#feat: ghost team

[spookypete-94]

Pregnant by Proxy

SimonRileyxPregnant!Reader

Have had this idea in my head for many, many months. Finally just decided to do it- even if it seems strange to some.

Triggers for medical inaccuracies, language, minor angst, still born mentioned

What triggered it all is you not showing up. Being Laswell’s right hand while she was Watcher, given you the opportunity to assist Task Force 141 on multiple missions. So much, they considered you a part of their team.

Here instead, Simon Riley stood back watching you from afar. He had hunted you down and located you in your hometown. Something he was never ever supposed to do. There was a no contact rule for them outside of their work. Price enforced it for safety reasons. But Simon just couldn’t stand not knowing where you were or what had happened. That was unsafe for him. He needed to see you, needed to make sure you were alright.

“I can’t tell you much, just that she will not be attending this mission.” Laswell spoke from the computer screen during their video call meant to be a mission brief for the 4 of them.

“She ok at least?” Price asked, looking up over the stack of papers in his hands up at the camera.

You had made your mark on all of them… but maybe not as dark or inflicted as you had on Simon.

“Medical emergency back at home. I know you guys are worried about her, but I really can’t disclose anymore.” Laswell’s voice firmer, protecting you.  “She deserves privacy and her time off.” Something you had earned away from them.

Simon couldn’t help but pipe up. “When will she be back?” You are an asset to this team, as much to his spirit.

A heavy sigh from Laswell, “We need to focus on the task ahead.” She was putting up a wall. How dare you leave without relaying some sort of word to him…

What had happened to you?

That was the moment Simon knew he needed to find you. You were at risk, something had happened. Did you get sent somewhere without him and hurt? Are you bruised and bloody? Had someone laid hands on you? Dangerous as you were… Simon couldn’t help feeling that you were fragile. He had seen you in the most intimate of ways on more than one occasion. Perhaps that had changed his perception of the clarity of body. Fragile like clay figurine, porous and breakable. Skin smooth, even though littered with scars in places. Special, is the way to describe you to him. You understood him. An extension of his peace.

So, he finished the mission. Angrier than he had ever been at the end of one. Days drawn out, even though it only took them a week to find their target and take him into custody. It was a success, a record in apprehending someone capable of such violence. Little did the Task Force know, Ghost’s unbridled rage of procrastinating the ability to find you, the result of such a feat.

Price knew something was up when Ghost had turned down the interrogation of the suspect. This was his forte. One of his best qualities of finding intel was beating a man into submission. Glancing with a side eye filled with suspicion, Price then closed it. Halfway knowing what Ghost was up to, the fact that Simon now needed this. He needed to know you were alive.

There were a few times you would tell him stories of your hometown and family after you would connect and lay naked together. He enjoyed it. It distracted his mind while his brain would close his eyes and imagine it. Never once did you tell him where you from or the name of the town… but he had seen it so many times in his mind’s eye, he had just an inkling of where it was hidden.

Imagine his surprise when had finally found you outside your favorite coffee house. A small coffee in your hand… and a swollen belly round in front of you as you slowly waddled away from him. He had stood back near the corner about 3 buildings away from you, following you ever so slowly.

Shock had filled his system. He could walk away now… in fact he fully wanted to bolt and sprint in a different direction. He knew you were safe, alive and clearly thriving… but he had more questions now then when he did about your absence.

Feeling like you were being watched made you turn around. Eyes instantly locked on the black shadow that was following you.

“Simon?” Your sweet voice called to him, filled with confusion and happiness.

“Wanted to see you…” Was all he could mumble out as he approached.

Awkwardly you tried hard to lurch to him, hard to do so when your counterbalance was way off.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much,” a rushed hiss to him, as you tried to lay your head into his chest. It was difficult with how round you were, the babe pressing you away.

His finger guided under your chin, lifting it up so he could see your eyes. Tears welled in them that he brushed back with a thumb. Fucking hormones.

“Missed you,” you repeated. Somehow even through all your emotions, the glow on you was so strong and intense. How beautiful.

Simon remained quiet, while he tried to decide how far along you were. The time frame… seemed possible, but he wasn’t entirely sure. The time away from you seemed so much longer. He wanted to ask, he needed to know this now. Sure, he wanted to run at the same time, but you were important to him. This was important to him.

“Is it mine?” He asked his palm spreading over the circumference.

You stood there unable to speak. It was such a long story. Words hindered, closed off. Instead, you shook your head with a slow no. Regret written all over your face.

Instantly, the rage returned to him. Of course he wasn’t good enough for you. That’s why you left. That’s why everyone eventually does. How dare you be so important to him….

Turning on heel, he pushed past the crowd of people nearby trying to get away from you. Anger blinding him, deafening your calling out.

“Simon!! Wait!! She’s not mine either!!” Trying your hardest to run after him.

What?

He stopped dead in his tracks, unable to turn to look at you yet. The same tears that had stung yours now been transferred to his. Had he really wanted this with someone so bad before?

Your hand pressed into his back letting him know you were still there.

“She’s my sisters… it’s a really long fucked up story, but she is my sister’s.”

Abstract. This whole thing was completely abstract and fucking strange. You were being a surrogate to it all.

“What?” Simon said again, finally turning around, his head looking to the side, still not fully able to look at you yet. He needed clarification, needed to comprehend you hadn’t betrayed him.

“I went on leave because my sister was pregnant and went into labor at about eight and half months…but something had happened. She got this blood infection in her uterus causing a still birth. And when it did, it made things happen to her reproductive organs so she would never be able to carry a baby again…They had to take it all out.” A heavy breath left you, as you started to explain, a shake he could hear in your voice, one that and couldn’t ignore.

He turned back around, finally able to look at you again. To you, it was like the break of dawn and the sun greeting the Earth for the first time. He was listening to you. This whole time you were fearful of losing him… but here he was standing before you. Shining like the sun every morning, a wordless pact.

“My sister… she lost her baby and I saw what it did to her. This is all she has ever wanted was to be a mother, and her chance has been taken from her. So, when the doctor said they had saved some of her eggs…I knew I had to do this for her.” Taking his hand, you placed it back on your belly, sprawling his long fingers over it. “This baby isn’t yours… and she isn’t mine. That doesn’t make her any less important though. Just know I had to do this for her.”

His hand was warm. Radiating warmth into you. It gave so much into you, like you had just spewed out back to him.

Did he doubt you?

“I was on my way to an appointment. Why don’t you come with me and maybe that will help you understand.”

A compromise. Let me make this right.

Sliding his hand across your belly, over to your hand he took it and gripped it, squeezing once in awhile. His quiet assurance. So, you led the way. The sail to his boat, teaching and guiding him.

The room was white. White bed, white paper covering it. White walls. White Floor. So much white it hurt for him to look at. Carefully, he stood next to you, letting you climb on the bed to lay down.

“Where is your sister?” A valid question. He would think if this was her baby, she would want to know details, right?

“Work. I think it still hurts her to come sometimes… She has come to a few in the very beginning, but as it gets closer it scares her.”

A valid response.

“You been coming by yourself?”

A slight shrug of your shoulders. “I have…” That hurt him to know you were doing a majority of this alone.

“How did you…?” He said looking down and looking back up at you.

“Conceive?” Unsure if that was what he was asking or not. “Artificial. They planted the embryo after it was fertilized."

Oh, thank God. The relief written on his face makes you laugh.

“Don’t worry. No one else has been inside me in that way. I would never let anyone, let alone my brother-in-law.” Still chuckling.

“Better not.” The only words he could say in his embarrassment of thinking so.

In walked the doctor, who looked over at the mountain of a man.

“Well, hello. Is his him then?” She pointed to him and looked back at you.

“It is.” A smile radiating back at her, truly at your happiest.

The doctor glanced back over at him. “She has talked about you quite a bit and how much she wished you could be here. It’s hard, what she is doing for someone else, but I’m glad her person is here with her now. Your girl’s quite brave.” Rolling across the floor of the room on her stool.

Simon was dumb founded; you had talked about him to someone else? Did he really mean that much to you too?

“Now let’s have a look.”

Rolling your shirt up, exposing that smooth skin to him one more time. It’s been so long since he had last seen it, and here it had changed so much but remained stunning to him.

The doctor measured it before pulling out the doppler to hear the heartbeat. A soft whooshing noise was instantly recognized, making you close your eyes and smile. It was so surreal to Simon. Like he was on the outside looking in. He had the opportunity to see you in this light… and somehow it still was that way for you too. Knowing you were carrying this baby… but it wasn’t entirely yours either.

“Your niece is looking wonderful. See you at your thirty-six-week appointment. Will be once a week starting then.” Niece… A reminder that you were grateful for this baby, but a deep part of you wished it was daughter.

Somehow, he had made it to the checkout desk with you and hadn’t even realized it.

“Can I list you as an emergency contact?” the question that brought him back to reality. Your eyes were looking up at him, pen and paper in your hand before you wrote his name down.

“Sure,” he said taking the pen and paper, scribbling his number down next to his name. Who said anything about no contact outside of work again?

Ending the day, you brought him back to your home. Allowing him to see more of your personal life. Baring it all to him today. His fragile figurine, safe and protected now that he had found her once more. Never again would you be out of his sights. He will see to fix that, all on his own.

Two hands started at your hips before snaking around, his arms fully embraced you from behind. He lifted up on your heavy belly, taking the weight off your hips. A pleasant groan emitted from you. How good did that feel.

“Such a nice thing you are doing for your sister… but next time, the baby in there is going to be ours.” His mouth hot and heavy next to your ear, before running his tongue from the bottom up. It made your skin run hot and cold all at once, goosebumps in the wake on your skin.

“Going to be such a good mother,” his hand trailing down your belly and onto your thigh before squeezing it. “I want this to be safe and healthy for you all, but as soon as you can… I’m fillin’ you with my own. As many as you’ll let me.” Grinding into you, imagining you swollen with his seed making him aroused.

“I missed you.” You whispered out the thrice time today.

Simon "Ghost" Riley Masterlist

[bullet-prooflove]

Night Thoughts: Andrew 'Pope' Cody x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @fadeinsol

Summary: You and Pope discuss your fears about becoming a parent.

Companion piece to:

The Professional - Pope meets the love of his life when Smurf hires her to crack a safe.

Ethical Thieving - You introduce Pope to a new skill set.

The Skatepark - Pope reacts badly when you try to share your feelings.

The Octagon - Smurf decides to show you the real Pope Cody.

Two Weeks - Two weeks is too long for Pope to go without you.

Crazy (NSFW) - Pope's always been crazy but now he's also a man in love.

Tomorrow - Pope's family always fuck up the good in his life.

Do Over Day (NSFW) - Pope tries to make up for the day before.

Everything - Pope's family life clashes with your time together.

Positive - Pope didn't expect for it to happen sooner rather than later.

Four Bullets - Smurf finds out about you and Pope, leading to dire consquences.

Misery (feat: Baz Cody) - Baz starts to notice there’s something wrong with Pope.

The Gruffalo - Pope finally lays eyes on you for the first time in months.

Kill The Queen - Pope tries to come to terms with Smurf’s death.

You wake up to the sensation of Pope’s palm smoothing across your stomach, his hand dipping underneath the fabric of that t-shirt of his you’re wearing, his fingertips caressing your bare skin.

“She’s kicking again.” He whispers in the darkness, his voice filled with wonder as he chases the movement. You roll over onto your side, your face inches apart so you can look into his dark eyes. “Does it happen a lot?”

“All the time at night.” You tell him, snuggling back down into your pillow. “It’s something to do with the movement during the day rocking them to sleep.”

“So at night when mommy rests, it becomes an all out party.” He summarises, tickling the space where his daughter nudges against his hand. “Is that why you haven’t been sleeping so good?”

Nothing escapes this man, he’s been back in your life for almost forty eight hours and he’s already picking up on all of your shit. It’s kind of nice in a way because you’ve spent the majority of this pregnancy alone up until now.

“Partly.” You say with a sigh, looking down at the baby bump between the two of you. “The baby, she just brings up some thoughts, ones I haven’t figured out how to make peace with just yet.”

“What kinda thoughts?” He asks, propping his head up on his arm so he can give you his full attention.

“The fact I don’t have a parenting blueprint.” You tell him. His eyebrows furrow into a deep frown as he waits for you to explain. “My mom died when I was seven and my father…” You don’t say anything more than that but Pope knows what you’re alluding too. He was not the kind of role model anyone wants for their daughter. “I just don’t want to fuck her up like the way our parents fucked us up.”

“Well we have a roadmap of what not to do.” Pope tells you, tucking an errant strand of hair back behind your ear. “We already have so much love for her, we read the books, you take vitamins, attend doctors’ appointments. That’s already lightyears ahead of our parents. And the parenting classes will get us more prepared, everything else we’ll be able to figure together. The two of us”-he gestures between you- “we’re a team and we’ll support one another through the tough spots.”

The fact he’s here, saying those words, looking towards the future… You can’t express just how reassuring that is to someone who was a single mom this time last week.

“You have so much faith in the both of us.” You say as his thumb chases over the apple of your cheek. You clasp his hand to your face, your lips ghosting over the hollow of his wrist.

“You always tell me I’m not my history.” He reminds you, his whiskey coloured eyes soft as he looks at you. “You aren’t yours either. The two of us are going to break the cycle, raise our daughter to be happy, let her be a kid until she decides to become the president or an astronaut or whatever the fuck she wants. She’s going to have choices and opportunities that we never dreamed of and that’s because of us, because we decided to be better, do better. We made that decision, that’s how I know we’re going to be good parents.”

“Fuck.” You drawl, your forehead coming to rest upon his. “You’re so good at this already Andy.”

“Yeah?” He asks, his arm encircling your waist, drawing you even closer into the shelter of his form.

“Yeah.” You confirm, as his palms smooth over your back, rubbing soothing circles over your sore mucles. “I think you’re going to be an excellent daddy.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[geneviveleocardius]

the way you see me

feat. simon ‘ghost’ riley

your boots crunched against the gravel as you leaned back against one of the metal supply crates in the training yard. ghost, as always, stood at the edge of the scene, observing the rest of the team with his usual quiet intensity. his gloved hands were adjusting a strap on his vest, every movement precise, calculated. he looked like he didn’t care about anything—or anyone—but you could tell he noticed everything. he always did.

it was hard not to watch him. there was something magnetic about his silence, the mystery he carried like a second skin, the mask that kept the world at arm’s length.

“what?” his voice startled you out of your thoughts, low and gravelly, catching you in the act of staring.

your mouth moved before your brain could stop you.

“nothing,” you said, a playful smile tugging at your lips. you leaned slightly toward him, as if sharing a secret. “it’s just… i was noticing your eyelashes. they’re blonde.”

the air seemed to still, like someone had paused a movie mid-scene. ghost turned his head toward you, slowly, as though he wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly.

“come again?” his voice was quiet, but there was a hint of something—curiosity, maybe?

you grinned, fully committing now. “your eyelashes,” you repeated, motioning with a finger toward his eyes, where the mask couldn’t quite hide them. it was such a small detail, but once you noticed it, it was impossible to ignore. “they’re blonde. makes sense, doesn’t it? if your hair is the same color, i mean.”

a sound escaped him then, something between a huff and a laugh, though it was too faint to call it either. he seemed more bewildered than annoyed.

“let me guess,” you continued, clearly enjoying how off-guard he was. “you’re blonde. not bright blonde, though. more like…” you squinted, imagining him beneath the mask. “dark blonde. sandy.”

ghost crossed his arms over his chest, tilting his head just slightly to the side. his gaze, or what little you could see of it, was fixed on you now, and there was something… intrigued in it.

“and what if i told you you’re wrong?” he asked, his voice carrying an edge of amusement.

“i’d say you’re lying,” you shot back without hesitation, your grin widening.

the silence that followed was long but not uncomfortable. you could feel the weight of his attention now, more focused than you expected. it wasn’t threatening, though; it was the kind of silence that made you feel like he was truly studying you.

“no one’s ever said that to me before,” he finally said, his voice softer this time.

you raised an eyebrow, playful. “what? that you have blonde eyelashes?”

he shook his head, slowly. “that they noticed something like that.”

there was something about the way he said it that dimmed your smile for a moment. his words were quiet, almost hesitant, and they carried a weight you hadn’t expected. like he wasn’t used to being seen—not really.

“well… someone had to,” you replied, keeping your tone light, though there was a gentleness beneath it now.

ghost didn’t respond right away, but something in his posture shifted. his gaze lingered on you longer than it should have, his focus sharper, more deliberate. it was like he was trying to commit this moment to memory—your voice, your expression, your words.

and though you didn’t know it then, that was the moment you carved a place in his mind. one he’d never let go of.

[galaxy-stardust]

Simon Ghost Riley x you feat. TF 141

You call him cute

The safehouse is unusually quiet.

The kind of quiet that only comes after days of adrenaline and bloodshed.

The team’s scattered - Soap passed out on the couch with one boot off, Gaz humming to himself at the kitchen counter, Price somewhere on a call, probably reporting in.

Ghost? He’s in his corner.

That damn quiet corner he always claims - back to the wall, knee up, weapons sprawled out like a ritual. His mask’s still on, of course. He always keeps it on after missions, like he hasn’t quite put Ghost back in the box yet. The skull stares at nothing while his hands move with clean, mechanical precision.

You sit nearby, pretending to read something - maybe you're even holding a tablet - but your eyes are locked on him.

His gloves are off. That’s rare. You can see the way his fingers move over the metal, slow, careful, almost reverent. There’s so much focus in his silence, so much tension held in check.

And then it just... slips out.

A whisper. Barely audible. More breath than words, just for yourself.

“God, he’s so cute like this…”

It wasn’t meant to be heard.

It was meant to live and die in your chest.

But fate, as always, has other plans.

Soap moves on the couch - without even opening his eyes - “I’m sorry, what the hell did I just hear?”

Your heart stops.

You glance up in horror. Simon’s hands freeze mid-motion, a cloth paused on the slide of his rifle. He doesn’t move his head. Doesn’t say a word. But every inch of his body suddenly radiates death.

Gaz shouts from the kitchen, halfway through a bite - “No. Nooooo. Did she just call Ghost cute?” He turns, wide-eyed. “Like - adorable cute?”

Soap, already sitting up, absolutely delighted. “Oh this is gold. This is better than the time I caught him petting that stray cat in Belgrade.”

You whisper - desperate: “I - I didn’t mean it like that, I was just watching and he looked - ”

Gaz, grinning like the bastard he is. “Cute? Like a little focused murder goblin polishing his toys?”

Soap already mock-crying. “She broke him. Broke the killer. Ghost.exe has stopped responding.”

Ghost finally moves. Slowly. He finishes wiping the rifle, sets it down beside him with meticulous care, and then looks at you.

Not at them.

Just at you.

And his voice is dead calm.

“Cute, huh?”

You open your mouth. Close it again.

Soap's nearly hyperventilating in the background.

Gaz is egging him on. “Say it again. I want to see if his eye twitches.”

You hear Price’s voice from down the hall: “What in God’s name is going on out here?”

Soap is still cackling: “She called Ghost cute, Captain. While he was cleaning his weapon. Cute.”

Price takes a deep sigh. “Brilliant. Now he’s gonna kill one of you.”

Ghost’s voice cuts through it all. “You’ve got ten seconds to shut up.”

“BLOODY RUN, GAZ, HE’S COUNTING - ”

Soap grins. Gaz bolts.

Footsteps. Laughter. Chairs knocked over.

But Ghost still hasn’t looked away from you.

And under all that quiet fury - under the shame, the chaos, the mockery - there’s that tiny flicker in his eye. That glint that means something different. A quiet warmth.

He didn’t mind you saying it.

Just didn’t want anyone else to hear it.

You bite your lip.

He sighs, deep, low, resigned.

Mutters - only loud enough for you: “…Cute, fuckin’ hell…”

Then picks up the cloth and starts cleaning again, as if the entire building isn’t falling apart in the background.

[starboye]

some random headcanons for ghost sfw and nfsw below

✮ this man has the biggest ego boost when you scream and beg him to kill a spider that somehow got in your room

✮ always has you in his lap no matter what, at the bar with the team or just sitting around the hous

✮ is an absolute baby for you, yeah he's the lieutenant of team 141 but behind closed doors he's always begging you to lightly scratch his head or lay with him

✮ he loves when some days you take charge in bed, after working all day sometimes he just wants you to ride the stress out of him

✮ he'll fuck you in his mask some days if he's feeling exceptionally kinky

✮ will show off the lunches you make him every day, the team is always excited to see what feat you cooked up today

✮ he hates showing you off to the team, mainly because soap always starts flirting with you

[bluewxrld07]

What I Want (Luke Hughes)

Luke Hughes X Female!reader

Summary: In which Y/N wants Luke, but she is scared to let him in. Luke wants Y/N too, but doesn't want to scare her away

A/N: This is probs my most fave I've wrote :') so so good. I hope y'all enjoy (This do be inspired by the newest song by Morgan Waller feat. Tate McRae. Go listen if you haven't!!)

Warning(s): Mentions of cheating, angst, jealousy, ghosting, mutual pining, kissing

Nah you ain't gotta worry 'bout no trust issues, I got 'em too, I got 'em too

Nah you ain't gotta worry 'bout no exes that's crazy, I got 'em too, you know I do

"Your Chariot awaits you m'lady." Luke jokes as he motions to the entry to the ice arena.

Y/N chuckles at his antics as she passes by him, holding her clipboard close to her chest while she takes in the scene around her. The arena never disappoints to amaze her. She loved her job.

She was wearing her New Jersey Devils quarter zip with a pair of track pants, hair pulled back with a clawclip to keep it from flowing around while she skated on the ice.

The girl was one of few conditioning coaches for the Hockey team, having landed an internship with them post grad school, moving there with her boyfriend of three years, and she couldn't have asked for a better team to coach with. She had grown close to everyone on the team, feeling like she fit in instantly, especially after becoming closest with Luke Hughes.

Luke made her feel better. Brought out the light in her. Her boyfriend, Chase, has been dimming it lately as their nights together have been increasing with more fights and unloyal actions by the man.

She had caught texts between him and another coworker of his, a female that is, sending awfully provocative messages to one another. Ever since that night Chase has been short with her when he is home, and ends up leaving for the night after leaving a mess in their shared apartment.

Y/N always looked forward to work during these times at home, especially because now Luke was helping keep her distracted from it.

Which was whom she was heading out onto the ice with as they wait for the rest of the boys to make their ways out.

"So what's on the chopping block today boss?" Luke asks as he skates with her while shooting pucks around.

She gives him a sly smirk while shaking her head. "You'll figure it out with everyone else. No special treatment, you know that." she tsks, making him groan and roll his eyes.

"Oh come on, not even for the one who brought you lunch and your favorite coffee place?"

"Nope not even them."

"You're ridiculous."

"And you're a crybaby."

"A pretty crybaby."

She laughs at his comment and says nothing, going to move the nets over and place back in their holder.

Luke quiets for a second before clearing his throat. "So how're things with Chase?" he asks slowly, not wanting to strike a nerve. Which is too late, watching her smile fade.

"They're fine," she says with a shrug. "Haven't seen him around lately, so not much to say."

Luke raises a brow. "I'm sorry to hear that." he says as he helps her raise the goal to put it into place. "I thought he got off an hour before you?" he questions.

"We got into an argument about something. Ever since then, he's been staying later or goes out with coworkers." she says, her tone becoming shorter with each sentence that leaves her mouth.

"Wait what? What happened?" he bombards, and she huffs before snapping her head towards him.

"Just some stuff I was catching onto."

"Like what?"

"That is not your concern," she snaps back. "No more questions."

The boys all are making their ways out to the ice by this time and skating around for warmups. "But Y/N-"

"Go skate, Hughes."

He watches as she turns away from him and skates away from his view, the blond boy standing there with confusion written all over his face.

She said, "You don't want this heart boy, it's already broke"

Told me everything she touch just blows up in smoke

Only stay a couple nights, then she gon' be gone

I said, "Baby, you should know that's what I want"

Y/N wiped the tears from her face. Not caring about the people who would send her pity stares around the room.

She was sat by herself in the bar, one closer to her workplace so it wouldn't be a hassle walking to the hotel across from it later when she was intoxicated. She looked down at her drink while crossing her arms over one another in front of her on the bar counter.

She had to get out of there, she had to. Her intuition was right, and she was glad she made a plan out of it.

The girl had known Chase was still seeing the other girl, as he had been coming home reeking of some cheap and fruity smelling perfume and marks hiding barely underneath his collared shirts.

In which she had conducted the plan to say she would be out working at the rink till late, seeing if he would take her bait. He did.

The scene she had walked back into had her heart breaking into a million pieces. She knew it. Everything in her mind screamed it.

Clothes were scattered amongst the entry hallway floor, shoes too. She could hear moans, gasps and everything in between as she walked further into their once-shared home. As she walked down towards their bedroom, the door was left open a crack and she could see things she wished she didn't just through it.

Which was when she slammed the door open with a loud thud, the back of it hitting the wall. The pair in bed jumping and scattering to wrap the sheets around themselves.

Chase looked more pissed than scared, while the woman looked so afraid for her life. Y/N's face dropped in shock, as she held back the tears that were glossing over her eyes.

She scoffed while pushing her hair out of her face. "Oh well don't mind me," she snidely comments, while going towards the closet to pack up some of her things. Chase got out of the bed, scurrying over towards her.

"I'm sorry," he says softly, trying to reach out to her. She ignores his pleads and cries while she packed and zipped up her bags. "Y/N please I'm sorry. I just didn't know how to tell you, I've been so stressed and you haven't been home and-"

"So fucking your coworker you specifically told me I was being crazy and insecure about is your next best option? Seriously?" she yells back, whipping her head back toward him.

He stands there silently. "You're a coward." she whispers, walking past him. He grips her arm.

"Please don't leave! We-we can figure this out! We can-"

"No."

"Y/N please I can't do this without you, I need you-"

"Then you shouldn't have gotten your fucking dick wet by another woman, Chase." Y/N growls, ripping her arm from his grip and walking towards the door while ignoring his further calls of her name.

She let the door slam behind her as she got out of that apartment complex as quick as she could, tears streaming down her face.

Her mind was trying to figure out where to go, what to do. She didn't have a place to live. She couldn't call anyone, not even Luke as she hasn't spoken to him since that day at practice.

She was so scared to face him, because she knew he knew.

Which led her to where she was now, sitting in the bar alone at almost one in the morning, thanking herself that she didn't have work till Tuesday. It was Thursday.

She turned her phone on Do Not Disturb, as Chase was blowing up her phone with texts, calls, emails, anything he could do to get her to respond.

She refused.

"Y/N?" A voice says behind her, making her snap out of her daze and whip her head around.

A very confused Jack Hughes was walking in with a couple of his fellow players whom were going to sit towards a table. She turns her head back around as he began to walk over to her, quickly making work to wipe under her eyes before he reached her.

She smiled the fakest smile she could muster as she turned back to him when he sat next to her, his eyebrows furrowing. "Hey Jacky boy." she says with a dry and hoarse chuckle.

"Y/N are you okay? What's wrong?" he asks her.

She shook her head and bites her bottom lip. "Nothing, why?" she says, eyes glossing over.

Jack gives her a look, wiping a tear that escaped. "What happened?" he asks, his voice softer. Y/N then lets her guard down, and sniffles.

"I was right," she shrugs, taking a sip of her drink. "I should've called it off months ago, but part of me wanted to be so wrong. I really thought this one would work." she rambles, tears falling nonstop.

"What? Wait, did something happen with Chase?" he bombards, his eyes looking back and forth between hers.

She chokes on a sob and nods, covering her mouth with her hand.

Jack looks behind her, doing a double take before placing his hand on her arm to have her look at him. "Stay here, I'll be back okay?" he says, and she nods.

Jack leaves a second later, Y/N turning back to her drink and finishing it off before motioning to the bartender for another.

The bartender hands her another tequila and pineapple, the girl taking a few gulps. She tries to not jump at the feeling of a hand softly being placed on the middle of her back.

Her head turns over, seeing the one boy she had been avoiding coming to sit next to her. His eyes looking down at her with a frown.

"Y/N," Luke says in a soft tone. "What happened with Chase?"

"What do you mean?" she asks, playing dumb.

"Jack told me," he starts. "He said something happened between you two and to come to you. What's going on?"

Y/N just sniffles, stirring her straw around her drink before taking it out and going to chug the rest of it.

Before she can even let the glass hit her lips, a hand is snagging it from her grip and putting it out of reach. She furrows her brows as she follows it, seeing Luke is taking it from her view and setting it behind him.

He motions to the bartender to take it, doing a slash signal across his neck. "She's done, I'll close her tab." he says to the bartender, handing him his card before turning back to Y/N.

She's pouting at him when he looks at her, making him give her a look. "Tell me what happened. I can't help you if you don't tell me."

"Why would you want to help me?"

"What kind of question is that? Why wouldn't I want to help you?" he asks, watching her shrug.

"I ruin everything I let get too close to me." she says, zoning into the space in front of her. Luke sighs, lifting his hand to place is pointer and middle fingers underneath her chin to have her look at him.

"What. Happened?"

Y/N looks into his eyes, sighing as her tears free fall once more. "Chase cheated on me. He's been sleeping with one of his coworkers for months," she admits, watching his face fall as he takes his fingers out from under her chin.

"That's why we were fighting," she explains. "I saw messages, and so I called him out. Then he got defensive and short with me. I caught them tonight."

Luke feels his chest get tight as he watches her slowly break.

"So I packed my stuff and left," she huffs and sniffles as she picks at her nails.

"Y/N," he says in a sadder tone, and she shakes her head.

"Don't, Luke. Enough."

"Why? Why won't you let me be there for you?"

"Because I can't."

"Yes you can."

"No I can't," she whips her head over. "I already ghosted you once, what makes you think I won't do it again? So no, I don't want your help or your pity or anything. It's better to keep your distance."

Luke looks at her shock. Watching as her nail beds start to bleed from picking at them.

Fuck it.

He grabs her hands, lacing them with his own to keep her from hurting herself more.

She glares over at him, and he shakes his head.

"Where are you staying?"

"Luke I already said-"

"Where are you staying?"

She sighs and looks down at her lap, Luke caressing the top of her hands.

"I was going to stay at the hotel across from the arena." she mumbles, and he purses his lips.

"Come stay with Jack and I."

She snaps her head up with a frown. "Luke I can't-"

"You can, and you will," he starts, sighing as he sees she's going to argue more. "I know what it feels like. I do, I've been through this too. You can lean on me. I know you have no trust right now, I've been there. But you can trust me."

Her lip quivers as she looks at him, only seeing sincerity in his eyes. "So please just come stay with us. You're not going to be bugging us or pestering us. Jack would kill me if he found out I'd let you stay in a hotel."

She sits there and thinks for a bit, before looking at him.

"Only a few days, then I'm gone." she says, and he looks at her with a knowing look.

"Only a few days." He agrees.

She nods slowly before yawning, Luke standing up and helping her up from her chair. "Let's get you to bed, yeah?" he says, watching her nod and blinks slowly.

There are no hard feelings if you only wanna act like lovers do, for a night or two

And sometimes in the mornin', go back to being someone you never knew, you never knew

Baby don't you worry, you ain't gonna hurt me tonight

It won't be the worst thing, If this is how it is, then he kissed me again

It had been close to a few weeks since Y/N had agreed to stay with Luke and Jack.

She had kept her promise to only stay a few days, wanting to somewhat get herself back on her feet.

Or in this case, in which she had tried to leave after a few days.

Luke and Jack told her otherwise, and that they preferred her company more than anything. They had begged for her to stay longer, saying she could pitch in if she truly wanted to get back on her feet like she's saying.

Although they were more than fine if she also didn't spend a dime towards them. But knowing her all too well, they knew she'd refuse and would make a compromise wanting to help.

So after a few negotiations, Y/N had agreed to stay with them, the boys helping her one day gather the rest of her things from her apartment.

They had made sure to go when she knew Chase wouldn't have been home, a breath of relief had left her lips when the place was empty amongst entering.

So now she was a few weeks into living with the Hughes boys, and she had felt much better. Well as good as she could be.

Moving in with Luke and Jack, had also brought some weird emotions and feelings to light between her and Luke. Ones she wasn't aware of until one morning when she had woken up to him bringing her breakfast in bed, alongside her favorite coffee order.

Luke made things feel easier. Lighter.

The boys had included her in more nights out, wanting to help her forget about the ex who had ruined her trust and broke her heart.

Also Luke wouldn't let her stay home and bedrot a moment longer, to which he actually carried her over his shoulder till they were secure in the uber on their way to their destination for the evening.

She had her arms crossed, a pout and frown on her face as she stared at Luke who sat next to her. He looked down at her in amusement.

"Oh stop," he chuckles. "You needed to get out of the place. I will no longer allow you to lose your youth over a man who couldn't see over five foot seven."

"He wasn't that short."

Nico looked behind at her with a smirk and nod. "Oh yes he was."

"See? Cap agrees." Luke says while motioning towards the boy in the front seat. Her mouth dropped at Nico before she smacked his shoulder.

"Rude!" she huffs, and Nico puts his hands up in surrender. "We don't lie in this car." Nico chuckles, earning an eyeball from her.

"You're all ridiculous."

"Not ridiculous sweetheart," Luke laughs, placing a hand on her thigh and tapping his fingers against it. "Just honest."

"Easy for you to say," she scoffs. "You're taller than average."

Luke puts his other hand over his chest with a fake awe face. "Are you complimenting me? This is a rare sighting!" he gasps, making her push his hand off of her thigh and cross her arms again and look out the window.

Luke laughs, before putting his hand back on her thigh and squeezing. He leans over to her, getting close to her ear. "Relax I'm only messing around." he chuckles softly before placing a kiss to her temple and sitting back up straight.

Her face began to heat up and she tried to hide the smile forming on her face.

Luke always knew how to make her fold and give in. Especially nowadays when he would do little actions like the kisses on the temple or holding her thigh or hand.

Y/N didn't mind it one bit, and he didn't seem to push or ask her either. He just knew.

When they arrived at the bar for the night, they found the other boys already gathered around a corner booth inside, drinks in their hands as they all conversed.

Some of the boys got up and gave her big hugs, some saying how excited they were that she decided to join them while some were just glad she was there.

Y/N felt a little nervous at first, but was now becoming at ease especially with Luke not leaving her side as she conversed with them all.

Throughout the night he kept his hand on the small of her back, or his hand laced with hers if they had to walk through a crowd so he wouldn't lose her.

He never abandoned her, and it made her insides feel weird. A good weird, but still weird.

It was later in the night and she had already become a little past the point of being buzzed. The girl was sat in the booth, listening in on the boys conversations. Luke had gotten up to go get her and him another drink.

She had felt the need to go to the bathroom, excusing herself from the table to get up and make her way towards where she needed to go.

As she excused herself in between the bodies filling the bar, she lifted her head up once through the crowd soon doing a double-take.

Her eyes narrowed at the sight not too far in front of her.

Luke was sitting on a barstool turned away from the bar, a leg supporting him on the floor while the other sat on the metal bar of the barstool with his drink in hand. A pretty brunette girl who looked tall and model-like talking to him.

They looked invested in one another, Luke smiling at her while the girl is smiling him while working the triangular stare tactic on him.

Y/N felt her stomach churning at their closeness, especially seeing Luke never got her her drink he had promised. She felt her trust issues sinking in, her mind starting to become louder and sobering her entire body up.

She no longer felt the need to go to the bathroom, only wanting to get out of that place.

As she made her way towards the front door, she began to realize her emotions she was feeling towards Luke and the girl weren't betrayal or annoyance.

They were jealousy.

She was jealous of the girl and Luke.

Which means she likes Luke.

Y/N had feelings for Luke.

Once she stepped outside the cold air blew into her face, instantly sobering her up.

Y/N began walking down the street, somewhat aware of where she was at. She stopped at the end of the street and began to pull her phone up for directions back towards the Hughes household.

"Y/N!"

Her name is being hollered behind her, causing her to turn around and then roll her eyes when she sees the familiar head of curly hair jogging down the street towards her.

"Y/N what're you doing? Where are you going?" he says to her once he catches up to her.

"I'm going home."

Luke nods. "Okay I'm coming with you-"

"No, it's fine."

"What's-"

"Nothing I'm fine Luke, fucks sake." she snaps, making him frown at her with confusion. His eyes began to search hers.

"Why are you acting like this? Did something happen?" he asks, and she huffs, putting in the address for the apartment silently.

"Y/N."

She stays quiet.

Luke huffs before grabbing the phone from her hand, earning a gasp from her as she goes tor each for it.

"No, stop, Y/N- stop!"

Y/N freezes at the slight raise in his voice, looking at him with a scowl.

"Not till you tell me what happened."

"Nothing I just want to go home." she crosses her arms and looks at the ground.

"You're lying."

Her eyes snap up at him as if looks could kill. "What did you say?"

Luke purses his lips. "You're lying, Y/N."

"No I'm not-"

"You can't look someone in the eye. That's how I know you're lying." he explains, making her open and close her mouth unsure of what to say.

"That's not true, I want to go home."

"Okay fine. Then let me come with you."

"No."

"Why not?"

She huffs and crosses her arms. "Don't you have a girl to get back to?" she snaps, making him look at her all confused.

"You mean Lydia?" he asks, making her eyebrows raise while she runs around to walk away.

"Oh great she has a name." she mumbles before walking away from him.

"No don't you dare walk away," Luke says as he grabs her hip and turns her back to him.

He frowns at her, seeing her slightly shaking from how cold it is. He shrugs his jacket off and wrapping it around her shoulders.

"Why're you so upset?" he asks in a softer tone, watching her eyes leave his and look at her toes.

"Nothing."

"What did I say about lying to me?" he says, watching her huff before rolling her eyes and looking at him.

"Go back to Lydia. I'm going home." she says before turning to walk away once more, leaving his grip quick enough before he can try and prevent her from leaving.

"Stop this!" he says behind her, and she shrugs her shoulders.

"I'm not doing anything."

"Yes you are." he says.

"I'm not."

"She's Nico's cousin, first off and second off she was asking if I could help with a surprise for him. I don't want her."

"That's nice. Goodnight Luke." she calls out behind her as she continued walking.

"Dammit Y/N," he groans. "When are you going to realize it's you I want?"

She stops in her tracks, turning towards him slowly. He sees the pleading look in his eyes as he walks closer to her.

"I want you. I've wanted you." he says as he approached her.

"You don't want me, Luke."

"How can you tell me what I want and don't want?"

"Because I'm broken. I'm messed up. I'm not someone who gets a happy ending. You don't want me." she sputters out. Luke frowning at her.

"Seriously?" he exasperates, putting his hands on his hips as he looks down at her in disbelief.

"Yes seriously. I've got a lot of shit Luke. I'm a broken person. I can't be fixed."

Luke looks at her, his heart clenching at how she thinks of herself. Her hand comes up and caresses his face with a sad smile.

"Goodnight Luke." she says softly as she lets her hand fall from his face and turns to walk away.

Luke grabs the back of her neck in a soft grip, turning her around and slamming his lips onto hers in a bruising and passionate kiss.

Y/N gasps in shock, but she soon lets her emotions take over, and lets her hands fall onto his chest as he lets his tongue find hers and move in sync with her lips.

Luke kisses her as if it's his last, not wanting to ever let her go.

She said, "You don't want this heart, no, it can't be fixed"

And I ain't ready to try on a night like this

But if you still wanna stay, there ain't nothin' wrong

I said, "Baby, you should know that's what I want"

They break away from the kiss, Luke leaning his forehead against hers while his thumbs caress her cheeks. Y/N lets her hands go up and grip his wrists in a soft manner.

She opens her eyes as he opens his, looking between the eyes she had fallen hard for.

Y/N shook her head lightly. "You don't want my broken heart, Luke."

Luke smiles at her and nods slowly as his eyes never leave her own. "Trust me, sweetheart. It's what I want."

That's what I want, that's what I want

What I want

[dix0nspretty]

Too Quiet

Summary: When cleaning house with Soap, you get stabbed and he disappears.

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x F!Reader (platonic? ish?), 1.3k words.

Era: First half of MW2

TW: Discussions of fights, stabbing, violent death (not Soap, don't worry), fainting from blood loss. Worried 141 men.

Day 23 of my bastardized version of Russian Roulette Febuwhump/Kinktober for March that I'm affectionately calling Trinket's Cause of Death. It's basically 50/50 whump/kink where I generate a number corresponding to a prompt. This first whump prompt!

Day 23: Missing on the mission with Soap (whump)

Soap’s missing and it just might be your fault.

Soap was assigned to clear the houses to the left of the neighbourhood with you as his backup, something easy and almost mindless. Johnny and you have the highest scores when it comes to cleaning house. It’s nearly effortless as you clean room after room methodically and with a speed that makes rookies shake in their boots.

How you didn’t see the hostile hiding around the corner will piss you off for months- longer if you don’t find your partner in one piece. The hit to your skull dazed you instead of knocking you unconscious, but they’d dragged you into the bathroom’s tub before you could alert Johnny or anyone else.

The bastard tried to stab you to death but only managed to get the blade around your gear once before you disarmed and slaughtered him with his own blade. He’d tried to slip the blade between your ribs, but the fucker misjudged and just gouged right on top of your seventh right rib.

Climbing out of the tub filled with slippery blood with a burning stab wound was no easy feat, but you’d fought through worse. The hall sounds quiet, almost too quiet. Maybe Soap didn’t notice you get snatched.

The entire fight only took 45 seconds, but by the time you emerged into the hallway, breathing raggedly as adrenaline pumps through your veins, Johnny’s disappeared.

“Bravo 7-1?” You pant into the comms line when you don’t immediately see Soap. “Bravo 7-1, how copy?”

“What’s wrong, Bravo 7-2?” There’s Captain Price, ready and listening to comms as always. Always ready to help his team.

“I’m injured, Cap,” you pant out and touch your wound to see how bad it is. That’s a lot of blood. “Hostile got me in the ribs with a KA-BAR, lost track o’… fuck, of Johnny.”

You can almost hear Price bristle over comms at the knowledge that you’re hurt and Soap’s out of sight. “Sitrep, Sergeant. How’s the bleeding?”

You take another moment to consider, using the wall as a crutch while inching towards the direction Johnny went. “I’ll live… probably. Soap, where the fuck are you?”

No answer over the comms system and you can feel the tension building through the line between the rest of the 141.

“Johnny.” Ghost pops in, gruff and demanding an answer. “Report.”

Once again, no response. That’s a problem- Soap never misses a chance to talk to Ghost, even when he’s been injured. So he’s either incapacitated or separated from his comms, both of which are big problems as well.

“What do I do, Cap?” You ask, more worried about keeping your rifle up than applying pressure to the steadily bleeding wound in your side. “House isn’t cleared and there could be more hostiles.”

As Price deliberates, you make it to the left turn in the hallway, slumping against the wall as you peer down. Nothing but a bloody bootprint halfway down. It’s clear that it’s fresh, but how fresh?

The comms crackle and Price speaks up. “Clear the rest of the house. Ghost is repositioning and I’m sending Gaz to assist. If you don’t find Soap, we’ll reevaluate.”

That’s code for ‘go entirely off of Shepherd’s rules and find Johnny because we aren’t going anywhere without him’. Shepherd and the brass might want this mission done, but nothing’s happening without Soap. Each and every member of the 141 has gone against orders from above before and will do it again, especially for their teammates. For Johnny.

You stumble your way through the rest of the first and second floor, doing your best to stay silent and not alert any hostiles that you’re present and severely injured. Each step you feel a little more lightheaded and every second more concerned for Johnny and his uncharacteristic silence. Is he hurt? Is he unconscious? Is he-

The quiet steps behind you make you whirl around with your rifle ready to kill, but you go too far in your dizzy state and collapse forward, vertigo getting the best of you and sending you into someone’s chest with a startled ‘oof’.

“There ye are love, dinnae ken where ye went.”

“Johnny…?” Your voice comes out too dazed for your liking, but all you can think is you’re so lucky it was an ally and not a hostile and especially that it’s Johnny. “Why the fuck aren’t you answering comms? I was looking for… f… for you.”

Johnny shifts his grip on you, easily disarming and shuffling the rifle out of the way to properly keep you upright. He doesn’t feel as warm as normal, you notice almost dazedly. “Got in a wee tussle with some Irish bastard in the kitchen, took a hit an’ shattered my earpiece. The fuck happened tae ye, look like ye lost a fight with a shark.”

Fuck, when did you get so bad off? You didn’t check the fucking kitchen? It’s a miracle you lived long enough to even see the second floor.

That draws a weak laugh and your knees buckle forward, putting your whole weight into his chest and drawing an ‘oof’ of strain. “Jesus, bon. Give a lad some warning. Ye’re fucked, hm?”

You nod, the motion setting off a spinning in your head. “Got dragged into the bathroom, bas… bastard stabbed me. By th’ time I put him down, I couldn’t find you…”

Johnny tuts and eases you down to the floor, leaning you against the wall and arranging you so he can get a good look at your side. “Steamin’ Jesus, bon. Ye were looking for me an’ bleeding tae fucking death. Why didn’t ye put pressure on this, stubborn brat…”

His hand is on your ribs a moment later, the sudden pressure drawing a pained string of curse words that you didn’t even know went together. Johnny laughs and only presses down harder, intent on stemming the excessive bleeding. “Dinnae think I’ve ever heard it put quite that way, birdie.”

Soap’s other hand nonchalantly digs in your ear and plucks your comms free, popping it into his own ear without a care in the world. “Cap, it’s Johnny. Aye, I found 7-2. Lost my comms in a tussle sir, nothing’s wrong. ‘Cept birdie seems intent on bleeding out.”

“Don’t tell him that,” You hiss but Johnny only playfully covers your mouth with his hand, giving you a boyish wink and glancing around to make sure no other hostiles appear while he listens in on a conversation you’re not privy to.

You blink and suddenly Gaz is there as well, patting your cheek and looking down at you with those worried brown eyes. He softens some when you blink up at him, relieved. “There you are, love.”

“When’d you get here…” You mumble, the words slightly slurred. Didn’t you only blink? When did he sneak up? When did Soap move to your side, looking much more like a Sergeant at work than your teammate as both hands keep pressure on your side. His gaze is hard and focused, even as the cut on his eyebrow from his struggle bleeds into his eye.

“You passed out,” Kyle informs you and takes your rifle entirely, passing it to Soap. “Decided to take a nap and scare Johnny half to death. Think it’s time to get you home, hm?”

Johnny gives a scoff in the affirmative and helps Gaz get you up, both men ignoring the way your legs won’t hold your weight or how you curse in pain. “Jesus fuck son of a…. Be gentle.”

“Yes ma’am,” Gaz deadpans as he and Soap each take one side, leading you out of the house and to a waiting Price and Ghost who look entirely unimpressed. Their expressions both shift when they see the state you’re in. It’s easy to see how much they care once you know the men. The way Ghost’s jaw muscles ripple with frustration and worry or how Price immediately lights a new cigar.

You’re going to be in for the lecture your life… once you’re stitched up in the medbay. At least Johnny turned out to be okay.

[sarahsghosts]

the death and resurrection of jonathan price

john price x female, wife!reader

angst with an eventual happy ending

word count: 2,179

cw: language.

chapter 5

songs: mama said knock you out (metal version) - leo moracchioli, ain’t it fun - paramore, so tied up (feat. bishop briggs) - the cold war kids

sweat beaded down price's neck as he stood next to ghost, watching soap sweep through the drill with ease. the sergeant moved steadily as if he'd been doing this his entire life.

soap’s feet moved expertly as he peaked out from behind his makeshift cover.

two shots on the first target. pop! pop!

four shots for the second one. pop! pop! pop! pop!

three shots for the next one. pop! pop! pop! two in the chest, one in the head.

he dropped his rifle at his side, drew his pistol, and put his final five rounds into the remaining target. pop! pop! pop! pop! pop!

when he had finished, price barely looked at him.

“too slow,” he snapped. “run it again.”

an uncomfortable silence settled on the range as the ring of the last target faded. gaz glanced at ghost, his expression saying what they were all thinking.

soap had run the drill flawlessly.

“captain,” ghost murmured, his arms crossed over his chest.

“again,” price growled without looking at his lieutenant.

soap looked like he wanted to protest but knew better.

everyone on the team had known price wasn’t quite right since coming home. it was best not to argue with him right now.

johnny reloaded his weapons without a word before moving to run the drill again.

it had been a long day on the range for the 141, the sun beating down on them mercilessly. dust kicked up in the air, covering everything in a hazy glow.

price couldn’t seem to get you out of his head and his men had been the ones to suffer for it. he pushed them harder than ever, but it didn't seem to be enough to occupy his mind any longer.

when soap finished the drill, price didn’t say a word to him. he just walked over to gaz, who was now reloading magazines on a fold out table. he picked up a rifle and slung it over his back before sliding a pistol into his side holster.

he moved over to the course and began running the drill himself.

two shots on the first target. pop! pop! he couldn't seem to get the stink out of the gulag out of his nose.

four shots for the second one. pop! pop! pop! pop! the anguished screams echoing in his brain kept him from sleeping each night.

three shots for the next one. pop! pop! pop! “john...” your breathy moan replaying in his mind was the only reprieve he had from the memories of that hell.

instead of dropping his rifle, he rounded on the final target and unloaded the remainder of his magazine. pop! pop! pop! pop! pop! pop! pop! pop! click.

“captain!” price stopped pulling the trigger when ghost’s voice finally broke through to him. his heart thumped loudly in his chest and sweat ran down his brow, stinging his eyes.

he didn’t say a word as he turned on his heels, moving purposefully into the squat, brick building behind them.

price stormed into the weapons cage and placed the unused pistol down on the table. he did the same with the rifle, slipping the sling off his back.

he wasn't entirely sure why, but he reached for the pistol and hit the magazine release. he began unloading it and then, disassembling it.

he heard the sharp, squeak of the door hinges before ghost’s shadow was cast over the table in front of him.

“sir.” when price didn’t look up, ghost said, “john.”

this got price’s attention. his hands stilled.

ghost looked him up and down. he knew for certain price hadn’t had a good night's sleep in years.

“been to see the missus?”

price’s eyes snapped up, fury blazing in them. “don’t,” he said, a low warning lacing his tone.

ghost clicked his tongue. “didn’t go well, then?”

your face flashed before his eyes, your eyes disappointed, heartbroken, when he flippantly told you to leave. price clenched his jaw, tightly. “you’re out of line, lieutenant—”

“no,” ghost said. “you are, captain. don’t forget who kept this team together while you were gone.”

ghost turned to leave, letting the metal door of the weapons cage fall shut. he stopped, not bothering to turn around as he said, “get your head on straight, john.”

you stared at your wedding band, as it hung on a chain around your neck. the gem glinted in the light of the setting sun. you leaned your head back onto the headrest of your seat and tried to find the motivation to get out of your car.

the radio played quietly as you listened to the sound of rain bouncing off your windshield. your car was idling in the back of the parking area outside your work. it was a little hardware store, and you were an assistant manager.

you had applied as a cashier after losing your job when john had first gone missing.

the store owner had taken one look at your résumé and offered you an assistant manager position.

you had tried to argue that you didn’t know anything about power tools or whatever else might make a good hardware store manager, but he brushed you off.

“i need someone who can manage people. i have plenty of subject matter experts around this store, already.”

and so he had. your favorite was billy, who worked evenings like you did.

billy was around sixty years old and picked up part time hours after he retired. “i was too damn bored sitting at home all day and i don’t fish,” he’d told you.

he was kind. well, he was to you, at least. truthfully, he was a crotchety old grump, but evidently, he had a daughter around your age and that made him soft on you.

you finally found the strength to head into work, jogging through the parking lot because you had forgotten an umbrella.

with damp hair and rain-streaked cheeks, you clocked in for your shift.

you walked up to the customer service desk, tucking your chain and wedding band under your shirt as you went.

scooping up your little clipboard, you greeted the teenagers that worked there in the evenings and on the weekends.

“mandy, when did you need off again?” you asked, glancing at the half-written schedule you hadn’t finished before you called out the other day.

“next friday,” mandy, the high school senior, told you. “i’m going on a weekend vacation with my parents.”

you smiled at her, doing your best to seem interested as she rambled on about her upcoming trip, but you were having trouble focusing.

your mind was plagued with thoughts of john, just as it always seemed to be, lately. you only wanted to help him, but he didn’t want you to, so, in the end, there wasn’t anything you could do about that. you felt useless. helpless. forced to watch the destruction of the man you loved.

“—monday, too?” mandy asked.

“hmm?” your head snapped up, and you saw the girl looking at you expectantly. “oh, sorry. can you repeat that last part?”

“i was just wondering if you could avoid scheduling me that monday, too?” she said.

you scribbled on your clipboard. “you got it.” you tried to sound casual, even as your hands were shaking a little. “did you ask andre if he would cover—”

“excuse me?” a voice interrupted.

you looked up to see a man standing in front of the counter. he was tall, dark haired, and had a haircut that suggested he still thought it was 2008. was that a soul patch?

“can i ring up here?” he asked.

you blinked, glanced pointedly at the sign that said customer service center, and sighed.

“yes, i can ring you up,” you said, trying not to sound irritated.

mandy returned her attention to whatever it was she had been doing when you arrived, and you took the items that soul patch had slid across the counter. a box of screws. duct tape. a putty knife.

you began scanning them.

“so what time do you get off?” he asked, one eyebrow quirking up.

“i just clocked in,” you said blandly, giving him a non-answer. you glanced at the register. “that will be—”

“you know, i don't think i have seen you here before. are you new?”

“no. your total—”

“come on, sweetheart. you look wound up. i bet you could use some fun.”

“i’m working,” you grit your teeth, your tone moving from bored to annoyed.

the man had to audacity to look irritated with you. “but after—”

“i believe the lady turned you down, already,” a gravely voice interrupted.

you looked past the man, to see john standing behind him. you swallowed thickly, your eyes glued to him.

he looked better than when you had seen him last. his beard was trimmed and neat, his hair cut down evenly. he had a little color in his face again, although the shadows under his eyes were still there.

rain dripped from his hair, down the side of his neck. evidently, he hadn’t bothered with an umbrella, either.

“look, man, we’re just having a conversation.”

“no,” john growled. “you’re harassing the cashier. now take your shit and get out.”

the customer turned towards john, shoving his shoulder slightly. “how about you mind your business, buddy?”

before you could even blink, john had the guy face down on the countertop with his arm twisted behind him painfully. “how about i teach you some fucking manners?” he snarled.

“john!” you shouted. “that’s enough!”

john's upper lip twitched as he pushed the man's face further against the counter. his eyes flickered to yours for a moment. they returned back to the man in his grip, before snapping right back up to meet your gaze. for just a second, you thought you saw them soften, but just as quickly as it came, it was gone.

his knuckles tightened around the man’s wrist, and the collar of his shirt, before he yanked him off the counter and gave him a shove.

the guy stumbled back and rolled his shoulder, looking shaken and furious. he looked at you and waved an arm towards john. “aren’t you gonna call the cops?”

you stared at him a moment before looking between him and john. “no.”

“what?”

“get out,” you told him. “or i will call the cops. on you.”

shock, then rage crossed his face.

“you bitch!” he swore loudly, and spun on his heels, heading out the door.

you inhaled deeply, looking around. luckily, it was late in the evening and not many other people were in the store.

you glanced back at the poor teenager still standing behind you.

“mandy, go take a break,” you instructed.

mandy did not need to be told twice.

when she had scuttled away, you turned to john who still had his gaze locked on you. “what the hell was that?” you seethed.

john stared at you for another beat. “you're welcome,” he said gruffly. he reached into his jacket pocket and produce a few items, dropping them onto the counter.

you stared at him incredulously and tried to find a coherent thought. “you want... i'm… excuse me?” john rolled his eyes and shrugged. his nonchalance only made you angrier. “you come into my work and make a scene and you want a thank you?”

“seems to me like that bloke was harassing you—”

“i had it covered,” you growled, glaring up at him sharply.

he raised his brows. “oh, yeah, seemed like you did, love,” he huffs sarcastically.

you ground your teeth and then opened your mouth to retort.

before you could, someone called your name.

you looked up to see billy standing there, looking at you carefully. mandy must've sent him.

“everything alright out here, folks?” he tried to sound authoritative.

to your surprise, john appraised the man and then turned to you, letting you decide how to answer.

“we're fine, billy,” you told the old man.

“you sure?” he didn't seem convinced.

you flashed him a reassuring smile. “yeah, i'm sure. some rowdy guy wanted to make a scene, but it wasn’t anything that i couldn’t handle,” you assured him, completely omitting john’s involvement.

billy’s shoulders relaxed a little. “atta girl,” he said. “if you need me, just holler,” he added, sizing up john with a quick glance before disappearing somewhere in the store.

you looked back at john, feeling your irritation return. you glanced down at the items he placed on the counter. a water supply line and a rubber flapper.

“don’t you have a landlord to fix this shit?”

john shrugged one shoulder. “landlord doesn’t do it right.”

that sort of stubbornness he had was something you would’ve found attractive a few years ago, but right now, it made you want to punch him in the nose.

you rung up his items, placed them into a plastic bag, and accepted the crumpled bills he handed you.

john gave you one last lingering stare. he slid the bag off the counter and walked out the door without saying a word.

part 6

masterlist

—-

TAGLIST: @fruitymoonbeams-blog @evergreenfields @galactict3a @who-needs-to-sleep @misscherry-26

[formulakracing]

celebratory drinks - f.a.

pairing: journalist!reader x aston martin!fernando alonso

word count: 938

warnings: a little bit of cursing, nando being a flirt, alcohol use (the champagne pop), references to alcohol consumption

song inspo for the fic: sky walker (feat. travis scott) by miguel, travis scott (i just think this one is so nando coded)

"there he is," your voice is clear, yet your hand trembles as you grasp the microphone, "i think now is my moment. there's no one else approaching him."

"well what are you waiting for?" camren, your trusty videographer and assistant whispers, "go, go, go get him!"

"okay, okay!" your jaw clenches, the words barely making it out of gritted teeth.

before you stands spanish driver fernando alonso, donned in his signature aston martin fire suit. it's gorgeous emerald hue is darker than usual, dampened by the champagne showers. his dark locks are dripping, sticking to the back of his neck underneath his cap.

yet, he's as gorgeous as ever, stubble ghosting along his jawline, his brows knit in concentration as he speaks with lance stroll, his fellow driver and teammate.

you take a step forward, swallowing the lump in your throat. it was now or never. the perfect window to interview him for only a few minutes before he would be whisked away to the designated media room for the post-race press debrief.

"mr. alonso!" you call, "is it all right if i speak with you for a few minutes? i won't take up too much of your time."

at the sight of you, the corners of his lips curl upward into a radiant grin, "of course! i'm in no rush, actually. you can stall me a little before i have to go debrief."

a giggle bubbles up in your throat as you tap your badge, "although i do have a media badge, i do want let you know that this is going to be a very relaxed, very informal interview. i run a youtube channel that covers all things formula one. we talk a lot about you, actually."

"oh?" he arches a brow, "is that right?"

heat billows into your cheeks as you realize what you just blurted out. in front of one of your idols, no less. yet, you don't sense discomfort from the driver. if anything, he seemed more intrigued, his eyes taking you in as you sucked in a breath.

"well, we're doing a bit about your history with formula one," your voice is tad shaky, but you regain your confidence as he nods enthusiastically, "and of course, we're currently covering your time with aston martin. so, i wanted you to tell me if there was anything unique about your experience with aston martin thus far."

the driver blinks, processing your question for a moment. he brings a hand to his chin, shrugging slightly, "i think i can say that this team has been able to welcome me in with open arms. i'm sure you know that there is a lot of talk in the world of formula one with my age and all that, but they have been nothing but accepting and supportive."

"what has been your favorite moment of the season thus far? anything exciting or funny you'd like to share with us? also, when are you going to bring back that infamous celebratory dance?"

at the mention of the dance, there's a glimmer in his eye, "oh, so you know about that?"

"of course i do," you affirm, "our channel is dedicated to the history of formula one. i'm supposed to know it all, from the historical wins to the celebration dances."

"i can recreate it for you if you would like," he offers, his shoulders relaxing, he points to the camera, earning a laugh from camren, "here, watch this."

he pinches his shoulder blades together, raising his arms so that his elbows and wrists were angled. he sways back and forth, maintaining eye contact with the camera lens.

you can't help but laugh, the sound ringing out, "you're pretty ridiculous, mr. alonso."

"please," fernando waves a hand, "no need for the formalities bullshit. call me fernando."

"all right, fernando," you beam, "well, i think that's all i have for you. i didn't want to keep you for too long. i know you're a busy man."

that's when the driver pauses, taking a second to really look at you. his gaze rakes over your body, his tongue swiping along your lower lip.

for the race, you opted for a comfortable yet sort of glam look. on your top half, you sported a plain black t-shirt, the material a breathable cotton. denim jeans stretched down your legs, a mom-jean like style so that the thick fabric didn't cling to your frame. to compliment the shirt, you wore a black belt, pairing it with black adidas sambas. your hair was pulled into an updo, so that it wouldn't be all over the place or unkempt from the breezy conditions.

"you can come interview me whenever you would like," his tone shifts, his voice a little lower than it was moments before, "actually, how come you didn't question me sooner? i would've loved to see your gorgeous face around the paddock."

"like i said," your heart skips a beat, "you're a busy man, fernando."

"not busy enough for a gorgeous woman like you," he flirts, and you were sure your knees buckled at the statement, "what are you doing later?"

your eyes drift over to camren, who luckily had paused the recording, "i'm not too sure, why?"

"because i would love to take you out and buy you a couple of shots. to celebrate, you know."

"you're the one who was on the podium. if anything, i should be the one buying you shots," you fold your arms across your chest.

"oh no," he shakes his head, "no need."

"and why is that?" your brows furrow.

"because beautiful women don't buy their own drinks."

[cocostyles]

Do I look like him? — Naruto Uzumaki

pairing: Naruto Uzumaki x fem reader!

word count: 1 k

summary: The daughter of Jiraiya notices how everyone seems to see her father in her.

warnings; little angst, english is not my first language.

The afternoon in Konoha was calm, the sun bathing the streets in its golden light. A beautiful figure with white hair walked through the market, drawing the attention of a few curious onlookers. You were not someone easy to ignore: your elegant bearing, your long hair inherited from your father, Jiraiya, and the intense eyes that seemed to see through people—how could you go unnoticed when you were the only daughter of the legendary Sannin?

You had returned to Konoha after years of living far away. Your father's stories had always surrounded you, a man you almost never saw and didn't feel you ever truly got to know, yet whose shadow you constantly felt breathing down your neck. Since you were little, you had heard rumors, tales about his charisma and, of course, about his relationship with Naruto Uzumaki, the Seventh Hokage.

Naruto was everything you admired. His energy, his smile, and the way he spoke about the people he loved had captivated you since the day you met him. You knew you had also caused that effect on him; it was undeniable that both of you felt something for each other, and the only thing holding you back from advancing was the weight of your father.

Although Naruto didn't try to hide that he liked you, there was something unsettling about the way he looked at you. A mix of nostalgia and sadness that you couldn’t decipher.

One day, while you were training in a secluded clearing, Tsunade appeared to watch you. You had always respected her as your mentor, having known her since you were a child, but there was something more between you two, something you could never explain—Tsunade looked at you as though she saw a ghost, and you were starting to get tired of it.

"Is there something wrong with me?" you asked one afternoon, sitting next to the Sannin on the bleachers of the training field.

Tsunade sighed, placing a hand to her forehead. "Not with you. But sometimes… when I look at you, I can't help but remember someone else."

"My father?"

Tsunade shook her head. "Not exactly. It’s more complicated than that. It's like you’re the answer to questions I could never ask."

You shifted uncomfortably. You knew something had happened between them that was never resolved. Despite it all, you had loved your father, that man who, though you barely remembered, used to take you to the lake when he visited and shower you with gifts, the one who taught you your first summoning. Of course, you had loved him, and his death had brought you great pain. But now, you no longer wanted to be trapped in his shadow, chasing and never reaching a ghost.

That conversation left you unsettled. You didn’t have time to dig deeper because Naruto invited you to join his team for an important mission. It was your chance to prove that you were not just Jiraiya's daughter, but someone capable of forging your own ninja path.

However, while working together, that discomfort resurfaced. Naruto smiled at you and treated you with his usual warmth, but there were moments when he would just stare at you, almost lost in his thoughts.

"Naruto-sama," you said one night while camping, "Is there something you want to tell me? Because I feel like you always look at me as if you’re expecting something from me."

He seemed surprised by the question but didn't deny anything. "It’s complicated, Y/n. Sometimes, I feel like… I already knew you before you got here. Like the universe is showing me something I forgot."

The conversation lingered between you two, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he truly felt a real connection with you or if it was all related to his father. Was she a reflection of Jiraiya? Or was there something more?

Tsunade sought you out after the mission. "Your father had a deep love for many things, Y/n. But one of the few things he regretted was not being here to see how Naruto fulfilled his dreams, and his greatest regret was not having spent enough time with you. And now, every time I see you with Naruto, I can’t help but think… is this what Jiraiya would have wanted? That his daughter found something special in the boy he always admired?"

You understood then. It wasn’t just your physical resemblance to Jiraiya that left everyone confused. It was the way you connected with Naruto, as if you were destined to meet.

One day, while training together, you decided to speak up. "Naruto, I’m not my father. I’m not an echo of him. I am me. And if I stay here, close to you, it’s not because I feel obligated by what you two shared, it’s not because I want to hear about how he was, because I didn’t know him as well as you did… If I stay here, it’s because I want to be here. With you."

Naruto looked at you, first surprised, then slowly, a smile began to form on his face. "I know. And I’m grateful for that. I really like you, not because you’re his daughter… I like everything about you, and what you represent. I admire you so much."

For the first time, you felt like you didn’t have to prove anything, nor fill the void for someone else. You were forging something new, something that was all your own.

And Tsunade, watching you both from afar, felt that the déjà vu in which she saw herself and Jiraiya reflected in Naruto and you finally made sense. The past, unfortunately, could not be changed, but the present was an opportunity to heal.

[willtheweaver]

Suspiciously specific and specifically vague writing prompts

• Extraterrestrial archaeologists in the far future uncover your body. They then write a scientific paper on humans based off of what they found out about you.

• Retell your favorite myth or fairy tale in a modern setting

• Turn a modern of futuristic story into a mythological epic

• Your OCs realize they are fictional characters. *Cue chaos and existential crisis*

• Good news: you’ve reincarnated into your favorite video game. Bad news: you’re a self-aware NPC (Al-la VLDL)

• Have you ever wondered what a tree thinks?

• A murder victim’s ghost does everything in their power to get the attention of the dim-witted detective assigned to the case

• Hero is given everything in order to stop the apocalypse and yet they still find a way to fail

• Make a grand story out of something mundane

• What would happen if the dancing plague occurred today?

• You must use tropes that you hate, and are totally overused. Find some way to make them work;turn them on their head, use malicious compliance, totally invert them

• What is the real reason why no one turned up to Professor Hawkins’ party

•A white hat, a blogger, and an AI must team up to stop an international hacking ring before they start WW 3 (bonus if none of the unlikely heroes get along)

• An atheist is deemed worthy enough to receive the mantle of god. Awkward… and what exactly are the philosophical implications?

• You’re a mimic. Describe a day in the life of tricking (and devouring) foolish adventures.

• Someone from the past is resurrected. They go on a rampage when they find out that [great deed/feat of engineering/ work of genius] is being credited to [aliens/Atlantis/ Hollow Earth dwellers, etc.]

[arrrion]

Lost in your embrace

Stanley Snyder x GN reader

Synopsis: In which you slowly realise you are in love with this man after you spilled all your back story to him and he confort you.

Disclaimers: Mention of someone's death, swearing, cursing oneself. Little angst with comfort.

Got big inspiration for this one.

And yes I changed the name a bit.

I hope it's not too cringy :|

The scene takes place after Stanley is woken up to be sent on the moon.

Enjoy!

You had been sitting on the ground long enough to be face to face to the moon. You could say you waited her. Since that day, she become your confidante. You would look into each other's eyes and share everything. When your mood was that bad, you could watch her form for hours.

But even if she could listen to your silence, you needed to speak out your pain. Let it out for it to never come back again. It had been years, even worse with how much time you passed as a stone, and you couldn't open your mouth on it. Words were stuck in the depths of your heart. It haunted you like a ghost and never left your side.

And as you would sit next to it, the shape of your torment suddenly transform into your captain. You froze. You didn't hear him approach, nor sit.

He turned his head to your side.

"What keeps you awake, soldier?" He asks. His voice was low, as if he thought you would be frightened if he talked louder. He waited your answer. His eyes showed a strange gentleness that made you at ease.

"I... I'm, reminiscing." You let out, unsure of your words.

"And do you want an ear to talk to? I'm pretty sure that moon of yours isn't really talkative." Something in the way he spoke and looked at you made your heart flutter faster. Why was he more stunning now that your friend the moon was illuminating him so perfectly? Your mouth oppened and closed several time before you turned your head to your feat. You retracted your legs, taking your knees in your arms.

"It's..." The words were yet again stuck in your throat. Why could you not let them out? You were getting frustrated at yourself but the hand of Stanley, slowly positioning herself on your shoulder, gave you a go. After all if it was him, you were sure it would stay between the both of you. You exhaled and inspired. "You know how, it happens, that twins can be born differently ? Like one can be healthier than another ?" Stanley nodded. "My brother and I were twins. My parents always knew that he was the weak one but it was funny how he always was the reckless one too. I was the calm and composed kid and he was the curious and easily scared kid." You stopped, taking your time. The hand on your shoulder reminding you that he was listening until the end. "Being the weakest never seemed to disturb him. My parents made sure we knew. They wanted us not to be mad about it. And obviously when I saw he didn't care, I started to do the same. And we grow with the fact. And one day we actually fought about it." You went silent. Stanley waited but as he saw you hesitate, he spoke again.

"What happened?" He simply said.

"You can say it was a teenage crisis ? He was upset he couldn't be part of some sports team like I did and we fought. Eventually he did say he hated me for making him weak. It broke me, it really did. Since that quarrel, we never really healed. He did apologize but I couldn't entirely forgive him. As we grow older we parted ways." Talking about this actually made you feel lighter. It made you actually want to tell him everything. So you continue. "I learned from my mom that he started to serve as a soldier. Surprise was a small word in front of my reaction. I was worried, I think. And I could. I was studying while he played the soldier. I knew he would back up from this and I actually hated that I was right. He was so far in it that he couldn't just leave. So he called me. We hadn't talked in so long but he still called me. He was really distraught while whining on how hard it was. I wanted to laugh at him and let him alone with it but a part of me felt sorry for him. Actually, I could've done anything for him. Because every time since our fight, I knew he was right."

"I mean you couldn't be more wrong on this but anyways. Is that why you became a soldier? Like really?" You laughed at his first sentence. Of course he wouldn't let it slide. You weren't at fault. If Xeno heard you say that he would've lectured you for hours.

"Yeah. He called me with a beautiful plan. I took his place and acted like I could to make it in front of the other soldier. But the problem was I was called under his name. We can look like each other but our names are completely different. So at some point I got caught. But instead of getting me out, my captain, at that time, laughed at me. I was lucky I was good at being a soldier even though I was just a scholar months before. He helped me change everything for the real information and actually I don't know if I am really glad he did..."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Do I have to be honest?" His hand returned to him as he crossed his arms, not pleased.

"Okay, how dare you? Do you want to run all morning tomorrow?"

"See? That's my point." He laughed and you joined him. You slowly stopped and smiled bitterly. Stanley noted your change of emotion. He dragged himself closer to you. You could feel his warmth. "I hated his ways of keeping everything from me. Taking his place in the army wasn't all I did. If he needed money, I would give him the double he needed. Hell I even dressed like him and went on his date because he didn't want to go anymore. But he never told me about his inner thoughts. He would randomly ask for help and then days or months passed. I thought it was because of my schedule at first. But he would tell everything to our mom so I got a little mad. We talked about it and he made an effort." You stopped again. We came to the worst part. Like the blond could sense it, he brings you closer to him with one arm. You took a moment to enjoy the closeness. "And then, I got a call from mom. He had contracted a shitty disease and this fucker didn't tell me." Your eyes started to get wet. "He told me that he was sorry and that he was ashamed of himself for letting me feel bad for him. He called himself a coward for doing nothing about it. Yeah his a coward... We lost him..." Tears ran on your cheeks. Stanley took you fully in his arms. It was painful thinking about it but you had another reason for your pain. Your forehead against Stanley's shoulder, you waited to calm down before talking. "You know what, the worst is, he died a couple of days before the petrification. If he had survived just a little more, he could've still been here with us." Your cries intensified. "I-I keep thinking... thinking about this and it, it hurts!" Your captain holds you tighter. One of his hands made circles on your back to soothe you.

You both stayed like this even after your tears had stopped. You both held each other like you could die if any part of your bodies weren't close to the other. You felt so good close to him. It was your first time talking about this to someone. You smiled after thinking that, it felt normal to talk to him about it. The moment felt right to confess. After freeing you of this painful memory, you just felt like you could accept any response he could give.

"Thank you, Stan. I love you." He didn't respond but you didn't care. You closed your eyes and muffled your head in his neck.

"Yeah I know, love. Me too."

I wanted to make it heartwarming at the end? I don't know if the confession feels misplaced to someone but I like it this way. It makes sense to me.

I made it after the whole chase thing because I believe nobody in the American colony knows that the petrification heals. I think Senku really understands it after the events with Hyoga, Tsukasa and Kohaku.

Anyways,

See you soon !

[fushipurro]

the gentleness that comes (not from the absence of violence)

masterlist

☆ Synopsis: The Infamous "Invisible Man" is finally caught and detained by the FBI. In recognition of his skills, he's offered the chance of a reduced sentence if agrees to assist with a recent string of murders. He accepts, but under one condition.

His partner has to be you, his arresting officer.

☆ Content: 18+ MDNI, f!reader, fluff/smut/angst, no curse AU, mentions of blood/alcohol, graphic violence/murder, guns, porn with plot, hurt/comfort, dubious morality, creampie, fingering, oral (f.receiving), biting/scratching.

☆ Word Count: 17.2k

Toji Zenin.

A ruthless assassin that’s managed to keep himself under the radar longer than you’ve been in the force ─ which hasn’t been all that long, but plenty of time to earn name for himself.

He’s the type of killer that you hear about from ghost stories, a mystery so thought provoking that you find no shortage of true crime podcasts about it online. The Zodiac Killer’s got nothing on this guy.

After growing up with TV shows such as Bones or Law & Order SVU, you jumped at the chance to study criminal psychology in college. This led to you graduating with high marks and officially joining the ranks of the FBI, eager to become your own form of Temperance Brennan or Olivia Benson.

You never for a second thought that of anyone else in the force, you would arrest the one and only assassin. The myth, the legend, Toji himself.

At the time his name was unknown, and even now there’s only a shred of paperwork that proves he even exists. As far as the underworld goes, he’s earned the title of “Invisible Man” through his actions alone. Toji’s never once left a shred of evidence that could lead back to him, despite being the cause of many brutal unsolved cases piling up to this day in the archives.

He’s a hired killer, that much was already certain. Many of crimes linked to the assassin all can be traced back to hits listed on various forums and sites on the dark web. Your fellow agents could never get a read on where the payments went from there beyond layers of encryption, and thus, the trail ends short of any possible suspects.

Really, it was a miracle you managed to catch the man himself behind all the heinous acts. How do you find someone when you don’t even know what they look like; someone who leaves behind zero evidence? Not one hair sample, fingerprint, blood droplet, bullet, casing, nothing. You decided to do what any sane person could do to draw out this enigma of a killer. 

You ordered a hit on yourself.

A fake version of yourself of course to hide the fact that you’re working for the government, but the pretty face in the photos is all you.

Quite the gamble, but it paid off when not even a few days after, he made his move on you. It started small with “accidental” meetings in public areas like at a grocery store or a sketchy bar one night where he offered you a drink and a good time. These little moments all led up to when Toji finally decided to corner you, but your team on standby were more than ready to apprehend him.

It worked surprisingly easier than you ever thought possible, but you chalk it up to him just being rusty. How else could you manage such an impossible feat?

All the cold cases tied to him had stopped for a period of five years before picking back up again a few short months ago. This time around, your team contemplated whether this was a copycat killer or if the real deal came back from the dead.

Nowadays, the killings appeared more spur of the moment rather than sophisticated and with careful planning. He still did his part in staying invisible as perfect as always, but the motives for each victim bounced between money to “someone looked at him funny” at best. Therein lies the problem you face.

No evidence? No conviction.

It’s one of those situations where everyone knows that the suspect is guilty, beyond a reasonable doubt, but at the end of the day, it’s conjecture without proper evidence like DNA or a confession.

Toji is a hell of a lot smarter than he looks and he knows it. You’re willing to bet if you got a peek at his brain, it’d be just as muscular and veiny as the rest of him. It makes him all the more terrifying to deal with if you’re not careful enough.

After his detainment, you thought that might be the end of it. Even if he can’t be tried on the counts of a dozen killings, there’s still the fact he was arrested on the charge of attempted murder in the first degree with you as the target.

You’re confident the jurors will find him guilty on that charge and spend the next 20 something years in prison if all goes well. Early release on good behavior seems far from likely for someone so dangerous with a capital D. All you can hope is that the justice system pulls through when it matters, and you won’t have to worry about him ever again.

…Right?

You got a sweet little promotion topped with a raise following the arrest, and most exciting now are all the new cases you’re in charge of, including the recent serial murders performed by the newly notorious Cupid Killer.

When you arrive at the bureau, you’re more than eager to start working until your boss calls you into his office upon arrival. You take a seat in front of his desk, not at all ready for the words you’re about to hear.

“The higher ups and Toji’s hotshot lawyer, Higuruma, have settled a deal. We’ll have him on our side assisting with the case.” His brows furrow with annoyance, but the psychologist in you can tell he’s conflicted. “I’m assigning you to supervise him out in the field. You caught him once, now you get to hold his leash.”

“Sir, with all due respect, you can’t possibly be serious,” you drawl, looking at the man behind the desk completely dumbfounded that such a thing could even happen. “We finally caught him so why risk him running off?”

He sighs, “I’m aware of the trouble this presents, but this is a good chance for us to kill two birds with one stone.” He reaches his hand out to the landline on the table, pressing one of the buttons. “Send him in.”

Your stomach immediately drops into what feels like a bottomless abyss. He’s serious. This isn’t some nightmare either, you know full well you’re awake and pinching yourself a thousand times doesn’t change anything.

“Y/N, I want you to learn all you can from his fucked-up brain. This is the perfect opportunity for someone of your talents to pick him apart so future criminals won’t even stand a chance.”

“But sir, out in the field? Why not keep him in an interrog-“

You’re cut off by the office doors bursting open, followed by the sound of heavy handcuffs. You turn in your seat to see the six foot however many inch wall of pure muscle walk into the room like a Greek God descending from the steps to Olympus.

May as well refer to your boss as Apollo from now on if he wants to play the twelve labors with this much better-looking Herakles. Too bad you weren’t given the gift of prophecy to see this coming. He should be in Tartarus, right where he belongs. A guy like Toji surely has a reserved space down there waiting for his arrival (he doesn’t, thank you Gege).

His eyes no sooner land on you causing your chest to tighten. You’re too afraid to even breathe, his presence is so overwhelming it has you in a chokehold. “There she is,” he drawls all low and husky-like that you can’t help the shiver that comes after.

He’s escorted in with the help of a few officers who lead him to the chair at your side. You shoot a look back to your boss that resembles a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming freight train, and not just any train ─ no, we’re talking the 777 runaway from the movie Unstoppable.

Toji wastes no time sitting down, his body easily spilling out the sides of the chair. He’s unbothered, maybe even happy about it once you feel his knee grazing your own. He moves with purpose, just like any other action. When it comes to Toji, there are no such things as accidents.

You don’t dare look his way, but you can feel his predatorial gaze aimed right at you point blank like a green dot laser sight. He doesn’t need to see a demonstration of your fear because he already knows it ─ like he can smell it. With how skillful he is, that wouldn’t surprise you if he could like this is all some alpha/omega type story. But who can blame you for being afraid?

It’s horrifying when you know you’re sitting next to a killer capable of committing the perfect crime. One look was all it took to have you ready to turn and run with your tail caught between your legs the night he was arrested.

It’s a miracle he even was caught, and you can’t shake the feeling there’s more to it than some divine intervention. There’s no closing Pandora’s box now, not when the monster inside is fixing to be put on a leash for your very own hands to control.

Your boss clears his throat, “Back to the matters at hand, I’m trusting you with this. You’re new to working in the field, but I expect good ─ and fast results.” He then points to Toji. “I expect you to behave as well. Otherwise, I’ll make sure the only thing you see for the rest of your days are four white walls.”

“Yes, sir,” you meekly respond, hearing an amused huff come from your new hunting dog of a partner. Actually, a hunting wolf would be a better comparison over a mutt, unless of course we’re talking Cerberus.

Either way, you can’t help but feel like a rabbit that’s wandered onto the dinner plate of this vicious canine, awaiting your demise with a pretty little bow taped to your body. Instead of letting fear control you more than it has, you close your eyes and exhale.

Stay calm. Relax. This could be fun if he behaves.

You’re a criminal psychologist, and from your profile analysis, Toji is the best possible specimen to work with. Everywhere he goes, he’s a force of nature leaving a trail of wreckage in his wake. It’s like he’s got some point to prove to the world, presumably caused by his upbringing you hope to learn about, as with most other criminals.

The contracts he picks up usually lead to a lot of faces the FBI has had their eyes on; sex traffickers, drug lords, serial killers, hell he's even taken down whole gangs in one night. You can’t lie that his morally gray work doesn’t make your own life easier, as cruel as his methods are.

There are numerous questions you’d like to ask him, enough to make a whole college dissertation surrounding the organ in his skull alone. The one on your mind the most is why he stopped for several years. What happened during that time span that led him to go radio silent? You have some theories, and all you need now are answers.

“Do I get a gun now?” he asks, looking to your boss with a hopeful expression.

“No.”

“Hell no.”

He looks away, clearly annoyed with that answer. “Tch.”

“What do you expect? You’re a criminal,” you say directly and right to his face. Guess your little breathing exercise really did help you get your spunk back.

“Innocent until proven guilty, sweetheart.” His tone is mocking and the smirk he flashes infuriates you. “I think if I’m going to be doing your job, I should have a way to protect myself, don’t ya think?”

“What, those muscles of yours aren’t bulletproof?” you respond, laying on the sarcasm, not forgetting to roll your eyes after for dramatic effect.

“Enough,” your boss growls, glaring back and forth between the two of you. “Learn to play nice, we have a killer to catch before another body ends up as a file on our desks.”

“Yes, sir,” Toji drawls mockingly, adding in a two-finger salute. You can already tell he’s the type of person that has to have the last word in an argument.

This is going to be a pain in my ass.

After the meeting ends, Toji’s escorted away while you finalize the details with your boss and all your favorite “squints” at the lab. You love your job for making every day feel like an episode of all your favorite crime dramas.

Later on as you sat at your desk going through files, you’re disrupted by the sudden hand that comes down over the stack of papers in front of you. You follow the cobweb of veins up to a pair of stunning green eyes.

“Jesus ─ fuck, don’t sneak up on me!” You slap his arm with the back of your hand, but he doesn’t budge.

Instead, he leans down until you feel his sultry breath right up against your ear. “I wouldn’t be good at what I do if I couldn’t sneak up on someone, ya know?” he teases, pulling away when you about stomp on his foot with your heel.

“And what would it be that you do, Mr. Fushiguro?” you ask, hoping to get an easy confession out of the man to put an end to this headache.

“Name’s Toji, sweetheart.” He grins knowingly, and you feel a flicker in your chest as a result of that devilish face and choice of words. You tell yourself it’s just agitation, I mean what else could it possibly be? You deal with emotions for a living so you should know these things.

You huff at him, of course he won’t make this easy. You grab a few folders as you stand, wordlessly making your way out the door from the office.

“Where are we goin’, sweetheart?” he questions, trailing closely behind you like a puppy ─ a dangerous puppy.

Forget thinking it would be fun to pick his brain, now you’d rather find joy in picking him apart with your bare hands. “Name’s Y/N, Toji, feel free to use it,” you scoff.

You’re playing a risky game, and you know it. Choosing to challenge Toji is like throwing gasoline on an open flame, waiting to see if the flames grow or follow the stream back until it explodes in your hand like a backyard barbeque gone wrong.

You don’t care if he does erupt, the sooner he tries anything or confesses, you have the killer of a lifetime stuck behind bars and the world becomes a safer place. Until you remember that he’s not some chaotic evil underworld tycoon, just a hired killer that’s taken down some truly sinister individuals. That much makes you question your moral compass on whether he should be locked away.

No, he needs to be locked up. You’re the one in the FBI, crime-fighting is your job, not his.

Toji doesn’t talk much the way down to the parking lot, and you’re thankful for that. The man casually strolls up to the driver’s side with you and holds out his hand expectantly. When you don’t respond he even does a little grabby hand motion.

“Toji.” You stare back at him like he just insulted you. “I’m not letting you drive a government vehicle. Do you even have a license?”

“Come on,” he groans, and now he’s pouting like a toddler fixing to throw a tantrum. “If you aren’t giving me a gun, the least you could do is let me drive.”

“Forget it, it’s not happening,” you tell him, opening the door for yourself and closing it before he has a chance to complain. His eyes narrow with his ever-growing frustration as he walks around to the opposite side.

When you put a guy like Toji into any room, he has a way of making everything ─ and everyone ─ feel tiny in comparison, and that’s especially true when the room in question is the interior of the average Dodge Charger.

You gotta admit, they cleaned him up nicely. His suit pants fit nice and snug, but the white button down looks a size too small as the fabric strains around his muscles. The black tie is out of place on Toji, but you think it adds some charm like the scar over his lips. He seems to look good in anything he wears, even an orange jumpsuit, but that’s a given when you’re an already attractive person. Fuck, he really is a devil in the body of a god.

“You gonna ogle me all day or take me somewhere fun already?” He rolls his head in your direction; obviously still upset you won’t let him drive. Typical.

“This isn’t a date you know,” you say back as though you aren’t blushing like a woman in heat. You turn the car on and are met by “I Hate Everything About You”by Three Days Grace over the radio. A funny coincidence given the situation, really. That’s all it is, right? No way could you feel that sort of affection for a man that kills for a living.

You proceed out of the lot, changing the topic before he has a chance to make another comment, “I assume they filled you in on what we’re dealing with?”

“They did but I didn’t care to listen.” He shrugs and you feel the vein on your forehead throb. I’m going to kill him, I really am.

“…Why?” you drawl, further losing patience with the man. Being cute doesn’t give you a pass to have a shit personality.

“Because none of the people talking were you and that was the whole point of this.” He gestures with his hand in the air, but you’re unsure the exact meaning of his words at this moment in time.

“I swear, are you ever going to stop with the flirting?” you sigh, resting your head against your hand as you slow for a red light. “Reach into my bag and pull out the folders, there’s some autopsy reports you can look at.”

He does as you ask, forcing you against the car door to accommodate his volume in the process. With your bag in hand, he settles back into his seat, giving you a quick wink that’s met with a deadpan stare. The light changes back to green and your eyes go forward to the road ahead.

“This your boyfriend?” You glance over to find your phone in his hand as he admires the lock screen. It’s a photo of you smiling, side by side with Suguru after your first case-closed.

“Put that away.” You swat your hand at him which only makes him chuckle. “And no, he’s my partner. Least when I’m not working with a killer.”

“You say that like you aren’t one, but that’s okay because you’re FBI and I’m the big bad criminal?” He rolls his eyes to further mock you before staring into the side of your face, practically burning holes into your features. After a moment, the scarred corner of his lip rises with sudden realization and his face lights up. “Wait…” He lets out a low gravelly laugh. “You’re a fuckin’ virgin, aren’t you?”

You immediately choke on air, swerving the car a bit. “E-excuse me!?”

“You haven’t killed anyone yet.” He leans back against the cushion, grinning like a maniac. “It’s nice to know you’re a virgin in other ways too though, my offer from the bar still stands. I can make you feel real good.”

He leans in over the console and of all the times you’ve been close to him, only now do you catch a waft of cologne mixing with his natural musk. It’s scary how captivating the smell is, bringing every nerve in your body to life all at once if you don’t open a window right away, which you do.

“Unless you want me to drive this car into a ditch, I suggest you shut the hell up.” You’re not serious, but if he keeps provoking you, that vision will quickly become reality. Some medical leave might do you some good.

“Ooo, scary. Your loss though.” His hands raise in a mock surrender before returning to the files in his lap. “Tell me about the case then, I want to hear it from you.”

A sigh escapes you for the nth time today. “For starters, we’ve dubbed the assailant as the “Cupid Killer”. Namely because their targets are always those in seemingly happy relationships,” you emphasize with air quotes.

“Why do you think that?” His brow raises, flipping through photos from the autopsy before landing on some of the ones from the crime scenes. “Ouch,” he hisses.

You catch him adjusting in the seat with careful consideration for a certain area, not missing the soft outline of something huge to say the least. God, get it together!

“Yeeaah, the killer enjoys making our victims choke on their own family jewels. As a psychologist, I’m inclined to believe there’s a reason for that.”

“You think they’re cheaters?”

“Bingo, hence why we suspect the killer to be female. They likely have emotional trauma that ties into to their choice of targets ─ like a revenge motive maybe.”

“What’s with this?” He holds a photo in front of you showing one victim’s exposed chest cavity.

“Every victim thus far has had their heart removed, but we’ve not been able to locate any part of the missing organ. It’s a mystery.” You turn off the road and into an empty amusement park, parking just in front of the gate. “It’s possible the killer is taking these hearts as a trophy or for some other purpose we’re just not seeing yet.”

He acknowledges you with a hum, putting the folder away carelessly before stepping out onto the concrete. With a few calculated strides, he’s back at your side scanning the area like some oversized bodyguard or protective boyfriend. It’d be sweet if he wasn’t a walking criminal that could easily snap your neck and ghost himself before the FBI even knows what happened.

The rest of the walk is quiet as you lead the hitman to the remnants of the latest crime scene, a Ferris wheel. There are still remnants in the area from CSU’s search, including all the various “keep out!” tapes or evidence numbers littered across the ground around the attraction. You walk up the metal steps leading to one of the empty bloodied cars of the ride.

“The body obviously isn’t here anymore but…” you pause, pulling out one of the folders and scanning through until you found some photos from the scene, passing them off to Toji. “Maybe you’ll see something we missed, with your experience.”

Toji takes the photos from you, laughing through his nose. “What I can see is that this chick likes adding a bunch of extra steps. I find it much more efficient to just stab someone and dump ‘em in a river.” He makes a sly and toothy grin.

“Hey, you mind repeating that for me?” You pull out your phone, nonchalantly opening a recording app. “I didn’t catch that.”

“Nice try, sweetheart,” he says with an amused expression, pushing your hand away. His head lowers towards you, hoping maybe he’ll get another reaction out of you without the threat of you driving off the road. “You didn’t say please.”

You flutter your eyelashes at him all innocent and pretty. The last thing you want to have to resort to with Toji is begging. You do have some dignity after all. “Please?”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Nah, ya missed your chance. Better luck next time.”

Your face turns to a pout as you throw your phone back in your bag. You hate how much of a fool he makes you feel like. Even your ingenious brain can’t keep up as it turns to mush in his presence. Not a wrinkle in sight as far as you can tell so long as he’s around like some walking ironing board or steamer.

You have to remind yourself that he’s been at this longer than you. A man like Toji was always going to be a challenge one way or another, but you’ll crack him somehow eventually. You know you will.

“What did you learn from this scene?”

“Well for starters, our forensics division found the victim to have been deceased a few days before they were moved here. Another so-called happy couple whose girlfriend had nothing but good to say.”

“So,” he prompts, looking off into the surrounding distance. “How did they move the body here?” The way he makes himself sound like a college professor isn’t doing your mood any favors. He’s here to assist, not tutor you.

“There’s no evidence the victim was dragged, and even in a body bag we would’ve seen some form of chafing or fabric samples. The killer could’ve carried the body in, but that’s less likely given what we know about their physical strength.”

Toji gives the area another glance and you can hear him audibly sigh as disappointment takes over his features.

“What?” you ask, sounding a little too offended in your tone.

“Nothing.”

“Obviously it isn’t nothing.” Your hand moves to your hip, shifting your weight to one side. “I know you’re lying, Toji.”

“Yeah, cause you’re a shrink.” He scowls. “You should know when I’m lying.” You feel like there’s an underlying point he refuses to highlight on, but before you can ask, he’s already hot on the trail in the direction you entered the park from.

The nerve of this guy!

“Hey, wait!” you shout, running off after him. “Where are you going!?”

Another fun trait about this man you’re finding out is that he even walks like a serial killer. Think of any horror movie villain ─ Jason Vorhees, Michael Myers, even the damn Predator. You can be running for all you care, and the killer will still out speed you without even trying.

That’s Toji.

By the time you got back to your car, he’s already inside and buckled in. “What’s your deal?” you question, tossing your bag onto the backseat without a care.

“I expected a little more from you, to be honest.” He meets your eyes with a bored, lifeless expression. “It’s no wonder you guys are begging me to do your job.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

He lifts one finger up, jabbing your forehead to push you back down into your seat. “Figure it out with that brain of yours, Y/N.”

For a psychologist, you’re not sure why it suddenly bothers you that he’s using your real name instead of the usual “sweetheart”. You choose to ignore it, turning the key in the ignition and driving off without another word.

There’s no radio this time or conversation, nothing to drown the awkward silence that hangs in the air. You glance over from time to time at almost every red light, but Toji’s expression remains the same. Eyes closed, his head leaning against a fist propped up along the door, just a resting stoic face. Fuck, even that’s a good look for him.

Your eyes trace lines down from his pointed nose to his chiseled jawline, taking note of how that very jaw clenches every so often or the small movements from under his eyelids. His black hair falls neatly over his face and you imagine how soft it must be to the touch.

Why of all people does the Invisible Man have to be this guy? This incredibly sculpted, god of beauty and sexual ferocity with a slutty little waist to match.

No matter how hard you try to avoid it, you’re slipping, and you know it. The longer this goes on, the harder you find it to continue trying to deny the obvious here. So deep into denial that you don’t even realize the web of red silk you’re ensnared upon.

BEEEEP.

“Shit,” you mutter, pressing on the gas pedal all too quickly as evident from the tires squealing. Toji muffles out a laugh and you spot a faint smile creeping up his face from the corner of your eye.

Damn him. If it weren’t for the fact that he’s a murderer, he’d be exactly your type of guy. You’re still reeling from his earlier comments, knowing he does have a point.

You’re an FBI agent, out in the field. At some point, you will be the one pulling the trigger and ending someone’s life. You understand perfectly well his line of thinking about justice and all, but when you’re the one standing on that threshold, it’s different, and you aren’t sure if you’re truly ready to cross the boundary.

“Where are we off to now?” he questions, and you’re at least thankful he dropped his attitude.

“A bar.”

“Oohh,” he snickers. “You trying to win me over with some alcohol? Good luck with that, I don’t get drunk.”

“I’m not doing this for your entertainment, I’m doing this for the case.” Your fingers anxiously tap the leather of the wheel. “I am going to ask you though to play along with my idea.”

He raises a brow all too eagerly, “What would that be, sweetheart?”

You swallow the lump in your throat before speaking, “…Pretend we’re dating.” You refuse to look at him after, not wanting to see whatever look is plastered on his face. Unbeknownst to you, he’s actually surprised.

“Don’t take it the wrong way.” You immediately cringe at your meek tone, knowing full well it’s his fault. “All of our victims have had alcohol in their system prior to their deaths, so it might be safe to assume a bar is where they find their targets.”

“And you want me to be your date, why?” he asks with that same annoying teacher tone he used on you earlier. How can one person be so insufferable and alluring at the same time?

“Our suspect is the Cupid Killer. They likely only go after men who are obviously in a relationship with someone. The bar we’re going to is having a Valentine’s Day special, which makes it a prime location our suspect could be in.”

“Smart,” he hums with approval. Does this mean you get that extra credit now? “You’ll have to be the one to treat me since the bureau locked all my cards.”

“Fine, but only because it’s covered under my expenses.” You roll your eyes, finishing the drive in silence until pulling up a few blocks away from the bar, intent on walking the rest.

As you come around to the sidewalk, Toji gets right up at your side and places his hand on the small of your back. Before you even have a chance to protest, his mouth is hot on your ear whispering, “Don’t forget that you asked for this.” His voice sends a shiver down your spine that doesn’t go unnoticed. It’s in his nature to not overlook a single detail after all.

If you only knew what else he knows, then it would be a real treat. From the way your thighs subconsciously squeeze when he violates your personal space to the hitching of your breath when he leans in close. He knows all too well what you won’t allow yourself to feel, and for that, he has a plan.

You make sure to send a message to your coworker, Kento, about having reached the destination. He’s like the Angela Montenegro of your division with his computer skills, always keeping a lookout over you in and out of work. You hate the ideologies of “work husband/wife”, but Kento’s become a “work dad” to you, without all the issues.

Toji’s taken on the role of a pretend boyfriend better than expected, making sure to open the door of the bar for you to enter, and even taking off your jacket to hang. He takes your hand and leads you over to some empty stools at the bar, tapping the counter to make his order.

The venue itself is louder than you’d prefer but go figure. There’s a crowd of couples celebrating the day of love. The lights were all shades of red and hot pink, and the music consisting solely of love songs.

The bartender returns shortly with drinks in hand, passing them to you both. You can easily tell he’s tired given the eyebags present and the disheveled bangs that hang loosely down over the tattoo across the bridge of his nose. His ghostly pale skin making a sharp contrast to the rest of him.

You take this chance to scan the rest of the bar, using your profiling experience to draw up any possible suspects from the groups present. Nothing too major strikes your fancy so far, but the night is early, and happy hour has only just begun.

“You should keep your eyes on me, sweetheart.” You snap your head to the assassin, ready to protest before he interrupts with two fingers under your chin, “You want to show off how in love~ you are with me, don’t you?”

“If it weren’t for this whole thing I’d be spilling this drink over your face,” you spit, ignoring the fiery aftermath of his touch against your skin. It’s just the alcohol, not him. You shouldn’t even be drinking on the job!

“Ouch, am I not your type?” He feigns hurt feelings. “No…that’s not it.” He corrects himself, eyes burning into you as though he’s the shrink in this totally fake couple. “You’re just frustrated is all, I can tell.”

That’s it, I’m done.

Your hand attempts to move on its own, ready to follow up with your threat until his own locks around yours. “Aht aht, sweetheart,” he purrs with a salacious smile.

“Why are you like this?”

“What can I say? You interest me deeply.” He closes the distance between you both without breaking contact with your eyes. Obsidian swallowing his green pools, fuck ─ even his eyes are hypnotizing!

He allows his lips to ghost over your own for a moment before grazing your cheeks on a path up to your earlobe. “How can I not be when a girl as pretty as you also had the balls to put a hit out on herself, all for me?” He licks his bottom lip afterwards, watching the goosebumps trail down your neck before pulling back.

You try and hide your flustered expression with the drink in hand, but you’re too late as always when it comes to Toji. Remember the part about him never overlooking details? All in the job description.

“I had to do something to get your attention,” you say in defense. “We were all freaking out when you suddenly popped back into existence after a stagnant five years. What’s the deal with that anyways?”

All of a sudden, his eyes went dark. The twinkle he had in eyes before extinguished and replaced with coldness. Or maybe loneliness? “That isn’t your business.” His voice drops an octave and for once instead of misplaced arousal, there’s some actual fear present in your core.

“Hey at least you aren’t denying it this time,” you tease. “Too bad I’m not recording this time around.”

He ignores you, taking a long swig of his drink. You watch the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, resting your head against your hand on the counter. While his brows knit together, you can make out the faint little crinkles forming around his eyes for someone of his age. He’s not old ─ no, but he’s at least in his thirties and most likely doesn’t have a strict skincare routine like you.

Your attention is drawn to the newest song playing overhead, “Lover’s Rock” by TV Girl. Toji must’ve noticed your interest for how quickly his mood shifts and you find your hand encased with his own.

Are you sick of me? Would you like to be?

I’m trying to tell you something. Something that I already said.

He pulls you out onto the dancefloor, intertwining your fingers together with his free hand on your waist. Yours settles on his ridiculously large bicep. Does he stuff himself with steel? Throw a jacket and shades on him and you’ve got yourself a living, breathing Terminator.

You like a pretty boy. With the pretty voice.

Who’s trying to sell you something. Something that you already have.

You could feel him softening up as you find your pace, letting him twirl you around between the other couples like you’re his doll. The look on his face remains nearly unreadable each time you meet his jade eyes.

But if you’re too drunk to drive. And the music is right.

She might let you stay. But just for the night.

The longer you stare, the more you catch glimpses of the emotions he won’t share. Curiosity. Confliction. Affection. Hurt. Love. Grief. It’s as though his body is actively fighting against them surfacing in order to steer away from vulnerability. You see it all too clearly. Behind those mesmerizing orbs lies pure heartfelt honesty.

And if she grabs for your hand. And drags you along.

His lips meet yours in an instant, closing the window view to his soul in the blink of an eye. You didn’t fight it, how can you? It felt like time had stopped and the universe only consisted of you and Toji, side by side like two neutron stars spiraling inwards to meet the other in a phantasmal display of cosmic power.

Even your traitorous pussy is firing off gamma-ray bursts in the form of pulses perfectly in sync with the beating of your two hearts as one united being. You’ve officially crossed the event horizon into the singularity. To think you even had a chance to resist his gravitational pull was a foolish dream.

She might want a kiss. Before the end of the song.

Because love…

You push away from Toji who stares back at you through half-lidded eyes swarming with desire. “I-I’ll be right back,” you murmur, rushing off to the nearest restroom.

…burns like a cigarette.

And leave you alone with nothing.

When you made it just outside the restroom, you took one last look to where you left Toji, seeing him talking with some chestnut-haired woman. Jealousy fills your throat, stinging like bile.

And leave you alone with nothing…

Once inside, you waste no time approaching the sink and splashing some cold water on your face. The reflection you find in the mirror looks like you, but her pupils are blown into heart shapes with twinkling little stars of adoration.

Get it together! You clap your cheeks with the palms of your hands. He’s a killer for god’s sake! Anything he’s doing is just a lie to get what he wants (it’s not, and you know it). Another voice calls out from lower in your body, Oh, but I think I’m in love with this criminal…

Fuck.

You exit the bathroom a few minutes later, sighing heavily as you walk down the dimly lit hallway back to wherever Toji is. Out of nowhere, a hand coils around your wrist, yanking you into one of the storage rooms.

You’re fixing to yell and go for the gun hidden under your shirt, but a large, rough hand clasps itself over your mouth and the other keeps your arm fixed behind you.

“Shh, don’t,” Toji warns in your ear. His body is actively caging you against the wall and you can’t help the fear that bubbles up until the voices outside the room draw your attention.

“Oh, come on~ I think it’ll be fun!” a female starts to speak.

“Baby,” another chimes in, male this time. “I’m not so sure about this.”

“Don’t you want to spice things up a bit? I’m getting a little bored, don’t you want to do something different for once?”

Considering Toji’s urgency, you can only assume this isn’t some normal couple chatting outside. Could it really be the Cupid Killer? If that is the case, then this is your opportunity to arrest them and put a stop to the killings! What is Toji doing!?

You squirm in his grip trying to break free, but he refuses to budge even as you bite down on the hand covering your mouth. The door is slightly ajar and peeking through, you can just barely make out some features of the man. Older, dark hair, glasses maybe too?

“Quick fuckin’ moving unless you’re trying to start something with me,” he groans. You’re unsure what he’s getting at, but after he adjusts his body, a heavy weight along your back tells you all you need to know. He exhales deeply, and the heat of his breath hits your neck all at once like a dragon fanning flames.

When the coast is clear, he spins you around so your back is against the wall, arms planted on either side of your head. Even in the dark, you can make out the starved eyes ready to eat you up for dinner.

“Toji, what the fuck was that about?” you whisper-shout at him, your anger evident. “If that was the killer, then we could’ve done something, we had the chance to!”

“You really want to confront them in a public place and put the lives of others at risk? You think a virgin like you can handle that?”

“I could’ve called for backup or better yet, let you at them since you’re so experienced! Since when do you care about the lives others anyways?” Your patience is dangling by a thread. “Have you spent the past five years being a saint or something? Huh? Do enlighten me, or better yet I’m sure I can do it myself now that I’ve gotten the chance to know you.”

“Cut it out,” he growls, pulling harshly on your wrist as he exits the closet space. He leads you out through the main area of the bar, seemingly uncaring to what others might think watching you both.

“Let go of me!” you futilely attempt to pry his fingers off with your own. He doesn’t so much as spare you another look as you’re taken out of the bar and led in the opposite direction away from your car. “Where do you think you’re taking me?”

“Be a good girl and shut up until we’re there.” He exchanges his grip around your wrist to that of your hand, encasing it perfectly inside his own. It’s odd, but you’re too distracted by whatever’s going on to think much about it.

“What if I don’t want to? I don’t have to listen to you, I’m the one calling the shots here.”

His head snaps your way with a petrifying glare. “If you want to be a brat, then I’ll treat you like one. You’d do well to take my advice.” You click your tongue spitefully in response, the one part of you not turned to stone by his eyes.

The man’s as stubborn as the Cretan bull with horns to match. Having a gun and a badge don’t make you the next Theseus either. You’re sure Toji could easily take down a Minotaur with his own hands and walk away scot-free.

The tension between you two now is thick enough that you’d need a chainsaw to cut cleanly through, but you refuse to be the one pulling the startup cord to do so. Well, at least until you see where he so insistently dragged you along to.

“Toji?” You act innocent, pretending you’re not surprised while blinking upwards at the neon sign overhead. “Why the hell did you bring me to a love hotel?”

“Do you trust me?”

“Not really.”

“Tch, then act like you do.”

He releases your hand and pulls flush against his body at your waist, ushering you inside. The worker at the front desk is quick to greet you both. “One night, preferably somewhere quiet,” Toji says to them as he leans over the counter pretending to whisper, “This one’s got a tendency to scream.” He winks, and your jaw goes completely slack.

I’m going to kill him; I really am.

The receptionist passes you a look of…pity? Jesus fucking Christ.

“Toji~ don’t say something like that, it’s embarrassing!” You laugh it off while at the same time digging your elbow into his side, "I keep telling him the clit doesn't need to be pounded on like a trampoline, but at least he can figure out where it is on his own now!” You smile innocently to the worker, not even bothering to whisper.

“W-what name for the room?” they ask with an awkward look on their face. You’re sorry to put this person just doing their job in the middle, but someone has to humble Toji. Paybacks a three-folded bitch.

“Fushiguro,” he responds, pulling out your wallet to pay from your back pocket. You did say you’d be charging the bureau but you’re not going to enjoy explaining this one charge to your boss.

They hand you a key which Toji snatches up, wasting no time in pushing you on your way. The room itself was exactly what you expect a love hotel to look like, especially around Valentine’s Day.

Red satin or velvet everything, rose petals scattered on the floor and bedding, various red and pink sex toys lined up. There’s even a clothing rack with several costumes to choose from if you’re into that.

Toji pushes past you, shutting himself away inside the bathroom. You figured he might try and say something to defend his masculinity, but not saying anything at all worries you even more.

Moments later you hear the shower kick on, so you opt to lay down on the heart-shaped bed to wait, letting Kento know what’s up and ordering a room service pizza delivery.

He comes out after around ten minutes, still drying his damp hair with one towel while another loosely hangs off his waist. Oh sweet Adonis. If you thought he was attractive before, then you’re in the presence of the almighty now.

Every inch of his skin is a perfect ratio of muscle, scars, and veins. Even his abs have abs that all trail down the V-shaped landing strip barely visible above the hem of the towel. Phidias himself would have a field day with his body. You’re surprised there isn’t any steam radiating off him, but a peek into the bathroom behind him doesn’t reveal any foggy mirrors.

What the fuck am I doing?

You roll away to face the wall, hoping it might stop the incessant meows coming from your body. You’re supposed to hate him, not want to fuck him!

Clearing your throat, you brush away those indecent thoughts. “So…Fushiguro, huh? Care to explain that?”

“Not really.” He stops short of the bed, tossing the towel in his hands somewhere else in the room. You can feel his presence hovering over you, but you refuse to look. You know if you do, then something inside you will snap.

“Look Toji. If you don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine, I get it,” you sigh. “But figure your shit out so we can work together properly and catch our killer.”

“You still can’t see it with that brain of yours?”

“Huh? What do you even mea- hey!” His hand latches onto your ankle, pulling you to the foot of the bed. You’re about to kick him but instead make the mistake of looking into his eyes first and once again you find yourself at the other end of Medusa’s stone-cold glare.

“Do you think I’m stupid? Do you honestly believe I would be careless enough to be captured by the FBI if I didn’t have a reason?”

“I don’t know, Toji! W-we all just assume you’ve gotten rusty.”

“What do you think, Y/N. I don’t give a shit what your coworkers think of me.” He tilts his head, drawing himself ever closer to you. “I know you’re smart enough to see my intentions.”

“Toji, I-I can’t…” You move to cover your face with your hands, but Toji stops you, holding them above your head. He raises one leg up onto the bed, effectively caging you under him.

“You can’t, or you don’t want to?” The towel conveniently slips off, pooling on the floor. “’Cause there’s a big difference there, sweetheart.”

Fuck, fuck, this is too much!

“I-I just ─ I can’t, this is wrong!”

His eyes swirl with a dangerous mix of mischief and desire, and Aphrodite help you if it doesn’t turn you on more. “If you really want me to stop then I will, no questions asked; but I don’t need to be a shrink to read what your body is telling me.”

The moment you feel his breath fanning your lips, that very something you were worried about snapping, snaps. Your lips part way like a glimmer of green for Toji and he’s on them in a second, kissing and suckling on the plush tissue like he’ll never have another chance.

His tongue swipes your bottom lip, as if he’s asking for an invitation inside. You oblige, greeting him at the entry with your own and soon finding the taste to be just as intoxicating as the rest of him.

The hand bounding your wrist releases and you’re quick to find purchase around the back of head. His hair even while wet is just as soft as you imagined it would be. Soon, you feel the tip of the Hydra’s head rub against the fabric of your pants, begging for some form of relief to come.

Toji pulls away with a clear string of dew still connecting you two as one, observing you through half-lidded bedroom eyes and a wolfish grin. This must’ve been how Psyche felt when she first laid eyes on Eros, completely enamored by his beauty.

His thick fingers come down, doing away with the buttons of your shirt to reveal the golden fleece lace of your bra hidden inside. You turn away, cheeks turning a delicate shade of flustered. “Aht aht, eyes on me, sweetheart.”

Begrudgingly, you face him once more eliciting a “Good girl” from the man, sending straight pulses down to your pussy. His voice is laced with sin and if getting off to it makes you a sinner, then you’ll gladly become one.

Toji can’t help the groan that escapes his throat once your bra and free and off to the side. With your chest in full view he purrs, “So pretty.” before the padding of his thumb circles in on one of the buds.

“Toji~” you mewl, trying to tilt your hips over his knee to relieve the pressure building between your thighs, growing ever more desperate for his touch.

“Shh, I’m getting there.” He licks a stripe up your earlobe, nibbling on the soft flesh. “Don’t be impatient or I’ll stop right here,” he warns, but it’s a false threat. If you brain wasn’t so foggy you could see that, but unless you actively tell him no, he isn’t stopping for anything now.

His lips find their way across your jawline, moving down your throat and leaving behind blooming red roses in his wake. You throw your head back deeper into the satin sheets once your whole tit is encased in his mouth. Toji lips work wonders on the soft flesh, biting and suckling in ways you never thought you’d gain pleasure from. Sure, you play with your own chest while masturbating, but never has it pushed you to the brim of an orgasm quite like this.

Again you find that Toji never fails to overlook the minor details, even when it comes to your own pleasure so unfamiliar to him, the squirming and the mewls coming out of you are all he needs to see and hear before he’s pulling away and you’re left whining.

“Fuck, Toojjii,” you drawl out with frustration, trying to use his hair as leverage to pull him back. He grabs your wrist, keeping it still in his grip as he brings his mouth up and over your fingers.

Fuck, you could cum just from this sight too. A beauty like Toji and that knowing look he gives while your dainty little fingers swirl around his tongue. His other hand is just rubbing up and down your thigh with feather-light touches. Every time he gets close to your heat, he reverses direction, but every return brings him closer and closer.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Let me hear every pretty noise that mouth of yours can make,” he tells you in the most saccharine tone you’ve ever heard. Truth be told, from the way you sound and call out his name with such neediness, he would’ve busted right then and there had he not relieved himself in the cold shower earlier.

Toji’s fingers loop around the hem of your pants, removing the fabric from your body to join the rest on the floor. He sits himself up, admiring your choice of matching panties that highlight the beautiful curves of your body. With one precise movement, his thumb lands perfectly overtop your pearl.

“What was that you said earlier?” he teases, rubbing patterns into the bundle of nerves and forcing such pretty moans from you. “Tell me, did I find your clit alright? How am I making her feel?” he chuckles deeply and you’re at a loss for words.

God, when you said this man always had a point to prove, this isn’t exactly what you had in mind.

Just when you find yourself on the white cliffs of ecstasy once more, he removes his hand, flashing you a sinister smirk that infuriates you beyond belief. Before you’re able to protest, his fingers hook around the sides of your panties, slowing prying them away from your dripping folds with a look of sheer cockiness all over that stupidly sweet face.

“Look at this pretty cunt drooling for me.” He uses two digits to spread your lower lips, eyes lost on your perfect little hole clenching around nothing. The sight of it makes his own cock twitch with anticipation. “How long have you been walking around all wet like this, hm?”

All day. But you won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

“Since you started touching me.” Is what you muster up.

“That so?”

No. “Y-yeah.”

He shrugs with disbelief. “Whatever you say.” And you should know better than to take him for a fool.

He gathers some slick over his middle finger, resting the tip perfectly over your virgin hole doing all it can to suck him inside. He exhales deeply, closing his eyes for a moment. “Relax, sweetheart. Let me take good care of ya now, okay?”

You nod your head in a frenzy, biting your bottom lip as pushes up into your gummy walls. A couple of your fingers is nothing compared to one of Toji’s size, and you haven’t even gotten to elephant in the room swaying against your leg. With depravity as the pit and his cock as the pendulum, there’s only one way this is going to go.

“So tight for me, I hope I don’t break you.” The sudden pressure that follows his words tells him all he needs to know about how much you enjoy this. He knew you’d be good for him. A challenge at first, but he lives for those. If earning your heart and getting to split you open with his mighty broadsword meant he had to undergo the twelve labors, then so be it. He’ll finish those in record time unseen since 1300 BCE.

With a curl of his finger, he undoubtably finds your g-spot judging by the saccharine gasp that leaves your mouth. Your back arches in a way that puts the golden ratio to shame, for you are the true measure of beauty.

You on the other hand are hit with a wave of embarrassment. Who knew you could make such pornographic sounds? Not you, and it’s such a shock that you feel the need to shield your face with the use of your arm.

Big mistake.

“What’d I tell you before?” he growls, ceasing any and all movement.

“Sorry,” you murmur, uncovering your face. His finger goes back to your sex, circling the entrance methodically.

“Don’t you dare hide away from me. I want to hear you scream for me tonight.”

Who knew being threatened by an assassin in bed could be so damn hot? And here you thought you could deny what your pussy already knew.

You could say he’s punishing you by pumping in an extra finger this time around, but in his experienced mind, it’s high time the prep work really begins with some scissoring action. The added stretch stings like a bitch, contorting your face. Surviving the main event is going to take a miracle from above.

Sensing your slight displeasure, Toji slots his head down between your legs and while maintaining the steady rhythm of his fingers, his lips envelop your clit perfectly, better than any rose toy ever could hope to achieve.

“Toji,” you breathe and to the sailor kissing you up, it’s like the voice of a siren invading his ears. If that’s the case, then he’s more than happy to let you sink those harpy talons into him and take him for everything he’s worth.

For the third time of the evening, the knot in your stomach threatens to burst. Every pump of his fingers is akin to the hammer of a blacksmith working over the searing forge that is your pent-up body. History has it all wrong for Hephaestus is a green-eyed mass of all that is good and far from ugly.

He gambles whether or not to edge you for a third time, but the taste in his mouth is pure ambrosia, and who is he to deny the heavenly gift? In order to not waste a single drop, he removes his finger, fitting his entire face in between your folds. His nose batters against your clit, inhaling the divine smell that sends his eyes rushing to the back of his head with a lengthy groan to follow.

The humming is what sets you off, finally bursting the dam and letting white wash over you like a tidal wave of arousal. He swears he could cum from your face, taste, and screams alone ─ and god does he try so hard to resist flooding your legs and painting the sheets instead of your insides.

You finally come to when a sharp bang clashes against the wall.

“What was that?”

“It’s a love hotel, probably someone who likes it rough.”

He’s completely uncaring, and for all the right reasons. Toji finally has you right where he wants you and he’s going to enjoy every second of it. His tongue is working wonders to clean up all the clear liquid runoff, leaving your pearl with the pop of his mouth.

“Best fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever tasted, sweetheart,” he tells you with such a lewd expression.

You can tell he isn’t lying about that either given your degree of experience. If Toji ever went to college, you’re sure he walked out with a PhD in sex. Hell, at this point it wouldn’t surprise you if he has a Nobel Prize in cunnilingus.

He sees that fucked out face of yours staring up at him with stars in your eyes and little do you realize what you’re doing to him. Every cell in his body is crying out to claim you all for himself, pleading to what little control he has left that without you, there is nothing left for him.

That’s all he needed to hear before the next thing you know, both of your legs are lifted up and over his ridiculously muscled thighs and the 13th wonder of the world falls onto your stomach with a thump.

Shit, how is that behemoth going to fit inside you?

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it fit all nice and snug.”

Great, is he telepathic now?

“T-toji I don’t thi-“

“Shh, sweetheart, please,” he pleas and it’s as much of a shock to you as it is to him to have heard it escape unchecked from his mouth. He really does mean it though ─ and if he has to beg for it, he sure as fuck will. “Just relax for me baby, okay?”

You wearingly nod your head and watch as he pulls back, grazing all the delectable inches over your clit. There’s a trail of white beading left behind that he takes into his fingers, smearing it around the angry crown of the hydra’s head.

And like some crazy sex sonar, it falls perfectly against the entrance to the gates of pussy heaven. Fuck, if this doesn’t prove you two were meant to be together, he doesn’t know what will.

His expression darkness into what could be best described as cunthirsty in nature. “I’m going to ruin you now for anyone else, and you know why?” Your eyes screw shut as his cock bullies its way past the pearly gates. “You’re all mine, sweetheart.”

“Hahh─ fuck!”

“There, there,” he releases the filthiest guttural groan you’ve heard from it yet tonight. “Relax~”

He’s really trying if you can believe it or not. It’s taking everything in his power to rein himself from crashing his hip against your ass in one fell swoop. The sight of his cock splitting the pink seas to disappear inside outshines the beauty of any marble statue or painting.

The stretch is unbelievably insane and has you crying out in your thoughts to the 12 Olympians for mercy.

“Shit, sweetheart, there are no gods here. Only you and me.”

“Nghh, Toji please.”

His thumb comes down over your clit, smoothing you out as he plunges the rest of the way and bottoms out.

“That’s it,” he drawls. “Just like that baby. You’re doing so well taking me all in one go.”

You don’t realize how hard you’ve been gripping the fabric of the sheets until Toji’s hand works its way between. Taking it into his own, he presses your palm down around your belly button and adds some pressure that results in some blissful whimpers from you.

“You feel that?” You nod in response. “Words, sweetheart. I haven’t fucked those out of you just yet.”

“Yes! Fuck, please please.”

“So needy,” he snickers. You thankfully don’t have to say anything more before he’s reading your thoughts again and starts moving his hips back and forth.

Maybe the real challenge of this all is trying not to cum early, your grip is otherworldly. He spots a few tears dotting your cheeks and swipes them away. In the thrill of the moment, he decides to taste those and surprise, they’re just as sweet as the rest of you.

Not even King Arthur himself would be able to pull him out of you now. There’s no going back and all that’s left to truly claim you is to mark you in every way he knows how.

He’s the best kind of weighted blanket the way he hangs on you. One that comes with the added bonus of the plethora of new roses adorning your neck and collar.

“Such a good pussy for me ─ fuck this was worth everything.”

“Mmpfm?” you muffle out incoherently, unable to form a cohesive word when every piston movement has you seeing stars.

“I knew you were gonna be special the moment I saw that ad online,” he groans between thrusts and disheveled breaths, speeding up with every passing moment. “Pretty girl like you throwing herself to the wolves. I f-fucking knew your work before accepting that hit.”

He knew all along!?

This new information hits you like the freight train you were afraid of at the start. He never once became rusty, no ─ he went full dormant like a supervolcano.

“You wanna know why I did that?” His mouth meets yours in a messy kiss, clashing teeth and all before planting his forehead against yours. Those green eyes have long since been swallowed up with black hearts.

“I-hhahd to see what you were like in person. I needed to see just who are for myself.” God, if his moans weren’t some of the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard. “You’re crazy, you know? Hell, if I ain’t crazy as all fuck for you now.”

“Fuck, fuck, Toji!” you scream as he bites down on your jugular, the moment you’ve been waiting for since the beginning. The maw of the wolf meeting the throat of the perverse bunny loving every minute of this.

“You wanna cum, sweetheart? You gonna let me cum in you? Let me show you who you belong to now?”

There isn’t hardly a second to think as he ruts his hips mercilessly into your core. His once domineering side morphing under the full moon into a pure animalistic nature with all intentions of fucking and claiming you as his. Dark romance novels wish they could achieve what Toji already accomplishes.

“Y-yes, yes─ please Toji, make me yours, please!”

“Good fucking girl.” Is all he manages to exhale before carnal desire takes over and he sinks his teeth back into your neck with a bruising grip.

The groans and warmth that follow in your cunt shoot through you and straight to the heart like it’s your Achilles heel.

You sigh and scream his name a thousand times in a siren song melody that does exactly what he knew you could do for him. Your body shakes and convulses, draining his balls dry and maybe even his soul after when that was all that remained.

For what feels like an eternity after, you’re untethered from the Earth, drifting in a realm of white where the only noise you hear is the synced rhythm of your hearts beating as one.

When you come to following the magnitude 10 orgasm, Toji’s full weight is on top of you his cock buried deeply. You pat his scratched up back (courtesy of you) a few times, but to no avail.

“Toooji~ you’re heavy,” you voice, wincing at the hoarseness of your own throat. Guess he was right about the whole screaming thing.

He groans with disapproval, eventually succumbing when you start pinching the raised crop circles you created. Not wishing to pull out, he simply rolls onto his back, trading places. The next few minutes are spent in silence, still catching each other’s breaths as he rubs his coarse hand up and down your back soothingly.

Post-nut clarity has never him as hard as it has until now.

“Letting myself get arrested by you has to be one the dumbest things I’ve ever done for pussy.”

Is that all he thinks of this as?

You swallow the bitter lump in your throat. “…do you regret it?”

“Not for a second,” his hand finds its way under the chin you’re so desperately trying to hide between the cascading mountains of his chest. “Look at what you’ve done to me, sweetheart.”

There on his face, you find that his eyes are slowly returning to the beautiful green you that so captivated you about him. Beyond that luscious forest of color lies his deeper emotions: adoration, lust, affection, longing, love.

Love.

It really makes people do such stupid things.

A smarter man would’ve avoided getting arrested and instead just asked you nicely to treat you for dinner. Toji’s without a doubt a smart, tactful man. But he exhibits such raw energy to a fault that leads him to believe the thrill of the hunt would be more worth if it means he gets the golden horned hind at the end as opposed to any other frolicking red deer.

It worked out though, for now he’s staked his claim and made his caveman ancestors proud.

“Fushiguro was my wife’s last name,” he tells you, and you can hear the subtle grief in his tone.

“I figured it had to be someone, but you were married? We never saw that in our background check on you.”

“That’s because I’m good at my job,” he huffs. “I kept my wife separate from it all, including any official documents so she could never be traced to me.”

His left hand raises as he takes a moment to observe the empty spot on his ring finger. There’s a faint discoloration around the skin proving the passage of time under the sun. Proving that time with her really did exist.

“If you’re uncomfortable, you don’t have to continue.” You bring your hand up just next to his scar, gliding your thumb over the rough edges.

“My wife, she… passed away during childbirth.” He doesn’t break eye contact now with you, and while the muscles on his face don’t show how he feels, you can see it swirling all around the depths of his eyes. “All I have left of her is my son, Megumi. Our little blessing.”

“I don’t think that’s true, Toji. Not anymore.” He takes his hand and ruffles your hair, knowing what you’re getting at like always with him.

“Truthfully, I think it’s a downright terrible you opted to return to murder to pay the bills, but I’d say Megumi is lucky to have a father that’d go that far for their child’s future.”

It is a cruel thought, but Toji isn’t and probably never has been a normal person. If killing is all you’ve ever known, you understand how hard it can be to find some other purpose in life.

“You know, I almost wasn’t sure I’d even get this far with you, but I’m glad.” He smiles, and it’s one of the most genuine faces you’ve seen him make to date. Toji’s not some psychopathic killer ─ no, he’s someone dealt a shit hand in life doing whatever they can to get through each day like anyone else.

An unstable mind, sure, but also someone with the capability to love another with his whole being and change for the better. Had he not lost his wife, you most likely would never have seen another victim end up as paperwork on your desk.

“What would you have done if it hadn’t work out?” you ask, almost curious if that next victim would’ve been you if your team wasn’t ready to apprehend him, but you already know the answer to that, don’t you?

“If you think any prison could hold me, then you have a lot to learn,” he laughs, lifting you off his cock and resting you at his side. You whine at the empty feeling, making him grit his teeth to not get hard and ruin the moment. “I would be gone that very night and then you’d never see or hear from me again.”

The door knocks a few times, and you panic a bit wondering who it could even be. Reality crawls back from the recesses of your mind reminding you that you’re a government agent, currently fucked to high heaven with a criminal in a love hotel.

Toji hops off the bed, throwing a towel around his waist and he approaches the door without any fear.

“Toji─ wait!”

It’s too late, and he opens the door.

You clutch the sheets over your naked form, looking straight out of the Birth of Venus, holding your breath for whatever comes next.

“You ordered pizza?”

Oh.

You exhale with relief, “Yeah, we really haven’t eaten all day.”

“Really, after all the cream I filled you with?” he teases with the return of that beautifully salacious smile that you find to no longer be as infuriating as before. “I guess I could eat, but I might need you to quench my thirst again.”

You really do hate this man, but god if you didn’t fall pussy first into the depths of Hades and come out unscathed and madly in love.

Love works in mysterious ways.

“Shit, they make these things in heart shapes now?”

You chuckle and it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard from you, maybe even more than your voice moaning his name.

“Let’s eat and take a bath together, alright? I’m only just getting started with you.”

The morning after comes all too soon, no thanks to your unsilenced phone screaming into the void. Toji has you pinned in a borderline suffocating bear hug that you struggle to move yourself from to reach your phone.

“WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU? I’VE BEEN TRYING TO REACH YOU FOR AN HOUR!?”

More like 15 minutes given the timestamps of the voicemails.

“Sorry, I just woke up. What’s going on?” Toji rumbles from behind you and you pray your boss didn’t hear. Granted, you are responsible for him so you should have him close. Love making closeness, however? Yeah, let’s not try and explain that to your boss.

“What’s going on is that we’ve got another victim. Get over to the Rose Garden Park. Now.”

“Shit!” You toss your phone to the side, slapping Toji’s unnecessarily large forearm. “Come on, wake up pillow princess.”

“Five more minutes.”

“No can do or I’ll get fired, let’s get moving.”

Toji releases you, but not without serenading you with his morning huskiness paired with a deep heavy groan. The sound of it sends goosebumps shooting down your spine at lightning speed.

Standing proved to be a challenge on par with Toji himself. It’s nearly impossible to flex any singular muscle without some sort of pain from the ten-inch semi that ran you over again, and again, and a third time for good measure the night before.

If you thought his morning groans were hot, the dark laugh he lets out as he watches you struggle makes you consider up and quitting from the FBI right then and there. Sadly, you don’t, because you do love your job. Well, that and the student loans knocking for their reimbursement and an extra dozen zeros of interest. Gotta love college.

“Come on, Toji.” You throw his clothes onto the morning wood tent pitching the sheets. “Get up already.”

“What, no breakfast in bed? Here I was hoping to wake up to some cake on my face,” he teases with the most shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen on someone.

“You can have that later during a conjugal visit if you’re a good boy, I can’t lose my job right now.”

“I’ll keep you to that then.” He winks, you roll your eyes.

While you’re still finishing up, Toji’s out of bed, cleaned, dressed, and ready to go. It’s not fair women are the ones left needing a cane after sex.

Out in the lobby, you end up passing by a familiar sight from the bar, aka the chestnut-haired woman that approached Toji following your earth-shattering kiss.

You can only assume that since she’s here that she must’ve gotten lucky with some other guy instead of yours truly. Why would anyone go to a love hotel of all places alone, after all?

This time around, Toji’s certain you’ll let him drive, but to his disappointment, that answer’s still no. It doesn’t matter how much of a limp he gave you; he can drive his own car if he ever gets the chance to again.

FBI and CSU are already covering the scene as you pull in, including some familiar faces that make the job worth every minute.

“Y/N!” one of the men shouts, rushing to give you a hug like an LDR’s first meetup. You’re quick to block his attempt, given the mess of dirt and evidence on his jumper.

“Uhh, ew Satoru. Did you forget where you are?”

“’Course not, but I haven’t seen you in like forever.” He rolls his eyes, playing dramatic as always, but you love him either way.

Satoru reminds you a lot of Jack Hodgins, even going so far as to perform the same career roles in analyzing evidence ─ crazy experiments and all. He and Suguru go way back and are set to be married soon.

“We literally just saw each other yesterday.” You shake your head, but with a playful smile tugging at your lips. The man behind you clears his throat, diverting your attention back to the case at hand. “So what do we got?”

“Victim’s a young male, likely early twenties.” Your other coworker, Shoko, chimes in. She’s the head of the forensics division for the bureau and one of your closest friends and “sister from another mister”.

“They’ve been dead for roughly 72 hours already, same MO as the rest. No doubt the Cupid Killer’s work.”

Toji brushes past you, crouching near the woman and the body. Your other coworker and intern to Shoko, Utahime, gives him a questionable look before backing away to make room.

“What do you think?” he asks, no doubt intending for you to answer. He doesn’t even look your way but if there’s one thing you’ve learned from throughout this whole ordeal, is that he’s only interested in you and no one else.

He really is all yours. Even his criminal nature is being locked behind rose-tinted glass after a day with the man named Toji instead of the assassin codenamed Invisible Man.

Shit, has it really been only one day and you’re now complete and utterly head over heels for the guy?

Better believe it, sweetheart.

Just what is this deviant god of pleasure and what has he done to you? It wouldn’t surprise you if he came out and said his mother is Aphrodite herself.

All those marks you’re so desperately trying to hide under the collar of your jacket from the FBI weren’t for nothing. Not to mention how Toji’s back looks like a grizzly bear used him instead of a tree to mark their territory. That, and the plethora of roses you nipped and sucked to life across the expanse of his chest and abs he so wishes he could show off to the world.

“You’re all mine…”

Just remembering those words sends heat right to your kitty who’s actively purring and meowing this very moment.

Toji clears his throat, pulling you from your thoughts and reminding you that now is not the time to get all hot and bothered again. Least you’re not denying it anymore, that’s a step up from yesterday.

The crime scene for today is a public park with the victim placed upright on one of many benches with a view of a lake. His clothes are disheveled giving way to an empty chest cavity. There’s also the unnatural placement of genitals as with all the rest. At his side are a bouquet of red roses and baby’s breath ─ a classic romantic gesture ─ placed neatly in the crook of his elbow.

“I have to say, it looks a lot like they’re waiting for a date to arrive, but given the time of death, this one is staged as always.” You move closer to Toji’s side, using his shoulder as leverage while simultaneously ignoring Satoru’s questionable eyebrow at your obvious limp. “It’s a message of some sorts, like with all the rest of the victims.”

“What else do you see?”

“What else?” you say, confused.

You’re not missing anything are you? What could you possibly be missing. Toji sighs, but for once he won’t give you the cold shoulder over it. He points his finger out first at the chest, and then to empty groan.

What’s there to see that no one else would have? Unless it doesn’t quite pertain to physical evidence but something more psychological─

Oh.

“Fuck, how did I not see this before?” Toji stands up, looking at you expectantly. “The Cupid Killer isn’t one person. There has to be two.”

“Two? What makes you say that?” Satoru questions.

“Look at his thighs!” You snap on a pair of gloves, prodding your fingers along the flesh. “There’s knicks all along the skin; they weren’t careful ─ no, it’s completely rushed. They were angry when they did this but then look here!”

All eyes follow your hand up to the opening of the chest cavity. “It’s too clean, too careful. If all the killer wanted to do was exact revenge, why take such precautions to not damage the heart? If you even had the means to cleanly cut a heart out, why destroy the penis and everything around it in the process?”

“So why does that mean two killers then? I thought we established the hearts were trophies, so wouldn’t they need to be careful for that?”

“She’s right, it does makes sense,” Shoko interrupts. “The technique is different. The heart was cleanly removed with all the proper saws and cutters, but the rest is an amalgamation of whatever they had on hand, even with the previous victims.”

“The Ferris wheel too, that’s why you got all upset, Toji!” You paused, starting to pace back and forth as the thoughts kept coming. “One person would’ve struggled carrying a body, but two? That’s why the evidence is so minimal and without any scuffs on that body to get them up the stairs.”

“Good girl,” Toji praises, ruffling the crown of your head. “Now you’re seeing it like I knew you could.”

“Shit, so there’s two of these psychos running around?” Satoru hugs his own arms with a grimaced face.

“We still don’t know what the relationship of the two killers are just yet, but we should assume they’re all in on this.”

“Y/N! Toji!” Your boss bellows as he marches over, stomping along the way. “I hope you’re doing something instead of fucking around, why haven’t we caught the bastard yet?”

Fucking around? That’s exactly what we did last night.

It’s more fucked up that your boss expected a killer in handcuffs placed in front of his desk at the end of the day though.

“Sir, we’ve just made a breakthrough in the case,” you tell him excitingly.

“I don’t need breakthroughs, I need suspects! I need arrests! Something already to calm the public!” he shouts, uncaring to the commotion he’s causing.

“Sir-“

“No, I need to see some results, and fast. You too, Toji. I’m not letting you run around for fun. I’ll put those cuffs back on you myself if this keeps up.”

“Your agent’s got everything under control, so why don’t you go back to your cozy air-conditioned office and wait for good news.” He glares, ready to wage a war if need be for your sake, Ares help him.

“Don’t you talk back to me, I couldn’t care less about you rotting away in some cell,” he bites back, and you know Toji won’t take that lightly.

Before something irreversible happens, you take his wrist as tight as you can, dragging him back to your car. You plop down into the driver’s side with a thump, slamming the door in the process.

“Fuck!” you snap, hitting the steering wheel.

Toji on the other hand settles in without a hint of that earlier anger. “You okay, sweetheart?”

“I will be if I don’t get fired,” you sigh. “I can’t mess this up, Toji. I’m finally out in the field doing something interesting. If I mess this up I’ll be stuck in interrogation rooms until retirement.”

Toji’s hand settles on your shoulder and gives a reassuring squeeze.

“You’ll be fine, sweetheart. Just keep using that head of yours, the answers are already there, I promise you.”

How would you even know that?

You both go silent, staring forward while you think and tap the wheel a thousand times over with your index. Eventually, a lightbulb blinks above your head like a divine prophecy.

“If our killer has medical experience, then…” You dial a number on your phone, turning it to speaker. “Kento! Can you run a search for any former doctors or nurses in the area that could have any reason to resort to violence? Firings, complaints, accidents, anything.”

“Sure thing, give me just a moment… Alright, I’m sending you over some photos.”

“There!” You point one out to Toji. “Dr. Mafune, I only saw a glimpse, but I’m sure; he was at the bar yesterday when we were in the closet!”

Kento clears his throat, “Dr. Mafune was a surgeon at a small local hospital, but after an unrelated accident, the hospital was sued and shut down afterwards.”

“That’s as good a motive as any, and perfect experience for knowing how to remove hearts.”

“This is where it gets interesting. His daughter, Katsura, is the widow of the first victim we found. She worked in the building with her father while training to become a scrub nurse.”

It’s her! The chestnut-haired woman!

“Send me the address of the hospital, we’re going to go check it out. Thanks, Kento.” You throw your phone down, wasting no time in kicking the car alive and pulling out.

“Sweetheart, I’m all for indulging you, but are you sure about this?”

“Don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet now?” You spare him a glance, flipping the emergency lights on. “I have to get them before they kill another. Katsura was at the bar and the love hotel, I know you saw both. She probably has another victim ─ and that hospital is bound to be their workshop if it’s abandoned!”

“You’re ballsy, I’ll give you that,” he chuckles, lowering his hand to grip your thigh. It’s possessive but fuck if you weren’t on the job, you’d have pulled the car over for a quickie.

“You should know that already from the first time you met me. Think mine are bigger than yours, tough guy?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t push it.” He rolls his eyes playful, squeezing your thigh tighter. “We both know the answer to that after I let you play with them.”

It’s a careless decision going in without backup and you know it. A part of you continuously is screaming “don’t do it!” but you’re too deep now.

Balls deep, you might say.

Ha.

Here at your side is the Invisible Man. The man who conquered the underworld, one perfect crime after another. How on Earth could anything possibly go wrong?

The parking lot to the building is empty, save for some scrapped vehicles polluting the area, but you know better than any that that doesn’t mean the killers aren’t just parked somewhere else. Even if they are, this must be the hideout. You’re positive.

You jump out the car, pulling out a bulletproof vest from the trunk and throwing it on. There is a spare that Suguru would use, but in no way would it fit Toji’s physique. Hopefully his muscles actually are bulletproof like the nemean lion.

“Slow down, sweetheart.” Toji grabs you and twirls you back to his chest. “Don’t go rushing in when you don’t know what’s inside.”

You pout, but he’s right. Running in now would be a dumb decision like no other that could result in your own untimely demise. Better to let the professional head inside first.

He gives you the signal, wordlessly calling you forward. It doesn’t look like much at first, just a regular old, abandoned hospital. Things are tossed around, broken with graffiti on the walls, but so far, it’s quiet. But is that really a good thing when there could be a life at stake?

The two of wander down a hallway together, and there you come across the operating rooms. The doors are busted down, but the inside is exactly what you were hoping to find.

The killers’ workstation.

No signs of life as far as you can tell, but the tools are all there and the walls stained with dried blood.

“Holy shit,” you murmur. “We found it, Toji! The Cupid Killers were here–“

POP. POP.

Toji’s body encases you in a heartbeat, shielding you from the gunfire. You hardly register what’s happening before Toji snags one of your guns straight out of your holster, aiming it at the woman in the doorway.

“I knew you’d come find me. You just couldn’t stay away ─ huh, big guy?” The woman’s sultry voice hits you like cheap perfume sprayed over rotting food.

Toji’s unresponsive, staring down Katsura through the iron sight of the gun. Another voice chimes in from behind her, and you recognize it straight away from the closet, “Katsura, don’t waste this moment.”

“Why are you doing all of this?” you ask from behind Toji. He has his free arm stretched out to keep you where you are, blocking you from the Cupid Killers.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m getting my revenge.” Her lips stretch into a sadistic smile. “My husband thought he could get away with it ─ keeping secrets for so long from me and all. When I was laid off, I came home from work early to find him in our bed with another woman. Can you believe it!”

“I had to do what any reasonable woman would.” She waves the gun around playfully, laughing maniacally. “I killed him, stuffed his dick down his throat where it belongs, and had daddy here steal his heart for me. It’s only fair since mine was stolen and then crushed.”

“Why the others then?” you hiss. “What did they do?”

“They’re all cheaters, every one of them. It’s insane how many men are so willing to throw away their relationships for a night with me. I had to punish them.”

Your plan at the bar worked perfectly then. Toji was geared up to be his next victim thinking you were a happy couple. Would he have fallen for her thirst trap? Or did he figure out she was the killer from that interactive alone? Probably the latter if you had the guess. That asshole (affectionate) reads people better than you ever hope to.

“I knew muscle man over here had to be special, I even tried to convince my dad to let you in on the fun too after you ran away from his love to cower in the bathroom.” At this point her cackles closely resemble that of a hyena, and they only laugh like that before they attack.

“You don’t know how excited I got hearing you two through the walls at the hotel after. I can’t wait to join your hearts together after I kill you both.”

“Katsura, we really should–“

“Why stage all the bodies? What part of your revenge did that serve?”

“Those locations all meant something to me once upon a time. The Ferris wheel we shared our first kiss, the park where he proposed to me, the home we shared. Every memory is being painted in blood to start the canvas anew!”

Toji looks over his shoulder at you, twirling his finger around his head as a not-so-subtle drag at her pure insanity.

“The only one dying here today are you both.”

“Catch me if you can then, honey!” She bolts right as Toji fires a round. Never knew Toji could miss a shot.

“Stay here for me, sweetheart,” he tells you, but before he can leave you grab him with everything you’ve got.

“Toji! Your arm!”

His white sleeve is stained in red, trickles of blood following his thick veins down his arms. The fabric is torn in the areas, no doubt from when he meat shielded you from harm.

“I’ll be fine, it’s just a scratch.” His smile reassures you but doesn’t fill the pit that’s formed from the haunting sight.

He got shot. For you. Like literally, jumped in front of you, and took not one, but two bullets for you.

All because you got cocky and carried away being side by side with the self-approved strongest man on the planet instead of calling for backup.

Toji plants a kiss on your forehead and in the sudden shock of it all, you let go, and he runs out the room.

Get it together! a voice shouts from within you. You’re the FBI agent here! This is your job!

“Fuck,” you mumble, shooting a backup request to Kento and charging out after Toji.

There’s no sign of him or the killers anywhere as you aimlessly go through the halls, peeking into every room along the way. You pass by a directory board along the way which you stop to scan.

Room 214: Dr. Mafune – Cardiology

“Bingo.”

Unaware to you, Toji had caught up to Katsura in another part of the hospital. Both stand opposite of each other on a bridge overlooking the lower floors of the building.

“You can always dump her for me, you know? I’ll treat you real good.”

“I already told you once.” He stalks closer to the girl with a growl. “You’re not my type.”

“That’s too bad, we would’ve made a good couple.”

She raises her gun, ready to claim her next victim but her speed is nothing compared to Toji. In one lightning-fast motion, her arm is snapped and the gun disarmed. Before she can even react to the pain, he’s coiled around her neck in a chokehold.

Toji brings her to her knees, taking the gun in his free hand and pressing the muzzle into her temple. “Don’t think we’ll be having any second dates after today; I’m already spoken for.”

POP.

You hesitate just outside the male cupid’s office upon hearing the gunfire, praying to everything you believe in that Toji’s okay. Inside the room, it’s empty of any people, but behind the desk are shelves containing 12 hearts floating in jars all their own.

“Holy shit.”

You lower your weapon, stepping past the threshold and into the room to get a closer look.

“Don’t move,” a voice hits you from behind.

Turning your head slowly, you see Dr. Mafune standing a few feet behind with a gun pointed at your head.

“What, no bow and arrow for the Cupid Killers?” you tease. “Put your weapon down and hands behind your head.”

“You’re not the one calling the shots here.” You’re locked in a staring contest with the man, breaking the standstill as you draw your weapon. There’s a loud pop of fire followed by the telltale metallic smell coating the air.

The killer turns to run and you start after him only to be stopped by a blistering pain resonating from your shoulder.

“Shit, I’m hit.” Your jaw clenches as you fight through to pain to give chase. You’re so close, fight it!

Dr. Mafune doesn’t get far before you catch up. “Freeze! I will shoot you!”

He stops, slowly turning to face you.

“My wife left me with my dear Katsura for another man. When my baby came to me after killing her husband in a blind rage, I helped her like any father would.” He looks down the line of the barrel into your eyes, behind his clear-coated eyes, you find a whole lot of pain and zero regret. “I made it look like it was an accident, but then she wanted to go further, make others pay for their crimes. Of course I had to help. I love Katsura with all my heart.”

“Why tell me all this now?” Your breathing is turning erratic with every passing second. There’s a feeling of coldness spreading outwards from your shoulder that’s becoming harder to ignore as well.

“You won’t be making it out of here alive.”

It was then that time felt like it slowed down, almost to a complete stop. You could see Dr. Mafune raising his gun, but the trigger of your gun weighed more than the world on Atlas’ shoulder.

This is it. This is the boundary where you decide if you’re capable of ending another’s life. The only sound you hear is that of your heart beating a mile a minute. All until the crashing wave that is Toji slams into your body as a copper bullet comes flying at you.

Time resumes in an instant, and all the noise in the room returns.

“You trying to get yourself killed, sweetheart? Never hesitate or you will lose.”

Toji rushes the doctor, shooting out one of his kneecaps to stop any means of easy escape. One large fist comes down the force of titans, shattering bones in the killer’s skull. Blood spatters across Toji’s face all while he grins like the madman that he is, enjoying every second.

Using his foot, he crushes the hand carrying the gun, listening to the agonizing groan like it’s music to his ears. The glasses he had on were long since shattered, slipping off onto the pool of blood on the ground.  Toji’s fingers coil around the hairs of the doctor, dragging his body through the puddle until he’s placed right in front of you.

“Time to lose your other v-card, sweetheart.” His face lights up with amusement ─ funny given the situation at hand.

“I…” you shudder, looking between the bloodthirsty assassin and the serial killer. You can barely feel the tips of your fingers as you raise the gun, feeling it tremble in your weak hands. The gun unceremoniously falls into your lap. “I can’t.”

“That’s too bad,” Toji sighs, swiping his tongue across his bottom lip. “Guess the fun’s all mine then.”

It was then that you spot a reflective glint from the sleeve of the doctor ─ a glass syringe. It drops into the killer’s good hand and turns to aim right at Toji. Every ounce of muscle in your body screams as you raise your gun back up, finger on the trigger.

You decide then and there that Toji is someone worth saving. If it means being responsible for taking the life of another, then so be it. You can’t let Toji die. The weight of the world is gone and the trigger’s weight turned light as a feather.

POP. POP. POP.

Toji’s eyes widen at the scene, releasing his grasp on his man and watching the staggering amount of blood pool around his feet. The broken syringe is all he needed to see for it to click.

“Nice shot,” he whistles. “I should kiss you for that…sweetheart?”

You can’t bring yourself to speak and your vision is tunneling to black. Toji’s kneeling in front of you shouting, but you can’t hear a single word. It took him all too long to notice the blood coming from your shoulder and he curses himself for letting the bloodlust distract him from your pain.

Your body is pulled flush against his chest, one hand tucked around your back and the other applying pressure to the wound.

He’s so warm.

Shit… is this what dying feels like?

This sucks, but hey ─ I lived pretty a good life, I guess.

Even got the chance to fall in love…

. . .

I wish I could still see him; I’m gonna miss that sweet face.

I’ll miss you, Toji…

Thanks for showing me true love.

. . .

Beep. Beep. Beep.

“Shh, she’s waking up!”

“Satoru, give her some room to breathe!”

“Both of you need to give her some space.”

Light starts to peek in through your eyelids as the world returns to you. Suguru and Satoru are right there in front of you, Shoko prying the latter back a few steps from you. Kento’s there too, standing by the door with a calm but underlying concerned expression.

“…Guys?”

“How are you feeling?” Shoko asks, looking over your body in full doctor mode.

“Like I was hit by a freight train,” you laugh, recoiling from the pain. “What happened?”

Kento speaks up first, “You were shot, as I’m sure you knew. Thankfully it missed anything vital, but you passed out from the blood loss.”

“Toji?” You shoot up all too fast, but Shoko pushes you (gently) back down. “Where is he? Is he okay!?”

“See for yourself, sweetheart.” The familiar voice fills the room and you swear the heartrate monitor skips a dozen few beats.

“We’ll leave you two to chat.”

“Aww come on, Shoko! I want to stay here!”

“Satoru~ let them have their moment.” Suguru grabs his arm, dragging him out practically kicking and screaming while the other two calmly trail behind.

Toji comes to your side, sitting at the edge of the bed, taking your hand in his. Maybe it’s the morphine high, but he feels even warmer than before.

“You did good out there, sweetheart. Scared the shit out of me though, almost thought you’d die on me.”

“I told you not to underestimate me,” you rasp, flashing him a gentle smile. He brushes his thumb back and forth lovingly, and all the pain you felt disappears. “…Hey, Toji?”

“What’s up?”

“If you’re okay with it, then I’d like to take care of Megumi.” You briefly pause, observing the curious glance he gives you. “He’s going to need someone there while you’re in prison after all; I’d like to be there for him and make sure he lives a good life.”

“You’re a sweet girl, Y/N.” He snorts out of amusement but quickly follows up with a grin that sends warmth straight through your body better than any IV medicine could.

The road to recovery hasn’t been easy, but you’re happy the case of the Cupid Killers is finally put to rest. Your boss is equally happy, despite your headstrong attitude that resulted in you getting shot. That’s an issue for another day.

You haven’t heard much in regards to Toji’s case moving forward, but you’ve gotten to meet Megumi and see how lovely of a boy he is. A sweet young two-year-old with the temperament of an angel. The spitting image of his dad, minus the spiky head of hair.

Today’s your first day back at work, and you couldn’t be more excited despite the tinge of fear from already getting called into your boss’ office. You cautiously enter, sitting down in front of his desk.

“Suguru’s officially going into retirement soon ─ I think he’s jumping the gun ─ but he insists he wants to be there 24/7 for his newly adopted twins to settle in.” He leans forward and presses a call button on his phone, “My office, now.”

“Sir?”

“You’re going to need a new partner from now on. I expect you two to get along and help clear up the backlog of cases we’ve got.”

The door clicks open and you spin in your seat. Whiplash hitting in the form of déjà vu as Toji Fushiguro himself walks in, devoid of any handcuffs or guards. He wolfishly grins at the sight of your bewildered state, taking a seat neat to you exactly how he did the last time you both were in this room together.

“Higher ups made yet another deal. Toji will be working with us now as your very own partner.” Your boss slides a gun and badge across the table which Toji happily accepts. “He’s not out of the clear, so think of this like a special parole. I expect good things from you both.”

“Yes, Sir,” you both respond, this time without any sarcasm or mock salutes. Toji follows you closely back to your new desk of operations, sitting himself down over the oak wood top.

“So, partner,” He lowers his head and at the same, cups your chin turning you upwards to meet his lips with a sliver of space between. “Still wanna raise my kid with me? Let’s make it official, sweetheart.”

☆ Notes: did i go a bit overboard with the greek mythology references? maybe, but in my defense they were all last minute additions for some extra details which btw, jesus christ i went fucking ham for this. the word count baffles even me.

took so fucking long to get this out though. you ever find a fanfic that is so goddamn good and beautifully written that it makes you want to delete everything you've ever done because you feel like you'll never compare? yeah well i found that while writing this. that and i've had migraines every day for like a solid week now, i hate it here.

ANYWAYS, this was a prompt inspired by tojisfanatic based on this artwork

[lunarmothim]

devotion - simon riley x reader

in that brief second of startling clarity, staring wide-eyed in the frozen silence, you realize just how deep your love for him goes. you realize the things you would do, the lines you would cross, to save him. or, something something you and ghost get captured on a mission

word count: 1.7k tags/warnings: injury, canon typical violence, captivity, russian roulette, betrayal, angst, hurt no comfort, a 2 second mention of off screen smut. i wrote it lower case in notepad and can't be assed to fix it i'm sorry

it wasn't supposed to come to this.

the operation was meant to be a relatively simple one- in and out, collect the intel and the target and be on your merry little way. on paper it was flawless, wrapped up nice and tidy with a little bow and everything. perfect.

too perfect.

the team's boots were barely on the ground five minutes before things went totally fucking sideways.

ghost barely had the chance to shout out rpg before the helicopter that had dropped you off exploded, sending the team running in different directions in search of cover. you'd stuck close to ghost- not a hard feat with the death grip he had on your arm- keeping low to the ground as you stumbled after him, but the thick smoke made it impossible to see where the others had ended up.

you had no idea if they were even still alive- it was a miracle you were still alive. if ghost hadn't pulled you with him, throwing you to the ground before diving down next to you, you'd be in a lot worse shape than a piece of shrapnel buried just above your elbow and a high-pitched whistling in your ears.

and ghost… ghost was glaring down at you, the twitching of his balaclava showing you that he was saying something you couldn't hear, staring dumbly back at him, stunned. his gloved hand disappeared from your field of vision, and when he pulled it back the tips of his fingers were wet. you'd just registered that it was blood when the second rpg struck nearby, all the air rushing out of you as ghost threw his body over yours.

the ground had shaken, dirt and rocks and blackened tufts of grass raining over the two of you, and before you could regain your bearings someone was there, ripping ghost away from you. he'd fought, combat knife in hand, until you'd felt the cold metal of a gun against your head and he'd gone unnaturally still.

the stock of a rifle cracking against the back of his head had been the last thing you saw before a bag was yanked over yours.

which brought you here.

you're not entirely sure where here is, or how long you'd been here. you'd lost track of time in this cold, dark, windowless room with nothing but the sound of your own ragged breathing to keep you company, coated in grime and dried blood and surrounded by the putrid stench of a festering wound.

you can still feel the metal in your arm with even the most miniscule of movements, the pain a steady ache that pulsates with every beat of your heart. you try not to focus on it too much, or the pangs of hunger clawing at your belly, the dry ache in your throat. you do what you'd been trained to do in this situation- to focus on what you know. to use that to form a plan, to implement that plan to escape.

you know that if you're still alive, it's for a reason. they need something from you, something that makes you more valuable alive than dead. you know that they'd taken ghost too- you'd heard him yelling when they first brought you here, fighting against your captors as they'd separated the two of you. you haven't heard or seen him since, but it's likely he's also alive for that very same reason you are.

the question here, the glaring unknown, is why . why the two of you? the rational, logical answer is a smaller group, two where the other group, if they hadn't gotten separated, had three. you'd been the easier target. the irrational answer is that somehow they know .

they'd known the team was coming, had planned the ambush with the goal of separating the five of you. if they know that much about your movements, it's not entirely implausible that they know the things your lieutenant whispers to you in the dark. the things he does to you in the dark.

it's not implausible that they might think that they've finally found a crack in the infamous ghost's impenetrable armor.

it's almost laughable, the idea that someone like ghost could have a weakness, even more so that it could ever be you . your own feelings aside, you know what you are to ghost. he'd been clear from the beginning, had remained clear throughout. your feelings didn't change his.

"don't go gettin' any ideas," he grunted into your ear as he tucked you into his side after fucking you into the mattress for the third time that night. but how could you not when every look he gave you when you were beneath him was both devastating and reverent, when the way he touched you felt like worship? "s'just stress relief."

just stress relief had turned into months of never falling asleep without the weight of him next to you, wordless glances on ops and during meetings that said more to you than his mouth ever did, a hand on your shoulder or a clap on the back that lingered just a moment too long. still, he never changed his mind. he kept you at arms length and made no move to catch you as you fell.

the irrational thought feels less and less likely the more you reflect on it.

the door slamming open gives you no more time to think at all.

you're shoved to your knees on a dirty warehouse floor next to ghost, unmasked and looking worse for wear, covered in dirt and bruises and dried blood. you're sure you don't look much better, but neither of you say anything about it. not that you're given the chance- one of your captors pulls a revolver, makes a show of spinning the empty cylinder before holding up a singular bullet.

"the game is simple," he says in a thick russian accent, clicking the cylinder back into place. you whimper when he cocks the hammer, stepping forward to press the muzzle to your forehead. "answer my questions, or take a chance the chamber is empty. tell me what i want to know, you get to live."

russian roulette . it's disgustingly simple. it's terrifying . each empty click of the trigger makes your entire body jolt with fear, moving between you and ghost with each new shot, each new question. a one in six chance, and the odds are on your side today.

until they aren't. until your captor turns to ghost, down to the last chamber, and puts the gun to ghost's skull.

time seems to grind to a halt in that singular instance, as the muzzle of the revolver presses to ghost's bare forehead. six shots, five empty. the final chamber loaded, your interrogator caressing the trigger guard almost reverently, ready to pull the trigger when ghost refuses to answer- and he will refuse to answer. you know him too well to even think he'd do anything but stay silent, even to save himself. even to save you .

you wish you could say the same. you wish you could look at him with that gun to his head and have even a fraction of his resolve, that any tiny, fractured piece of you would willingly let him go to protect the mission. to protect the team. but you don't.

because in that brief second of startling clarity, staring wide-eyed in the frozen silence, you realize just how deep your love for him goes. you realize the things you would do, the lines you would cross, to save him. you realize that if it means he lives, you'll betray everything you've ever held dear- your team, your family, your country.

you'll betray simon himself, if it means he lives.

because at the end of the day, isn't that what your devotion to him is? a form of betrayal so intimate, so devastating, that you know neither of you will ever recover from it.

time comes back to you as quickly as it had left, a ragged sob clawing its way up your throat as ghost stays silent under questioning, lips pressed into a tight line, brow furrowed in angry determination. his dark eyes are ebonized steel as they meet yours, edges soft with apology.

you wonder what you look like to him in that moment as you squeeze your own eyes closed in response, fighting back the tears burning along your lashline. bracing yourself against the gravity of what you're about to do.

if it means he lives.

"don't!" it comes out hoarse and cracked and desperate . your body is tense, every muscle drawn taut, straining as you move without thinking, trying to put yourself between your captor and ghost as if it would make any difference. the hand fisted in your hair doesn't let you move an inch. your eyes open, those hot tears spilling over, and your voice breaks on the words when you see the realization dawn on ghost's face. simon's face. " don't. i'll- i'll talk! i'll talk . i'll tell you whatever you want to know, just don't hurt him. please -"

it's enough. it gets your captor to lower the gun, giving you his full attention as he takes the few short steps to where you kneel, looming over you.

"then talk."

your head is jerked back to force you to look up at him, to meet his eyes as you betray everything you've ever known, the only family you've ever had, for the man who taught you what it felt like to be loved. you weep, tears spilling freely down your cheeks, as you tell him everything - the details of the 141's movements, how much they know about his operations, involved allies, every last detail of the plan to take him down.

you try to convince yourself that it'll all be okay as spill your guts to save the man you love even when he's screaming at you to stop, to just shut the fuck up .

the man who you know, even if you both make it out of here alive, is never going to look you in the eyes again.

you'll make your peace with that eventually. if he lives, it's worth it.

your breath catches in a broken sob when you're done, slumping forward as the hand in your hair disappears. that sob morphs into a strangled plea when your captor presses the revolver to simon's forehead again anyway, the hammer clicking back under his thumb and his index finger sliding over the trigger guard. you choke on a scream when his finger presses to the trigger and squeezes .

the empty click of the gun firing dry echoes in the silent room long after the door has shut behind him.

dividers by: @/gildui

please like/reblog if you enjoyed! and if you want a part 2 let me know! :)

[galaxy-stardust]

Task Force 141 x you feat. König & Alejandro

Football/Rugby Match 🏈

Location: Base Rec Field, late afternoon sun warming the turf while a steady breeze cuts through the tension in the air. One ball. No rules. Testosterone already crackling before the first whistle.

You, sitting on the sideline in a folding chair, water bottle in hand. Trying to act casual. Failing miserably.

The pitch was alive with movement and chatter as the teams gathered.

Gaz was stretching like he was modeling for a calendar, one foot up on a bench, flexing just enough to get noticed.

Soap was crouched low, smearing black paint under his eyes with a grin like he already planned to start a fight before the first pass.

Price stood like a general on a battlefield, arms crossed and cigar lit despite the rules against smoking near the field.

König, who had shown up unexpectedly, loomed nearby, silent and massive, his black balaclava drawn up to hide the lower half of his face, his breath calm like a dormant volcano.

And then Alejandro arrived.

He came in late, striding across the field like he owned it, curls a mess from the wind, grin full of mischief. You hadn’t met him before, but damn. He was anything but ugly. Broad chest beneath a grey tee, tattoos peeking from under the sleeves, and a kind of slow swagger that made your skin feel two sizes too tight.

“Mis hermanos!” he shouted, spreading his arms.

“Look who decided to show up,” Price clapped Alejandro on the shoulder.

“Surprise,” Alejandro grinned, eyes sweeping over the team. “Missed the chaos.”

Soap met him first with a half-hug, half-tackle that almost turned into a wrestling match.

Gaz let out a cheer.

König offered a slow, respectful nod.

Even Ghost, who rarely showed much beyond grunts or glares, bumped Alejandro’s shoulder in a casual greeting. “Didn’t think you’d crawl out of your sunhole this soon.”

“Didn’t think you’d still have a pulse,” Alejandro shot back.

Soap cackled. “Reunited and it feels so bloody good."

You tried to keep your cool from your spot on the sideline. You really did. But with this lineup? You were doomed.

“Let’s keep this clean!” someone called - probably joking. Because clean wasn’t the style of this lot.

Price stood tall at the center with his sleeves already pushed up, hand resting on his hip as he sized up the teams.

Soap stood beside him, rolling his neck.

Next to them, Alejandro tossed a ball up once, caught it again with a grin, and nodded at the others gathering.

“All right!” Gaz clapped his hands. “We settling the teams?”

Soap grinned. “Got it covered, pal.” He stepped up, voice raised dramatically: “Team One - The Reapers. Led by the Grim Reaper himself. Ghost, you’re captain.”

Ghost gave him a look. “You named the team?”

“I did.” A wink. “And it fits, mate.”

Gaz rolled his eyes but accepted the name.

“Team Two - The Howlers.” Soap pointed at Price. “You’re our fearless old man.”

Price muttered, “Cheeky little - ” but he smirked anyway.

Alejandro looked genuinely amused. “The Reapers and the Howlers? Damn, this already sounds like war.”

König nodded slowly. “I like it.”

Price clapped his hands together, smoke curling from his cigar. “Alright. First to three tries. Full contact. No crying, no eye gouging, and if anyone pulls a hamstring, you deal with it like a man.”

They lined up. The teams shaped up like muscle and strategy:

The Reapers

• Ghost (Captain)

• König

• Soap

• Rookie Nate Mills (quiet but lightning-fast)

• Rookie Mills (massive, calm, built like a wall)

The Howlers

• Price (Captain)

• Gaz

• Alejandro

• Soldier Carter (loudmouth, cocky as hell)

• Soldier Dom (lean, slippery, scheming eyes)

KICKOFF

As Gaz attempted a dramatic whistle that failed completely, the game erupted into motion.

König snatched the ball mid-air and bulldozed through two rookies like they were made of paper.

Soap ran alongside him, barking something in Scottish you couldn’t translate.

Alejandro taunted him in Spanish.

Ghost moved like a shadow, cutting through defenders without a sound.

Price shoved Gaz to the side with a grunt and took off after König.

And then it happened.

Just a few minutes in, the shirts started to come off.

At first it was Soap, yanking his off and tossing it without stopping, laughing as he did.

Then Gaz followed, swiping the sweat from his brow as he peeled his shirt up and over.

König paused only briefly before pulling his over his head in one fluid motion.

Alejandro grinned, winked at you, and dragged his shirt off with that relaxed confidence that made your heart thud too hard.

Ghost hesitated the longest, fingers hooking the hem of his black tee before slowly dragging it over his head, leaving only the skull balaclava covering his mouth and jaw.

Time stopped.

You didn’t breathe.

It was like they moved in slow motion, each one pulling fabric from skin in some perfectly choreographed sequence of torture. Your gaze shifted from one to the next, helpless to stop it.

Soap’s torso was a carved mess of tattoos and scars, muscles tense with adrenaline, veins jumping along his arms as he whooped and jogged backward. His war paint only made the look more primal.

Gaz was leaner, toned, his dark skin slick with sweat already, shoulder tattoo dancing each time he passed the ball.

Price was Broad and solid, chest dusted with sweat and hair, his torso all strength and command. Scars old and faint marked the years, forearms thick and flexing with every pass.

König was pure mass - his chest and shoulders wide enough to block out the sun, the black balaclava only adding to the brutal mystery of him.

Alejandro’s body looked sculpted, all muscle and mischief, his tattooed chest rising with every breath as he shouted back and forth with Soap in a mess of half-flirt, half-threat.

And then there was Ghost. No shirt, just the skull balaclava, his body all broad shoulders, hard muscle, and quiet power. His forearms flexed as he repositioned his gloves. His abs were dusted with sweat and dirt, hair stuck to his temples. Every time your eyes landed on him, your mouth went dry. The others were walking sin - but Ghost was your hell.

THE GAME

Alejandro got the first try with a clean break past two rookies, yelling “¡Vamos!” as Soap swore after him.

Gaz tackled König only to immediately regret it, flattened beneath the bigger man with a winded curse.

Price intercepted Soap, laughed, and kept running with the ball as Soap chased him like a rabid dog. You weren’t sure if this was rugby, football, or a bar fight with rules.

Trash talk flew.

“You sure you’re not skipping leg day, Gaz?”

“Why, you want me to skip it all over your face?”

“Bastard nearly cracked my ribs,” Dom wheezed after König pushed him aside.

Ghost said almost nothing. He let his body do the talking - tackling hard, running silent, eyes like stone except when they flicked to you between plays.

Score so far:

The Reapers: 2

The Howlers: 2

The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows over the field. Everyone was slick with sweat. The last play started from the center.

“Try catchin’ me, Soap!” Gaz taunted, winking.

Soap growled, “I’ll break your legs, you cheeky bastard.”

Alejandro shoved Ghost as he passed, grinning. “Slowing down, hermano?”

Ghost didn’t answer. Just shoulder-checked him on the next play hard enough to make Alejandro stumble.

You laughed. They were maniacs.

König got flagged for tackling someone a little too hard. “Sorry,” he muttered. Not sorry.

Price called out strategies like a battlefield commander, while Soap and Gaz chirped each other non-stop.

“Who taught you to kick, Gaz? A chicken?”

“At least I don’t fall over my own ego!”

Soap faked a pass, tossed it to Mills who sent it wide to König. König barrelled forward but met Alejandro and Gaz in a brutal clash that stopped his momentum. Ghost snatched the ball from König’s hands mid-collision and sprinted.

Alejandro shouted. Gaz followed. Price was ahead, bracing for impact.

Ghost spun past one. Swerved around another. Dove forward.

Try.

Game over.

Soap collapsed backward, arms splayed. “If I move again, kill me.”

Gaz dropped to his knees. “Water. Or morphine.”

Alejandro laughed, hands on hips, chest still heaving. “You win today, hermano. But next time? I bring my team.”

König nodded as he helped Dom off the ground. “Next time, we bring helmets.”

Price chuckled, tipping his cigar toward you. “Didn’t think you'd survive watching this mess.”

You said nothing. Just sipped from your bottle, hoping no one noticed how red your face was.

Ghost walked toward you, slow and steady, body dusted with sweat and bruises, a smear of dirt along his collarbone. He stopped in front of your chair and tilted his head slightly. “You alright?”

You swallowed hard. “Fine.”

His gaze locked on yours, heat simmering beneath the mask. “I saw the way you looked at them.”

Your heart stuttered. “And?”

His voice dropped just enough to make your spine straighten. “You can look all you want. Just remember who you're coming home to.”

And then he turned, water bottle in hand, walking off toward the lockers, leaving you breathless and grinning like an idiot.

[geneviveleocardius]

OMG… OH MY GOD ! I love your work on CoD… Really… Can you make a second part for "the way you see me" pleeeeease ?

got it baby!

the way you see me

part 1

the way you see me

part 2

you stood in the shared safe house’s kitchen, the sound of the rain outside masking the subtle movements of simon “ghost” riley behind you. he had a habit of being eerily quiet, but you could feel his presence like a weight in the air.

“freckles,” his voice broke through the silence, smooth and low.

you turned, startled by how close he was. his dark eyes—half-hidden by the skull-patterned balaclava—were locked on you.

“freckles?” you repeated, confused.

he tilted his head, studying you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. “yeah. you’ve got ‘em, dotted across your nose and cheeks.”

you laughed, shaking your head. “well, obviously. pretty sure the entire team can see that.”

but he didn’t laugh. instead, he stepped closer, the edge of his gloved hand brushing the countertop.

“not just freckles,” he murmured. “you bite your lip when you’re nervous. you tap your fingers against your thigh when you’re thinking. and you hum under your breath when you think no one’s listening.”

you froze, the smile fading from your lips.

he continued, his voice calm, deliberate. “you always sit with your back to the wall when we’re out. never leave your glass unattended. you’ve got a scar on your left hand, shaped like a crescent, probably from a burn. and your favorite color is green—not bright, but that deep forest shade.”

your throat felt tight. “how do you know all that?”

he finally leaned back, his posture relaxed but his gaze unwavering. “because i watch. you carry yourself like you’re invincible, but you flinch when someone moves too fast near your left side. you’ve got a tell when you’re lying—your eyes dart to the right. and you hate the smell of cigarettes, but you never say anything about it.”

the air between you felt heavy, charged. “you can only know all that if you’ve been watching me. seeing me,” you said softly, your voice tinged with disbelief.

for the first time, ghost’s eyes crinkled slightly, a hint of amusement slipping through his stoic demeanor. “you saw me first,” he said simply, his tone teasing but firm.

and then, just like that, he turned and walked away, leaving you in stunned silence, your mind racing with everything he’d just revealed.