mask. So instead he reached up his unoccupied hand to cup your cheek and brush his fingers over your lips.

“S’good.” The soft, slurred praise dripping with something more.

He smiled, wide and smug as he wrapped his lips around your clit and flicked his tongue rapidly, coaxing those warm and fuzzy tendrils to wrap around you just a little tighter before snapping and bringing you the rush of ecstasy he knew you needed. It took an unreasonable amount of self control for him not to poke fun at you for cumming so quickly, having to stifle his snicker in the fat of your thigh.

After you’d released him from the iron grip of your legs, he lifted up, not bothering to wipe his face before he put his mask back on. Forcing your legs back apart despite the quiver in them, he tugged down his boxers and nudged the tip against your clit, sliding it through your folds until he notched it in the dip of your cunt.

“Don’t whine darlin’.” He chuckled, hearing you squeak from the sensitivity as he pushed inside slowly. “I know it’s been a couple days since you’ve had a proper fuckin’. I’ll take care of you.”

With a shaky inhale he plunged into your depths, bottoming out just to circle his hips, making sure you felt him in every corner of your tight cunt. He leaned down, resting his mask’s forehead on your collarbone, moaning loudly at the feeling of your velvety walls fluttering around his throbbing length.

Ghost had never fucked you like this before. He’d never been gentle, yet here he was, treating you with the utmost care and only the most tender touches. His calloused thumb finding its way between your bodies to circle and roll your clit just enough to have you bucking up against him.

“Why’re you bein’ so sweet t’me?” You breathed out, eyebrows pinched together and upturned.

“I wanna give you what you need.” He nuzzled the cold plastic of his mask into the side of your neck, rolling his hips to drive himself deeper, to angle his cock perfectly.

“Yeah?” You whimpered, arching your back, your breasts pushing up against him.

“Course I do, my little doe.” He cooed, sliding an arm under you to press you even closer to him. “Always.”

He had you so needy, so willing. Wet and panting, a mess of sweet sweat and slick. There wasn’t a thought in your brain other than him. His hands, his cock, his voice, his lips. Ghost was drawing inhuman noises from your kiss bitten lips, each and every breath bringing a new form of praise to his ears.

Ghost had you so fucked out, so blissful and beautifully undone that it crept up your throat and clawed its way out. You’d thought it, over and over and over again, the lines between your inner and outer voice were crossed and was something that could never be taken back.

“Ghost… love you.” Your soft lilt reaching his ears, his movements halting in disbelief.

“What did you just say?” He asked, his voice cracking under the weight of your confession.

“I- I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-“ You started, grabbing his wrist to stop his shaking hand from removing your blindfold. “N-no don’t.”

“But-“ He stuttered, unsure how to handle the fiery mix of emotions that rammed through his chest. “I want you to… don’t you want to see?”

“I want to.” You admitted softly, though you shook your head. “But I don’t think I can.” You whispered, feeling the hurt and confusion that filled him up and spilled over.

“I… I don’t-“ He seemed at a loss for words, stuttering over the syllables until it was a jumble.

You heard rustling, felt his weight lifting from the bed and the creak of leather as he put his gloves back on. His socked feet shuffled across the floor so he could retrieve his boots and stomp his feet back inside, not bothering to lace them or even tuck the laces inside. He tossed your clothes at you, the fabric landing on your stomach with a dull *thwack*. You heard something clatter against your nightstand and before you even had time to form a coherent thought, he had slammed your bedroom door shut. Leaving you naked, alone and in the unforgiving darkness behind your blindfold.

September 8th, 9:54 pm

Anakin was overly tired and much too distracted to pay attention to what was going on around him. He wasn’t expecting anything other than the droning of his bedroom fan and the occasional creak of the floorboards in the apartment above his.

Perhaps it was complacency, maybe it was his overconfidence, or it may have been that he was simply distraught; he failed to do his after Ghost routine. Yes the mask was under his dresser. Sure, the backpack and his boots were hiding in the top of his closet just beneath the crocheted monstrosity his mother called a blanket. But his hoodie and jeans were crumpled in the floor, inside out, but it didn’t really matter, after all they were black like rest of his wardrobe.

Even worse? He’d left on his socks. His long black socks with lime green toes and heels.

“What the fuck do you want man? I’m busy.” A male voice grumbled.

“Can you be un-busy? I’m out.”

Anakin heard a sigh, then the low din of the bar in the background as his friend conferred with someone else.

‘April? Can you be me for like 30 minutes?’ Trevor asked. ‘C’mon, it’s Anakin… No, you can’t take it to him. I don’t care! You owe me for yesterday and you know it. You’re sure? Thank you babe, I’ll be back quick I promise.’

“I can be un-busy with time constraints.” Trevor said with a slight laugh. “What are you wanting? I’m walking to my car right now.”

“A quarter.” Anakin’s voice was scratchy, he cleared his throat and swallowed hard. “What… what else have you got these days, huh Trev?”

“Anakin you better not be telling people that I-“

“No, you idiot I’m asking for myself.”

“I thought you didn’t do anything other than smoke?” Trevor asked, the slightest hint of concern seeping past the curiousness in his tone. Anakin no longer heard the constant background noise of the bar, instead it was the crunch of gravel and the loud slam of a car door.

“I don’t!” Anakin snapped, quickly correcting his harshness. “I- I don’t. I was just curious that’s all.”

“Whatever.” Trevor snorted, starting up his car. “Well I’ll just bring my whole bag in case you’re more than ‘curious’.”

“Alright, yeah that’s… okay.” Anakin nodded to himself and cracked his knuckles, holding his phone between his cheek and his shoulder. “When you get here I’m on the right side of the building, I’ll be out on the fire escape.”

Anakin opened up the large window and left it open, the cool air flowing in and clearing his apartment of the nervous energy he’d let build up. He paced the floor, talking to himself under his breath while running both hands through his hair. It was a short drive from the bar to the apartment building, Trevor dusted off his hands and climbed the drop-down ladder until he reached the landing, walking up the stairs to where Anakin sat.

“Damn. You look like shit.” Trevor scoffed, holding out his hand to clasp his with Anakin’s, pulling him up to his feet.

“I know.” Anakin grumbled, climbing in his window and standing with his hands on his hips.

“Huh,” Trevor looked around the living space, a tiny smirk in the corner of his lips. “Didn’t take you for a girly girl.” He snorted, picking up a large Kuromi Squishmallow.

“Fuck off.” Anakin snatched it back and held it in his crossed arms against his chest. “It’s a pillow.”

“Oh, sure.“ Trevor snorted, a big grin on his face while he unzipped and searched through his bag to pull out the correct ziploc bag with the quarter of weed Anakin asked for. “S’okay. I won’t tell.”

”I believe i deserve a discount for possible emotional scarring in the event I come to work tomorrow and your little girlfriend starts laughing at me.” Anakin snatched the baggie from him and laughed.

”I’ll let you have it for free if you let me take your picture with it.” Trevor grinned, pulling out his phone.

”Throw in some K and we’ll call it a deal.” Anakin said with a smirk.

”Done!” Trevor snapped the picture and cackled to himself, tossing his phone in is bag and doling out two pills, dropping them in the ziploc bag of weed Anakin opened.

”Get out before I kick you out.” Anakin snorted, shoving Trevor toward the window, watching him leave before he turned around and hurried to his bedroom. Grabbing his large glass bong from his dresser along with his cigarettes and a lighter, he returned to the fire escape to grind and pack a full bowl of pot. Packing it in with the butt of his lighter before lighting it and taking a long rip. Holding his breath for a moment, letting out a cloud of smoke as he leaned back on the rusted metal steps.

Rolling one of the pills between his forefinger and thumb. Anakin stopped for a moment crossing his feet at the ankles and looking up to the nighttime sky, light pollution in the city was alm,ost always too great to make out many of the dimmer stars. Though after the last few days it seemed luck had finally turned around, even if it was only just the clear sky, it was better than nothing. Hit after hit, Anakin let himnself melt into the warm fuzzy feeling while searching for constellations.

——————————————————————————

You tried to relax, to think rationally. It would do no good for anyone if you went looking for trouble. Life was already complicated enough, it was bubbling up day after day and you didn’t want to be the one who let it boil over. Your little devil was back and it’s whispers were louder than before. Rightfully, you felt you deserved the truth. It couldn’t be that bad. After all, you’d already ruined everything by not keeping your mouth shut.

Ghost did it all the time.

You moved quickly before your confidence ran out, finding him on the fire escape after using the key he’d entrusted you with long ago when you’d given him a key to your apartment. You were startled to see him, Ghost had said he was out and you hadn’t planned on him being home. This was supposed to be a quick in and out, a bit of snooping to put your mind at ease. The space reeked of weed even though he’d closed the window, or at least partially closed it.

He hadn’t noticed you yet, too busy relighting the bowl on taking another long rip. It was almost unfair how easily he distracted you. He always looked so pretty in everything he did. The way his adam’s apple bobbed in his throat when he tilted his head back to blow out the smoke, his eyebrows pinching together with the deep inhale from the bong, his hands flexing as he struck the lighter and brought it to life.

He seemed… preoccupied enough. Sneaking around couldn’t be that difficult, could it? He’d never know if you did it quickly enough, you were already here, you may as well try it.

Staying closer to the wall you went to his kitchenette, you’d learned one of the best ways to tell if a man has been cheating is to check the fridge, trash and sink. If there’d been another woman in here, you’d most likely find evidence there and not have to venture any farther. Surprisingly, it seemed Anakin’s normally well kept space was seeing less attention than usual. You’d never seen more than a cup or two in his sink at once, now one whole side of the sink was stacked with dishes. You picked up the glasses, looking at the rims for any sign of lipgloss or lipstick, but found none.

You kept glancing over at the window, making sure Anakin wasn’t gathering his stuff to come back inside. There were no ‘girly’ drinks in his fridge, other than the ones you’d left there and none of them were missing. The wine bottle you’d gotten a week ago was still there, unopened. The trash showed no signs of anything suspicious, not even the dust from the vacuum held a clue to any wrongdoings.

It wasn’t enough. You knew in your gut that there was something going on, regardless of another woman being involved or not. The thought of Anakin cheating had given you plenty of time to reflect on things you would’ve otherwise not given a second glance to.

Another look toward the window proved that Anakin was still busy, engrossed in his own world. Swallowing your guilt with a thick gulp, you made a quick dash across the line of sight from the window. Once you safely reached the samll hallway, you stood between the two doors on either side of you. The courage you’d gathered up to sneak in was wearing out and fast, the bathroom would be the quickest, the bedroom would possibly hold more than you could bare to digest at the moment.

Taking a deep breath you opened the bathroom door and closed the door, standing in the dark for a moment before flipping on the light. After your eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness, you got to work, nothing in the trash. No changes in the shower products, the cabinet hidden behind the mirror had been rerarranged but it seemed like it was only done to clean the shelves. The cabinet below the sink held it’s usual cleaning products, extra shower stuff and towels. Nothing seemed out of place and you were beginning to feel even more guilty than you were origionally. Closing the cabinets you moved on the two drawers along the side closest to the door. The top one opened up just fine, nothing but jewlery for his piercings and his cologne, along with other random bits and bobs.

Pulling out the bottom drawer you found that it stopped halfway, getting jammed by something and preventing you from pulling it all the way out. You wiggled it and shuffled through the items inside the drawer, feeling around to see if you could dislodge whatever it was that prevented it from being opened. You reached the back of the drawer, nothing inside seemed to be the cause, so you decided to reach a bit farther and feel along the back of the drawer and the walls. Thinking that maybe something had fallen from the top drawer and gotten jammed in the tracks for the bottom drawer.

Then, there was a noise. The window. Quietly shutting the drawer you listened, hearing Anakin muttering to himself and his footsteps stopping, the clunk of his bong hitting the coffee table and the sound of him plopping down on the couch. You had no choice but to pretend like you meant to be here, you were here to see him.

While you were busy preparing your ‘i missed you, I’m sorry’ speech, Anakin turned on his tv and Xbox, waiting for it to boot up and load Fallout. He wasn’t ready for bed, he wasn’t willing to be completely alone with his thoughts, so a distraction was in order. He jumped up from the couch and slunk into the kitchen, grabbing a beer from the fridge and returning to the couch. Kneeling in front of the coffee table he used the beer bottle to crush up one of his pills, sliding his wallet over to him he pulled out his debit card and chopped it finely, lining it up on the edge of the table. He cracked open the beer bottle and took a swig, holding it in his mouth while leaning down to snort half the line. Swallowing the beer to help with the bitterness of the powdered pill, getting ready to start the process over again.

You slowly turned the doorknob, stepping out into the short hallway to see Anakin kneeled beside the couch, his head tilted back sniffing and wiping his nose like it itched. He swallowed, letting out a sigh and a hiccuped laugh, bring the bottle to his lips for another drink.

”Anakin?” You gasped. His head snapped over to the side, bloodshot eyes wide and confused as he stared at you, choking on his beer, coughing and spitting it out accidentally. He stood up slowly, keeping his balance by laying a hand on the couch’s armrest.

“H-hey sweetheart.” He gave you an awkward, sheepish smile, eyes darting around from the embrassment of being caught. Caught doing something you didn’t ever expect to see. “I missed you baby, ‘mere.” His words slightly slurred and his actions not quite right as he beckoned you over.

”I-i had a whole apology speech planned out… i didn’t-“ You stuttered, looking him up and down, “You- are you okay?”

“Oh, don’t worry ‘bout it darlin’.” He casually waved your concerns away as if it were silly of you to ask such a thing. “Just uh, well it doesn’t reall thing. “Just uh, well it doesn’t really matter anymore now does it? You’re here now and you’re all i need.”

”No, you can’t just brush this off Anakin.” You said, walking over to him and looking down on the coffee table and what was left of the white powdery substance. “What is that?”

”Baby,” Anakin sighed, running his hands nervously through his hair. “I’m sorry okay? I just needed something to… to take my mind off stuff.”

”What stuff?” You asked, eyebrows furrowed in irritation at his vagueness. “Us stuff?”

”Well, yeah.” He nodded, his jaw set in a hard line while he shifted on his feet. “Where’ve you been? You disappeared on me.” He whispered, reaching out to take your hands in his, though you swiftly shut down his attempt.

”Where have you been?” You turned the attention back where it belonged, on him.

”Home.” He said, gesturing to his living space. “Called Trevor.” He motioned to the coffee table and the various paraphernalia. He tried reaching out for you again and was rejected once more.

”What did i do?” He asked, his face scrunched up in pain from your reluctance to touch him.

”I don’t know. You tell me.” You crossed your arms and stared him down.

”Please, baby just talk to me.” He whined, gently grabbing your shoulders and making you sit down. “You left for your trip and you were fine, you come home and you treat me like I’ve got the plague.”

“What is that stuff?” You pointed to the table angrily.

”Ketamine. Your turn, tell me what’s going on.”

”oh my god, no you can’t just expect me to let that go so easily Anakin!” You huffed spotting the other pill in the ziploc bag. “More? Really?”

”Don’t judge me, it’s been a long time since I’ve done this kinda thing.” He said angrily, pulling it from your hands and fishing out the pill. “Look, I’ll get rid of it.”

He grumbled, standing up and dragging you by the arm along with him toward the bathroom where he held the pill in front of your face, dramatically lowering it down over the toilet and dropping it in.

“There, flush it.” He crossed his arms, nodding toward the plunger. You rolled your eyes and pushed down on it, watching the little white pill disappear. “See? No big deal, it’s not like I’m some kind of pill head.”

“Now. Your turn.” Anakin walked on jelly legs back into the living room, sitting down on the couch with his hands behind his head, manspreading in his boxers and tshirt.

“I’m… I don’t know I guess I’m mad at you.” ‘I’m mad at myself.’ You sighed, kicking off your shoes and sitting beside him.

“Me? What did I do?” He made a face, pulling up his bottom lip and licking one of the hoops in his snake bites.

“Did you go to a sex shop?” You asked flatly, narrowing your eyes.

“While you were gone? No.” He snorted, wincing when you smacked his shoulder. “Ow! Fuck.” He groaned, running his hand over it to roughly massage it.

“Crybaby.” You huffed, crossing your arms.

“Jesus someone shit in your cheerios didn’t they?” He grumbled, rolling his arm in a wide circle with his arm bent at the elbow.

“I meant like in the time we’ve been together. Have you been to a sex shop? Lauren’s husband swears he saw you at one.” You accused, watching him closely for any telling body language.

“Yeah I did.” He nodded, looking at you like you’d grown an extra head. “Am I not allowed to buy stuff for our sweet love makin’?”

“What’d you buy? I haven’t seen anything new.” You asked, ignoring his ill-placed tease.

“Some lube, jewelry for my dick piercing. S’got a little vibrate-y thingy.” He gestured to his crotch.

“That’s it?” You asked, still uncertain. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“It was a surprise! Gods what’s your deal baby?” He asked, getting up, steadying himself with a hand on your head before he walked off to his bedroom. You tracked his movements without following. Glancing down at the floor you did a double take.

“See look? Here.” He came back, holding up the two items and shaking them. The jewelry hadn’t even been taken out of the package yet.

“Did you get new socks?” You asked, looking from his feet to his face and back again.

“What are you the fucking FBI now?” He scoffed, obviously getting agitated at your insistence on questioning him. “Yeah they’re new. Would you like to see my receipt officer?”

“I don’t like your attitude.” You scowled.

“You don’t like my- oh, you know what?” Anakin stomped back over to you and grabbed you roughly by the jaw. “I don’t appreciate being interrogated by a bitch half my size.”

“Anakin Skywalker!” You gasped, pushing his hand away. He’d never acted like that with you before, it was startling, confusing… could one pill have really made that big of a personality change so quickly?

“I think I’ve earned the right to be a little bit of a dick don’t you think?” He asked, staring you down as he pointed at your chest, poking you aggressively as he toward over where you sat on the couch. “You planned a trip without me, didn’t tell me until you were getting ready to leave. You’re gone all weekend, you’ve been back a few days and haven’t even spoken to me and then you show up to my place and start questioning me like I’ve done something wrong!”

“What about you huh?” Anakin yelled, getting upset in a way you’d never seen him do before. “I think I should be the one asking you questions!”

“Ani! Ani calm down it’s okay!” Frantically you tried to calm him down, standing up and putting your hands on his chest in an attempt to soothe him. “I’m sorry Anakin I- I shouldn’t have done that. I’ve just… I’ve been on edge lately and that’s no fault of yours.”

“Damn right it’s not.” He muttered. Walking the room in a quick back and forth line.

He breathed in deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. Suddenly he dropped both hands down to his sides and sat down on the couch. Leaning over with his head between his knees as if he felt nauseous.

“I’m sorry.” Anakin sighed, clearing his throat, clasping his hands together behind his head, resting them on the nape of his neck. “I’m really sorry princess. That was uncalled for.”

“Anakin, let’s just take a second okay?” You said quietly, making your way to the fridge to grab yourself a water. By the time you unscrewed the cap, Anakin had already chugged the rest of his beer.

“Can we… how about we just forget it? Let’s just pretend I got home today.” You suggested, a hopeful look on your face, your plan having been so horribly thrown askew that you knew there was no salvaging it.

“We can start over.” You suggested quietly. es, you were terribly upset with him but it was **so hard to stay that way. Especially when he had every right to be angry right back at you. “I’m sorry too. Please? Let me make it right…”

“You shouldn’t be the one apologizing. It should be me.” Anakin whispered, a lump forming in his throat.

“You gotta know that I love you princess. I love you so, so, so much.” He led you back to the couch, holding your hand and pulling you into his lap. “I’d never do anything to hurt you, never. I know that you’re disappointed in me…”

He looked up at you with glacier blue eyes, ones that had started to melt. Salty tears filling up to the brim and ready to flow over in a hot trail down his cheeks. He was holding his breath like he was scared to breathe, like he was afraid that if he did, he’d be pushed over the edge.

“I made a really bad choice and I’m so sorry.” He said quietly, his voice small and fragile. “It was wrong of me. I know that.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” You frowned, carding your fingers through his hair. “It’s alright, it was just this once right? Only the one pill?”

“That’s not…” Anakin sniffled, hiccuping before he tilted his head back on the couch cushions,covering his face with his hands. He let out a few half-sobs, stopping himself by forcing them down and holding his breath. “I don’t, I didn’t mean to do it okay?”

“I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it.” He spoke through short, shallow inhales, his head jerking with each labored breath. “It’s bad. I’m bad.”

“Anakin no, no you’re not bad! Why would you say that?” You shook your head, eyebrows pinched together. “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”

“But it- I never should’ve… I shouldn’t have done it.” Anakin swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He started to bounce the knee you weren’t sitting on, pressing his forefinger and thumb over his eyes and using his other fist to rhythmically pound on his thigh. “I’m so sorry. I don’t deserve you, I never have. I never will. You’re too good. You’re so good.”

His voice was squeaky, chopped up and uneven. The large, strong hands you’d come to love settled on your hips and waist, squeezing slowly, rubbing up and down as if he were trying to comfort you.

“C’mere.” He hiccuped, keeping his eyes closed as he wiped his cheek on his shoulder, pulling you flush to his chest. “I love you. Please don’t leave me.”

“Please, I promise I’ll be better. I swear.” He whispered, his words hot and breathy against your skin as he buried his face in your neck. “Don’t leave me.”

“Anakin I’m not… I’m not leaving you over something so, well I don’t want to call it insignificant. Because it’s not, it’s serious.” You said calmly, your own tears threatening to break through. It was so difficult to see him so upset, it was clear he felt immense guilt for this. “But it’s okay, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. You’re safe. You’ll be just fine.”

“You won’t go?” He sniffled, squeezing you tighter. “You promise?”

“Course I promise.” You nodded, the guilt of your previous thoughts, your original plan for coming here, all the things you’ve done… it all came rushing to the forefront.

“Why don’t you take a shower, it’ll help you feel better.” You suggested, really only wanting a few minutes of peace to sulk alone. “Just shout if you need help.”

“I don’t need your help to wash my ass.” He snorted, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands, taking in a stuttered breath.

“I don’t know Ani, you’re really wobbly.” You said sympathetically.

“You can shower with me as much as you want, but you will not be showering me.” He glared at you, a small smile tugging on his lips. “Sponge baths are the only exception.”

“Oh my god.” You rolled your eyes, thankful that he was always able to lift the weight of heavy emotion off of any situation, with just a few words.

Anakin just smiled and ruffled up your hair before trudging off to the bathroom. You’d never seen him switch up emotions that quickly and so fiercely. His guilt ridden sadness was so intense you feared he may have went into a full fledged panic attack if you hadn’t have been able to de-escalate it fast enough. Then, not too long before that was his flip of the switch anger and aggression.

The moment the bathroom door shut you cleaned up the coffee table, wiping it down to make sure none of the pill powder was left behind. You moved to put away his bong but thought… maybe you deserved a hit after all the trouble you’ve had. So you had one, only one. Someone here needed to be sober and Anakin was obviously not the man for the job.

————————————————————————

“So what do you do there? When that happens?” You asked, pointing to the tv screen while Anakin was playing Fallout 76.

“What? Get rad poisoning?” He asked, sitting comfortably with his feet propped up while you laid your head in his lap. “I can find a doctor, eat some fungus.” He snorted. “But I’d have to find them first so I just use RadAway. This little thingy right there.”

He pointed, showing you what he was talking about, explaining it and the different functions of the Pip-Boy his character uses to track radiation, inventory and the like.

“Okay but you’re wearing a radiation suit right?” You asked confusedly. “So why do you still get poisoned?”

“Baby, it’s just like real life. The suits only withstand so much, plus mines already damaged so it’s not as effective.” He chuckled, looking down at you to play with your hair for a moment while he waited for the next room to load after picking a lock.

“Oh. Okay yeah that makes sense.” You giggled at yourself, enjoying the way he gave you attention even when he was preoccupied.

“So what’s the quest?” You asked, shifting a little bit to get more comfortable.

“Uh gotta figure out what happened to this lady and her Order.” He said nonchalantly, “there’s supposed to be some kind of jewelry along the way some where. The Eye of Ra I think?”

“What’s that do?” You asked.

“That’s a great question. I don’t have a fuckin’ clue.” Anakin hummed under his breath, practically trashing the room he was in while searching around.

“Y’know, this game is kinda cute.” You grinned, obviously trying to tease him.

“It’s not cute. It’s apocalyptic, how is that cute?” He laughed, looking down at you and tugging your hair playfully.

“It’s all the retro stuff! It’s cute.” You shrugged, pointing to a few different random items on the screen. “I like the music too.”

“I know you do.” He laughed, glancing down again before refocusing on his tasks.

You stayed quiet for a while, just listening to him self-commentate and curse under his breath, it was nice. Normal. The most normal interaction you’d had since before your trip to the cabin. Even after the argument… disagreement? You’d just had, Anakin still made you feel safe and secure, loved and cared for. Even when he was in his own little world, focused on something else, he was still doting on you with soft touches and quick glances of adoration. He was so easy to forgive, he made things easy to forget.

He made it easy to be at ease.

Curled up next to him with a comfy blanket tucked around you, his thigh for a pillow. The warm cedar scent of his soap and the soft scent of his laundry. It was all a big, cozy bundle of security.

While he waited on another load screen, you began drifting to sleep with his hand in your hair and his soft whispers of sweetness. Your eyes fluttering shut, a blissful and serene peace lighting up your face; only to turn pale and ashen as your body jolted awake at a familiar tune.

You’d finally placed that song. You’d heard it here, right here.

Part Seventeen

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xoxochb · 29 days

Note

could you write abt a daughter of hecate reader shipped with luke castellan? except that it’s before he turned evil, and it’s very very cutesy - sneaking out at 3am to meet, holding hands under the table, laughing as they spar etc etc. i don’t have anything particular in mind, but i would love to see this (also you asked for reqs sooo 🥰

-🔮

⋆·˚ ༘ * sweet peace

warnings: established relationship, pre tlt so reader stays in hermes cabin pairing: luke castellan x daughter of hecate a/n: I needed to get my mind of all this crazy shit so I decided to finish this up

i. sneaking out

you were woken from your peaceful slumber when a hand shakes your shoulder and your name repeatedly being whispered. you groan into your pillow but the culprit doesn’t stop, instead flipping you over on your back. your eyes flutter open to admittedly- your favorite sight. now not so much ‘favorite’

“what do you want, luke?”

he cracks a grin when your eyes open. “I want to go out”

your brows furrow. “go out? It’s the middle of the night!”

“exactly!”

you pout and sit up, facing luke. “nights are for sleeping. I’m not sure if you knew that”

luke’s grin turns into a smirk. you don’t know if you want to kiss him or hit him. “you’ve told me a few times”

an angry glare appears on your face. luke laughs

“I am not ‘going out’ in the middle of the night just because you want to”

“I’ll get you a few extra strawberries at breakfast”

you sigh and throw your hands up dramatically. “okay, fine. let me get a sweatshirt”

luke holds a hand out for you to take, which you do gratefully. you lean into luke, lips almost touching but you whisper an ‘I will remember that offer’ before walking away to search for one of your luke’s sweatshirts

ੈ✩‧₊˚

you arrive minutes later at your destination: a secluded area near the lake. you recognize this location as the place where you and luke first met. you had just gotten claimed by your mother, upset because she didn’t have a cabin for her demigod offsprings. luke found you skipping rocks and sat beside you as you informed him as to why you were in the disappointed mood

he listening attentively as you ranted about the situation and he spoke comforting words to help you overcome your struggles. you were thankful to have him by your side as you were still new to camp. and you later had him confess he was following you like a creep

luke guides you back against a tree, kissing you once almost eagerly before you place a hand to his chest and pull away

“if you dragged me out here just to make out I’m going to kill you and bury your body under this very ground we stand on”

“you’d miss me”

you shrug. “I’d visit you”

“then when I don’t respond?”

you frown. “then maybe I’d miss you”

luke smiles and kisses you again. once, and then twice before he pulls back. a soft smile appears on your face at luke’s look of tenderness. you cup his face and run your thumb over his scar before leaving gentle kisses along it. you feel his face heat up at the action. you pull back and luke takes this moment to bury his face in your neck, arms around your waist, yours around his shoulders

this was definitely better than sleeping

ii. breakfast

although your lack of sleep the previous night was disappointing you couldn’t help the bright smile on your face. a plate full of strawberries in front of you, an absolute dream in your eyes. luke watched lovingly as you ate each red berry, not understanding how it was humanly possible for you to eat sixteen of them in under five minutes

“I’m starting to think you like those strawberries more than me” luke jokes

“maybe. maybe not” you shrug

“should I be worried?”

you purse your lips before biting another berry. “strawberries are inanimate, therefore they can’t kiss me back”

“what’re you saying?”

“I’m saying I would chose you over strawberries. although they do come close to first”

“are you saying you love me, moonbeam?”

you sigh. “I’m saying I like kissing you”

luke frowns. “you hurt my heart”

“you should visit the infirmary then, they’ll fix you right up”

“I love you too”

luke takes your hand underneath the table intertwining them and giving it a gentle squeeze, causing a grin to form on your lips. you run your thumb over his knuckles as a reciprocation

he was definitely better than strawberries

#xoxochb #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #pjo fandom #percy jackson #pjo #percy series #pjo hoo toa #pjo spoilers #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan fic #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan

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keerysfreckles · 5 months

Text

decode — OP81 (au)

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader

summary: when two summer camp counselors fall in love in the span of two months

warnings: none! just a long one 😅 i got carried away oopsies, not proofread!!!

a/n: missing my summer camp hours 😞😞 this is how i cope

masterlist !

⋆ ˚ ｡ ⋆ ୨୧ ˚

y/n can't remember a summer when she wasn't at the summer camp in her home state. every summer since she was five years old, she was found at camp. when she was fourteen she signed up to be a junior counselor in training, then at sixteen became a counselor in training, and now at nineteen is an official camp counselor from one of the younger girl cabins.

y/n was ecstatic. she couldn't believe her eyes when she got the email that secured her summer job. except it wasn't going to feel like a job. she knew this wasn't going to feel like some chore like others would describe their job to be.

the whole bus ride up to the summer camp, y/n talked with her friends that went to camp with her in the previous years. her two closest friends were sat around her on the bus, sofia and nat. sofia met y/n during her second year of camp, and haven't stopped talking since. y/n and nat knew each other during camp during their last years as campers, but didn't start talking until their counselor in training years.

arriving at the camp felt so surreal for y/n. she was excited to see her second home, and her other friends that arrived yesterday by plane. she wondered if there were any unfamiliar faces this year, besides the new campers.

y/n, nat and sofia grabbed all their belongings and walked to their assigned cabins quickly. nat was going to be with the youngest of the girls, ages five and six. y/n was with the seven and eight year olds. sofia was on the other side of the girls' cabins, working with the twelve and thirteen year olds.

all of the counselors had "meetings" to attend before all the campers arrived tomorrow. no one really considered them as meetings however, knowing they were going to play ridiculous games in the large grassy field until sundown. the camp director thought it was a fun way to "get to know the other counselors".

as nat and sofia were getting a drink of water after a very intense game of dodgeball finished, a new counselor caught y/n's eye. there were three new counselors at camp, but this one was the only one that y/n really wanted to learn about. she looked at him from across the field. he seemed to be taller than her, with slightly pale skin and light brown hair.

"oh great, y/n's got another camp crush," nat appears by her, with sofia coming up on the other side.

"it's not a crush. i don't even know the guy!" y/n defends.

sofia and nat share a skeptical look, before sofia continues. "every year since you were seven you've found a guy to fawn over, and just because we're counselors now, we all know that's not stopping you."

nat chuckles at sofia's words, and y/n just rolls her eyes. she knew sofia was right, but she'd never admit that out loud.

after three more interesting games in the field, all of the counselors walked back up through the forest and towards the dining hall. there weren't any sort of seating arrangements, letting the counselors and other staff members sit wherever they'd like.

most of the counselors knew each other from being campers together, so they were all sat relatively close to one another.

luckily for y/n, the boy she was looking at earlier in the field was sat diagonally from her. she heard from sofia that she talked with him on the way back up from the field. he introduced himself to y/n and nat, and y/n instantly recognized his australian accent.

a handful of international counselors were found at camp every year, and y/n thought it always made it more interesting.

oscar, y/n, nat and sofia continued talking all throughout dinner. one of y/n's old friends from camp, lando, slid beside her halfway through dinner, and him and oscar got along pretty quickly.

at the end of the day, one of the many traditons at camp was for all the counselors to jump into the cold pool. don't ask y/n where this tradition exactly came from. she's been told so many times, yet she never remembers. however it came about, y/n was grateful. she's dreamt of doing this since she was a camper.

all of the counselors were lined up beside the pool, with the camp photographer, lauren, on the opposite side. the counselors were all still dressed, wearing their matching camp polos, and even kept their shoes on.

on the count of three they all jumped in, making the pool erupt in waves as twenty counselors splashed around. some got on each other's backs and were dunking one another, while other couldn't contain their laughter.

as y/n was wiping hair out of her eyes, oscar looked at her with a smirk adorning his lips.

she knew what he was about to do.

"no! oscar don't!" she tries to protest, but her laugh overpowers her words as oscar wraps his arms around the girl and pushes her under the water.

oscar watches y/n's smile widen once they're under water, and her hands are on his arms for a moment, only to push herself to the surface.

nat and sofia watched the interaction, as y/n now started splashing the aussie. "twenty bucks they're together by the end of the summer," nat wages.

"forty."

"thirty."

"thirty-five, final offer," sofia turns to nat.

"deal."

—

the morning the campers were arriving came quickly. so quickly y/n felt like she hasn't slept the night before. she was in the middle of making all the name tags for her campers bunk beds, so no one fights over who gets which one. she was cutting colored paper into simple flowers when sofia knocked on her cabin door.

"what's up sof?" y/n doesn't look up from her task.

"how'd you know it was me? it could've been nat," sofia sat on the twin bed, facing y/n.

"you walk heavy," y/n states, making sofia roll her eyes.

"whatever, unimportant," sofia quickly dismisses, "camp news is that a certain someone was talking about you after we jumped in the pool last night."

y/n groans, setting her paper and scissors down in her lap. "we've only been here twenty-four hours and there's already a rumor?"

"oh shush, you know you love it because lover boy was talking about you," sofia shoves y/n's leg playfully.

"first of all, don't call him lover boy. i only know his name. it's not like i'm deeply in love with him."

"you will be," sofia interrupts.

"second of all," y/n enunciates, "shouldn't you be getting ready for your campers to arrive?"

sofia laughs, "they're twleve year old, edgy, hormonal girls, they're not gonna want cute flowers and lady bugs saying who's sleeping where."

"you're no fun."

twenty-two minues pass and now all the counselors, the camp directior and co-director are all outside waiting for the buses to arrive. y/n was thrilled to meet her first set of campers.

the summer was broken up into three sessions, each session lasting two weeks. campers could choose to stay all three, but most only stayed for one.

y/n prayed her face wasn't flushed as she realized she was standing next to oscar. turns out, he was looking over campers the same age y/n was. the two made comfortable small talk until the buses finally pulled up into the dirt area.

once ever camper was off the bus and given their name tag, everyone made their way to the benches for announcements to start.

y/n's cabin was sat right in front of oscar's, with nat's right beside her. sofia's cabin was on the other handful of benches, considering they were the older campers.

announcements took an hour, as usual, and before everyone knew it, it was time for lunch.

the first lunch of the summer was always so special to y/n, even when she was a camper. this was when she met sofia, and years later she met nat in the mess hall as well.

lunch passed quickly, and y/n was back in her cabin, helping her campers fill out the forms to pick their camp schedules. she learned all of their names, and even learned about their favorite things. y/n's smile never left her face for the rest of the day.

—

three days into the first session and y/n was buzzing. she was in charge of the arts and crafts class campers could pick as one of their activites. she saw a few of her own campers in the morning, and surprisngly a few older boys during the afternoon.

she was in the middle of cleaning from the tye-dye the kids made today. she already hung up their shirts to dry, now she was cleaning off the tables where extra dye had gotten.

"do you need any help?" oscar stepped over the pile of rocks outside the arts and crafts shed, scaring y/n in the process.

"jesus osc, don't scare me like that," y/n laughs as her heartbeat comes back down.

oscar wasn't sure where the nickname came from, but he wanted it to stay.

"shouldn't you be watching over your swimming pool?" y/n asks, knowing oscar's sctivity this session was free swim. she didn't know what he was going to do the other two sessions, she meant to ask him later.

"nah, lando's got the last five minutes covered. all the campers got out anyway, complaining it was too cold." y/n knew lando from her last year as a camper. he was her first kiss, and call it cheesy but it was during the camp dance. neither of them speak ahout it to this day, and they planned to keep it that way.

oscar sat atop one of the cleaner parts of the table, chuckling as he notices y/n very colorful hands.

"why didn't you wear gloves?"

y/n shrugs, "gloves are too much of a hassle. plus after two showers i bet it'll come off."

"i could always dunk you in the pool again."

"no, no never again," y/n can't help but laugh.

y/n throws the dirty rags into a bucket, she makes a mental note to take it to the small camp laundromat later in the evening.

oscar hops down from the table, "do you want to walk with me to dinner?"

"you mean night time announcements?" y/n lets out a giggle at oscar's now pink cheeks.

"yeah uh– that's what i meant."

"how much were you really paying attention during the announcements really meant for the campers?"

"you know i could easily push you right now right?" oscar detours the conversation.

"oh i know you wouldn't."

oscar's about to reply, but y/n's name gets called by a few of her campers walking up beside the duo. she bids oscar goodbye, as she walks with the three younger campers.

dinner goes smoothly as it has been for the past couple of days. oscar smiles to himself when he realizes he's sat next to y/n tonight, with one of her best friends sat across from him.

the counselers were given a different table seating every day. the campers places stayed the same, and they were sat by others their ages. each table had twelve campers, with two counselers at the head and foot of the table.

the first fifteen minutes of every meal is silent, another camp tradition where no one truly knew where it came from. but after those fifteen minutes were up, the mess hall was buzzing yet again.

the campers were starting to take plates and dishes towards the side of the mess hall where the kitchen staff was. oscar stood up from his table, grabbed the extra dessert no one wanted and walked towards y/n.

she was talking with one of the girls at the table, while oscar silently placed the ice cream down. y/n looked to her right and smiled seeing who it was.

the interaction didn't go unnoticed by sofia or nat. sofia was walking back to her table when she saw oscar getting up, and she was quick to point it out to nat.

"you looked like you could use another dessert," oscar sat down on the empty bench besides y/n.

"well i'm sadly already full, but i'm sure maisie here wouldn't mind," y/n boops the blonde girl next to her on the nose before sliding the bowl towards her. "just don't tell the other campers," y/n whispers, earning a giggle from the camper.

"are you excited for the camp dance next week?" y/n asks oscar. each session had their own dance and carnival.

oscar nods, "oh definitely, but i'm more excited about the carnival."

"do you know who booth you guys are in charge of?"

"no clue, but probably something easy since i'm dealing with seven year olds," oscar laughs.

the two continue talking for a moment, until the camp director instructs for all the campers and counselors go to the main building for a movie night.

—

y/n couldn't believe her own eyes. she was watching kids leaving with their parents, while others got on buses to go back home. she was sad when she had to say goodbye to her campers that morning. nat gave her a hug, but it was still hard for her.

nevertheless, she was just as excited to meet the new campers arriving next week. during the counselor's week off, they get a different trip in between each session. the first was a trip to a waterpark near the camp, and everyone was buzzing when they got out of the camp vans.

the day was filled with most counselors riding the water slides, while other tanned or gossiped. there was thirty minutes left of their day pass, y/n and oscar planned on going into the lazy river before they had to go back to the camp.

over the past two weeks the pair has gotten extremely close. they hung out whenever they could. they'd sit by each other at any given moment. a few of the older campers noticed the chemistry that was starting to build between the two.

y/n's right hand and oscar's left one kept grazing while in the lazy river. neither of them were going to do anything about that.

"you've been quiet today," oscar speaks up, looking over to the girl.

"just grateful," her response was simple, but oscar knew how she felt. it was hard for him to say goodbye to his campers earlier in the week, but just like the girl, he was excited about the new campers coming this sunday.

after a few moments of silence, y/n starts to laugh.

"oh god, i broke her," oscar jokes.

y/n keeps laughing, "no, no. i just can't believe you knew practically every move to the line dances from the camp dance."

oscar's face slightly flushed, "you're just jealous of my dancing skills."

"sure osc, that's what it is."

—

exactly two weeks later and the second session camp carnival was in full swing. it was always held on the tennis courts, and each cabin was in charge of a booth. some were definitely better than others, consider five year olds had little to no patience.

at the start of the carnival y/n and her whole cabin were sat around the face painting table, fast forward an hour and a half, now y/n was sat alone, watching all the festivies around her.

"you know you can enjoy the carnival too right?" oscar comes out of nowhere, making y/n jump slightly.

"can you stop scaring me like that?" she laughs, and scoots her chair over so he can sit in the empty one.

he hands her the cotton candy from his other hand, receiving a thank you from y/n.

"but really, why are you here by yourself when you should be out there," he pauses to point to all the campers and a few counselors dancing to an ariana grande song.

"what if someone wants their face painted and no one's here to help?" y/n picks at the light pink cotton candy.

"you and i both know every camper who wanted their face painted came here right away."

"yeah okay," y/n agrees, "but not everyone's gotten their face painted."

"who hasn't? there's maybe three campers without something on their cheek."

"you," y/n smirks. she hands her cotton candy to oscar before grabbing the tray of face paints.

oscar groans, "is this payback for dunking you in the pool?"

"yes, that's exactly it," she giggles.

oscar watched as y/n stood from her chair. she was contemplating what to do, but eventually ordered oscar to close his eyes. 'screw it' y/n internally spoke, as she dabbed the non-toxic red face paint onto her lips with a clean brush. she set down the mirror, happy with the amount and bent down to kiss oscar's cheek.

it took him by surprise, and he could feel his cheeks redden at the feeling of her fingers on his chin and lips on his cheek.

y/n begins wiping her mouth, ridding the left over red paint. oscar smiles, "well now it's only fair i give you something in return."

y/n shakes her head, still having a smile adorning her features, "i'm the one working the face paint table, not you osc."

oscar's about to argue, but lando, nat and sofia all come running to the table as the campers are starting to leave the tennis courts.

"hey are you guys–"

lando cuts nat off with a chuckle, "nice face paint osc." that earns him a punch in the arm by sofia.

nat rolls her eyes before continuing, "you two ready for the counselor campout tonight?"

y/n's been talking about the campout since the start of summer, to anybody that'll listen.

the group of five went their seperate ways towards their cabins to pack a small bag for the night, and made sure to say goodnight to their campers, before a counselor in training came in the cabin for the night.

the counselors split up between two pick up trucks, with people riding inside and in the back. y/n and oscar's legs kept hitting each others after almost every bump, not that either of them minded.

the girls slept in one tent while the boys slept in the other. camp rules that both groups hated. it was starting to get dark when they arrived, so the boys started cooking pre-made hamburgers on a makeshift little grill over the fire, while the girls set up the tents.

during dinner everyone split up into their own groups. oscar, y/n, lando, nat and sofia put their chairs close to each other as they enjoyed the warmth of the fire and the sound of the crickets around them.

"is that a new hoodie y/n?" nat asks, curiosity filling her voice.

sofia joins in, "yeah, i don't think i've seen that."

y/n involuntarily blushes, "it's oscar's. he's letting me borrow it cause i got cold."

lando gives oscar a small high five while nat and sofia share a look. a look that the two have been sharing at least once a day.

—

four days later and y/n is upset once again. the second session campers are filtering out of the camp, and it feels five times worst than the first time y/n dealt with it. oscar walks up to the sad girl and places his hand lightly on her back.

"will pancakes and a hug cheer you up?" he smiles while handing her a plate with three pancakes covered in syrup.

y/n laughs and turns to face oscar, "both would definitely cheer me up."

y/n wraps her arms around the boy, and her body is flooded with warmth at the contact. she rests her head against his shoulder, her nose brushing ever so slightly against his neck. goosebumps rise on oscar's arms.

oscar leads the pair over to an empty bench so y/n can enjoy her pancakes to get her mind off the campers leaving.

"jeez osc, did you put enough syrup on these?" she laughs.

oscar throws his hands up in defence, "i didn't know how much you like."

a moment of silence passes between the duo, before y/n breaks it.

"are you gonna want your hoodie back? because it's extremly comfortable and it might make it's way into my suitcase by the end of the summer."

oscar smiles, "keep it. maybe it'll give me a reason to visit you after summer."

y/n reciprocates a smile, but a sad feeling makes it's way through her body again. she doesn't know what her and oscar are going to do after summer. neither of them have brought it up. the thought of having to leave oscar and never see him again terrified the girl.

—

the camp was well into session three, and y/n was more than excited for today. it was her twentieth birthday, the session three camp dance was tonight, and it was her favorite theme every summer.

y/n was helping her campers get ready, thanking herself for getting ready beforehand. she thought they all looked adorable in their different 70s inspired outfits. they ranged from bell bottom leggings, flashy colorful skirts, and fringed vests.

y/n and her cabin was walking towards the tennis courts, as well as the other cabins. just as they turned the corner, oscar was standing off to the side of the gate. y/n saw, and smiled as he beckoned her over.

she told her campers to go with nat's cabin, before running towards oscar, being careful not to fall in her chunky platform boots.

oscar takes in her appearance with a smile on his face. from her white platform boots, to her pink colorful dress with the flared longsleeves, and finishing with her white headband.

"you look adorable," he spoke, his words coming out faster than his brain could think.

y/n couldn't help but blush, "thank you osc. you don't look too bad yourself."

now y/n looks over oscar's outfit. she giggles as it's such a similar outfit to what pierce brosnan wore on the cover of the mamma mia poster. fitting perfectly to tonight's 70s disco theme.

"did you find my birthday present for you?"

y/n nods, remembering the small wrapped box placed at the bottom step of her cabin.

"i haven't opened it yet, just like the card said."

"good, and don't forget to meet me back here after all your campers are asleep yeah?"

y/n nods again, "what could you be planning piastri?"

oscar shrugs playfully, "guess you'll have to wait and see."

before the australian leaves, he kisses y/n's forehead. it happened so quickly y/n could barely comprehend it before he was already gone.

after almost two hours of dancing, picking at snacks and talking, y/n was finally feeling her feet starting to hurt. maybe the platform boots were a bit much, but she still thought they were adorable. she groaned as she sat down for the first time that night.

"hey, you alright?"

she picks up her head, seeing oscar standing in front of her with two cups of water. he hands one to her before sitting in the empty chair beside her.

"i don't think my feet have ever hurt this badly before," she laughs while unzipping her boots. she could care less about how dirty the ground was right now, she needed her feet to breathe.

"so glad i didn't wear the platform boots i packed," oscar joked, and his smile grew once y/n started laughing. he never got tired of hearing her laugh.

"have you had a good birthday so far?"

y/n lets out a content sigh while leaning her head on oscar's shoulder. "i have osc, it's been really fun. and i can't wait to see what you have planned for later."

—

just as oscar instructed on his birthday note to y/n that was attached to her birthday present, she's currently waiting in the tennis courts. her counselor in training was looking after her cabin, but all y/n could think about is what on earth oscar could be planning.

her fingers fidget with the blue bow on top of the box, and she's thankful she changed out of her boots and into her converse. she threw on oscar's hoodie she still hasn't given back, because it always gets chillier at night.

her thoughts were interrupted however, when the lights to the tennis court turned off. all she heard around her was whispered voices and shuffling feet.

"guys?" she laughs, more than confused on what they could be doing.

the lights suddenly turn back on, and y/n can't help but laugh at the four in front of her.

"happy birthday y/n!" her friends yell.

sofia's holding a small pile of presents, one from each of them (minus oscar's gift in her hand).

nat and lando are busy holding up a small banner, wishing y/n a happy birthday.

finally oscar was holding a pink box, which y/n could only guess was a birthday cake.

"guys!" y/n gushes, her heart feeling extra full at the moment.

everyone sets down whatever was in their hands to hug the birthday girl. oscar's hug was a bit longer than the others, and y/n definitely noticed.

"you guys didn't have to do anything for my birthday. it being on the day of my favorite camp activity was plenty."

nat shushes her, "nope, we all agreed we were doing something for your birthday as soon as the session started."

lando pipes up besides nat with a green and black wrapped gift in his hands, "enough with the sappy shit, open my gift first y/n."

y/n sits down before opening the gifts. nat and sofia sit to her left, while lando stands in front and oscar stands behind her to her right.

she opened everyone's gift, thanking each of them afterwards, and finally got to oscar's gift. the one she's been waiting for all day. she tears the blue ribbon off and takes the lid off.

however, y/n's confused once she sees two plane tickets. one to new york from maine, and one back to maine from new york.

"osc what is this?"

oscar squats down and holds himself up by placing his hand on y/n's thigh.

his voice was soft as he explained, "my mom helped me with this one. i called her before this session started, and i got her to buy the tickets for me. she was able to get then shipped before your birthday. so now you can come out to new york for two weeks with me."

y/n keeps looking at the plane tickets in her hands. her eyes were filling with tears while oscar spoke. no one's ever done anything like this before.

lando, nat and sofia left quietly, giving the pair a minute alone.

"love?" oscar lets the nickname slip before he has time to catch himself.

"no one's ever done something like this for me before," y/n's quiet, not wanting her voice to give out.

"hey," oscar wipes a tear that was falling on her cheek, "you deserve this. we get to spend two great weeks together, and you'll even get to see my cool apartment."

y/n laughs at his attempt to cheer her up, and is glad it's working.

y/n pulls oscar into one of the tightest hugs imaginable. he stumbles slightly, but holds onto the girl just as tight.

"thank you osc," she whispers into his neck, before placing a light kiss to the exposed skin.

y/n starts pulling away from the hug, but oscar just holds onto her tighter. he silently moves his left hand to cup her jaw, with his thumb catching another loose tear.

from outside of the tennis court, the eavesdropping trio all gasp as the two finally kiss. after weeks of endless flirting and longing glaces, they're finally kissing.

y/n holds onto oscar even tighter now. partially for stability, and partially to make sure he's really there. that this was really happening.

the two barely pull apart, their lips only having centimeters between them.

just as the two go to kiss again, sofia pops out from the darkness and into the light of the tennis court. "six feet of space!"

nat's quick to cover her mouth after she mentions leaving room for god, and nat and lando are quick to apologize, letting oscar and y/n be alone again.

—

"there you are!"

oscar's pulled from his thoughts as y/n makes her way over towards him.

he's sat on the bench outside the unoccupied cabin near the volleyball court. he went there a lot this summer, always giving him the space to think.

"i've been looking everywhere for you," y/n smiles while sitting beside him.

oscar can't help but smile when she does. he's told her a thousand times how contagious her smile is.

"are you excited?"

y/n didn't need oscar to elaborate, she knew exactly what he meant. today was the last day of summer camp. all of the campers left yesterday, and today was the day y/n and oscar were flying to new york together.

"i don't even think excited is in the ballpark to describe how i'm feeling," y/n laughs, leaning into oscar.

after a moment of silence, y/n's curiosity gets the best of her. "osc?" he hums in response, "what are we?"

oscar smiles to himself, "well i was hoping i'd get to call you my girlfriend."

y/n's smile grows immensely. "only if i get to call you my boyfriend," she giggles.

oscar kisses her softly on the lips, before interlocking his fingers with hers.

"oh!" y/n pipes up, "yesterday one of my girls made us matching bracelets."

y/n takes two bracelets out of her (oscar's) hoodie pocket. they were both pink, with different shades of pink beads threaded through the string. one said "O ♡ (your initial)" and vice verse with the other bracelet. oscar chuckles as he takes the one starting with his own initial.

"i love it," he looks down at it once more, "i'm never taking this off by the way."

before y/n reciprocate, the camp director comes around, telling them this is their last call to leave the camp and say goodbye to who ever you need to.

nat and sofia both left by bus earlier in the day, leaving oscar to deal with an unhappy y/n for an hour until he gave her another one of his hoodies.

"are you ready to go?" y/n stands while holding her hands out.

oscar gladly takes her hands in his, "yep. just one more kiss in the place where i fell in love with you."

#shelbi writes #keerysfreckles #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri x fem reader #oscar piastri x fem!reader #oscar piastri x female reader #oscar piastri x female!reader #oscar piastri f1 #oscar piastri au #formula 1 #f1 #f1 fic #f1 au #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri imagine

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mediumgayitalian · 6 months

Text

———

Twenty minutes later, Solace hurries out of his cabin in cowboy boots.

And jeans.

Nico gapes at him.

“Go go go go go, questions later,” Will hisses, herding him behind the Apollo cabin. “We are on a time limit, we gotta —”

“You’re wearing close-toed shoes.”

“Yes, yes, sometimes I wear the clothes that I own. Wild. Let’s go.” Will tugs, uselessly, on his arm, but Nico’s half-certain his jaw has taken root in the ground, cementing him in place, because what the actual shit.

“Solace, you wore flip-flops to the snow-smothered bus stop in January. I thought you had, like, a condition!”

“I do have a condition. It’s called You Are Not Hurrying, Death Breath, let’s go —”

This time when he pulls, Nico stumbles after him, ducking under windowsills and inching around flower gardens. Every time someone so much as looks in their direction, Will plants both hands on his chest and shoves them into a corner somewhere, craning his neck to watch until they move on. Every time he does, another piece of Nico’s soul breaks away from his body and descends into hell. There is an actual trail of bones and tilled earth and dead grass behind him. Will doesn’t need to worry about being stealthy — the death aura of Nico’s dignity is large enough to scare off anything within a four mile radius.

“In here!”

Undeterred by the death aura, for some reason, Will seizes his bicep and shoves him in a crack between the Hypnos and Dionysus cabins. He slips in a millisecond later, crowding him against the warm bricks, forearm pressed awkwardly next to Nico’s head.

“Hnggh,” Nico gasps, mournfully wishing his last sliver of self-respect goodbye. Rest in fucking peace. “Do you have to be so — close, Will, gods —”

“Shhh!”

“If you shush me again I am going to rip your throat out —”

“Go, go, go!”

Yanked forward again, Nico doesn’t have the time to finish his threat. This time, at least, they sprint the final stretch to the shed without any more hiding and shoving.

Thank all the fucking gods. One more second of Will’s stupid torso — since fucking when does he wear polo shirts, huh, what the shit fuck is up with that — pressed against his and Nico’s bronchitis was going to come back. And this time he’s going to succumb to it.

“Okay,” Will says. He stands in front of a tarp-covered lump, gripping one side and jutting his chin out at the other. “On three, we tear this off and start pushing. We need past Thalia’s tree in under thirty seconds. Got it?”

“No,” Nico says stubbornly, “you still haven’t explained what the rush is —”

“One two three go!”

Will, unfortunately, has been tricking ADHD teenagers into doing things they don’t want to do for years, so Nico’s ripping off the tarp and shoving the chariot out of its stall faster than he can register what he’s doing. He practically sprints to keep up with Will, chariot wheels creaking happily as they rush over stones and sticks and forgotten weapons.

“We’re leaving now, Chiron! Bye!” Will hollers, moving too fast to give him a second to respond. Luckily, Chiron is similarly busy, galloping after a speeding Harley without more than a backwards wave and a sharp don’t die, please!

“That dynamite I gave Harley’ll only keep everyone distracted another thirty seconds,” Will mutters, ignoring Nico’s alarmed the fucking what you gave Harley, “so we need to move, let’s go.”

“Will — slow down a half fucking second, Christ, not everyone is seventy percent leg — we don’t even have pegasi!”

“Will you keep it down.” Will looks back and forth, eyes wide, like he’s worried someone is going to pop up with a pack of the winged animals. “Just — stop asking questions! We’re almost home free!”

“You’ve gone insane. It’s finally, actually happened, after all these years, who woulda thought, fully bonkers at age sixteen —”

“Oh, shut up.”

Muttering his complaints, Nico helps him push the infernal chariot down Half-Blood Hill. Among his grievances, he makes it abundantly clear that 1) this is stupid, 2) he did not agree to physical labour, 3) he would not have agreed to come if he had known about the physical labour, and 4) this is stupid.

“Just a few more yards, then we can —”

“Okay, no, that’s it.” Nico lets go of the chariot, letting the wheel dig into the soft ground and send the whole thing halting. He meets Will’s pout head-on; arms crossed, jaw set, foot tapping, refusing to give into those big blue eyes.

“C’mon, Neeks.” A faint explosion sounds off in the distance. Will’s eyes get more pleading, more hopeful. “We won’t have much time after the diversion wears off…”

“You have three seconds before I turn the hell around, Solace.”

“Please?”

“One.”

He pushes uselessly at the chariot. It spins a sad little circle without someone pushing the other side. “Neeks!”

“Two.”

“Alright, fine! Help me push again and I’ll explain on the way down.”

“Much easier when you just do as I say,” Nico grumbles, starting to push the stupid (horseless and therefore useless) chariot again. “Isn’t it?”

Will, predictably, rolls his eyes, although he can’t quite help the smile that pulls at his lips. Nico tells the butterflies that go buck fucking wild in his stomach to go to hell. This does nothing.

“How much do you know about the chariot?” Will asks eventually, after a couple minutes of shoving the stupid thing past a deep trench in the soil, leftover from the war. (Nico is going to set the fucking thing on fire. It’s a flying chariot — shouldn’t it be lightweight? Why is he suffering?) They’re nearly three quarters down the hill, and it takes everything Nico has not to risk it all and shadow travel the last couple dozen feet. Yeah, it might kill him, but then his problem would immediately go away. Tempting does not begin to cover it.

“Uh, big source of drama, right? Apollo and Ares worked together to seize it, argued over who got to keep it?”

He cuts a careful glance over to Will, well aware it’s a sensitive topic. He knows the question isn’t a trap — Will would never do that to him — but it’s probably best to tread lightly. As far as he’s concerned, this is a sore point that’ll take more than a couple years to heal.

Luckily, there’s no tension to Will’s face. “Mhm. I wasn’t there for much of the planning, ‘cause I was busy in the infirmary and also, like, twelve, but it took a lot of time on both sides. When Michael and everyone seized it, though, it glowed gold.”

“…Ah.”

Will snorts at his awkwardness, nudging his shoulder. “Yeah. Sure made it hard for the Ares cabin to claim, as dicey as it may be. Here, help me park it on the side of the road.”

There’s a thatch of weeds and undergrowth separating the road from the base of the hill, so dragging the chariot over is a struggle and a half. Nico can’t help but think that this task would be very easy if the chariot was harnessed to a couple pegasi and flying over the fucking thatch, as it is meant to do. When he voices this very valid thought, Will does not respond.

He does walk into a thistle, though, so Nico feels considerably better about the whole ordeal.

“The thing about the blessing —” Will grunts, yanking the chariot onto the gravel shoulder with one final tug — “is that it’s not that big of a deal. My dad blesses shit all the time. Our cabin is blessed. The infirmary is blessed. Hell, half my scalpels are blessed, and I throw those things out all the time ‘cause they’re dangerous when they get dull. Just because my dad blessed it doesn’t mean we actually have to keep it.”

“Okay…” Nico says slowly, “then why was it such a big deal?”

“The blessing on its own wasn’t.” Will’s voice gets fainter as he lowers himself onto the pavement, dragging himself under the belly of the chariot. Nico is confused for a full three seconds before a particularly rough patch of asphalt snags Will’s shirt and drags, and wow, are those jeans low rise. His throat is suddenly very dry. “Blessing a chariot on the other hand…”

Will makes a dorky little noise of success, crawling back from under the chariot. When he resurfaces, he’s grinning, carved piece of wood the same material as the chariot clenched in his hand. There’s soot smeared across his left cheek, his curls have tangled themselves into more of a mess than usual, and there are three separate scuff marks on his nice jeans.

Nico ducks his head, hiding a smile. What a dorky loser. Even dressed up as he is (boy, has Nico fallen low, if he’s calling jeans and cowboy boots dressed up), he still manages to look like…Will.

A really, really hot version of Will, but. Whatever. Details.

“The hell is that?”

“This,” Will says grandly, feeling around the wall of the chariot until he finds a specific spot, “is the reason my brother gave a fuck about a dumbass chariot.” He sticks the edge of the wooden tool in a tiny groove, wedging it open to reveal a hidden panel and a small, golden button. Nico meets Will’s grin with raised eyebrows, impressed.

“What do you know about Michael?”

“Uh, not too much.”

“You think he, in any reality, would have had that much interest in a hunk of wood?”

Nico had scarcely met him more than a couple times, but Michael Yew made an impression, that was for sure. For someone who was shorter than Nico when he was ten years old, he sure took up a lot of space. In the few times Nico remembers seeing him, he’d been concerned with his bow, his camera, or showing any given person who so much as blinked at him wrong just how quickly he could turn their ass concave. If Nico is correct, actually, the one time he and a pegasus had been in the same vicinity, they’d hissed at each other. Nico didn’t even know pegasi could hiss.

He tries to find a delicate way to say this.

“He seemed more interested in other endeavours,” he says politely.

Will laughs loudly. “He would rather shove an arrow in his eye than race a chariot!” His bright smile is impossible not to match, and Nico is relieved to find him totally comfortable, relaxed; hell, even excited. Usually, any talk of his siblings, even fond, makes him quiet. He’s glad for this change, however unusual. “Man, I loved my brother more than anything, but he was the most ornery motherfucker I’ve ever met in my life. He taught me every swear in every language by the time I was nine, just because he knew it would drive Lee batty. He didn’t care about some spoil of war.”

He smirks, wide and devilish, and Nico’s knees go weak. Dimples like that should be illegal.

“He was smart, though. And he figured, if dad’s blessing made this chariot anything like his own…”

He reaches out and presses the golden button with his thumb, letting go and standing back once he registers a faint click. After a couple seconds, the chariot begins to glow, soft at first, then brighter, then Nico has to squeeze his eyes shut to avoid the stinging burn, and then when he opens them, it —

He gapes. Will grins.

Where the chariot used to be, is now a shiny, brand-new, black and yellow motorbike, two helmets gleaming on the sparkling leather seat.

“…Then it might be a little more than some lousy chariot.”

Without waiting for Nico to pick his jaw off the floor, Will rushes forward. He tosses one of the helmets to Nico — which he barely manages to catch, still working on processing what the fuck just happened — and tucks the other under his arm. Nico happens to notice how his biceps flex with the action, and then vows to have his father bankrupt the entire polo shirt industry, because he can never be caught lacking like this by any mortal soul. It’s humiliating.

There’s a click as Will unlatches the seat, lifting it up to access the compartment under it. He pulls out a bundle mass of black fabric, and with a flick of his shoulders reveals it to be a fucking leather jacket and oh, gods, Nico takes back the polo shirt complaints, he can live with the polo shirt. This is too much. This is —

“Any time you’re done ogling at me, you can climb on,” Will calls out. He doesn’t even have the good grace to look in Nico’s direction, instead sliding on the seat facing resolutely forward, amused smirk on his face. And because he wants Nico to die, actually, he straightens his jacket, making sure it fits his shoulders right (by the gods does it ever) brushes his hair backwards (there is no genuine reason for someone’s hair to actually shine in the sunlight) and slides his helmet on. When he finally does look back in Nico’s direction, through his raised visor, the combined sight of his sparkling blue eyes and the cut of his face under the angular helmet actually gives him tachycardia.

“I hate you,” Nico croaks. “Not joking.”

Will throws his head back and laughs, baring his long, tanned throat. Nico follows the bob of his adam’s apple like Tantalus does the forbidden fruit. It’s horrible, and what’s worse is that Will is visibly preening like the fuckin’ peacock he is. Someone should remind him he’s basically a dressed up turkey. Or something. Nico’s brain is operating at twenty percent capacity, his ability to metaphor properly is a secondary concern.

“Just get over here, you goober. We’re on a time limit, remember?”

Shoving his helmet on to hide his flaming face, Nico does, sliding on with a healthy four inches of space between them.

“Mm, not gonna work, ParaNorman. This thing’s enchanted, we’ll be going well over a hundred. Hold on properly.”

Praying to seven different gods for strength, at once, Nico scooches the agonizing few inches closer.

“Hands around waist, Death Boy.”

“I’m fucking — I’m getting there, you asshole, gimme a goddamn second.”

“Do you need help?”

“I need you to shut the fuck up so I can focus.”

Maybe it’s the healer in him, or maybe there actually is a god looking out for Nico and they decide to have mercy. Maybe it’s a third option. Either way, Will reaches back and wraps his callused hands around Nico’s wrist, tugging them gently forward and resting them on the narrow curve of his hips. Nico holds them there, along with his breath, until some of the panicky tension starts to loosen in his chest, and he relaxes forward, resting his chest against Will’s back.

“There,” he says quietly, humming with approval when Nico’s arms link properly around his waist. He squeezes his clasped wrists once — a silent you good? — and waits for Nico’s minute nod, face buried in the back of Will’s neck, before starting up the engine, revving it twice before leaning forward, body flush to the bike. Nico can practically feel his grin, it’s so clear in his mind’s eye, in the delight thrumming through Will’s entire body, that he can’t help his own smile, too, can’t help but feel the thrum of the machine, the sharp smell in the air. He tightens his hold and Will lets out a loud, whooping laugh.

“Let’s ride, baby!”

With a push off the ground and a twist of a thrusters, they’re off, leaving behind only the echo of the roaring engine and the joyful, startled sound of Nico’s shriek.

———

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wlntrsldler · 7 months

Text

ii. and i never saw you coming, and i'll never be the same. | luke castellan | state of grace

sixteen-year-old luke castellan has his first kiss with you, the girl he'd been hopelessly crushing on for the last two years.

athena!reader x luke castellan. not canon compliant, no betrayal. happy ending luke :)

series masterlist | previous | next

sixteen-year-old luke castellan was shooting daggers at annabeth right now while she playfully approached you, pretending to expose his crush on you.

“beth!” he hissed, making a ‘cut-it-out’ motion with his hands. chris chuckled softly from beside him, too entertained by the situation unfolding. luke jabbed his elbow into chris’ rib, unable to handle two of his so-called friends laughing at his demise. “annabeth, please don’t!”

that caught your attention. you turned around to see annabeth, a sheepish smile on her face as she awkwardly waved at you. you cocked an eyebrow before tilting your head to see luke, half-standing from the bench with a frozen expression on his face. chris was doubled over in laughter, nearly falling off his seat.

“come with me,” you placed both hands on beth’s shoulders, letting her lead you to the two hermes boys. you stood in front of them, removing your hands from beth and crossing them over your chest. you playfully pointed between the three of them, “care to tell me what this is about?”

“i think luke should tell you,” chris shrugged, making eye contact with annabeth. the two of them erupted in giggles and luke wanted the ground to swallow him whole. if it wasn’t for his friends’ actions, he’s sure it would’ve been the redness on his cheeks that gave it away.

“well, go on, head counselor,” you bit your bottom lip, finding his blushing face completely adorable.

you and luke got closer over the past two years since he got to camp. he was always around the athena cabin, at first because he wanted to be close to annabeth, but everyone knew that it slowly morphed into wanting to see you and hang out with you more. because he was always with you, the campers got to know him fairly quickly. luke was right– everyone did love you, and by association, the campers liked him too, or at least, tolerated him.

you were known to be the nicest head counselor, even before you took the position from oliver, known as the best archer in camp’s history, and the wisest daughter of athena. the more luke hung out with you and got to know you, the more his feelings for you developed.

in his defense, it was hard not to fall for you. he’d never met anyone as funny as you. every time he returns to the hermes cabin from being with you, his stomach hurts from laughing so much. you seemed to finish each other’s sentences so the punchlines of the jokes die on the tip of your tongues, but you’re both out of breath from laughing that not finishing the joke didn’t even matter.

you took care of everyone at camp, even if they weren’t your own siblings. he’d seen you bandage travis and connor stoll up one too many times and let them go instead of writing them up for one of their pranks. the boys would return to the hermes cabin, heads hanging low, with a look of short-lived apologies on their faces when luke asked them about why they had bandages on their forearms. luke pretended not to notice the knowing smiles the two troublemakers shared whenever he would say, you’re lucky counselor y/n was there.

you were fearless. you were often chosen to be a companion for quests because everyone knew you were the best. you never denied them and it got to the point where chiron and mr. d had to make a public service announcement that you were no longer allowed to go on quests unless it was your own because camp fell apart during the weeks you were away. the first time luke prayed to the gods, to his father, was when you returned from a particularly difficult quest with clarisse and you were in the infirmary for three days.

but above all that, you made luke a better person. you inspired him to always find kindness in everything. you cared so much about your siblings and the campers and it made him open himself up to care for his own siblings. he and chris were inseparable now and luke knew he probably wouldn’t have been ready to get close to other people if it weren’t for you. you pushed him to work on his sword work, helped him understand strategies, and taught him everything about camp. eventually, people took note of him and he became the hermes head counselor not too long after.

in between all of these things were luke’s favorite moments; like the calm minutes after hours-long training sessions, where you reveal something new about yourself. you’d go on and on about a random story that goes off into at least ten tangential stories, but luke didn’t care. he’d gladly lay on his stomach, letting the rays of the sun beat down on his back until his skin turned red and hot to the touch, to hear you talk. you’d roll over on your back or prop your chin on your open palm and ask him questions about himself. and luke would tell you things he’d never told anyone before. luke treasures these moments in his mind– small, happy memories, like a step-by-step guide on how to fall in love.

“they were just going to pull a prank,” he lied, ignoring the ‘thumbs-down’ motion annabeth sent his way and the ‘womp womp’ that chris let slip past his lips. “told them to quit it.”

“tsk, tsk,” you tutted, but there was no anger on your face, only fondness. you looked at annabeth, “i expected better from the daughter of athena, but you’re too much like your brother.”

“oh, ew, don’t say that,” annabeth shook her head, walking away as luke raised his hands in defense. chris pat luke on the back, following annabeth back to camp to join everyone else.

“i am offended that she is in her, ‘i hate my brother phase,” luke scoffed, shaking his head. he moved over to let you sit on chris’ previous seat. “i’m not that bad to warrant an ‘ew.’”

“she loves you,” you nudged him, letting your shoulder stay connected to his. “she’s exactly like you, even if she doesn’t admit it.”

“she’s got the good parts of me,” he replied, looking down at where his shoulder was touching yours. his hand slowly crept to yours, trying not to be super awkward about it.

he’d held hands with you before, when you’d mindlessly lace your fingers together underneath the table while you were talking to someone, wanting to feel him there, making sure that he was next to you or when you’d hold his hand during moments where he’d get so frustrated with the gods that you had to calm him down. but he always got nervous initiating it.

over the years, he’d grown to be strong and unafraid, but when it came to you, his resolve crumbled. with you, he was just a teenage boy with a crush.

“so, she’s got all of you,” you said, noticing his hand moving closer. you put a hand over his, flipping it over so you could properly hold it. you squeezed his hand making him rub his thumb across the back of yours.

“not all of me,” he turned his head to look at you, “i see parts of you in her, too.”

“you mean our mom.”

“no, i don’t,” luke replied, sincerity in his eyes. “i mean you.”

sure, annabeth was brilliant like the daughter of athena should be. she was always six steps ahead of everyone else and she quickly became your right-hand woman when coming up with strategies for capture the flag. there was no doubt that annabeth was a daughter of athena.

but there were so many parts of you, the person she looked up to the most, in her as well. annabeth was more patient than luke. she can explain things to younger campers, and sometimes older ones, a hundred times without getting frustrated that they weren’t grasping the concept. luke had to walk away so many times when he got frustrated. you’re such a hot head, luke, you said to him once, a teasing smile on your face as you ran your hands down his back to help him relax. beth also grew to read people well. she can hear the unspoken words in conversations and know exactly what someone needs, a heightened sense of emotional intelligence that luke knew she couldn’t have learned from anyone else but you.

there were other, simpler, things too; like how annabeth doesn’t tie her shoes too tightly, unless she was training or competing, so she can slip her shoes on and off easily, or how she tucks her camp necklace under her shirt just like you.

the look in luke’s eyes was intense. you had to look away before you lost your senses and connected your lips with his. he does this often, say things so nonchalantly like it didn’t make your breath catch in your throat. he says these words with such clarity, like the only things he’d ever been sure of in his life were the things he says about you or to you. it made your head spin.

“so,” you changed the subject, untangling your hands from each other to turn your entire body to face him. you poked his cheek with your index finger, “you gonna tell me the truth about what that was?”

“what’s that?” he asked, dumbly, trying to act like chris and beth didn’t just leave you alone with him. he pretended to think, rubbing his chin with his fingers, “dunno what you’re talking about?”

you groaned, dropping your forehead to his shoulder. you felt him wrap an arm around your torso, his chest rumbling as he laughed at your reaction. you looked up at him, temple pressed against his shoulder blade, “c’mon, luke,”

“no,” he shook his head, face turning red again, “it’s humiliating.”

“if i tell you a secret, can you tell me yours?” you whispered. luke shivered at the feeling of your breath hitting his skin. he felt the goosebumps rising on his arms that he had wrapped around you. you pulled your head away from him, creating more distance, “how does that sound?”

“no promises,” he replied, eyes darting to your lips for a brief second. he cleared his throat, “if your secret is a good one, then maybe i’ll consider it.”

“oh it’s a good one,” you said, mischief in your eyes. there were only a handful of moments where you let go of your head counselor persona, where you’d join the hermes cabin in wreaking havoc on camp.

his sixteenth birthday came to mind. you arranged for a surprise birthday party for him. he woke up to an empty cabin, which was rare, and camp was deserted when he left to grab breakfast. when he got to the dining hall, all the food prepared were his favorites and there was a messily painted banner hanging across the walls, courtesy of the art skills of the younger campers you taught during arts and crafts the day before.

the food wasn’t nutritional at all and mr. d made it clear that it would never happen again. i don’t know what i was thinking saying yes to an all-day sugar rush, he muttered after the third instance of young kids breaking their arms from attempting to climb up on their cabin roofs. maybe twinkies and salt and vinegar potato chips were not the healthiest breakfast foods, but luke thought it was perfect.

he received his present from you after, a messenger bag for the son of the god of messengers and a compass that always pointed him back to the athena cabin. so you always find your way home, you reasoned.

luke knew he didn’t need a compass to bring him back to you. his dad gave him the ability to always find his way back home and he was glad you knew that to him, home was wherever you were. on his sixteenth birthday, with you under his arm and the compass safely tucked inside his pocket, for the first time, he was thankful to be his father’s son.

that look of mischief in your eye always meant that you had something up your sleeve and luke didn’t know if he should be excited or scared. luke pressed, “tell me, then.”

“i have a crush on this boy,” you scrunched your face up, cheeks dusted with the lightest shade of pink.

he pursed his lips, heart dropping. he knew this time would come. he was thankful that he was spared from the boy talk that you engaged in with your other friends. he often heard you and silena squealing about some guy one of you liked and he was glad that you had other friends to talk to about it because he couldn’t handle you gush over another guy when he felt this deeply about you.

“it’s the new aphrodite kid, isn’t it?” luke asked, pulling away from you. “everyone is in love with him. even clarisse said he was cute! i personally don’t see it.”

you rolled your eyes, “luke, come on.”

“what?” he asked, “i’m pretty sure he’s not even a natural blond.”

you didn’t know if luke was playing dumb or if he genuinely didn’t realize that you were talking about him. you’d been blatantly obvious about how you felt about him, at least you thought you had been. you were always sitting beside him, choosing him to be your partner for head counselor activities, spent every free moment you had with him, and you were touchy with him, more than you were with anyone else at camp. at this point, all that was left to do was to spell it out for him.

you laughed, throwing your head back in laughter, “it’s not jack.”

“who then?”

“nope,” you said, shaking your head. “you gotta tell me your secret now because i told you mine.”

“that was like half a secret, angel!”

“okay so tell me half of your secret!”

“fine,” he relented, “i have a crush, too.”

your eyes widened, heart beating a million miles an hour. you knew how he felt about you, but you'd just been waiting for him to say something. “now, you have to tell me!”

“you first!” luke laughed, reaching out to grab you when you got up. you slipped past his fingers, walking away. “come back!”

your laughter filled his ears as you stood behind him. you wrapped your arms around him, propping your chin on his shoulder. luke nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck, letting out a content sigh. he tilted his head to the side, his lips ghosting over the skin of your arm.

you stayed like that for a few beats until he broke the silence. he should be upset right now because you liked a boy and wouldn’t tell him who it was, but it was hard to be mad when you were holding him like this. he looked up at you, a boyish grin on his face, eyes half open, “you gonna tell me?”

“it’s obvious,” you said, running your fingers through his hair. he purred under your touch, grabbing a hold of your arms to stop you from leaving his side. you weren’t planning to. “come on, luke. use that pretty little head of yours.”

luke tucked his face into the crease of your elbow, hiding his blush. he racked his brain for anyone else who you could have a crush on, but his mind ended up blank. when he thought of who on this earth could deserve you, he came up with no names. there was nobody who was good enough for you.

he changed his strategy. who did you hang out with at camp? he tried to think of the people he saw you with. he’s seen you with the boy from the apollo cabin a few times but that was usually only when one of your siblings got injured. maybe the boy from the hephaestus cabin? the one who made his sword? no, you only talked to him on luke’s behalf that one time when you noticed he needed a new sword because he broke it during a particularly intense training session with you. he frowned. the only guy you actually hung out with at camp was him. and that couldn’t possibly be… unless?

luke’s head snapped up, “do you like me?”

“do you like me, he says,” you mimicked, “took ya long enough.”

you placed a chaste kiss on his cheek before running away from him, giggling and blushing like a school girl. luke couldn’t react quick enough to stop you from leaving, too dazed at your rushed confession. when he snapped back to his senses, he jumped from his seat, using all his strength to chase after you. he was thankful for his growth spurt because he caught up to you before you entered the main area of camp.

he wrapped his arms around your hips, twirling you around, ignoring your sounds of protests. he stared at you as you beat on his chest, hair in disarray from the wind. his lips were in a full-blown grin, head spinning with thoughts of you. you. you. you. you were all he could think about.

he finally put you down but left his hands on your hips as you tried to fix your messy hair. he liked you like this, soft and shy. it was a part of you that felt like was reserved for him. usually, you took on this authoritative, caretaker role, always having the weight of responsibility resting on your back, but with him, in these secret moments, you were delicate. luke wanted to protect you from everything, not because he thought you needed his protection, but because he felt like he’d finally found his purpose in this life-- to be with you. it was still caused by the hands of fate but away from the meddling of the gods.

“you like me,” he teased, pinching the skin of your hips.

“don’t get cocky,” you replied, smacking his chest.

luke hummed, leaning closer, “i like you too.”

“i know,” you whispered, inching closer to him. “just wanted you to confess first.”

“c’mon angel, cut me some slack,” he blushed, eyes darting to your lips. he ran his tongue across his lips, “didn’t think i had a shot with you.”

“you need to start giving yourself more credit, luke,” you reached over to cradle his face in your palm. your eyes traced over his features, mesmerized by the pools of honey in his eyes, the pink of his plump lips, “you’re the best person i know.”

“all ‘cause of you,” there were those words again. there was no room for argument when luke spoke about you. he was sure of it, too sure of you.

“are you gonna kiss me or am i gonna have to make all the moves in this relationship?”

luke rolled his eyes, “shut up.”

he placed his lips on yours, unable to stop himself from smiling as you kissed back. he pushed you towards him, wanting to feel you closer. the kiss was short because you were both breathless and grinning. it was messy and uncoordinated with it both being your first kisses. when he pulled his lips away from yours, he placed kisses all over your face, your jaw, your neck, his curls tickling your skin.

eventually, he stopped in a fit of giggles, lips puffy and pink. there was a dazed look on his face, as if he couldn’t believe that this was actually happening. he let go of your hips but threaded your fingers together as you walked into camp, burying his face into your hair when he heard chris and beth hollering in support when they saw your intertwined hands and disheveled demeanors.

#frances writes #frances song fics #state of grace #luke castellan pjo #luke pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #luke castellan one shot #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson #pjo fanfic #pjo series

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skzdarlings · 6 months

Text

bodyguard: the first guard | part two | chan/reader

masterlist.

(part one of the previous story.)

( read on AO3 )

A sequel to the Bodyguard. Miroh's daughter is assigned a bodyguard of her own. The past is confronted when old friendships and new enemies are pushed to the brink.

pairing: bang chan/reader content info: sequel to the bodyguard (felix/reader). this is a new reader perspective. the previously established story dyanmics: explicit violence, mentions of torture, death. chapter word count: 12,000 words.

B E F O R E

Felix is wearing itchy civilian clothes, the jeans distractingly stiff. Regardless of how many field missions he is assigned, he never gets used to undercover disguises.

“Look what I found,” Chris says, dropping into the seat beside him.

Chris looks marginally more at ease in his baggy basketball shorts and baseball cap, passing for a teenage boy on an afternoon train with his friend. They are in the passenger car outside the first class cabin, a compartment that should contain their mark but presently sits empty.

“Uh, the target?" Felix asks. “You know, the thing you just went to find?”

Chris giggles like the whole situation is funny. Felix is far less amused. This should have been an easy job: get in, kill the mark, steal back the data he took from Miroh, and get out. But so far it has been tedious.

Felix can’t even blame Chris this time. For some reason, Chris has been more accommodating lately. Chris is fifteen, almost sixteen, and Felix is twelve. They have both been active in the field for a couple years. Felix is not sure why Chris has opted for sudden compliance. He does not necessarily volunteer for jobs but he accepts them without much grudging reluctance. He will occasionally voice his worser grievances but for the most part he is keeping his head down.

Maybe it is the result of all those punishing sentences in the Cell. More than once he has been shoved down there, sometimes alone and sometimes with Miroh’s daughter. Felix would not want to spend any isolated time with her. But maybe she is intimidating enough to get through to Chris.

Whatever it is, it is working. Excluding moments like this when Chris is giggling and distracted and doesn’t seem to care about the job at all.

“Relax, Felix,” Chris says. “It’s a train. There’s only so many places he can be, yeah?”

“Well, there’s one place he’s supposed to be but he isn’t there, is he?” Felix says.

“Lighten up, mate,” Chris says. “We’re supposed to look normal. Normal kids have fun.”

Chris dumps a candy bag in Felix’s lap. Felix looks at it like it’s a bomb.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Felix asks.

Chris opens his own bag and starts eating the candy.

“That,” he says. He tosses a piece in the air and catches it in his mouth. When he tries to do it again, Felix snatches it mid-air and throws it on the floor. This makes Chris laugh.

“He was in the dining car,” Chris relents. “Four security officers. Ex-military. Piece of cake.”

“Why didn’t you say that before?” Felix asks, annoyed. He starts to stand but Chris yanks him back into his seat.

“The hell, man?” Chris says. “You gonna go ventilate the guy while a bunch of civilians are having afternoon tea? Ya think that might blow our cover? Just a bit?”

Felix frowns but he knows Chris is right. Miroh does not like a public mess. They will have to wait until the mark returns to the privacy of his cabin.

Felix does not like waiting. It is a part of a soldier’s training, but his least favourite part by far. He prefers action. With the quiet stillness comes fear, doubt.

The latter makes him sweat. He tries not to think about it. His life is his mission. Through Miroh, Felix has contributed good things to the world. Lately, it just seems like no matter what he does, the world does not stay good.

The Enemy has been dead for two years. The new enemy, his idiot heir, has holed up like a dragon guarding his hoard. He has built defences so high that not even an army like Miroh’s can breach it. There has been no retaliation, no offensive strike like the old enemy, but these deep roots are almost more sinister. Felix is starting to think this might be hopeless. That maybe Miroh is wrong. That maybe some things cannot be saved.

Felix crinkles the candy bag in his lap. He gathers himself and exhales.

“Fine,” he says. “How long do you think he will be distracted? Enough time to get the data?”

“If it’s in there, yeah,” Chris says. “Might as well check. He just started eating so we should have some time.”

“Then what are we waiting for?”

Chris frowns like Felix is inconveniencing him with the job they were sent here to do.

Felix is not in the mood to argue. He shoves his candy bag in his back pocket and pushes past Chris. They make their way down the aisle. No one lifts their head, the two boys disappearing in their inconspicuous disguises.

They pick the lock to the first class cabin. Felix opens the door and looks around the room, for a moment a little stupefied by the luxury. It is all deep mahogany and gold trim. Their target is an engineer who stole designs from Miroh to sell to the enemy. The wealth of this cabin exemplifies that corruption, surely.

Felix tells himself that as he rifles through the luggage. He finds a laptop and tells Chris to stand guard while he collects the data. Chris is the better fighter but Felix is better with technology.

The laptop loads. The home screen is the mark with his family, three smiling, sunny-faced children, all younger than Felix. It gives him a queasy, uneasy feeling, a feeling that should be long scrubbed out of him by now.

He blames it on the rocking of the train carriage. Physical sensations can manipulate mental energy.

He searches through the computer storage for the stolen designs. Both Miroh and the enemy are chasing government building contracts, tying their businesses irrevocably to political power and pursing relationships therein. These plans will cinch the deal for whichever party has them. The engineer who betrayed Miroh masqueraded as a potential recruit before stealing the plans.

There is only one problem; Felix knows how to read metadata and he cannot find anything that was once on Miroh’s servers. In fact, some of these designs go back years, well before Miroh even considered pursuing these contracts.

“What’s taking so long?” Chris asks, poking his head in the room. “You’re usually a computer whiz. Is something wrong?”

“The files aren’t here,” Felix says. For the fifth or sixth time, he opens what looks like the plans. Everything except the metadata matches the description. But that metadata does not lie.

These files do not belong to Miroh.

Chris double checks the corridor before joining Felix. They look at the files together.

“Isn’t that it?” Chris asks. “It looks like the right thing.”

“Yeah, but it’s not,” Felix says, his eyes darting frantically all over the screen. “Or it should be. But these, uh, these files aren’t Miroh’s.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean this guy stole the plans from Miroh. But all these files are original. They were never on Miroh’s servers.”

There is a moment of quiet. Chris is not famous for reservation so Felix looks at him. He is embarrassed to find a pitying look on Chris’s face.

“Felix,” Chris says. “Come on, man.”

It is not exactly a condescending tone, rife with too much sympathy to be so cruel, but It sounds like Chris is saying, don’t be stupid.

Felix swallows. He looks down at the plans. The realization hits him and the words come to his mouth, rising like bile.

“We’re not stealing back the plans,” Felix says. “We’re just stealing them. Aren’t we?”

“Well, yeah,” Chris says. “You didn’t know that?”

“How did you know that?” Felix snaps back, embarrassed and upset and very, deeply confused.

“It wasn’t exactly a stretch,” Chris says. “It’s what Miroh does. It’s what they all do. You haven’t figured that out yet? You?”

Felix, who has done the most assignments. Felix, who is the most successful agent in the special-ops program. Felix, who is the best only because the real best refuses to be.

He studies Chris, this older boy who seems so confident he has all the answers. Felix does not even know all the questions. He feels that weakness and vulnerability he so hates, the entirely world suddenly unfamiliar enemy terrain.

“Look, it’s fine,” Chris says. “Just take the data and we’ll leave. We’ll tell Miroh the mark got away. He cares more about the plans anyway.”

“Lie,” Felix says. “You want us to lie to Miroh?”

“It’s not a lie,” Chris says. “It’s just protecting the truth.”

Felix stares at him. Chris, on steadier feet than Felix, sighs and pushes Felix out of the way. He loads the data onto the external hard drive himself. He then makes a show of ejecting it and putting it in his pocket.

“Let’s go,” Chris says.

Felix does not get a chance to protest because the door opens. They have no time to react. In seconds, they are joined by the mark’s security team.

Felix knows how to fight. It is second nature to him. He should not need to think.

But he does. He overthinks. He gets a look at the mark before a bodyguard whisks him away. Felix thinks of the smiling faces on those children. He thinks how he is not much older than them.

There is a growing pit of anxiety inside him. It swallows him whole.

Felix and Chris fight to get away. Chris could take all these guards on his own but he is trying to avoid severely hurting them. That distracts Felix too. Suddenly, Chris’s refusal to fight does not seem like cowardice but instead it is something Felix cannot name. Something he once saw in Miroh but doesn’t anymore.

Distracted, Felix does not fight like he usually does.

The first class cabin is a private attachment at the back of the train. The fight lead onto the outside landing at the end of the car. A guard dislocates Felix’s shoulder. The next thing Felix knows, he is tumbling over the railing. He manages to grip with his good arm, holding all of his body weight to avoid getting snagged and ripped along the train tracks.

But it won’t save him. He’s going to die. The realization hits him like any other calculation in a fight, when he measures his odds and deduces his best move.

He has none. The train is moving too fast and he is at a bad angle to jump. He has one good arm keeping him alive and no way to fight the approaching guard. Chris has taken out his own adversaries and should be retreating with the data. That is what they are trained to do. The job is more important than the soldier. In a crisis, you leave the weak behind.

Felix braces himself to let go, hoping the above-average strength in his body can also withstand slamming into railroad tracks at high speeds. He suspects even if he does survive, he will be severely injured, abandoned in the middle of nowhere, and dead to the only place he has ever known.

But the guard falls back. Chris knocks him out with sharp efficiency. He then lays the unconscious man down with almost comical gentleness.

Chris runs up to Felix. Felix wants to shout at him – everything from go away and finish the job to my shoulder hurts and I need you to save me.

Chris gives no opportunity for argument or acquiescence. He shouts, “Hold on!” Then he swings himself over the railing. He wraps an arm around Felix and hauls him into his side. Once secure, he carries them back over the rail and onto the landing.

“What are you doing?” Felix asks. He cannot slow the race of his heart, seemingly tethered to the thunder of the train car against the tracks. He is not sure it will ever slow again. He thinks he might remember this moment forever.

“What am I doing?” Chris asks. He laughs for some forsaken reason. “Just doing this, mate,” he says.

He seizes Felix by his injured shoulder. Felix winces, having only seconds to brace himself before Chris shoves his dislocated shoulder back into place. Agony washes over Felix, hot and sharp, the pain rattling him worse than the actual dislocation.

“Sorry,” Chris says. “Sometimes getting better hurts more for a bit.”

The rest of the mission is a blur to Felix, lost to the throbbing ache in his shoulder and a similar pain taking root inside him.

They make it back to Miroh’s facility. Chris hands the hard drive off to an upper level agent while Felix sees a medic. The bag of candy is still in his back pocket. He sits in the infirmary a long time, just crinkling it between his fingers. He feels like his world is crashing around him.

It is days before Felix has an opportunity to see Chris again. They are in different barracks because of their age difference, the soldiers grouped by year. When Felix finds Chris in the corridor, Chris is talking to Miroh’s daughter who lives in the barracks too. They are on their way to their bunks.

Felix taps Chris on the shoulder. Chris looks at him, his laughing expression faltering when he sees Felix. He must see something in him that Felix cannot even recognize in himself.

Chris turns to Miroh’s daughter and says, “I’ll catch up, yeah?”

She spares Felix a glance and Felix feels an unusually panicked skip in his blood. It feels like she can see his mental turbulation the way Chris can. But unlike the rest of them, she has a direct line to Miroh. She might live and act like a soldier but she is more and always will be. Felix balks under her scrutiny, worried she will see his doubt and report it right back to Miroh.

Felix is grateful when she leaves. But when Chris looks at him so expectantly, Felix no longer knows what to say.

It takes a moment.

“I wouldn’t have done the same for you,” Felix finally says. It comes out as instinctively as a punch. “I wouldn’t have saved your life. I would have just finished the job.”

Chris blinks at him. He exhales on a laugh. Then he claps Felix’s good shoulder, a touch of clear camaraderie.

“I know, Felix,” he says. “I didn’t do it so you would pay me back. I didn’t do it because I thought you would do the same. I did it because it was the right thing to do.”

Felix thought he was speechless before but now he is truly at a loss. Even his long engrained instincts fail. He is out of punches.

Chris just smiles at his confusion. With one final nod, he turns and retreats to his bunk.

Felix stands in the corridor, wounded but bandaged. He stares at the place where Chris stood, like if he looks long enough then Felix will understand what Chris understands. That maybe there is a right and wrong outside of what they have been taught. Maybe things exist outside of this place.

Maybe some things can be saved.

P R E S E N T D A Y

“Ah, it’s the classic story,” Changbin says with a sigh. “A boy and a girl, forced to share a bed. He is her bodyguard. She is an heiress. Should we kiss on the lips?”

You whack him in the gut with a pillow and he erupts with giggles.

Changbin has been your so-called bodyguard for a few weeks now. It has changed little in your daily routine as your father had assigned Changbin to your department sometime before that. The special-ops program was written off as an experiment with potential for future development, though that development has long sat arrested. Bang Chan is in your father’s direct employ while Changbin has been on different teams fulfilling different missions. When you started taking the lead on projects, he served under your direction.

It is why your father is not happy. The bodyguard arrangement was meant to assert his control over you, using an agent as his eyes and hands. Miroh is not good at relinquishing power, not even to someone like him, or maybe especially to someone like him. You have always been a good, loyal, obedient soldier and daughter. Taking over projects and assuming command was inevitable. Somehow you have wronged him by doing everything right.

Lately, your work has been meagre clean-up duty. Miroh has been accruing assets and terrorizing his way into the mess left behind by his late enemy. It is making Miroh’s paranoia even worse. He has seen for himself how this powerful house fell apart just because its patriarch died. The business was left in shambles, underlings squabbling like helpless children. It was ripe for picking.

You have been cleaning whatever mess is left behind. This week you have been cleaning out some old office buildings, primarily sifting through abandoned storage for anything useful that might have been sequestered. You are spending the night at a nearby safe house, sharing a room with Changbin. The rest of your team is scattered around the house.

Seeing as your father has relegated you with menial tasks, you have taken it upon yourself to conduct your own investigations. Your findings have been on your mind all day. It is why you do not respond to Changbin’s joking with your usual wit.

“You’re quiet, murder princess,” Changbin says. “Should I be worried?”

He drops his mask on the nearby desk then unholsters his gun. He places it beside yours. It is a testament to your dynamic that you feel comfortable disarming around each other. You would certainly never do it around your father. But Changbin is different. You are not someone who seeks true friendship but you acknowledge the necessity of teamwork especially in times of crisis. You do not fully trust Changbin as you do not fully trust anyone, but he is loyal and you reciprocate that dependability.

It is why you beckon him forward. You are sitting on the bed, feet on the floor. Changbin pulls up a chair to sit in front of you.

“The enemy had a multi-level security system,” you say. “Physical in some capacities, digital in others. My father has always been more preoccupied with offense than defense, so in that regard they were always a step ahead of us. That is the part my father is interested in. That is all he sees.”

“And what do you see?” Changbin asks. His disposition changes with the severity of your words, joviality replaced with equal seriousness.

“I don’t see anything,” you say. “That’s the problem.”

He lifts an eyebrow, curious. You show him the image on your tablet, then swipe to the next one.

“The security log is missing information,” you say. “There is no trace of anything unusual transpiring the day they were all killed. No breach, no shutdown. Everything is normal until everything is gone. Someone scrubbed every last second of data from the digital system. Someone who knew the system well enough to not just delete the surface files but to clean the server entirely.”

“So what are you saying?” Changbin asks. “You think it was an inside job?”

“I know it wasn’t us,” you reply. “I know it wasn’t any of the usual players. This family had enemies in every market. If it was one of them, you’d think they would have stepped forward to assert themselves by now. Whoever it was had no interest in taking over company assets. No interest in even sticking around. Someone went to great lengths to make the entire thing look ambiguous, to leave everyone asking more questions, to turn our heads in one direction while they disappear in the other. Someone professional. Someone technologically capable. Someone whose only motivation was escape.”

His jaw is clenched as he stares at the images, but you can see the gears turning in his mind. When he meets your gaze, you sit forward.

“Changbin,” you say. “What happened on that mission?”

He does not need specification. Changbin is usually like you, pragmatic and realistic. He does not dwell in his emotions and never for so long. It has been well over a month now but he is still rankled by that warehouse confrontation with Lee Felix.

“Ah, Yongbok,” Changbin says wistfully. His eyes are downturned but his thoughts are somewhere else. “You remember him. He always needed a fairy tale to believe in.”

That much is true. You and Changbin have always been simple soldiers manoeuvring through the morally complicated world around you. You never had any delusions that Miroh was better than his enemies, simply that one or the other was inevitable. You knew you could make a bigger impact in the fight than watching from the sidelines.

Felix was competent but naïve. He believed in Miroh unequivocally which is why he blind-sided them all with his betrayal. To this day, you do not know why he joined the enemy, nor why he stayed.

It makes sense he might have naively devoted himself to a different cause.

“What fairy tale was that?” you ask. “The enemy?”

“Chris.” Changbin looks at you beneath the sweep of his dark bangs. His smile is wry. “He asked me about Chris.”

You blink back at him, surprised by the answer. After stumbling over any number of replies, you say, “That wasn’t in your initial report.”

“It didn’t seem important,” Changbin says with a shrug.

“You have a responsibility to report back everything—”

“Yes, commander,” he says dryly. He slumps in his seat and crosses his arms. “Does it matter now? I told him Chris was dead.”

Not a lie, in a way. Bang Chan was a rebellious subject in his youth, nothing like the merciless soldier he is now. The inhuman machine was wrought through inhumane treatment. You were not privy to the grittier details nor have you ever felt an inclination to investigate. You do not need knowledge of the gruesome torture that was administered. The results are the same: the rebellious boy died. He has been gone ever since he was dragged into a basement room for correction.

“Chris,” you say. The name sits heavy on your tongue. “Why would he want to know about Chris?”

“The better question is, why didn’t he want to know about me?” Changbin retorts. It sounds like a joke, his tone jumping back into comically exaggerated hysterics. But there is a tension in his shoulders that was not there before. “You know he didn’t even recognize me? Ah! The little brat! I knew him too! I wasn’t Bang Chan, no one was … But I was there. Forgetting me… We’re all that’s left!”

You tilt your head and study Changbin, as if there are more answers in his face than in his words. Your gaze drifts to the scar by his eye. He got hit today, taking a swipe meant for you. Other adversaries have sent agents to scour the late enemy’s business remains, but they are no match for soldiers of Miroh.

Changbin joked he was being a good bodyguard. In truth, he is a good bodyguard. Your security team is competent but nothing compared to him. It has made a difference, having someone so reliable at your back, even though it has painted a target on his. Your father is not happy Changbin outsmarted him. Changbin jokes about it, as he is wont to do, claiming he can’t wait for a pummelling of his own. He is probably right. Miroh has been quiet about the bodyguard assignment but that does not mean he has surrendered. He is a strategist. He is patient if it means results.

Raising children into soldiers is a testament to that patience. You look at Changbin, arguably the last true survivor other than yourself.

We’re all that’s left.

You find yourself reaching for him. It is not like you, but lately everything seems out of character. You touch his face, drawn to that scar, a scar that should be yours. You touch it very lightly.

When you meet his eyes, he is looking at you strangely. You are not a famously affectionate character, not even with him. You rip your hand back and shake your head.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks, more curious than accusatory.

“Nothing,” you say. “I mean – well.” You scrub a hand over your face. The weeks have healed the worst of your injuries, but it is still littered with scars, including the ones Changbin gave you.

His eyes linger there before he sighs and drops his head. He rubs his face too.

“We’ll talk later,” you say, suddenly feeling the weight of today, not to mention the accumulative exhaustion of the days before. “It’s been a long day.” An understatement.

Changbin doesn’t argue. You separate to use the facilities and dress down for rest. You sleep in sweatpants and a t-shirt, your weapons and shoes not far. The one bed has plenty of space. You lay down first, certain that your mind is running too fast to rest, but all that exhaustion catches up to you.

You wake some time in the middle of the night. When Changbin gets out of bed, the dip and rise of the mattress stirs you. You blink awake, watching him amble over to the window. There is a cushioned seat and he plops down, his arms crossed and his eyes on the stars.

You wonder if you look that young out of combat clothes. His hair is ruffled and the black t-shirt and pants are comfortably fitted. His face looks vulnerable and open as he stares into the night.

“You’re awake too,” he says, not looking at you.

“Obviously,” you reply. You push yourself upright. “You woke me.”

“Sorry,” he says, trying to flash you one of his jovial grins but barely managing.

“You look tired,” you say.

“Thanks,” he replies with a laugh.

“You should go back to sleep.”

“I’m on bodyguard duty,” he jokes, gesturing to you. “I need to make sure no one murders the murder princess.”

You give him a dry look that makes him giggle. Naturally his humour returns at your expense. He really is the little brother you never had.

You slide off the bed and join him at the window seat. You shove and kick like bickering children until you are comfortably settled. You sit with your legs curled up to your chest, mirror images of each other. He looks out the window and you look at him.

“What are you thinking about?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he says, an automatic response. Then he shakes his head and sighs. “I don’t know, princess,” he says. “I don’t think you’ll understand.”

“What makes you say that?” You cannot help but feel offended even if he is probably right. You do not have heart-to-hearts, which is what this feels like, a quiet moment carved out of chaos. If everything was different, you would just be two friends talking about your normal lives.

Your life is anything but normal.

“I know you,” he answers, simple and confident. “I know who you are. Even when – well, no matter what happens, I guess.”

“Well,” the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them, “that makes one of us.”

You swallow your thoughts quickly. Your innermost turmoil cannot be entrusted with anyone. It is dangerous to even think such weakness, never mind vocalize it.

Changbin looks at you with a pinch in his brow. You look away, up at the sky. You wonder about the vantage from the stars, seeing the bigger picture of your life. Your pain and sacrifices have to be worth something. Miroh always said the world was full of shadows, dark spots no regular person could clean. He was right about that. He is definitely one of them, but sometimes only darkness can fight darkness. Or so you thought. All this business with the enemy has changed things. That darkness collapsed in on itself like a black hole, taking everything with it.

“It used to be easier, didn’t it?” Changbin asks. “Just doing what you’re told… You can tell yourself it’s not your fault, that it would have happened anyway… Maybe I was believing in fairy tales too.”

You look at each other. He just sighs.

“A part of me feels like I never grew up,” he says. “I’ve always been what I am. Maybe it’s time to stop.”

“That sounds a lot like treason,” you say, realizing how dramatic it sounds after the fact. Miroh is a businessman and this company is not a country. And yet treasonous is what it feels like, a deep betrayal to the place that raised and shaped you into what you are. It feels like treachery to even think about abandoning it after everything.

“Maybe it does,” he says. He gives you another wry smile, flicking his bangs out of his face. “Does it matter? He already wants my beautiful head off its beautiful shoulders.”

“You shouldn’t be saying this to me,” you say. You’re Miroh’s daughter. Your relationship with your father might be fraught, but your loyalty is to this house and always has been. It is the only constant in this tumultuous, violent world.

“Are you gonna tell on me?” Changbin teases, so unserious on such a deathly serious matter. He just laughs at your silent but intense stare. He shakes his head as he looks out the window. “I don’t worry about that.”

“About what?”

“You telling on me.”

That stops your heart faster than the treason.

“Why not?” you ask slowly, as if you are wary of a trap about to spring.

Changbin puts a hand in his hair, shaking out his ruffled bangs. He looks normal but also not, his strong body so clearly built for violence. It is why you are shocked when he reaches out, when he touches you like you touched him, an undemanding press of his fingers along a scar.

Your startled eyes find his. It splits your focus. You see Changbin right now, older, stronger. You also see him younger, thinner, looking at you with concerned eyes as he wipes blood off your brow.

You blink again and it is just him as he is now.

He drops his hand.

“You don’t trust anyone,” he says. “I know. Ha! I really know.” He swings around, planting his feet on the ground. He reaches into his pocket then flicks open a pocketknife.

It should make your heart palpitate, a soldier with a weapon in your proximity, especially when you are unarmed. But there is no rush of blood, no fear, no worry. You just look at him, seeing all of him, young and old. You realize there has been more than one constant in your life.

The knife catches a glint of starlight, a flash of light in the darkness.

“You and I are the same, aren’t we, murder princess?” he says. “But also not. You were raised in the pen with us but it was never the same. We’re just animals to him. Raised to the slaughter, ha! But not you. One way or another, you’re going to be someone.”

You watch as he lifts his hand. He curls and uncurls a fist. He looks down at his palm.

“When it happens,” Changbin says, “Because it will happen, tomorrow or in a month or a year or whenever Miroh decides… But when I go like the rest of them… When it’s just you and you’re trying to decide who you want to be, not who your father wants you to be… When you’re trying to remember everything and you can’t decide what was real and what was just training and what was Miroh…”

He draws a slow slice across his hand, not so deep to be detrimental to his grip, but enough to draw blood in a long, thin line. You look at this small scar as if it the deepest wound you have ever encountered.

“Just… remember me,” he says. “I didn’t bleed because I believe in Miroh. I’m your soldier, not his.”

You are at a loss for words. You do not think there are any words, none that you were raised to know. You can only stare at the little trickle of blood as it runs down his wrist and drips onto the floor.

You have always felt very alone. You learned to thrive in that solitude. Even clinging to the hope of your father’s approval proved exhausting and useless. You accepted your high promontory was a lonely one.

Not even that solitude compares to the idea of Changbin gone. Even if you go weeks without seeing him, he is out there somewhere. You both keep your heads down, get the job done. Not the best soldiers, not the worst, but the ones still here.

You let instinct override your senses for the second time that night. When he makes to stand, your reflexes snap into action. You grab him by the arm and snatch the knife. He has no time to respond, watching as you slice a similar scar on your own palm.

Your eyes meet. You are unflinching, more resolute than ever. You clasp his hand and the blood smears in a signifying pact that needs no other words.

Only when the moment settles do you say, “You’re not a half-bad bodyguard.”

His laughter comes to him slowly, none of that empty joviality but a genuine burst of it. His eyes crinkle and his smiles widens and the laughter bubbles out of him.

“I’m the best bodyguard,” he says. “And don’t you ever fucking forget it.”

In the light of day, last night’s whirlwind of dramatic emotions feel tempered. You and Changbin are able to conduct yourselves with a proper degree of soldiership. Though his words and your promise are in the back of your mind, you put it away for now.

You dress in combat gear and pack your bags for another day of infiltration, investigation, and clean-up. It is hard to say how easy or difficult the day will be. If you encounter other agents, the confrontation could complicate things, but sometimes that is better than a long day with no interesting discoveries at all.

The enemy had properties scattered all over town, some active and some not. This particular office building is a very old one, seemingly long since abandoned and turned into company storage. Some of these boxes have not been touched in decades, perhaps remnants of the business as run by the previous generation.

A thick layer of dust coats the desks and boxes. At least your masks are put to work, filtering the dusty air as you trail through the building.

“Yahhh,” Changbin whines, flicking some papers off a desk. “Today’s going to be boring.”

“Yup,” you say in accord. There is no way anyone else will be here. You doubt there is anything of value to be discovered, but Miroh will harass you if you do not complete his missions as outlined. With so much tension between you already, it is better to keep your head down and complete the menial tasks, even if it is blatant busy work.

A few of your officers are sent ahead to sweep the building. It is not a towering skyscraper but several tall floors nonetheless. Your subordinates take different floors while you and Changbin take an upper level. You begin the tedious task of rifling through the abandoned documentation.

“I’m a supersoldier, not a secretary,” Changbin gripes, moving boxes with more force than necessary.

“You’re not a supersoldier,” you say without looking up from your work. “There’s no such thing.”

“I’m pretty close,” he says, flexing and kissing his bicep.

“When you start flying, maybe I’ll consider it,” you retort, dryly.

“All right, I’m not a supersoldier,” he says. He takes off his mask to grin at you. “But I am super good looking.”

You take off your own mask to throw at him like a projectile. He squeals and ducks, then proceeds to cuss you out for the next few minutes while you smile.

Eventually he takes a seat. He props his booted feet up on a desk while sorting through some papers with absent-minded perusal.

“So tell me again about the security log,” Changbin says, evidently growing bored within minutes.

You can hardly blame him. It is why you are about to reply, but your thoughts are quickly obliterated. Gunfire reverberates in the nearby stairwell, followed by shouting and thumping. Seconds later, your warning pagers are vibrating. Your officers’ voices come through the communications software.

“Hostile enemy agents breached ground zero,” they say. “Be ready for confrontation.”

You and Changbin spring into action. Your masks are unfortunately abandoned, too far to grab in a rush thanks to your shenanigans, but your bags and weapons are within reach. You swing them on and arm yourselves, racing into the corridor to join the rest of your team.

It happens very fast. One moment, this ancient building is nothing more than a dilapidated office from a bygone era, brimming with useless nothings that no one would want. The next moment, it is overflowing with enemy agents, pouring in one after the other.

You and Changbin join the other officers in the stairwell. None of you are prepared for the sight that greets you, the sheer number of adversaries that come streaming into the building at rapid speed.

“What the fuck,” you say, realizing far too late you cannot take this many agents. You have not had anything near this problem before.

You look at Changbin, both of you shooting uselessly to stop the encroach of hostiles.

“We need to retreat,” you say in unison. You nod at each other.

The message gets passed along the communicators. There is no way to escape through the ground floor, the enemy agents chasing you up the stairwell. You take out your phone to call for back-up, relaying the message directly to Miroh’s team leaders.

“Can you at all identify the hostiles?” the man asks.

“Do we know who they are?” you shout at Changbin over the gunfire and chaos.

“Ah, well they’re not friends!” he replies.

You pause in your ascent to squint down at the approaching horde. The uniform colours are familiar at a glance, but the dog tags confirm your suspicions. It locks you in place with shock and confusion, because there is no way that makes any sense.

These agents belong to the enemy. The enemy. It explains the numbers, as only that house could rival Miroh in terms of size and numbers. But it is not possible he is conducting an offensive attack because he’s dead and his business is in shambles. There is no one to conduct an operation on his behalf. It makes no sense.

Changbin grabs you by the back of the neck, hauling you up the stairs with him.

“Not the time to stop and smell the flowers, murder princess,” he says.

“It’s the enemy,” you say. “I don’t know how or why, but it’s them.”

“We’re sending a back-up team straight to you right now,” Miroh’s leader says.

You end the call to focus on your surroundings, confusing and chaotic as they are.

You watch as several of your officers are taken down. You wince at each reverberation of a gunshot that kills them. A dozen more faces flash in front of your eyes, every child in that program with you, every enemy you have killed on Miroh’s behalf. Chris. Felix. Changbin, young, small, looking at you with concern.

The reign of fire follows you. You think you will be hearing gunshots for days.

“Get her out,” one of your officer’s says into the comms, directed at Changbin. “Leave through the roof. We’ll hold them off.”

You trip running up the stairs.

You never trip, far more coordinated than the average soldier. But you hear your officer say that and your mind’s eye is overwhelmed with the image of them dying. Because that is what will happen. You should not be bothered by it. You can train a new security team. They exist for this exact reason.

But all their faces are flashing in front of your mind. Your team, the program soldiers, the First Guard. A thunderous pain rattles down your spine, a cry leaving your lips as you are inundated with visions of death that you suddenly cannot shake.

“Up, up!” Changbin shouts, hoisting you onto your feet. “You’re better than this!”

He’s right. You are a soldier. You trained for this. You were made to fight.

You push through the pain and thunder. You get your feet back under you. You race with Changbin to the roof and trust your team to do what is best.

You slam and bolt the door behind you. You look around for something to barricade it but there is nothing. Changbin meanwhile opens his pack and takes out the rappel line and harness. You have had little use for it on most of the assignments, but it is standard tactical gear when assigned any investigation or clean-up work, as it can require getting into locked areas through sky access. You almost left them behind today, knowing the building was abandoned and you would have no difficulty getting in. You are glad you decided against that.

“Here,” Changbin says, handing you the harness. “Put this on.” He ducks back down to finish securing the line on the edge of the roof.

“They’re not gonna be able to hold them,” you say, fitting the harness around yourself. It is second-nature. You hardly need to think, fastening every buckle as you stare at that closed door. “They’ll be on us in seconds,” you say. “They’ll just follow us over the roof on the line.” You grant your odds are better on the street, that you can endeavour an escape, but that is only if you get that far. Those enemy agents are going to blast down that door like it’s made of cardboard, then they will be on you.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, your adrenaline propelling every breath. You do not have time to think twice. It is why it takes you so long to notice that Changbin has not put on a harness.

“What are you doing?” you ask when he stands, completely unprepared to rappel down the building. “We have to go! Put your harness on, idiot!”

He takes the hook and locks it onto your harness, fastening it with a few skilled flicks of his fingers. You grab his hand, stopping him.

He takes a breath and finally meets your eye. The wind blows his dark bangs across his face, opening up his expression to you. You can feel the furious scrunch of your own features go lax. Just like that, your adrenaline dwindles, all that heat turning to an ice cold block in your chest. It drops to your gut.

“Changbin,” you start.

“You’re going to go down that line,” he says. “When you’re at the bottom, I’m going to cut it so they can’t follow you. It will buy you time to get to the vehicles and get away.”

“Absolutely not,” you say. “What the fuck are you thinking? You—”

“I’m your bodyguard,” he says with that wry smile. “This is my job. Let me do it.”

“No,” you say, struggling against him. You try to unhook the rappel line but he fights back, not your usual play-fighting but deadly serious. “You can’t be serious!” you shout. “We’re the same thing! If you’re staying and fighting then I’m joining you!”

“We’re not the same thing!” he shouts back. “You’re a Miroh! You need to get out of here!”

“You’re right, I am a Miroh!” you say. “It’s me they want anyway! You put on the harness! You can still get out of here!”

“I’m not leaving here without you!”

You want to reply. The words are right on your lips: I’m not leaving here without you either.

But before you can say them, all that thunderous pain fractures your vision again. Your focus splits. You see Changbin in front of you, dressed in his combat gear with the wind in his hair.

Then everything changes.

The sunny sky darkens and the rooftop disappears. You see the colour grey. It is all around you, halfway blinding you, filling your lungs so you can hardly breathe. You blink rapidly, as if that will clear your vision, but it is just more grey and the sound of faraway voices.

Then you see Changbin again, in his combat gear but years younger. Just a teenager, all skinny cheeks and sharp angles. There is no wind in his hair. There is no wind anywhere. He is bleeding profusely from a head wound, a stark slash of red in the middle of so much grey. He says your name. You hear your own voice but it is a foggy, faraway thing. You cannot make out what you are saying. When you look down, you cannot see your body. You can only see him. You can only hear him.

“I’m not leaving here without you,” he says.

Then you are abruptly yanked out of that grey. You are back on the rooftop in the sunshine. Changbin has his hand planted on your chest, securing the last piece of the harness. You hear the thud of someone kicking at the bolted door. You look there frantically. Changbin does too. Then you look at each other.

“I told you I was the best bodyguard ever,” he says, smiling.

He whips off his glove, revealing his freshly scarred hand. He grabs your bare hand, the one with the still-tender scar. He clasps your hands together and looks at you with a desperation you have never seen before, like he is trying to tell you a thousand things with just a glance.

Then he slowly lets go of your hand.

“Sorry I can’t fly,” he says.

He shoves the middle of your chest, hard. You go tumbling over the edge of the roof just as the enemy agents break the door down.

There is nothing you can do mid-air. You can only shout his name, terrified and furious and desperate all at once. You scream your emotions out until the line comes to an end, a few feet from the ground. You unclip your harness and drop to the ground smoothly.

“Can anyone copy?” you speak into your comm, looking up at the roof helplessly. You watch as an enemy agent swings over and starts to climb down the rope. You draw your gun and brace yourself.

Then Changbin’s head pops over the edge. “Copy,” he says, then cuts the line.

You jump out of the way. Seconds later, the enemy agent comes careening into the ground. The pile of rope lands on top of him.

“Fuck,” you say. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Changbin!” you shout hysterically into your comms. “Changbin, can you copy?”

He doesn’t answer. You run over to the body, searching for something. You don’t even know what, you just know that this whole situation is wrong.

It does not take you long. You roll the body over. Though his neck is now twisted at a fatal angle, you recognize the agent. He was standing in your father’s office just a few weeks ago. His name was Agent Slump. You shot him through the shoulder.

These are not enemy agents attacking the house of Miroh, they are your father’s men attacking you.

You push away from the body, looking frantically up at the roof for any sign of further commotion. You see nothing from this vantage.

You run back into the building. You let adrenaline and instinct carry you up the stairs, taking a few at a time and ignoring the burn in your thighs. This is Miroh, you keep repeating to yourself. Your father has done this. Sending fake enemies after you. Teaching you yet another lesson. You said you could handle yourself. You said your security team could protect you. Now you are running past their dead bodies, your chest heaving from exertion and emotion. You find yourself blinking back tears. You cannot remember the last time you cried.

“Changbin,” you say into your comm, tripping on another step. Your voice comes out of the comms on your dead officers. It echoes in the empty stairwell. “Changbin, answer me, please,” you say. “It’s not the enemy. It’s my father. It’s Miroh. Changbin. Changbin.”

You are halfway up the building when you hear voices below. You stop to listen. Your vibrating phone makes you jump.

“Miss Miroh?” comes a voice, then you see one of your father’s officers at the bottom of the winding stairwell. This one is not playing a part. He is in the standard uniform. There are more officers behind him. The back-up you called like an idiot.

You do not go back down. You drop your phone and race to the roof.

“Get her,” you hear the officer say, then the stairwell is thundering with footsteps as they chase you.

You no longer know what you are doing. You do not know where you are going or what you will find. A part of you is unsurprised when the rooftop is empty, that they got away, that now your father’s men can come in and play hero.

You look around for Changbin but you cannot find him anywhere. You try to tell yourself that is a good thing, that it could be worse, that he could be as dead as your security team, just a body on this roof. You try to tell yourself that he is safe. It was just Miroh. They are probably taking Changbin back to the main facilities right now. Everything will be fine.

Deep down, you know nothing will be fine. Everything has changed.

You hear the officers behind you. You look around. The building next door is too far for a regular person to jump, potentially too far for you to jump. It will be cutting it close, but it is all you have. At this point, you halfway hope you’ll fall and your father’s men will be forced to report they let you die.

You shed the top layer of your combat shirt, getting down to the tank top underneath. You are not sure it will make a difference, but every bit counts. You back up and count a few seconds, then you take a running leap off the roof. You get a grip on the next one, though not without a lot of pain. You grit your teeth and hoist yourself up, ignoring your scraped arms as you take off running. You open a skylight and drop into the building. Another empty corridor stretches in front of you.

You decide your objective it to escape. You can confront your father after, but right now you need to prove you can handle yourself. You can get out of here.

You are certain your father’s men will have the vehicles locked in. Once you escape this building, you will have to find another—

A window behind you shatters. You duck and cover your head as glass explodes around you. You roll to get away, though your limbs are shaky from everything. When you get to your feet, it is more unsteady than usual.

You turn around. You feel that sinking feeling in your gut again.

“Oh my god,” you say. “Of fucking course it’s you.”

Bang Chan stands there, cold and ungiving like the living shadow he has become. Your father likes an agent that can both disappear and intimidate, so Chan somehow feels like a terrifyingly huge figure, looming over you, despite the fact he is not much bigger or taller. His presence is hulking, as deadly and awful as you remember. He stares at you with those dark eyes over the half-mask. He is not breathing especially hard despite the fact he just took a running leap from the opposite building and smashed through a window. His body is as steady and ungiving as his gaze.

You do not waste any more breath cursing. You turn and run.

You know it is useless but you have to try. In your head, if you get away, that is a bargaining chip. You can talk to Miroh, you can show him that you were right, you can have Changbin back, and Changbin will be fine and—

You let out an aggravated cry when Chan grabs you. You manage to rip away after a few good kicks. It is amazing what hidden strength lies in adrenaline. Your heart is pumping even faster than your last fight with him.

You duck into a stairwell and jump over the railing, landing a couple floors below. You keep doing that, ignoring the fact you can hear him copying you. If you look back, it will slow you down. You keep jumping until you hit the bottom floor.

You make it a few steps before he grabs you again. This time he is relentless, a big gloved around wrapped around your throat.

That adrenaline betrays you. It is like all your training abandons you as your terror and fury rips through you. You struggle against him, your motions jerky and frantic and poorly strategized. He pins you to the wall, using his whole body to lock you in place so you stop kicking him.

“Let me go,” you say, barely above a whisper. It makes him tighten his grip on your throat. You twitch helplessly, gripping his arm uselessly, your face pinched with anger.

You are swiftly joined by the other officers. You glare at them, still digging your nails into Chan’s arm. He does not soften his grip until he is ordered, then he puts you on your feet. You stumble, your vision covered in black spots as you suck in deep, gasping breaths. It was not even just the choking, as he did not squeeze hard enough to fully incapacitate you, but as your adrenaline dwindles, your strength does too.

You trip for the third time. Someone grabs you by the shoulders and pulls you back up. You are not sure if you are more surprised or terrified to find it is Chan, looking at you with calculating eyes. You stare back at him, this manifestation of your father’s worst, most inhumane actions. You are torn between apologizing to him and kicking him again.

Then another officer grabs you. You watch with alarm as he puts you in handcuffs.

“What the fuck?” you ask. “Who’s fucking side are you on?”

“Miroh always, of course,” the officer says. “This is for your own good. You are behaving erratically. Don’t be scared. We will inform your father that you tried to flee from your own protective officers. I am certain he will do everything in his power to ensure you cannot put yourself in harm’s way again.”

You have no more words. An animalistic cry escapes from your chest, ripping through you. Even with your hands cuffed behind your back, you dive at the officer and take him down. You bite down on his ear until you taste the metallic tang of blood. He screams under you until someone rips you off him. They hold you by the back of the neck like a poorly behaved puppy.

The officer gets to his feet. Blood is pouring down the side of his neck, part of his ear torn. You spit blood at him.

He raises his hand as if to strike you. You stand there, chin jutted forward, ready to take it.

Then you realize it is Chan holding you. When the officer brings his hand down, Chan moves you. He steps in between you and catches the officer’s wrist.

Chan says nothing. He does not need to say anything. He looks at the officer and the officer swallows.

The officer snatches his hand back and straightens his clothes.

“We’re leaving,” he says. “Guard, take your charge.”

You are looking smugly at the officer. That cockiness dissipates when Chan turns around and looks at you. It has you immediately shrinking away, then flinching when he grabs your arm.

They take you to a truck. It is one of the holding trucks, the kind they use for transporting undesirables. It is obvious they always intended to lock you in chains. You have been in metaphorical chains your whole life, and it is only taking this to realize it.

You try and slow your frantic breathing. You cannot have a breakdown right now. It will only make it harder for you when you confront your father. You are already at a disadvantage, being dragged to him in literal chains. You will be completely at his mercy, and Miroh does not have mercy.

You sit on the bench in the back of the prison truck. You expect to be alone with an officer, giving you time to strategize and think, but then it is Chan climbing into the van and sitting on the bench across from you. All the hairs on your body stand up. You cannot concentrate on anything with Bang Chan in close proximity. He moves like a wild animal, something predatory and swift about him. When they close and lock the door, your heart skips beats.

Chan says nothing. He never says anything. On the rare occasion you have been in contact, you have not heard a word out of him. You seldom have anything to do with the missions he runs. They are above even your paygrade, the worst of Miroh’s work.

You swallow. He is not speaking but he is staring. He does not remove the mask. You have not seen him without it in years. He is nothing but a soldier. An army unto himself.

Your heart skips another beat. An idea slowly forms in your mind.

You are better than average. Chan is better than you. You cannot take all these agents on your own, but you could definitely take them with his help. Of course, that is an entirely hypothetical thought. It would be absolutely, completely, severely ridiculous to even try. You are certain the best reaction you will get out of Chan is nothing, just a penetrating stare and silence. The worst would probably be a snapped neck.

You curl your hands behind your back. The scar on your palm stings. You clench your jaw.

You have nothing else to lose.

“You’re not a soldier, you know,” you say.

Just like you suspected, he says nothing. He just stares at you. The truck rattles along, jostling you so your handcuffs jingle. He moves with the sway of the vehicle, hardly affected.

Your fear turns to frustration. You heave a breath.

“Did you hear me?” you ask. “You’re not a soldier. You’re a prisoner. You’re not who you think you are. Miroh has you under his control, but it’s not real. The real you is in there somewhere. And the real you—” The words come rushing up, slamming into your furiously clenched teeth, “The real you hates Miroh almost as much as me.”

Chan stares at you. That is expected.

What is unexpected is the slow tilt of his head. It makes you shiver, instinctively cowering as he studies you. His brow slowly quirks, a questioning expression. You did not know he could make such an expression.

“Are you… listening to me?” you ask.

He straightens, but he still looks questioning. It is enough for all your desperation to rush to the surface. You fall forward, slamming on your knees in front of him. You are so scarred and bruised, it hardly matters. More important is the fact he looks down, as if he is more concerned by it, though you cannot read any more expressions on his stoic face.

“Chan,” you say. “Chris. Whatever you want to be called. If you’re in there, then listen to me, please. I know you don’t know me. We hardly knew each other at all growing up. But we did grow up together. Miroh is controlling both of us. He is going to use us to do things. He—” You curl your fist behind you, needing to feel the sting on your palm. It brings a tear to your eye.

Chan is looking at you, expressionless again, but it doesn’t matter. You have to try.

“It’s not just us,” you say. “This is bigger than you and me. I have a—I have a friend—my friend, you understand, and I—”

The van comes to a stop. Chan grabs you by the shoulders and puts you back on your bench. You screw your eyes shut and shake your head. You want to scream.

When you open your eyes, you pour all your anger in your glare. It is not directed at Chan, though he is the one to catch your gaze and hold it.

You are still looking at each other when the door is unlocked. There was only a small window providing light in the cabin of the truck. A bigger slash of golden light has you wincing.

Chan is unaffected, still staring at you. An officer opens the door wider and nods to him.

“Let’s go, guard,” he says.

Chan gets up. You watch as he struts past. He jumps out of the van and lands smoothly on his feet.

Then he reels back and punches the officer. It is quick as a snap, the unconscious body hitting the tarmac in a flash. It makes you jump, the bench rattling underneath you.

You sit, petrified, confused. Chan slowly turns. You blink at him.

He holds out his hand.

“What?” you say. It comes out a rasp. You cannot manage more words. There is no way your frantic, barely coherent pleading got through to him. This man has been tortured into compliance. There is no humanity left in him, no memories, no emotions, no hopes. He does not feel anything. He does not understand anything. He is a weapon.

He is still holding out his hand.

There is nowhere to go but forward. You get to your feet and shuffle towards him. He still does not speak, nor does he look at you with any particular expression. He just holds out his arms and lifts you out of the van. When you are on your feet, you stare at each other.

He spins you around. A gust of breath whooshes out of you. You panic for half a second, then you realize he is unlocking your handcuffs.

Never mind. He is breaking them with his bare hands. You watch as they hit the ground in a mangled heap. You turn around slowly, your knees still shaking.

Chan is calm as the other officers approach. Someone asks why you are out of your handcuffs.

Chan looks at you. You do not know why or how, but he nods.

You nod back.

You are a soldier. You trained for this. You were made to fight. It is time to remind them of that.

Your father is in his rooftop garden. Miroh has a few soft hobbies like that, gardening among his favourite. He sees himself as a cultivator as much as a green thumb, bringing more life into the world despite what life he takes. It balances for him. The ends always justifies the means.

You walk into his garden. It is obvious he is not expecting anyone, much less you. He does not have time to hide his surprise. You just fought your way through all of his security measures, battered and bruised and beaten. You have not seen yourself, but you are certain your body is a canvas of violence right now.

“Hello, father,” you say.

“Go to my office,” he replies without hesitation. “We will talk there.”

“No,” you say calmly. “We’ll talk right here. Right now.”

He is holding a watering can. He puts it down without looking and it tips over, splashing everywhere. Neither of you look at it. Your eyes are locked on each other. You both know what he did today. He is smart enough to work that out.

“Where are my men?” he asks.

“Detained,” you answer. Chan is holding them off somewhere. You still do not know why or how, but there will be time for that later. You have to solve one problem at a time.

You have no real plan. You are making it up as you. All you know is that scar on your hand is throbbing.

I’m not leaving here without you.

You touch your palm, running your finger over the scar. You do not look away from Miroh as you approach him. Your legs are weak, your knees shaking, your body in agony, but you take one step after the other. Given the stricken look on his face, you think this might be more disturbing than if you were healthy.

Your injuries might have made you equal fighters, but his arm is still in a cast, weakening him too. He will not win in a one-on-one fight. He is smart enough to know that too. It is why he takes a careful, calculating step back.

“You’re injured,” he says. “Go to the infirmary. We can talk after.”

“We can talk now,” you reply, taking another step forward.

“Whatever it is, it can wait,” he says.

“Where is he?” you ask.

You are both speaking calmly, moving slowly. The watering can is slowly leaking water, gurgling in the background. Wind moves through the flowers. You hear birdsong in the sunshine. Still, in the background, it feels like the world is screaming, the high-pitched whistle of that pot at a boiling point.

“Who?” your father asks.

“I’m not playing any more games,” you say. “I’m not playing dress-up with any little secret agents. I’m not getting in any rings and playing made-up fights with your silly toy soldiers. No more lies. No more games. No more secrets. Seo Changbin is my best officer. I want him back. Tell me where he is.”

“His time as a soldier has run its course,” Miroh says. “His body is more useful than him. The initial special-ops experiment was a failure. His genetics might unlock the key to replicating the medicant. We can try again. You should want to help me. You would know better than anyone what worked and what did not.”

Your exhaustion and emotion nearly gets the better of you. You almost hurl right in front of him, imagining all the horrifying implications of genetics and keys. You imagine them taking Changbin apart, piece by piece, experimenting on him like a slab of meat.

You keep your disgust and horror down. You take another step forward.

“Give him back to me,” you say. “Right now. I told you already. I’m not playing any games.”

“You are deeply unwell,” your father says, his tone changing as he looks at you with more scrutiny. His whole face seems to darken with the furrow of his brow. “This is not like you. Go to the infirmary.”

“I’m not asking again,” you say. “Give him back to me.”

“Why?”

Because you’re my father, should be a good enough answer. You know it will not work. You know he does not care. Miroh hates you because you are his daughter. Miroh is not scared of anyone because he knows he is the best. He is scared of himself in you. You never stood a chance.

“Because he’s my friend,” you say, because that is the only truth that matters anymore.

It makes your father laugh unexpectedly. You do not break.

“Your friend?” he asks. “Oh, well, my dear, if he’s your friend, then of course I’ll suspend all my plans and operations!” He continues to laugh.

“I already told you,” you say. “I’m not asking again.”

You fly at him without further warning. He has a half-second to react, his eyes widening as he side-steps clumsily. With your mutual injuries, it is not much of a fight. After a short scuffle, Miroh kicks at your legs, your weakest point, and you double over. He swings his knee up into your stomach and it makes you fall, curled protectively over yourself. You plant your forehead on the ground, arms around you, breathing hard.

“That is how a daughter should be before her father,” he says, looking down at you in your broken little bow.

You look up as he reaches into the lapel of his coat. He has kept his gun in the same place for years. In the same place you always keep yours when you wear a long coat.

He puts his hand there and finds nothing.

You uncurl, showing the gun in your hand. You point it, cock it, and place your finger on the trigger as you stand.

“If the next words you speak are not his exact location, I’m killing you,” you say.

“Then kill me,” he says.

He must know you are running on fumes and a half-baked plan that you did not believe would work. He is calling your bluff, knowing you like he knows himself. You will drop the gun and concede. Miroh wins. Miroh always wins.

But you are gripping that gun with your scarred hand. It sends a twinge of pain shooting up your arm. You hear Changbin’s voice in your head.

You pull the trigger.

You are not sure who is more surprised. You can feel it on your own face, dripping with your sweat and blood. You lower the gun and watch as Miroh stumbles backwards, frantically patting his chest. You wonder if he is wearing any protective layers.

It doesn’t matter, in the end. You spent the last few minutes walking him backwards. If you couldn’t get the gun, you were going to grab him and threaten him with the edge of the roof.

When you shoot him, he stumbles. He falls back. He goes right over the edge.

You stand there for a long minute. The watering can has emptied. The wind has gone still. The whole world seems to stop. When you drop the gun, it hits the concrete with a clatter. It feels very strange that the sun is still shining.

You walk to the edge of the roof. You look down. Your father has loomed over the world from this perch for years, looking over the things he has so meticulously grown.

He is laying in a broken heap at the bottom of it now.

You do not know how long you stand there. The wind begins to blow again. You feel it on your face.

Then you hear a voice. It nearly makes you jump.

“What now?” it asks.

You turn around. Bang Chan is standing there in his dark combat gear, that half-mask still fastened in place. He has finally broken a sweat, his hairline damp, and his chest is moving a little faster with breath. He is human somewhere under there. Deep, deep down. You have no idea what to do with that human anymore than the soldier.

One problem at a time.

A few more officers appear on the rooftop. Chan turns. You approach him.

“What now?” you repeat. You scoop up the discarded gun and point it at the officers. Chan draws his own and does the same. You stand side-by-side, arm-to-arm, eyes on your adversaries. “Right now,” you say, “we fight.”

You pull the trigger.

The fight begins.

#bang chan x reader #chan x reader #bang chan x you #chan x you #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanficiton #bang chan fanfiction #skz x you #stray kids x you

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jedi-luca · 1 month

Text

Chapter Sixteen: Lover

Summary: You and your wife Quinn move your family outside of New York City to Avenger Lane; a small private suburbia. There you face your toughest obstacle of your marriage. Will your marriage with Quinn be strong enough when a certain redheaded beauty captures your attention?

Parings: Natasha x Reader

Warnings: Smut and fluff, Reader has a Penis

Previous Chapter

You were both driving down the road a couple hours in with your hand down Natasha’s yoga pants playing with her clit.

“Y/N.” She whimpered.

She was drenched and your fingers were covered in her goo.

Every now and then right before she’d cum you’d bring them in your mouth.

“Hmm you’re sooo delicious.” You’d smirk.

“Can you please pull over? Please daddy?”

“You know we can't, someone will catch us.”

“It won’t take me long, I just need you deep inside of me.” She husked near your ear.

You smirked and she reached over palming your hard on.

“Or I can maybe go down on you for a bit?” Natasha smirked, biting her lip.

“Hmm, no too dangerous.”

She unzipped your jeans pulling your cock out from your briefs. “Hmmm.”

“Baby- oh fuck!” You swerved a bit as she began to bob her head.

You slowed down a bit using one hand to go beneath her yoga pants and finger fuck her just to sedate her a bit.

You looked at the GPS. You still had another hour and a half.

“Shiiiit.” You sighed feeling her tongue licking you up in all the right places.

“I can’t wait until we’re there. I'm gonna ride you like never before.”

“Oh fuck.” You groan, feeling yourself cuming already.

You see an empty scenic view and pull over. Yanking her in the back seat, pulling her yoga pants down, and bending her over. You enter her and start thrusting.

“Yessss fuck yess finally! I knew I’d convince you.”

“Yeah you always get what you want.”

“Hmhm and I want this dick baby. So fucking bad.”

“Shit!” You slap her ass and she pushes you back so she can sit on you.

“Fuuuuuuck. Yesss.” She hugged the seat in front of her and began to slam her ass down over and over again and again.

“Oh fuck Natasha I’m gonna cum baby if you keep doing that I’m gonna cum!”

She smirked and repeated that motion again and again. Until she slammed down one last time wiggling on you back and forth until you were both hitting that sweet high..

“Oh fuck.” you panted melting against the backseat watching how she lifted herself up and let your cum fall against your cock. She scooted over getting in her knees making sure to swallow every last bit of your honey.

“Fuck, you are just so sexy I could keep going forever.” You pant.

“Hmm, save it for the cabin, come on baby.” She smirked, hopping out of the truck. “We need another picture in front of this view!”

“Whatever you want.” You mumble pulling your pants up.

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“Wow.” You say driving up to the cabin you thought would be a quaint little spot in the woods.

“Whoa.”

It was a massive cabin overlooking the sea and the woods.

“It’s beautiful.” Natasha said, stepping out of the truck leaning against you.

You both made your way up the stairs to the door opening it revealing a very modern cabin.

“Wow.” You said again looking around. “Umm, I’ll grab the things.”

“I can help.”

“Nah Nat you get comfortable, look around, relax.“

“I’m not letting you unload all of that by yourself. Now come on.” She glared, leading you outside.

You began unloading the truck letting her take in the suitcases and you grabbed the coolers.

“Are these all mine?” She smirked, coming back out to see her gifts in a neat pile.

“Yes.” You grinned.

She smirked taking those inside. Realizing you won’t need the wood you left it inside the bed and trailed after her.

You both put everything away when you finally came together holding one another as you looked around.

“What should we do now?” Natasha kinked her brow wrapping her arms around your neck.

“Well I was thinking of a hike and dinner later?”

“Did you say hike?” Natasha’s brows furrow.

“Yes.” You chuckled. “Tony mentioned it’s really close to the cabin and the view is breathtaking.”

“What happened to ripping my clothes off and taking my breath away between the sheets?” She smirked.

“Oh I still plan on that.” You smirk. “Come on, I promise you won’t regret it.”

She kisses you softly and nods. “Okay baby let’s go.”

“Before we do I got you this for the hike.”

Natasha grinned, taking one of her presents, opening it on the sofa. “Trying to keep me warm so I don’t take your hoodie again?” She smirks, taking out a Patagonia jacket and a beanie.

“You can always wear my hoodies.” You laugh.

“Thank you, I love it. It’s my favorite color too.” She pecks your cheek.

You throw on your hiking boots, and your jacket on.

“You look so cute in those boots.” She smirks. “They look cool too, almost like sneakers. I love the tan with the teal.”

“Thanks.” You grin.

“I almost forgot. I’m dating a jock.”

“Nat, you teach ballet!”

“Exactly, I hardly do any cardio and barely lift 45 pounds. I’m not an athlete like you. I’ve seen you lift, jog, playing football, soccer, basketball, and baseball! You even box, and don’t get me started on how long you can make love to me.”

“How have you seen me-“ You chuckle.

“You forget that the internet is forever. You have videos on YouTube that your coach uploaded.”

“Oh wow! Had no idea.” You raise your brows.

“Ugh, I’m in love with jock.”

You huff slapping her ass.

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You and Natasha were walking up the trail occasionally nodding to other couples coming down.

“Okay, it’s really cold, but it’s not too bad.” She admitted as you both passed through the pines.

You grinned, lifting up her hand giving it a smooch. “If you’re extra cold let me know you can use my jacket too.”

“Sweetie, I’m wearing a sweater that you got me, the jacket, a beanie, and a scarf. I’m okay I promise. You forget I’m Russian.”

You snort and she slaps your arm. “Got something to say?”

“You weren’t even there long!”

“I was born in the winter! Ass.”

You both laughed and continued your trek.

“I promise you once we make it up to the top which isn’t much further it’ll be breathtaking.”

She looked over at you and smiled, kissing your hand too. “I’m sure it will be.”

Soon a family came around the corner, the daughter on her mothers shoulders and their little boy hand in hand with his other mommy.

They waved at you both.

“Hi!” The little girl smiled brightly.

“Hi!” You and Natasha chuckled.

“Ugh, she was so cute.” Natasha, whined looking up at you.

“That she is.”

“Baby?”

“Hm?”

“You know I can’t give you more baby’s right?”

“I know.” You say kissing her hand.

“It’s just I still want them, and I know you do too.”

“I know love I just figured… you were adopted. There’s so many kids out there looking for good parents. That’s us. Think of how happy we could make them? Plus we still have Beth and Fin.” You wink.

Natasha leans against you and you wrap an arm around her. “You know I wish I could, right?”

You stop walking and pull her against you. “You not being able to does not change how I feel about you not one bit. Okay? Even if you didn’t want kids and you just wanted to help me with mine, that's enough for me. I love you Natalia, all of you.

Natasha blinked away a tear and you brushed it away. She nodded and you hugged her close, kissing her head.

“You wanna keep going?”

“Yes.” She nodded with a sniffle. You took out your handkerchief and handed it to her. “Thank you baby.” Natasha placed it in her pocket and took your hand as you began your hike once more.

Soon an older couple and their dog walked by.

“Do you think Quinn will let you have Ollie?”

“Yes.” You nod.

“I’m sure Leho would like a friend.” She smiled. “I can’t wait until you move in with me baby.”

“Yeah?”

“God yes. Seeing you tinkering around the house. Fixing things and making things for me. Doing everything with you sounds like heaven to me.”

You grin, kissing her hand once more.

“Y/N, who else knows about us?”

“Everyone knows.”

“Even your parents.”

“Even my parents.”

“Do they hate me?”

“No baby they don’t hate you Quinn on the other hand.” You cringed. “Nat, I didn’t divorce Quinn just because I was in love with you. I divorced her because of everything she did to me.”

“Good.”

“But you are the reason I sped it up.” You chuckled.

She smirked.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.” She laughed.

“How many people have you been with?”

“Y/N Y/L/N!”

“I was just wondering, I mean I’ve only ever been with Quinn.”

“I’ve only been with one other person besides you and that was Bruce. It was a one time thing. I was stupid I thought maybe he felt something for me, and I thought maybe I did too but it was all for show he wanted Betty.” She shook her head.

“But how did you know you couldn’t have kids?”

“A couple years ago I thought about insemination. They ran different tests and just found that my eggs were just infertile.” She sighed. “They highly recommended for me not to try IVF. They said that it would cause severe depression when the negative results would come in, and not only that but the effects on my body would be too much.”

“I’m sorry love.”

“Don’t be, I probably should have told you a while ago.”

You’re walking a bit more and she speaks up.

“Okay now I have a question.”

“Alright.” You chuckled.

“Do you wish you would have taken some time to be alone before being with me?”

“Fuck no.” You laughed. “Are you kidding me?”

“I’m just making sure you said you’ve only been with Quinn. There’s plenty of fish in the sea. More than half the women on our block want to be with you.”

“You’ve only been with Bruce.” You raised your brow.

“And now you.”

“Same I have you.” You smirked.

She laughed and nodded. “Touché.”

“Look baby, we made it.” You grinned seeing the sign as you began to round the corner.

“Oh wow.” She sighed seeing the view. You sat her down on the rock nearby holding her from behind.

You looked over hearing a guy singing Lover by Taylor Swift with his guitar to his boyfriend.

‘Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home (forever and ever)

You're my, my, my, my

Lover’

Natasha sighed against your chest turning her chin to kiss your cheek. “I love you. I’m so happy that we’re finally together.”

“Me too.” You smile.

“I love this song.” She grins. “It makes me think of you.” You squeeze her a little tighter keeping her warm.

As the song ends she pats your arm and stands to take a photo of the view.

You walk over when he finishes. “Hi my name is Y/N and I was wondering if I could play a song for my girl over there. I’m gonna propose.”

“Oh my gosh of course!” He grinned, handing you his guitar. “Would you like us to record you?”

“If you don’t mind.” You say handing him your phone.

You threw the strap over your neck and began finding your tune. Natasha turns around to sit with you only to see you strumming.

She blushed as you started singing a song walking towards her.

“I wanna make you smile whenever you're sad

Carry you around when your arthritis is bad

All I wanna do is grow old with you”

Natasha couldn’t help but cry.

“They’re proposing!”

“Oh my gosh they’re proposing!” You hear people hissing as they pull out they’re phones.

“I'll get you medicine when your tummy aches

Build you a fire if the furnace breaks

Oh, it could be so nice, growing old with you”

It was blistering cold up on that mountain too but you were keeping her warm with your words.

“I'll miss you

Kiss you

Give you my coat when you are cold

Need you

Feed you

Even let you hold the remote control”

You walked up to her getting down on one knee.

So let me do the dishes in our kitchen sink

Put you to bed when you've had too much to drink

Oh, I could be the one who grows old with you

I wanna grow old with you.”

Natasha sniffles wiping away her tears as you take the guitar off. The gentleman who it belongs to quietly comes over taking it from you and begins strumming the chords to All My Life by K-Ci & JoJo.

“My love, From the moment we met, I knew there was something truly special about you. You’ve brought so much joy, laughter, and love into my life, and every day with you is a new adventure. Your kindness, strength, and unwavering support have shown me what true love really is. I can’t imagine my life without you by my side. You have become my best friend, my confidant, and the love of my life. Every moment we’ve shared has been a beautiful memory, and I want to create countless more with you. Today, I kneel before you with a heart full of love and a promise of forever. Will you do me the incredible honor of becoming my partner for life? Will you marry me?”

You open the velvet emerald box revealing a golden band with a large emerald and diamonds surrounding the stone.

“Yes baby.” She cried. “Yes, I’ll marry you.” You placed the ring back on her finger and stood up kissing her. You wrapped your arms around her swaying to the music.

“That was so beautiful.” One of the women said, wiping her tears. “I got it on video for you guys.”

“Same!” Another guy grinned:

“Thank you.” Natasha smiled.

“Congratulations.” The guitarist smiled clapping with the crowd. His boyfriend handed you your phone.

The people who filmed it air dropped it to your phone, and left you both to watch the sea from the rock.

“That was beautiful.” Natasha grinned leaning against your chest as she admired the ring. “I don’t know how I’m going to top that.”

“Does that mean you’re going to propose to me?” You chuckled, tickling her sides.

“That’s what we should do in town! Let’s find you a ring.” She gasped

“I was kidding, baby.”

“Well I’m not.” She pecked your cheek.

“Alright princess whatever you want.”

“Did you pack a snack?”

“Fuck I didn’t.”

“Y/N.” She huffed.

“I know I’m sorry baby. Come on, let's head back to the cabin. I’ll make you dinner.

“I’m hungry.” She sighed.

You stopped by a family eating.

“Hi I’m sorry to bug you but I just proposed to my fiancé over there, and I did not pack snacks. Could I buy some-“

“Take it.” The man shook his head handing you a couple granola bars, fruit snacks, and water bottles.

“Thank you seriously, thank you.”

“No worries. Don’t wanna make her upset already.” He chuckled.

You ran off after Natasha.

“Honey!” You called after her.

“I’m hungry, I'm not stopping.”

“Baby, I got you snacks.”

“Wait what?”

“Yeah! Look! Here hon.” You open the water for her and then open her granola bar.

Watching her completely drink half the bottle and eat the bar before starting on the fruit snacks.

“Feel better?” You ask, feeling her cheeks.

She nods, looking almost embarrassed. “Y/N, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why, I got so upset with you.”

“Well we had a light lunch and went on a mile and a half hike.”

“Still.”

“You want some more?” You ask, holding up the snacks.

“No baby I’m better now thank you.”

“Okay.” You stuff them in your pockets and take her hand as you both walk back towards the cabin.

“I’m sorry, I got so upset with you like that, and right after you proposed and said all those sweet things.”

“It’s okay! You didn’t have breakfast and we only had a salad for lunch. How about we have a nice dinner? I didn’t get to make you dinner last night like I wanted and now we can celebrate.”

“Fancy dinner huh?” Natasha grinned. “Yeah okay but I didn’t really bring a dress baby.”

“Wellll.” You bit your lip.

“You didn’t! Y/N!”

“It’s your birthday, come on!”

She smiles bashfully.

When you finally get to the cabin you hand her the gift bags.

She raised her brow and took the bags before going upstairs, and you quickly showered. Then cook dinner before changing into your suit.

“Wow. Stunning.” You grinned as she walked in.

“Did you shop for this?”

“Kurt made it.” You chuckled.

“I thought so. It’s gorgeous.”

You grabbed a glass of champagne and handed it to Natasha before returning to the stove to plate the steaks and the mashed potatoes with veggies.

“This looks amazing.” She smiles cutting into her steak.

You both smile, enjoying the music and the food. More importantly, you’ve both never been happier than this moment of course having your daughters but this is up there. You’ve finally found your soul mate.

“That was really good, thank you.” Natasha kissed your hand as you put the dishes away in the dishwasher.

“I may have bought an extra pie at that diner.” You chuckled, going to the fridge.

“Yesss.” Natasha grinned as you cut a couple slices. You both ate them moaning at how good they were.

“Best pie ever.” You snicker as she smooches you lips.

“I don’t think I can keep eating please put this away.” She chuckled as you put the pie away.

As she fixed her lipstick you put on You and Me by Penny & The Quarters.

“Dance with me.” You smile offering your hand.

The redhead smiles bashfully before taking your hand and standing.

Natasha leans up kissing your lips as you sway to the music.

“Y/N?” She says as the song ends.

“Hm?” You hum looking down at her.

“Make love to your fiancé.”

You snatched your phone up and lifted her up bridal style making your way up the stairs to the bedroom.

“Practicing?”

You chuckled walking through the threshold. You set her on the bed before turning on the fireplace.

You shrugged off your suit jacket only for her to turn around.

“Unzip me.” She looked back at you.

“Kurt did a tremendous job with this dress. You look gorgeous.” You said, unzipping it slowly letting Natasha step out of it only to see her in lingerie from what you only assumed Carol got her.

“Do you want me to thank Carol too?” She husked turning around.

“Yes please.” You gulp.

“Take off that suit for me baby.” She says walking over in heels towards the chaise in front of the fire. You undo your buttons and take off your suspenders before shrugging off your dress shirt.

“God, I love your muscles Y/N. The way your veins lead down to my lolly is one of my favorite things.”

You can feel yourself throbbing as you take off your shoes and socks. Then slowly take off your dress pants revealing your black briefs. Your hungness just outlined in a way that makes her mouth salivate for you.

“Come here.” She beckons you, eyeing you like a lioness and her prey.

You place your knee on the chaise and her hands cup your ass cheeks squeezing them as her lips go for your veins that she covets. Leaving a trail of lipstick on your body. A brief thought came to mind of getting her signature lips tattooed along your lower half. Just as a little reminder when you’re away from her.

Your cock twitches feeling the cool wedding ring you put on her finger against your abs. You cup the back of her head and she kisses your forearm.

“I got you another present.” You smirked looking down.

“Baby that’s too corny.” She rolled her eyes.

“No, I mean it look.” She pulled down the waist bad of your briefs bringing them down on your knees when she noticed her name right above your cock.

Natalia’s saddle

“When did you get this?”

“When I was in Tokyo.” You chuckled.

“Oh my gosh. Why didn’t you tell me?!”

“I wanted to, but the tattooist said it’d be hotter if you found it yourself.”

She laughed and nodded before kissing it.

“They weren’t wrong.” She eyed it.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes daddy I love it. That’s actually really fucking hot. What made you do this?”

“Well me and the boys got really drunk with some Japanese business men, and well (pleasedontgetmad) one of them may have sent a sex worker to my room. So I left and went straight to a tattoo shop and got this instead. After I went to a jeweler and got your ring made.”

Natasha chuckled, shaking her head.

“There’s a lot to do there at night.” You grinned.

“I love you.” She chuckled.

“I love you too…” you dangled your jangles in front of her. “Now do you want your lolly or not cause, baby, I really want my tongue in your pussy. My mouth is watering for you.”

She smirked going back to her task at hand looking at the words. “Wait, how did I not notice this when we had sex this morning in the shower?”

“You’re kind of oblivious when I’m fucking you silly.” You chuckle and shit lightly bites you. “Ahhhhh I’m sorry!” You Hiss. The pain quickly faded as you felt immense pleasure as she began to bob her head and swirl her tongue and hand around your shaft.

You watched as your fiancé licked you up and down. God that felt great to say. Fiancé. Your future wife. Natasha Romanoff Y/L/N. You picked up your phone and began recording your newly dubbed fiancé.

“Gah damn, my beautiful fiancé Mrs. Natasha Y/L/N. Going to fucking town.”

She looked up at your phone smirking as she completely choked you down.

“Hmmm.” You caressed her chin. “I love you baby.”

She slowly bobbed her head before letting you go with a pop. “I love you too, daddy. So much I can’t wait to marry you.” She husked still licking you as she pumped your cock.

“I can’t wait to marry you baby…. Damn Nat you know just how I like it…Can daddy lick you now?”

“No daddy, I wanna taste your honey first.” She smirked seeing you twitch in her hand precum oozing out.

“Fuck!” You groaned. “What if we both 69ned?”

“Uhuh, no, I wanna focus on you my fiancé.” She got on her knees sitting you down and began sucking on your sack.

“Oh my-!” You groaned, pulling her hair back.

She let go before going back to your member bringing her bralette up so her breasts can hold you between them.

“Shit baby.” You watched as she pumped your cock with her breasts and your tip into your mouth.

“Alright baby, come here.” You stood up and stroked your cock a bit letting the tip hit her lips a bit. She opened her mouth moaning as she sucked you harder and harder.

You held her head in place and began fucking her throat. You hissed as you felt her tonsils around your dick. Her moaning vibrates you enough to cum. Your toes curled and her hands cupped your cheeks. You pulled out and she held out her tongue before swallowing.

“Hmmm.” You hummed as she sucked you a little bit more before you spoke up. “Alright you got your honey now let me have mine.” You smirked handing her the phone.

“Oh I’m the cameraman now?” She smirked. As you laid her down against the tacky bearskin rug.

“Oh yeah I’m watching this shit when I have to leave for work and you can’t come with me.”

“That’s pretty hot, you watching us as porn.”

“Ain’t it?”

“You’ll have to make me a copy. I might even need a mold of your cock made so when you’re away from me I can still have you inside of me.”

“You got it princess.” You look up with a smirk.

You kiss up her thighs and leave a small kiss against her folds before letting your tongue peek through.

“Hmmm.” You groan, finally tasting her and hearing her moan. “You taste so good baby girl.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes baby so fucking good I could lick you up all day. Fuck I’m already hard for you.” You flex your back and continue licking her up and down and side to side. This time spelling out the words I’m going to marry you & I love you.

“Ohhhhh daddy!” She moans, setting the camera up to film you both.

“You need both hands huh?” You chuckled.

“Hmhm.” She whines.

“That’s okay my love I just want you to cum and cum hard.” You say before diving back in. You lift up her ass so you can get to her ass and move aside her lacy thong.

“Hmmmm!” You hummed causing her to giggle. You go back to her clit sucking and licking.

You feel her begin to hump your face, her moaning grows so you pick up the pace stuffing your face with her pussy. She lets out a strangle moan and stiffens against you as she cums undone.

You sit up wiping your mouth letting your cock bathe in her pool.

She whines making grabby hands at you.

“Hmm.” You sigh feeling her heat and wetness along your staff.

You lay against her, kissing her softly.

“You like your taste? Cause I fuckin do.”

She giggled and kissed you again.

“You always make me feel so good daddy.”

“That’s my goal baby girl.”

“That’s my goal tonight too. You always make me cum over and over again and again. I’m riding you until I can’t anymore daddy.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Hmhm call me the pussy monster.”

You chuckled darkly. “Hmm I’m gonna make this pussy squirt.”

“Baby not on their bear skin rug, it'll ruin it.”

“Oh come on babe.”

“Fine but get towels.”

You stood up and ran off and she turned towards the camera.

“Hmmm, I love you baby," she blew the camera kiss. “I miss you so much. Come home to me.”

You fold a couple towels beneath her bottom.

You lay between her legs slowly holding them up.

“Ahhh!” You both moan as you push inside of her just half way. You slowly push again, hitting her spot.

“Daddy.” She whimpers, pulling you down to kiss her.

“Daddy’s got you baby girl. You’re taking me so well. Hmm… I’m gonna make you fucking cum so hard love.”

“Oh baby!” Natasha moans and you lean down leaving marks against her skin.

“You’re so smooth.” You whispered taking off her lingerie freeing her breasts hearing the redhead moan at the action her hips rocking against your cock. “You’re so beautiful.” You kiss her once more before pulling apart. “And sweet.” You pull out and pull her thong off but leaving her garter on. She sat up and made you lay down this time.

“Aww baby I wanted to make you squirt first.”

“Who says I can’t do that myself?” She smirks down at you lifting her leg to straddle you. “Let me on my saddle.”

“You’re wish is my command princess.” You grunt with a smirk on your face.

She took your phone and smirk. “You’re gonna wanna see this from this angle daddy I promise.” She sets the phone behind her where you won’t kick it.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.” She panted as she begins to ride the tip of your cock. Her jaw slacked as she hit her spot.

“That’s it baby fuck yourself on daddy’s cock. How does it feel?”

“Soooo fucking good!” She groaned, You reached up massaging her breasts.

You hiss as she lowers herself and begins to ride you. She really was not lying when she said like never before. She’s angling your cock with each motion looking for that perfect spot. Her moans haven’t stopped the moment she started riding you; they only keep growing. Even her accent is starting to show.

“Ohhhhh yesssss! Ohhhh yesssssss! Fuuuuck! Yesss daddddy!” She’s pounding you at this point, her ass bouncing against your hips, her accent is full on out.

“Fuck Natasha.” You groaned seeing your creams seep down to your balls as she rode you. The squelching sound turned you both on to no end. She arched her back, slowing her pace before slamming back down on your cock.

“I want you to fuck me like this all the time.” She bit her lip looking down at you squirming. She lifted up seeing all your cum seeping out of her pussy and down on your cock. Watching your staff and abs twitch from the after shocks. She slides you right back inside of her.

“Ahhhhhhh.” You both groan.

“I wanna be with you everyday for the rest of my life baby.” You admit sitting up with her in your lap.

“Oh God Y/N!” Her mouth turned into an ‘O’ as she twitched against your member.

“Natasha!” You groan hold her close.

Natasha smirked, pushing you back down, wiggling on your hardened member.

You groaned at the feel.

She kissed you softly, moving her hips again. “Oh baby you’re so sweet and loving. Kind and caring. I can’t wait to be your wife.” Her movements picked up pace. You were both so close already.

“Natalia.” You sighed against her lips. “I’m in love with you.” She looked into your eyes with tears forming.

“I love you too Y/N. So much.” Her movements were now fast and sloppy. You helped her bounce on your cock. When she fell on top of you letting her ass do the work. You palmed her ass cheek before slapping it. That always does it for her. She was now over the edge babbling your name as she rode you. She cried as her pussy constricted around you.

“Oh fuuuck!” You moaned out, feeling your seed shoot out.

She yelled out your name lifting off your meat as her pussy became a fire hydrant.

“Ahhhhhhh!” She hissed as the liquid ran down against your abs.

She grabbed your cum ridden cock and stuffed you back inside her once more.

“Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiit babbyyyy!” You groaned as she started riding you once more. She’s the fucking pussy monster.

“I told you I was going to ride you like never before.”

“I’m not complaining. As far as I’m concerned this is your saddle, this is your dick baby.” You chuckled and massaged her ass, groping it before letting your hands wander her body.

“All this is mine now huh?” She smirked looking down at you.

“I’m all yours fiancé.”

“Hmm, mine.” She groaned as she sped up her pace. Her hands going down your abs as they twitched beneath her finger tips.

She muttered some words in Russian and began slamming down on your cock. “Yesssss yesss yesss!” She moaned cumming around you. She lifted up a bit letting you see the way your seed shot inside of her.

“Ahhhh!” Groaning you began cuming inside of her. You pivoted your hips and she chuckled as you thrusted inside of her.

You both groaned, riding the wave of your orgasms. She sighed, feeling completely filled up with your cum.

The redheaded beauty falls against your chest in a heaving sweaty mess. Natasha began kissing your shoulder down to your heart. You nudged her forehead with your nose getting her to meet your lips. “I’m so in love with you.”

“You have absolutely no idea how I longed to hear those words come from those lips.” She burrowed deeply into you still kissing your skin.

You look down, bringing her back in a kiss.

“Hmm you better not start something you can’t finish cause baby I could ride you all day.” She grins against your lips wiggling her hips against your cock.

“Fuck.” You groaned before rolling over on top of her.

“Hmm.” She giggled as you playfully peppered her with kisses before reaching over to stop the recording.

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You woke up with Natasha’s head on your chest. Her legs tangled in yours. You looked down smirking at the lipstick on your body.

You held her closer and kissed her head whispering how much you loved her before slowly letting her go.

“Noooo.” Natasha whined reaching out for you. “Baby where are you going?”

“I just wanted to go for a trail run.”

“Hnhn.” She groaned holding you.

“Come with me?”

“You’re funny.” Her voice is still gravely from sleep, not to mention the amount of moaning and screaming she did all night.

“Come on the hike was beautiful on this seaside mountain range. Imagine the jog?” You coo cuddling against her.

“Is that what you really want to do? To be in the blistering cold? Running away from bears? Orrr stay here with your fiancé and christen the rest of Starks cabin?” Natasha lifted the blanket off showing you her porcelain body.

“Ooohh you drive a hard bargain tiny dancer.” You say in a southern twang. Natasha yanks you back down complaining about how it’s 6 in the morning, and you’ve only gone to sleep a couple hours ago. “You’re lucky I love you.” She chuckles.

“I really am.” you say softly placing her hair out of her face admiring her beauty before leaving a soft peck against her lips.

She hums against your chest.

“All this feels strange and untrue, and I won't waste a minute without you.”

Natasha smiles against your chest feeling the hum of your voice.

“My bones ache, my skin feels cold, and I'm getting so tired and so old. The anger swells in my guts, and I won't feel these slices and cuts. I want so much to open your eyes. 'Cause I need you to look into mine.”

Your fiancé pushes up a bit to see you looking at her.

“Tell me that you'll open your eyes.” You sing, pushing her hair behind her ear. She leans in kissing your lips softly before singing back to you.

“Get up, get out, get away from these liars. 'Cause they don't get your soul or your fire. Take my hand, knot your fingers through mine, and we'll walk from this dark room for the last time.”

You grin lazily and sing with her.

“Every minute from this minute now. We can do what we like anywhere. I want so much to open your eyes. 'Cause I need you to look into mine.

Tell me that you'll open your eyes. Tell me that you'll open your eyes. ‘Cause all this feels strange and untrue, and I won't waste a minute without you.”

“I love it when you sing to me.” She whispers as you roll her over and cuddle her.

“I love singing with you.”

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A few hours later Natasha re-awoke seeing you reading.

“You’re sexy when you read.” She yawns, stretching against your body as you set your book down.

“You’re making blush.” You smirk as she pecks your lips.

“I’m sorry I slept so long.” She yawned again.

“It’s okay, I put you in a sex coma.” You chuckle.

She drapes her body over yours humming at the feel of your body against hers. “You most certainly did.” Her body is covered in chills as your fingers graze her skin.”

“You hungry love? I can make us breakfast. Then if you want we can head into town. Pepper, was telling me about some shops you might like.”

She smiled at you caressing your chin. “Sounds like you have the day planned.”

“Oh don’t worry baby I fully intend to come back and make vigorous love to you. Once my dick heals.” You grin, leaning in to kiss her lips.

“What’s wrong?” She furrows her brows cutely if you may add as she looks down raising the sheets to see your flacid cock.

“It’s just a little raw.” You hiss as she touches it, lifting it up.

“Stop. Really?” She giggles.

“Okay, first: no giggling while you are looking or touching my dick.” She drops you and laughs harder against your chest. “Secondly, yeah it’s raw honey you fucked my brains out last night.”

“I will never laugh at my saddle baby. I promise you are very well endowed in that department, and secondly I believe we both fucked each others brains out. You put me in a sex coma, and my body is littered with marks.”

You hiss, feeling yourself inflated at her comments.

“Seriously?” She smirks.

“What? My soldier likes compliments.” You chuckle cringing a bit.

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“Thanks baby.” Natasha smiled, wiping her mouth.

“You’re welcome.” You wiggle your brows. Standing up with your plate along with hers. You quickly rinsed the plates and placed them in the dishwasher.

“Wanna go to town?” She asked, standing up her hand against your chest.

“On you? Fuck yeah.” You smirked turning around in her arms

“You still need to heal.” She raises her brow. “Now let’s go into town, get you a ring and maybe look around then have some lunch.”

“Damn not even a quickie? I can just make it about you.”

She glared at you.

“Kidding.” You chuckled, and led her to the truck.

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“What about this one?” she pointed out.

“Eh.”

“Okay well what about this one? It goes with the pinky ring you like to wear.”

“Does it?”

“I think so.”

You looked at it not so sure.

“Well if you want when we get home we can try again? You can bring it with you.”

“Yeah.” You nodded.

Natasha nodded a little put out that you didn’t see anything you liked.

“I did like these work out bands though.”

“Yeah?” She smiles looking down.

“I have matching sets if you’d like.” The jeweler smiles.

“How about the green ones?” You say.

“Yeah I like those.” Natasha smiles.

“That’s it then.” You grin.

“I’ll take them.” She grins, taking out her wallet just as you do. “Sweetie, if you don’t put that away, I’ll nut punch you like you did Scott.”

“And putting this back in my pocket.” You say pursing your lips.

“Good choice.” The jeweler chuckles. “Gotta take care of the jewels.”

You walk out with a forest green ring until she can take you to another jeweler.

Natasha takes you into each shop. It's when she drags you into a kids store that gets you frowning. You see her grabbing Bluey items.

“Babe, what are you doing?”

“Well I’m getting Fin some stuff for her room. We need to probably take out the bed, and get her a twin but we can do that when we get home.”

“Baby I can just take some stuff from the house.”

“You will not take one thing from her house.” She said poking your chest. “This is a whole new experience for both the girls that we are throwing them into. They are literally going to be living side by side. They need to have different rooms. It’s important.”

“Okay, I understand that.” You nodded, keeping your voice down. “Nat, hun, I love you and I love that you wanna do this for them, but she and I haven’t even gone into custody discussions yet.”

“Y/N, there’s a good chance our home will be looked at first. They’re gonna want to see that it’s ready for them. You do want them with us right?”

“Of course I do.”

“Okay then we need to set up their rooms. Listen when Lena and I got adopted we were looked at constantly. Trust me this will go a long way. I just want to help us that’s all.”

“Okay. Alright. Let’s do it.”

She smiled, pecking your lips.

“But do we have to spend this much. I love my baby don’t get me wrong but hun kids are fucking expensive.”

“Y/N.” She glared.

“Sorry, I was totally over hearing you both. Kids are fucking expensive this is like $50 cheaper at Target.” The woman explained. “Sorry I’m a mom of 4 and my kids love Bluey. I like to get the little things here sometimes that I can’t find anywhere else, but this comforter set. Is most definitely cheaper anywhere else.”

“You gotta love a bargain as a parent.” You grinned, gesturing to the woman.

“Ugh so true. They just grow up so fast and the trends change even faster soon it won’t be Bluey anymore.”

“So true with my oldest it was Paw Patrol and then Lego everything, and now it’s sleepovers and don’t talk to me.”

“Oh noo let me guess 12 going on 13?” The mom laughed, nodding.

“Yes!”

“Oh God, that's the hardest age in my opinion. You’re gonna have a tough time not gonna sugar coat it. Especially cause it sounds like you two just got together sooo she’s probably on her other mothers side?”

“Spot on.” You nod.

“Yeah it’s best to just ride the roller coaster. Just be there for her. That’s really all you can do. You’re gonna wanna argue you’re gonna wanna ground. It’s best to let her other mother deal with that part. Trust me as my kid screaming at his computer would say “you don’t want no smoke.” She laughed.

You laughed along with her.

“Thank you for the advice.”

“Of course, and congratulations to you two on getting together, and to you on your first.”

“Oh I’m not pregnant.” Natasha shook her head.

“Honey, I’ve been through the ringer four times, about to go through it one last time. I can tell it’s like how people have a gaydar. I have a pregnancy-dar, and you are absolutely glowing.” She laughed. “Anyway you two take care, it was so good to meet you.”

“You too.” You smile and shake her hand and she walks out.

“Wow.” Natasha furrowed her brows.

“She was so nice.”

“Y/N, she called me fat!”

“What?! No she didn’t!”

“She said congratulations on your first.”

“Hun, that does not mean you’re fat!”

“Umm, yesss it does.” Another woman interjected.

“Oh my god.” Her husband groaned.

“Thank you!” Natasha huffed.

“You're beautiful girl!”

“Thank youuu. So are you!” Natasha smiled sweetly.

You massage your temple.

After grabbing Fin and Beth a few things you both moved on to the next store. You sit down by the other husbands and wives as their fems peruse around the boutique.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if they made a spouse nap location.” One of them said, causing all of them to chuckle.

“Honey?”

“Yes?” They all answered automatically until Natasha came out of the rows of clothes furrowing her brows.

You stood walking over.

“What do you think of this?”

She shows you a few dresses and you look them up and down smiling. “I think each of them would look stunning on you love.”

“Thanks baby.” She smiles, pecking your lips. Leading you to the register.

“You hungry?” You ask taking out your wallet.

“Yes but Y/N you don’t need to get this-“

“You bought my girls some stuff so why can’t I buy my fiancé some dresses?” You ask.

“If you two are looking for a place to eat. You really can’t go wrong with any restaurant in town. It really just depends on what sounds good.” The girl checking the items out smiled.

“Italian?” You ask Natasha.

“Yeah that sounds great.”

“There’s Mia’s just a few doors down.”

“Thank you.” You both smile.

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You were both seated relatively quickly.

“Hi, my name is Kelly I’ll be your server today.” A young brunette handed you both a couple of menus and a drink menu.

“Thank you.” You both say.

“I’ll be right back with some bread.”

Natasha looked at you a certain way and you were at a loss.

“What’s wrong? Did you change your mind? Cause it’s okay we can-“

“No, but that girl was totally checking you out.”

“What girl?”

You furrowed your brows in confusion and she chuckled at you.

“Our server.”

“Kelly?”

“You needed me?” The server asked bringing the bread touching your forearm.

You moved your arm and shook your head. “No.”

“Okay I’ll be back around then. Do you know what you want to drink?”

“Just some water is fine. Baby, you want some wine or something?” You ask Natasha.

“No just a water is fine for now thank you.”

Kelly walked away and Natasha raised her brow at you looking at your arm.

“Yeah okay I see what you mean. Want me to ask for another server?”

Natasha smiled at you and shook her head. “No she can look that’s fine she just can’t touch.”

Soon Kelly was back around with some glasses of waters when she ‘accidentally’ dropped one right on your lap.

“Shit!” You hopped up.

“Oh my goodness I’m so sorry!” She grabbed the napkin and began to press against your dick.

“Stop!!” Natasha huffed, grabbing her arm and pushing her back.

“Whoa! No! Nope! Uhuh no! Let’s go Nat! Not cool Kelly!” You huffed angrily.

Natasha took your hand and walked out of the restaurant.

“Fuck now it looks like I pissed myself, and it’s fucking cold out here.” You growled.

Natasha took you into the nearest store and bought you some grey sweats and a hoodie.

“Go change.” She nodded.

You sighed, throwing your wet clothes into the plastic bag.

“Thanks babe.”

She hugged you close and kissed you softly. “You feel better.”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

“I’m sorry lunch was ruined, we should have left when she touched my arm.”

“Sweetie don’t apologize for her! She groped you.” Natasha pulled you in another hug. “How about I make you your own pasta?”

“You know how to make pasta?”

“Hmhm.” She smirked.

“Teach me and you got a deal.”

“Let’s go baby.”

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“What do you think?” Natasha asked as you took your first bite.

“Whoa.”

She chuckled.

“It’s so good Nat.” You take a bite of your bread and watch as she begins to eat as well. “I’m the luckiest human on this planet.” You chuckle and she laughs. “I’m marrying the most beautiful, sweetest, sexiest woman in the world. You’re an amazing chef, a model-“ she chuckled. “Became one of my bestfriends, don’t even get me started with what you’re like in the sheets.”

“Y/N.” She laughed.

“And now I’m eating fresh pasta.”

Natasha stood walking over and pecking your lips before going back to her seat.

You both eat and drink in a comfortable silence you’re just about done when you speak up.

“So my parents know about you and I know Yelena knows about us. What about your parents?”

Natasha looks up a little taken back.

“Well to be honest I haven’t spoken to them in a while. I mean I could call them now it’s about 9 PM?”

“Now?”

“Why not? You’re right your parents know and mine should too.”

Natasha shrugged and stood up to grab her phone. “Fair warning my parents are most likely drunk and are very loud.”

You nod and she walks over and sits on your lap.

“Holy shit you FaceTimed them?” You began to panic.

“They’re going to want to meet you.”

“Baby I’m wearing a hoodie.”

“They don’t care what you’re wearing.” Natasha laughed. “I think you forget Russia is a third world country.”

“Hello?! Little Natalia?!” Alexei answers.

“Alexei, your face is too close to phone pull back!”

“Oh.”

They fumbled with the phone a bit until Melina snatched it and set it on the table.

“Hello mama papa!”

“Ohhhh our little Natalia!” Melina smiled with Alexei. “How are you?”

“I’m doing great, really great that’s why I’m calling.”

“Oh?” Alexei snickered only for Melina to smack him.

“How have you two been doing?”

“Oh you know pig farm still the same tell us more.” Melina waved her off.

“Oh motherfucker- Эта маленькая сука сказала тебе, не так ли?” (That little bitch told you didn’t she?!)

“Language Natalia.” Melina sighed and Alexei laughed heartily.

“So it is true our little Natalia found true love and is really getting married this time?! I want to meet them!” Alexie laughed.

“We are so happy for you sweetheart please don’t be mad your sister was just so happy for you, and you never call us.”

“And the guilt trip starts.” Natasha muttered low for you to hear. You rubbed her back. “That was for me to tell you not her!”

“Ahhh it doesn’t matter anymore we know now okay?” Alexie smiled. “Come on now sweetheart don’t be mad we’re happy for you. We’ve always wanted just the best for you.”

“We never liked Bruce.”

“Never liked him one bit.” Alexie spit away from the camera. You gulped a little nervous they would hate you.

“But Yelena speaks highly of this Y/N.” Melina smiles.

“Says they’ve never seen you this happy ever.”

“Y/N makes me so happy. It's the same feeling I had when Lena and I would catch fireflies. I finally caught mine and I can’t wait to marry them.” Her voice cracked.

“Ohh honey.” Alexie cried and Melina hugged him.

“I actually have Y/N here with me.” Natasha sniffled, setting the phone up so they could see both of you.

They both smiled seeing you appear on the screen Natasha on your lap.

“Hi, Mr. & Mrs. Vostokoff, it’s such an honor to finally meet you both even if it’s just over the phone. Natalia is such an amazing woman and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my days with her.”

“It’s nice to meet you Y/N.” Melina smiles, wiping her tears and Alexie nodded along.

“I know Natasha and Yelena have been working hard to bring you both back to America. I might not know too much about immigration law, but I promise I’ll do my best to help as much as I can to bring you both back home. I want you both to be here for your girls and for the wedding.”

Natasha began to cry against your shoulder and you did your best to console her.

“Thank you Y/N.” Alexie sniffled.

“Natalia no more crying let’s have a toast, huh.” Melina smiled. “So much to celebrate tonight!”

Natasha wiped her eyes and stood grabbing the vodka Tony had and filled two shot glasses.

“When we take it we say Nostrovia.” Natasha nodded towards you.

She sat back on your lap and when you were all ready you lifted the glasses and hit the table before saying

“Nostrovia!”

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You were sitting on the sofa looking up immigration law as Natasha made popcorn and snacks.

You learned that not only will it mean at least 30k each but they would be under both your sponsorship which if you remember correctly Natasha started that a long time ago it really barrels down to money. Natasha came back with snacks and you turned.

“So I have the money to bring your parents back. Well, we have the money. I know you and Yelena saved up some, we can use that and the rest will have to come out of a college fund.”

“Wait Y/N no-“

“Here’s the thing Tony promised me we would come in to some more money in the next quarter. Which means I would be making up to 6 figures so I could put that money back into the college fund, maybe even more.”

“But I just don’t feel comfortable taking from the girls.”

“It would just be borrowing.”

“Quinn would never-“

“Quinn doesn’t know about it.”

“I made it with the money I was making from Burt’s garage. That money was my college fund. She can’t touch it.”

“Really?”

“Technically it’s still in my mothers name.” You smirked. “It’s one of our little secrets. My mom is the best.”

“Oh my God. So you’re saying…”

“We’re bringing your parents home. We just need-“

Natasha tackled you in a hug. “Y/N!”

“We just need to get them a home and a job. I was thinking maybe I could get your mom a job with me at Stark Industries and Alexei could work at Thors Gym. He seems pretty built.”

“You’re so fucking amazing.” She kissed you roughly.

“Hmm thank you.”

“Did I mention how sexy you look in these sweats?” She pulled back looking you up and down.

“Yeah?”

“God yes, stand up.” She chuckled getting off of you.

You stood and flapped you arms.

“Take off the hoodie.”

You smirked pulling it over your head.

“Fuck your so sculpted. You talked about how lucky you are? How about me? Look at you! You are the single most sexiest, most handsomely beautiful, charismatic, darling I’ve ever met in my life and I get to marry you. You’re perfect at everything! Gardening, cooking, carpentry, auto mechanics, plumber, dancer, singing, instruments, sports, and you always make me laugh. Don't even get me started with what you’re like in the sheets.”

You laugh and she takes your hand.

“I love you Y/N you’re my best friend and I can’t wait to marry you.”

You lean down kissing her softly feeling her nails drag along your naked back.

“Check it out.” You husk.

You step back and flex for your fiancé letting her see the hard outline of your erection.

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Natasha fed you some popcorn as you both watched a movie.

“I love the way you cock warm me. You know exactly how to please me.”

“I aim to please.” She smirked before bending over to grab some chocolate off the coffee table.

“Fuuuck.” You groaned at the motion on your tool. Especially when she sits back.

She wiggled a bit, turning to kiss your lips with chocolate against your mouths.

“Hmm, so good.” She smirked, leaning back in your arms with the bowl of popcorn. Everynow and then feeding you some, or reaching for some water and chocolate.

You really didn’t care if she didn’t stroke you or let you cum. Just being inside of her is enough. It feels so fucking good just being with her in this way.

“She isn’t funny.” Natasha pointed towards the blonde actress who was trying to get a cookie but made it look like she was fucking her costar.

“Nope not at all.” You cleared your throat.

“Oh my God, you think she’s hot.” Natasha smirked.

“Nope not even a little I’m gonna be honest here sweetie I’m not even watching it.” You snickered. “I’m just enjoying you.”

“So you don’t find this little blonde blue eyed actress hot?”

“Nope. But I will admit her costar from Euphoria. I think her name is Alexia but don’t hold me to it. Now she’s hot. I’ll admit that. I’m honestly not that into blondes.”

“You married one.” She laughed.

“I’m never supposed to talk about this but she’s actually not really blonde.”

“I knew it!” Natasha huffed.

“No you didn’t.” You snickered.

“Baby.” She whined.

“Okay you did.”

Natasha smirked and kissed you turning back to the movie.

“Hmm.” You hummed feeling her wiggle against you before rocking her hips. You held her hips helping her find her pace.

“Ohhhhh baby!” She moaned placing her hands against the edge of the coffee table using it to really fuck you.

“Gah damn.” You whisper watching her ass wiggle. You lean down and turn her by the chin, capturing those plump lips. “That’s it, love, find your spot.” You say as she whines looking back at you.

You hissed as she rides your cock up and down and side to side hearing her porn worthy moans. You leave kisses against her back letting your hands grope her breasts.

“Y/N!” She moans rocking her hips.

“I love you so much.” You groan watching her take you over and over again.

“I love you too daddy!”

“I’m gonna-“

“Me too.” She pants as your arms wrap around her.

You both moan loudly as you freeze inside of her letting her milk you for all you’re worth.

She moans as she rocks against you before lifting off of you.

“Fuck that was good.” You pant seeing your cum slip out of her and on you. Natasha turned around on her knees, licking you clean.

You sighed relaxing against the sofa letting your arms spread out. Natasha let you go with a pop. She sat next to you before pulling one of your arms around her.

You turned your head whispering in her ear. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She whispered against your lips.

“All this lovin’ is making me hungry.” You chuckled. “You hungry baby?”

“I’m okay.” She pecked your lips. “Kind of bored of this movie though.”

You reached down for your briefs and made your way to the kitchen.

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You stood in front of the window watching the snowfall as you finished eating your leftover pasta.

“Baby, look what I found!” Natasha held up a guitar.

“Where did you find that?” You chuckled, setting the plate in the sink and sipping on some wine.

“In another room.” She shrugged before handing it to you. “Play me something!” You take it and go towards the sofa.

“Hmm.” You hummed wondering what to play as you tuned his guitar.

“I'm here outside when you're ready

Think about the shots and confetti

I'll take you home if you let me

Just promise you won't forget me

'Cause the days get brighter when you're here

So I gotta keep you near

Goin' crazy and I just can't get you outta my head

Love is in the atmosphere, you can feel it in the air

Gettin' hazy and I just can't get you outta my head

Hoo-ah hoo-uh

Just can't get you out of my head

You locked the door and it's raining

But baby I'm not complaining, no

We hit the road and we're racing, yeah

You make me super impatient

Can you feel the tension?

You've got my attention

I know we're just friends

But I'd rather be together

'Cause the days get brighter when you're here

So I gotta keep you near

Goin' crazy and I just can't get you outta my head

Love is in the atmosphere, you can feel it in the air

Gettin' hazy and I just can't get you outta my head

Hoo-ah hoo-uh

Just can't get you out of my head

My head, my head, my head, my head

My head, my head, my head

Can't get you out of my

My head, my head, my head, my head

Can't get you out of my head

Hoo-ah hoo-uh

Just can't get you out of my head”

Natasha smirked, leaning over kissing you.

“How about you sing me a song now?” You grin.

“Okay, ummm how about Espresso?” She smirked.

“Oooohhh fuck yeah.” You damned yourself as you thought about the chord progression.

You started and looked up at her to begin.

“Now he’s thinkin' 'bout me every night, oh

Is it that sweet? I guess so

Say you can't sleep, baby, I know

That's that me, espresso”

Natasha rubbed her body taking a sip out of an imaginary cup.

Move it up, down, left, right, oh

Switch it up like Nintendo

Say you can't sleep, baby, I know

That's that me, espresso

She moved behind you wrapping her arms around your neck singing near your ear.

I can't relate to desperation

My 'give a fucks' are on vacation

And I got this one boy

And he won't stop calling

When they act this way

I know I got 'em

She smirked at you letting her hands rub up your thighs.

Too bad your ex don't do it for ya

Walked in and dream came trued it for ya

Soft skin and I perfumed it for ya

I know I Mountain Dew it for ya

That morning coffee, brewed it for ya

One touch and I brand newed it for ya

The redhead booped your nose laying down on the sofa waving her legs in the air.

Now he's thinkin' 'bout me every night, oh

Is it that sweet? I guess so

Say you can't sleep, baby, I know

That's that me, espresso

Move it up, down, left, right, oh

She sat up turning around for you to see her spread her legs and grind against nothing.

Switch it up like Nintendo

Say you can't sleep, baby, I know

That's that me, espresso

Is it that sweet? I guess so

She turned around smirking to see your member hardened under your sweats.

I'm working late 'cause I'm a singer

Natasha let her had run your hard on.

Oh, he looks so cute wrapped around my finger

My twisted humor, make him laugh so often

She stood dancing near your face as she stripped her shorts off.

My honey bee, come and get this pollen

Too bad your ex don't do it for ya

Walked in and dream came trued it for ya

Natasha’s nails raked through your scalp before taking off her shirt.

Soft skin and I perfumed it for ya

I know I Mountain Dew it for ya

That morning coffee, brewed it for ya

One touch and I brand newed it for ya

She walked over behind you letting her back rest against you sticking her fingers in your mouth.

Now he's thinkin' 'bout me every night, oh

Is it that sweet? I guess so

Say you can't sleep, baby, I know

That's that me, espresso

She turned against your back taking off her bra letting you feel her breasts against your skin.

Move it up, down, left, right, oh

Switch it up like Nintendo

Say you can't sleep, baby, I know

That's that me, espresso

He's thinkin' 'bout me every night, oh

Is it that sweet? I guess so

Say you can't sleep, baby, I know

That's that me, espresso

She moved in front of you and lifted her leg on your knee and you leaned in trying to lick her her wet spot. But we’re met with her stomach.

Move it up, down, left, right, oh

Switch it up like Nintendo

Say you can't sleep, baby, I know

That's that me, espresso

Is it that sweet? I guess so

That's that me, espresso”

You set the guitar aside and pulled Natasha against you. She giggled as you nibbled against her neck. “Is my honey bee getting its pollen?”

You chuckled, lifting her up and over your shoulder. “Fuck that was so sexy.” You slapped her ass as you began high tailing it up the stairs.

“What if I wanted you to keep singing to me?” She laughed.

“Later baby I’m gonna make you sing for me in a minute.”

She giggled as you tossed her on the bed. You wasted no time kissing and licking every inch of her. “God, I love you.” You hum.

“I love you too, baby. Now pollenate your fiancé.”

“This is the best vacation I’ve ever had.”

#natasha romanoff x reader #avenger lane #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x top reader #natasha x top reader

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