#gave each one a different price tag

[luveline]

More spencer x hotch's sister? I love her relationship with hotch so much btw! Maybe spencer learns some of what she went through in her past?

“What did you get Haley for your six months?” you ask. 

Aaron shakes his basket of fries. You can smell them from your side of the table, salt and grease from the fryer. He doesn’t need to see you looking, maybe he doesn’t care that you want one or not, he tips half of the basket onto your plate and shrugs. “It was a long time ago, I’m not sure I remember. For our first year together I gave her a promise ring, I think.” 

“I don’t think I can get him a promise ring…” You swirl your drink with your straw. Fizzy bubbles rush to the surface. “A ring might be nice, though. Can he wear jewellery in the field?” 

“One nondescript ring would be fine.” 

“Maybe a necklace.” You stab a few of his given fries on your fork and smile. “I’m very stressed, but he’s been so kind the whole time. He never makes me worry about anything.” 

“Spencer is kind.” Aaron glances to the side as a couple sits in the booth opposite. “Admittedly, I was worried. But you’re happy, so I’m happy.” 

“Six months is a long time for no fights.” 

“Honey, some people don’t fight.” 

You toy with a stray piece of lettuce. “I’m really glad that we don’t, but I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop.” 

“It won’t drop. You think I’d let you date Spencer if I suspected he was secretly evil?” 

“There are a few things wrong with that question…” You wipe your mouth with a napkin. “Okay, it won’t drop. Can we get, um, dessert? Rocky road sundaes?” They’re Aaron’s favourite, so they’re yours, too. 

Despite his assurances, you keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. You think about your conversation with Aaron for the days leading up to your six month anniversary with Spencer, which he aptly names your ‘half anniversary’. He doesn’t plan any surprises —he sends you a PDF with different options for everything. Five different restaurants with different options for courses, moods, and settings. There are notes for each place and why you might like them, and there are activities for each one afterwards based on the location. It’s so thoughtful it makes you feel sick. The other shoe looms, and looms. 

You choose a smaller restaurant just outside of the busy city, with a beautiful outdoor eating area on a stone veranda. It’s lively but not crowded, secluded but not completely private. 

Spencer tucks your seat in, and he kisses your cheek before he takes his own. When he does, he looks across the table at you, and says, “Wow, you’re so pretty.” 

“You think so?” 

“You’re beautiful.” He gives you one of his not so shy, almost cheesy smiles, like he wants to laugh. “Do you want your gift now or later?” 

“Is it rude to say I want it now?” 

“No, it’s not rude. I’ll feel better once I know you like it.” 

He presents you with a box wrapped in dark blue crepe paper and rounded silver star stickers. There’s twine wrapped around it and bowed, too beautiful to want to open. You look between him and the present in awe. “This is real pretty,” you say softly. 

“It’s nicer inside,” he says. 

You unravel the twin carefully, and you take off the paper to reveal a large, flat box. You put the paper in your jacket pocket, folded primly to keep. Spencer waits patiently. 

You press your thumbnail into the box’s seam and push. 

It’s four pieces of jewellery. What catches your eye first is the sapphires, blue crystal with deep dark hearts pressed into the pendant of a necklace, the heart of a bracelet, and the main bodies of their matching earrings. All simple, elegant pieces, and compiled, their impressiveness is amplified. Your breath catches. You don’t need to be an expert in jewellery to immediately assign a ballpark price tag, and it’s a lot. It’s sort of startling. 

But the price doesn’t matter half as much as the sentiment. 

“Do you remember them?” he asks softly. 

Fourth date. Hand in hand, you and Spencer walked through a shopping centre with iced drinks and churros, and you’d paused for a few seconds to ogle the jewellery display. You’d pointed straight at the sapphire bracelet and said, “That’s gorgeous. I think if I save, I can get it for Christmas.” 

“I know it’s not Christmas,” Spencer says, “I’m sorry, I cheated. But I hope you like them.” 

“Spencer, I love them, I love them,” —you reach your hand across the table— “I love you. Thank you.” 

He smiles at you. “Yeah, I love you, too.” 

You can’t stop yourself from getting up to hug him. He bends under your weight and holds your arms, doesn’t wince when you press the entirety of your face to his hair and breathe. “Thank you,” you whisper, kissing his forehead twice, “thank you, I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” He takes your face into his hand before you can leave. “You like them?” he asks. 

“I love them.” 

His smile is everything. “I really did cheat, I wrote it down when we got home and you know I can’t forget the things I read,” he murmurs, pulling you in for a kiss. 

Six months later and your heart still skips a beat. Doesn’t matter that he has an eidetic memory, what’s important is that he wrote it down. 

You take another hug, to his delight, and return to your seat. Your presents wait in a bag under the table. Two books, one jewellery box. He goes for the smaller box first. 

“It’s a ring,” you say, too nervous to let him discover it by himself. “I know you don’t often wear them, but I thought maybe it’s because it’s not something you’d get for yourself, and I think it would look good on you.” 

He opens the box with a smile. So pretty, and exuberantly bright. “Oh, wow.” 

“I don’t know if brands mean anything to you, but it’s Vivienne–”

“It’s beautiful,” he interrupts, “I love it. What finger do I wear it on?” 

“Most wear it on their marriage finger, I think, but you obviously don’t have to do that.” 

He slips it onto his ring finger, turns his hand one way and another, and there’s this joy that echoes all the way across the table from his very core. “Thank you. I love it, and now every time I look down I'll remember why you gave it to me.” 

You spend a lot of time apart, what with both of you working. “I thought that, too.” 

He takes the books next. His laugh is soft. “I’m not surprised.” 

“They’re… they’re my personal copies.” 

He startles at that. “They are?” 

“Yeah. Uh,” —you point at the first— “that’s my favourite, and I think it could be your favourite too.” 

“And this one?” he asks gently, slipping the first underneath the second. 

“Aaron gave that one to me. I know what you’re thinking, okay, that I’m giving something to you I should really keep. Maybe it makes you uncomfortable, I don’t know, but I love you.” You lick your lips. “It’s nice to fall in love. And you’ve made it so easy.” 

He stares at you, lips parted. 

You panic. “It was hard, growing up, and I know everyone struggles but it was hard. If it weren’t for my brother… I feel like it sticks to me and you’ve never made me feel that way. You love me for me. I was convinced nobody would ever do that.” 

“I know it was hard,” he says. 

“Really hard, sometimes, but you aren’t. I’m never scared of you.” 

He reaches across the table to touch your hand. “You aren’t supposed to be scared of anyone, angel.”

Warmth blossoms under his touch. You shake off the fog. “It’s not just about all of that, I swear, I really do think you’ll like them. But if I got it all wrong just lie to me, okay?” 

“You didn’t get anything wrong, shut up,” he says. Spencer stands, his turn to hug you, but he goes about it differently. He tips your head back and he kisses you, and his nose is a pressed line in your cheek as he squeezes you to him. “I’d be surprised if anybody who’s ever met you didn’t love you. Okay? Thank you for trusting me with it.” 

It, and not them, not the books. 

He peels away. You beam at one another. 

“Should we eat?” you ask, feeling pleased and shy at once. 

He kisses you again, one quick peck. “Yes, we can eat.”

[eternalxvenus]

༻ room for one more? ༺

summary: after many failed dates, you begin to give up on the dating scene until Sarah and John B give you an interesting proposal.

cw: smut 18+, sarah x f!reader x john b, threesome, oral (f and m receiving), face sitting, overstimulation, squirting, dirty talk, praise, p in v, unprotected sex, pet names (sweetheart, pretty girl, good girl, baby), brief drug use, lmk if i missed any!

wc: 3.6k

notes: thank you to the lovely @juniebugg for giving me this amazing idea, i loved writing it and hope i did it justice 🙏🏽

☆ obx masterlist ☆

The sun was setting but the day was still hot, a soft wind tickling your skin. You were lying on your towel, opting to enjoy the last few rays of the sun with Kie. JJ, Pope, John B, Cleo, and Sarah were all in the water swimming and playing around. You all had a rough week for different reasons and so JJ called for a mandatory beach day.

As you dozed in and out, listening to the sound of the waves, Kie nudged your side softly. "So... how is the whole dating thing coming along?"

Even though she was genuinely curious, you couldn't help the sting of embarrassment as you tried not to groan. "Not so great. I have a date with Kelce tomorrow, but I'm not over the moon excited." You turned to look at Kie through your sunglasses with a tight smile. "If this one doesn't work out, I'm giving up."

Her nose scrunched up in mild disapproval. "Kelce? I didn't think you'd go for someone in that circle.

Truth be told, you usually wouldn't. Even though the whole Kooks vs Pogues thing isn't as relevant anymore, some Kooks were still stuck in their old ways. "Me either. He came up to me and started a conversation at the boneyard a couple nights ago and asked for my number. Now we suddenly have a date at the country club," you sighed with a shrug.

"Even if it doesn't go well, don't stress it. You don't have to push a relationship anytime soon– you're still young."

You sat up and turned onto your back, deciding to take a nap while you could. "Easy for you to say. You have JJ, Cleo has Pope, and Sarah has John B. I'm the odd one out." Kie gave you a solemn smile but didn't say anything else, which you were thankful for.

A few hours later, everyone was out of the water, and the wind picked up leaving goosebumps on their wet skin. While everyone was drying off, Kie woke you up and said it was time to go.

You asked John B to take you home because you had plans tomorrow. As everyone laughed and joked around with one another, you couldn't bring yourself to be in a cheerful mood knowing they each had their special person within the group.

Once you were home, you immediately took a warm shower to try and let the warm water relax you. It did somewhat, but it didn't stop your brain from overthinking. After what felt like hours of tossing and turning in bed, one melatonin later, you finally were able to fall asleep and stay asleep.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱✩•̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

The room was unbearably hot when you woke up. You flung the covers off you as you wiped the light sheen of sweat from your forehead. You'd left the window open, and your AC wasn't on. With an irritated groan, you got up and closed the window. Wanting to cool down your room as quick as possible, you turned the AC on as low as it could go.

You checked your phone and saw a few missed messages.

Kie: have fun on your date, lmk how it goes!

Sarah: if you aren't busy later come swing by the chateau :)

Kelce: morning, i'll be there at 1 to pick you up for lunch. can't wait to see you.

You sent in your replies and got ready for your date with Kelce. Light makeup and a cute but simple white dress. As you grabbed it from your closet, you saw the red dress you shoved in the back with the price tag still attached. You'd bought it impulsively while shopping with the girls one day but had never worn it. 

It was a mid-thigh deep cherry red with a slit and showed off your cleavage perfectly—according to Sarah, at least. It had never seen the outside of your closet, no matter how many times your friends tried to make you wear it. You never felt like you could truly pull it off.

There were five minutes to spare when you'd finally finished up. As you were spraying your perfume a text from Kelce came in letting you know he was outside. You grabbed your purse and met him outside, where he sat in his car.

A small sigh left your lips. He didn't bother to meet you at the door. Perhaps he wasn't the gentleman type. You got into his expensive car, the leather seat cool from the AC blasting on high.

"Ready to go?" He asked, giving you a once over. You nodded softly and gave him a small smile. Neither of you spoke much the entire ride there. You sat on your phone checking social media, playing games, anything to pass the time.

Kelce parked in front of the country club and beckoned you to follow him. He led you to the outdoor patio that connected to a restaurant. After a waiter sat you both and you ordered drinks, Kelce started the conversation.

"So, is this your first time at the country club?."

"Uh... yeah, it is."

"What do you think of it?" he said, taking a sip of the drink that had been placed in front of him.

You shrugged, "It's nice, I can see why people come here." There was a beat of silence and you knew this date wasn't going to be the best.

"Honestly, I'm surprised we're here right now. I never thought I'd be taking a pogue on a date at the country club. But you're really hot, so I've got no complaints."

His statement made you internally roll your eyes. "Right..."

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱✩•̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

You were back home, feet aching slightly from your shoes, and the heat was making you feel groggy and gross. The date was not good. All Kelce could talk about was himself, the kook life, and how he wanted to bring you to a party at Topper's next week. You declined. He also made slick remarks about you being a pogue which pissed you off.

You: hey sarah, i'll be over in a bit.

She sent a thumbs to your message. You got in your car and made your way to the chateau. When you pulled up, you saw John B out by the deck. 

Inside you could see Sarah walking around so you went in to greet her.

"Hey, I'm here," you said knocking on the door as you walked inside. 

"Hey! Glad you could make it." She sat the plates she was holding into the cabinet and motioned for you to sit. She came over and sat next to you on the couch as you both got comfortable. "Kie mentioned you had a date… how did it go?"

You picked at your nails and shook your head. "Not too great."

Sarah hummed sympathetically. "Well, Kelce isn’t as interesting as he makes himself out to be." You both laughed as you nodded in agreement.

You laid back on the couch letting your head fall back. "When is everyone else coming?" assuming Sarah or John B had something planned for everyone tonight.

"Actually, I only invited you. John B and I wanted to talk to you about something," she sighed. You felt nervousness bloom in your stomach as she stood up. "I'm gonna go get John B, just sit tight."

While waiting for them to come back your mind was wandering, not sure what could be so important that they had to talk to you together and in person. The door swung open and Sarah walked back in with John B right behind her. No one spoke as they pulled up two chairs and sat in front of you on the couch. John B gave a soft smile which helped your nerves just a little.

"Okay so," Sarah spoke up. "We weren't really sure how to go about this so just bear with me here. You're one of our best friends and we've spent a lot of time together over the years..."

You could hear your heart beating in your ears, almost drowning out Sarah's voice. Please don't tell me they don't want to be friends anymore, you thought to yourself.

"Anyways, me and John B have been talking. We both find you attractive obviously. And we wanted to invite you to bed with us! Like a threesome." Sarah had a smile on her face and your eyes widened.

"W-what? You want to have a threesome? With me?" They both nodded.

"Basically, me and Sarah had been talking and we asked each other who we'd want to hook up with if we were single. To our surprise we both said you, so we figured why not just ask."

Your face felt burning hot with shyness and embarrassment. You'd only had sex one time and it wasn't all that great. You and your boyfriend at the time had wanted to lose your virginities to each other but neither of you knew what you were doing.

Sarah's hand grabbed yours and pulled you out of your swarming thoughts. "You don't have to answer right now." She was caressing the back of your hand with her thumb reassuringly. "Go home and just think about it. We'll be waiting patiently for your answer— no pressure at all, okay?"

The air in the room felt a little less heavy. You knew they wouldn't force you or be mad if you decided not to. "Okay," you said with a small smile.

They both hugged you, walked you to your car, and waved you off home. On the ride back, all you could think about was whether you should accept or not. You weren't experienced and didn't want to disappoint them.

You were laying in bed but once again couldn't sleep. You decided to take a few hits of the weed pen JJ had given you a while back, it's lasted you a while since you only use it when you can't sleep or need to relax.

Once you felt the high encompassing your mind you laid down and closed your eyes. Your mind drifted to the thought of being in bed with Sarah and John B. With that, you fell asleep.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱✩•̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

It had been three days since your threesome invitation. You had thought about it a lot. Even though you hadn't spoken to Sarah and John B directly, you all still talked in the group chat with everyone else like normal.

It was still early in the morning when you texted Sarah.

You: hey are you and John B up yet?

20 minutes later, you got a reply.

Sarah: good morning! i am but he's still sleeping lol. what's up?

You: i've given it some thought and i wanna do this but are you sure? i'm not the most experienced when it comes to all that

Sarah: i'm so happy! thank you for trusting us and don't worry we'll both be there to guide you. are you free tonight?

You said yes and she told you to come over at 7. That gave you 11 hours to completely freak out before heading over there.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱✩•̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

The warm air from outside blew into your car as you sat outside the chateau, trying to give yourself a mini pep talk. They suggested that you come in loungewear, so you wore shorts and a cropped tank top with no bra, all things considered.

You went up and knocked on the door and waited. John B came and greeted you with a hug. He didn't hide the fact that he was taking in your body. 

"Hey, come in. Sarah's finishing up in the shower so she should be out in a few minutes." With a brief nod, you followed him inside.

It was so weird, normally the chateau felt like a second home. You'd help yourself to whatever and never felt out of place. This time it was the complete opposite. You didn't want to touch anything or sit without someone telling you to. You felt like a guest, who was visiting for the first time.

John B sensed your nervousness and gave you a smirk. "Don't get all shy now sweetheart, we haven't even started. Speaking of which, is there anything you wanna do? We could have some takeout, watch a movie, anything really."

You gave him a puzzled look. "I thought we were going to... you know."

"I love your enthusiasm," he chuckled. "We are, but Sarah and I both thought it'd be best to ease into it rather than just jump right in. We want this to be as comfortable as possible for you."

It was the little things like this that reminded you that these are your best friends. They knew you like the back of their hand and wanted this to be enjoyable for you and them. "A movie sounds nice," you said with a smile.

A little while later you were all sat on the couch watching some random movie that you'd picked. It wasn't all that good but you were still tuned in. Your eyes glanced away from the TV when you felt Sarah's hand start grazing the inside of your thigh. She was still facing forward almost as if nothing was happening. You looked back at the TV and spread your legs a little wider.

It was summer, entirely too hot for any blankets— even with the cool air of the AC blowing— so if John B looked, he'd see what was happening. The light, teasing touches went on for a few more minutes and you could feel yourself getting more and more worked up. You were ready to break the silence and ask for more until you felt John B's lips on your neck. A soft gasp slipped past your lips as your eyes fluttered closed.

"This okay?" he muttered against your neck, and you nodded. "Use your words, pretty girl."

You managed to whimper out a soft 'Yes' which encouraged them both to keep going. Sarah's hand moved higher, lightly rubbing you through your shorts. A moan slipped from your pouty lips at the contact and you tried grinding your hips against her hand for more stimulation. "Let's go to the bed," Sarah whispered.

The short walk was filled with little kisses and light touches, none of you wanted to stop even for a second. Sarah instructed you to take off your clothes and lay on the bed. She and John B did the same as she sat behind you and John B positioned himself in between your thighs.

"Fuck... your pussy is dripping." You attempt to close your legs but he has a strong grip on your thighs. "Don't try and hide yourself, I wanna see everything."

Sarah brought her hands up to massage your tits, your nipples feeling painfully hard. "John B is gonna use his mouth to make you feel good, okay?"

"Okay– oh!" He wasted no time licking a long stripe to collect your arousal on his tongue.

"How does she taste baby?" Sarah asked. You could hear the lust and neediness in her voice. "She's so fucking sweet, like candy." John B couldn't help but moan as he continued to move his tongue in and out of your hole. You felt one of Sarah's hands leave your breast to touch herself behind you. Her soft moans make you even more turned on.

John B brought his mouth to your clit and sucked hard. That was all it took to have you falling over the edge in pleasure. One hand squeezed Sarah's arm while the other tugged on John B's brown tresses. Your moans filled the room as you rode out your first orgasm of the night.

Sarah replaced your spot in front of John B and once again he wasted no time lapping at her essence. Once she reached her peak John B didn't stop he was pushing her into overstimulation and instructed you to hold her legs open.

"John B! Please– ohmygod– it's too much!" she tried to push his head away but he didn't budge until he pulled another orgasm from her. You watched in amazement as she started to squirt making a mess of the bed and his face. He wore your combined juices proudly, not bothering to wipe any of it off. 

You leaned down to whisper in her ear. "Fuck Sarah you look so hot like this, squirting all over the place, being so messy." She whimpered at your words as John B finally gave her some reprieve.

She pulled you down so your lips collided with hers in a heated bruising kiss. Her tongue swiped across your lip and made its way into your mouth massaging your tongue.

In the corner of your eye, you saw John B stroking his hard cock slowly. Sarah noticed as well and gave you a smirk. "Let's show him how thankful you are for making you cum."

John B positioned himself up against the headboard and Sarah brought you face to face with his length. "Grab the base and take him into your mouth. He likes it really messy," She whispered while keeping her gaze on him. You followed her instructions and did your best to please him.

Once you'd taken as much as you could into your mouth, a light gag leaving your throat, he groaned. "Fuuuuck, that's it, take it all in that tight little throat." You went at your own pace for a bit, then Sarah took over gagging you on his cock at a brutal pace. Your eyes watered and there was spit and drool all over your chin and his pelvis. John B's thighs tensed and without warning his load filled your throat forcing you to swallow it all. 

You coughed a bit and Sarah rubbed your back soothingly while you and John B caught his breath. "You did so good baby." She went to kiss your neck and caress your body.

The praise did things to you. "Thank you." John B pulled you against him and kissed you deeply. "Do you wanna keep going, sweetheart?" John B muttered against your lips. The room felt so hot in combination with all the body heat and the summer air. You were definitely spent, but you wanted to go again. "I want you inside, please."

He nodded and moved you down to straddle him. Sarah moved to sit on his face, facing you. She moaned, feeling his tongue on her clit again. You sink down on his length feeling completely and utterly full. Sarah pulled you in for a kiss as you rocked your hips in a slow rhythm.

The stimulation on your clit from grinding felt delicious, you knew you wouldn't last much longer. One look at Sarah and you could tell she was close too. "I wanna cum together," you whispered against her lips. "Okay, together." she nodded. John B pushed his hips up to get impossibly deeper and gave a harsh such on Sarah's clit, pushing you both over the edge.

You both collapsed onto the bed, your body completely worn out. Sarah and John B left kisses and comforting touches anywhere they could, telling you how well you did and that they were so proud. Their voices faded away as sleep overtook you.

⭑*•̩̩͙⊱✩•̩̩͙⊰•*⭑

A month after your night with Sarah and John B things couldn't have been better. You'd spent many pleasure-filled nights at the chateau. They were always showing you something new and making you feel so good. There were even times when it would be just one of them if the other was busy or not around.

You weren't expecting the text from Sarah asking you to come over considering you were just there two days ago. She asked you the wear that red dress which made you even more confused.

Walking into the chateau, not bothering to knock, you saw the table with lots of food and a candle adorning the middle of the table. "What's all this?" you questioned. John B and Sarah both turned from their spot in the kitchen and greeted you. 

"We wanted to do something special to thank you, you look beautiful by the way," he said leading you to the empty chair. They sat down at the table and you could tell something was coming up. Even Sarah looked a bit nervous. Maybe they were going to end things.

"So, we don't want to keep you here with this uncertainty. We did all these because this past month has been amazing. You've always been a great friend and I think– we think– doing this has made us incredibly closer." You nod in agreement. "We want you to be our girlfriend. We'll be an official polyamorous couple. I don't want to have to give you up to someone else and neither does Sarah. We want you to be ours and we'll be yours completely."

You felt like the wind had been sucked out of you. They wanted you to be their girlfriend. Before you could say anything Sarah chimed in. "Sorry if this seems sudden and we understand if you want to keep things how they are. You don't have to have an answer–"

"Of course I would," you cut her off with a wide smile. You could see the worry leave both of their faces. "God I love you." Sarah laughed leaning over to place a kiss on your cheek, John B following suit.

The rest of the night was spent having an amazing dinner and even better sex with your new partners. Never in a million years did you think this would be your life but you loved it and you loved them. They were your best friends and lovers wrapped in one.

likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

“hold your tongue...Unless you gon’ lick on my clit-!!”

synopsis: Unbeknownst to you, you did something to make both Argenti and Boothill mad….so now you’re gonna make them happy.

tags: poly relationship, vulgar, explicit, cunnalingus, fingering, clit play, nipple play, pet names, etc.

wrd cnt: 0.9k

a/n: this was a request and it just has to be as freaky as possible

Your relationship with the knight and the cowboy is something only believable in a fairy tale. Except…”fairy tale” sounds quite too amateur and misleading.

This was more like a risqué story you tell your bestfriends at a sleepover when you’re too drowsy to have shame.

Argenti and Boothill are two very…conflicting entities. With you in the picture, it’s a harmony. Except the times when you somehow become the main point of both their anger and pay the price, not like you’re unwilling.

How could you be when they’re both between your thighs, hungrily eyeing at your dripping pussy before Boothill blows air onto your already sensitive clit, cooing at your sharp reflex. While Argenti soothes your thigh, giving you a few kisses that only heighten your arousal before both of the men use one strong hand to push your plush thighs open, exposing yourself even more to them. Don’t even dare to try to shut your thighs even a bit, they'd be pushed right back open, along with a quick slap on your plush skin.

All the heat in the air would naturally cause some bickering, Argenti and Boothil were already mad, and could barely come to a consensus on who gets the first taste of you. The air was thick with tension, you could barely breathe. Or maybe it was your excitement.

Argenti being the gentleman that he is, gave it up to Boothill.

The gunslinger wastes no time spitting on your clit before wrapping his lips around it, tongue immediately caressing your sensitive pearl. He couldn't decide between roughly sucking on the poor thing or moving his tongue side to side, all while Argenti kissed and nipped on the soft skin of your thighs while his hand finds itself on your bare breast, squeezing roughly every once in a while to keep you on your toes. His favorite thing to see is your nipples getting harder, and they always did when under his thumb.

He can only be so generous for so long, kissing his way towards your center before nudging Boothill head with his own; both their tongues massaging and rubbing against each others while fighting over your clit. Their eyes both glued up to watch your expression, each hand of yours stuck on both of their heads, tangles in different shades of hair.

"A-Ah!!! please-" your back suddenly arched off the bed as you felt two hot tongues on your clit. Not knowing whose name to moan out. Argentis moving up and down, like he were trying to savor the taste of your essence—not too hard or too fast....just sensual. Boothills tongue on the other hand, settled on quick harsh licks that made you twitch, his tongue flat on your clit before he sucks on it harder.

"s'good right? hm darlin’?" Boothil slurred into your pussy, sloppily kissing his way down to your dripping hole. Argenti took this as an opportunity to cup your entire clit in his mouth, hid two fingers spreading your folds apart more; revealing more surface area for him to enjoy. He hummed around your clit, spit dribbling from his lips from the sloppy kisses he was giving your weeping pussy.

As soon as you felt Boothill shove his tongue in your pussy, your back arches slightly off the bed as you came with a loud, pathetic whine. He moaned almost just as much when he felt your cum began to coat his tongue in little waves.

Argenti, pulled away from your clit with an obnoxious pop. Red eyes admiring at the mess your pussy has already become. "Saved some for me, right?," he mumbled, leaning his head down to lick a slow strip up your pussy. His long finger ran slowly up and down your petal soft slit, occasionally applying light pressure to your clit. Without any warning he plunged two fingers in with a lewd squelching sound following Boothills interruption of: "we're supposed to be sharing- don't be so greedy!

“please-just be gentle m'still a little— hah! sensitiveeee," you request. It went from synchronized licks, to absolutely destruction of your perception of cumming. You felt your body react in ways you didn’t think possible before.

You tried to keep your eyes on them but you could only handle so much before you head fell back against your bed, eyes rolling into the back of your head. "You like my fingers inside you, don’t you, sweet thing?," Argenti spoke into your thigh, giving it a sweet kiss before plunging two fingers inside you again. His fingers began doing a scissoring motion, and to help you avoid the stinging stretch Boothill sucked your throbbing clit in his mouth. What a great team.

“gonna cu-cum again, you're gonna make me-" your body tensed as another orgasm washed over you, a pleasing sight for the two men before you. "Fuck she's squeezing me real fucking tight, feels that good baby? Boothill growled, curling his fingers in the most delicious way possible to make you feel it even more.

Eventually, you felt the stretch of four fingers inside.

"oh-… my fucking.." your mouth dropped as both men began to move their fingers at a synchronized pace, digits bumping against that special spot inside they knew you liked so much.

Argenti eyed your lonely breast and brought his free hand up to tweak at your nipple, Boothill following.

“look at how wet she is.... dripping all over the fucking bed, I though my oil changes were messy… " Boothill chuckles, him and Argenti already in a agreeance that this was just the beginning.

Wait…why were they even mad at you again!!?!

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[reds-skull]

CW FLASHING IN THE VIDEO (3rd from the bottom)

This is it. 3 months in the works, the comic (and video) are finally done.

A little over a year ago, I uploaded the first work in Revenant AU, Ghost's origin comic. I never thought I'd write a whole series for this, but I'm so glad I did. I got a whole new hobby out of it, haha.

I already began working on part 2, but this for me marks the start of it. I'm really excited to get back into this world!

Under the cut there are some comments on the comic I thought some people might be interested in (don't wanna make this post longer than it already is lol). I will upload the frames from the video separately, with comments on it there.

Bottom line is, thank you for letting me just go wild with this :)

Okay, I'm mostly gonna talk about the part where Fate shows Makarov the 141+Farah. Makarov doesn't see the Fate of people as literal images, he often has to interpret odd symbolism in the flashes he gets from the Weave of Fate.

I decided to go for a style I saw in a collection of calling cards in MW3, mainly from this one:

You can really see it in the faces and pitch-black cel shading.

I'll be going in order of appearance, starting with Farah.

Obviously, each of the "flashes" shows the Reaping of each person, Farah being crushed under rubble. Behind her is a helo of green gas, which symbolizes the Russian experimental gas. The motifs around her are more interesting imo - they're taken from the Urzik flag (and yeah apparently it's "Urzik" and not "Urzikstani"... according to the wiki at least). Wings, plants (feels to me like a pomegranate and some sort of crop, but I couldn't find what it is specifically), and a moon, upside down.

I'm skipping ahead a bit, but I've had the idea to make a drawing of Gaz in the Hanged Man pose since I started the AU basically. I tried sketching it once, and it went bad so I gave up lol. But I decided to come back to that here, and add some sort of tarot connection to all of them. I know practically nothing about tarot, googled the meanings of each, they fit well enough, I called it a day lol.

So Farah is the Moon, upside down.

Price is next, showing him taking control of the brain of someone. I didn't use the flag of the UK for the 141 (it'd be kinda boring...), instead I took the Taskforce 141 logo, and broke it down to different elements.

I took the laurels for Price, both framing his illustration and sitting above his head like a crown. I decided he will be the Emperor.

Next up is Gaz, the Hanged Man of course. Gaz gets both the wings and the stars (I changed mine to 4-pointed because... I like them better). Pretty clear why, both symbols relate to the sky. The illustrations kinda follow a rough day cycle, if that makes sense. Farah being night, with the moon. Price with his golden and purple color palette, twilight. Gaz being sunrise, and Ghost and Soap, day. This is why Gaz has a sun behind him.

Ghost was fun because he's the only inhuman one out of the group. I'll let you think what that implies, that even in Fate's Weave, Ghost is an outlier... Ghost gets the skull, and the card "Death". That one was easy, but what I did add is blood flowing down the skulls, like tear tracks...

Soap, the problem child, gave me the most issues as always. For once, it wasn't his fucking face, it was the flames behind him, and overall contrast and readability issues. Soap's illustration is probably packed with the most "hidden" details, though they're obvious if you've read the fic and Konchar's side story. The headless man behind Soap is Konchar himself, holding 4 chains with dog tags on them. The 4 soldiers from Soap's squad, who he killed before Soap was Reaped. Soap's pose is from the moment he came to his senses, after getting shot in the head and destroying a large part of Verdansk. He has 4 swords, pointing at him and downwards, so his card is 4 of Swords, upside down.

Between Soap and Ghost is a circle and a triangle. I'll explain that in the post concerning the video, since that's where I got that from.

If you read all of this, thank you so much! There will be another post for you to read in a moment lol

[gremlingottoosilly]

The Horror and the Wild [Emperor!Konig x fem!Reader]

It's time for the wedding - and the wedding night. Emperor is going to make sure you will bear his offsprings by the end of the night. Tags and TW: Dub-con, aphrodisiacs, power imbalance, breeding kink, size difference, loss of virginity, age difference(Konig in his forties, Reader in her twenties), medieval/fantasy AU, Konig is a pervert AND an evil dictator AO3

You weren’t saved from the humiliation of a public wedding. 

You weren’t saved the torture of picking the flowers as you were choosing the attire to your own funeral – and you weren’t saved your innocence by allowing yourself to ignore all the handmaidens and their horrible, disgusting picture books about penetration, pools of blood and hell that is saved between the legs of a man. 

“My condolences, dear princess. For your parents. And congratulations on your wedding. Our deepest hopes go to your coronation, Empress.” “From the king of South, we send our sheerest condolences. And congratulations on the wedding.” “May your parents rest in peace. And glory to the Emperor.” “Grief surely suits you, Dear Empress. As well as the crown.”

You think you might puke right in your royal garments, looking at all of the royal visitors. 

King Price of Southern Kingdom, with all of his knights – you do not know if you can find solace in the girl clinging to the hand of his masked knight, the stench of death filling you with calmness that you don’t know how to deal with. The girl is terrified, just like you – if you may, you’re probably the same age, that years of servitude grazing in the hands that are covered by the sheerest amounts of gloves. 

The lady – you don’t know her name, and you doubt that any woman in this hall is even allowed to have one other than her husband’s – is looking at you with understanding. You think you might actually die. 

— Lady Ryley? 

She smiles, and before you can go to her – hold her hands, ask her to disappear with you, maybe run away somewhere, you don’t even know where – the masked knight already drags her away, a firm hand on her shoulder. You’re alone, the weight of the royal robe is pinning you to the floor. 

You are dressed in black as the only form of rebellion – guests must assume you’re still mourning your parents, the grief in their eyes is mixed with congratulations on the Empire finally getting prospects of offspring – you hope you’d tore your womb from your body before König could lay his hands on you. Guests may assume that the wedding is a tab bit strange, maybe somewhat unusual for the emperor to marry someone of your status – tiny kingdom, no worthwhile resources, and almost zero prospects for trade. Maybe, you were the only treasure this kingdom ever had to sell so eagerly. 

König holds your hands because you know that you would try to run the second he is letting you go. You know he knows this, too. Guests may assume that he is being protective of his young wife – assassins aren’t unheard of in these places, after all, you were the empress now. The much smarter guests knew what kind of looks you gave him – perhaps, you had the best options at killing the notorious emperor right after he robbed you of the last remains of your dignity. 

You smile and wave like a damned pampered pigeon, pretty and useless, all dressed up in bows and black pearls, dark stones illuminating the depths of your despair – only the monster you had for a husband would even consider ordering a mourning dress this beautiful. You’re almost ashamed of wanting to paint it red – you almost feel bad while holding the butter knife and thinking about plunging it into your chest, ripping away all the delicate laces and ornaments that cut through your skin each time you breathe a bit too freely. 

— You look divine in this dress, meine Liebe. 

He smiles, you know he is – he didn’t forget about his damn hood even on his own wedding, but he holds you dearly, but he smiles with his eyes, an eerie sense of happiness that makes every guest shake in their seats. The Ruler of the Empire doesn’t smile. Not at his wife, who looks like she would rather kill herself, for sure – but he smiles as you say your wows, knowing full well you are not going to fulfill them, but he laughs when the priest stutters once you refused to say you do the first time – König has to squeeze your hands, reminding you of your place. Even your stubbornness has a limit, apparently. 

His lips are dry and chastity. 

König knows he can’t kiss you like he wants to – too many guests, too many pricks, thinking they have a look on his wife. If it weren’t for the admirers and desperate rulers of foreign lands, trying to force their songs and daughters to marry him out of a pathetic attempt at saving their countries, he wouldn’t even think about a public wedding. If it weren’t for the annoyance of constantly swatting the offers away, he would never allow the world to see you. Not how beautiful you look, not how pretty your eyes are, glistening with tears, not how much he just wanted to smother you with affection like there isn’t anyone around. 

Hells, if he knew so many people would accept the short notice for an invitation, he would invade their kingdoms while they were away at his wedding. 

König holds your face in his hands, the contrast between soft skin and his gloves is making you shiver – he pushes his hood up, even just for a little bit, and the only thing that is ever revealed to the audience is the scars on his chin and sudden dryness of his lips. He thought he overcame his childish anxiety when he was still a tiny bird stuck in his adolescence – but he looks at you, his pretty little princess, and his hands are shaking from the anticipation of a kiss. 

The guests will assume you’re crying because you love him so, so much. 

The Emperor knows better, kissing the tears from your lips like it was the sweetest treat around. 

*** You thought you were smart.

You really did. 

Such a slick motion, such an easy task – the girl coming with Knight Riley, the weak one, with trembling hands and face that spoke of innocence of lambs and with calloused hands of a fellow worker, took your hand as you were leaving. The veil of laughs and jokes about finally conceiving a worthy heir for the empire made you shiver from horror – and the girl swatted you to her side, a single sleight of hand putting…something in your palms. 

Some sort of plant – dried, smelling of something sweet and edible, flowers that would feel crispy on your tongue. She smiles softly, her hands are gentle on yours – she whispers in your ear before your respective monsters can catch you and throw you in their layers again. 

She said, it was mercy. 

She said, it would make -it- feel quick and easy. 

You hoped, it was a poison. 

It had to be, you wouldn’t accept anything else – the desire to die and fulfill the destiny of a loyal servant, the whispers of the god of dignified death – you may not see the sweetness of the afterlife with your Princess, but killing oneself to save their bodies from being violated is a worthy fate for any. You pushed the plant in your mouth as swiftly as possible, chewing on the dried grass and crispy flowers, hoping the effect would be immediate. 

You’re bathed and oiled like a pig for devour, short for the apple stuffed in your mouth – instead, you have forced a mouthful of wine, goblets after goblets. To ease the tension of the first night, the servants said, smiling understandably. You feel warm, you feel dizzy, you feel hellishly feverish, and it couldn’t be just from the alcohol – you close your eyes and hope that the plant took its way finally, releasing you from the shell of the mortal life. You’re dressed up in pretty garments, skimpy as something that the empress should never wear – you feel like a cheap whore when your skin is glossy with oils and decorated with flowers. 

Just before you started chewing on them too, your husband finally arrived. 

You hoped you’d be dead before ever seeing him naked again – but you’re forced to watch his muscles tense as the only thing saving his lack of dignity is the smallest ever piece of undergarments. It doesn’t help in hiding his arousal, the monstrosity between his legs. You knew you would have to die before he is ever putting anything in you – but you see the outline of his manhood, poking from the side of a simple cloth, and somehow, you feel hotter than before. 

You blame it on the wine, you blame it on the poison you took. The warmness is spreading in your tummy to your lower areas, forcing its way to moisture your garments, a wet spot, embarrassingly big for an Empress, is slowly spreading between your oiled, scented legs. You’re nothing but a feast for him, a pretty little snack – you knew how much he liked to eat, after all. What great talent he had in forcing your legs apart and showing his head between them, that sinful tongue of his speaking of prayers and soft little blasphemies in the sweetness of your maidenhood. 

— You’re burning, little princess. 

You hoped it’s the poison working. 

For a second, he placed his hand on your forehead and caressed it softly, accessing your temperature. For a second, the cold of his hands made you nuzzle into his palm like a cat that was fed nothing but the finest pieces of meat by the hand that was ready to skin it for its skin. For a second, you hoped that his embrace alone would be enough to kill you. 

If you die, which you must do, you wish it would be with his hands holding you softly. 

— A virgin fewer? I thought you’d know what we’re going to do by now, little prin…

— Don’t stop be from dying. 

You let go of those words before you could claim your silence. 

König’s hands are grasping you immediately, a finger lays in your mouth, making you gag – you open your lips from instinct, no matter how much you want to stop him from ever entering your mouth. He is weirdly smooth with you, the other hand going to grab your waist and press you on the bed – like you ever had a chance to stand against him and run away. Like he didn’t have a row of guards just outside the door. 

— Dying? Scheisse, dumme What did you do? 

He quickly grasped your tongue, the traces of the flower still lingered on your teeth, on the further corners of your mouth – you didn’t know if you had to spit it out or eat it whole, and you didn’t want to guess in the matters of death and loss of dignity. You gag on his fingers as he laughs – an unusual sound. First, the smiles and happiness in his voice, the rings and chains he put you in, and now laugh? Perhaps you died already, and this is your eternal damnation. 

— Let go of me! You have no…

— Were you still so scared, Liebling? 

— I wasn’t…what do you mean, Your Highness? 

The title is good, the title puts some distance between you and him. Only imaginary – he is still as close as possible, hands on your body, wiping the traces of the flowers on the silk sheets and holding you in his embrace again, as tight as he possibly can. You feel ill, you feel hot, every time he puts his hands on you, you can feel your core throbbing, the poison making you dizzy and dumb. 

You almost feel like begging him to touch you again – and again, and again. König, for one, can’t wait to watch. 

— I wonder where you got it. Such a clever Katzen, ja? Eating aphrodisiacs before her wedding night, like I would just mount you like an animal without preparing my wife? 

He laughs and laughs, hand in your hair, petting you gently like you truly were a cat. You’re dumbfounded, the fewer makes everything make less and less sense. You close your eyes, you open your eyes – you feel him on you. Looking, watching, observing, you want him to stop, and you want him to rip away those stupid garments and touch you, as he did in that dim hallway, to push his masterful, sinful tongue down your folds and treat you like a…

You whimper as you fell on the sheets, truly embracing the cat in-heat stance you were for the last few minutes. You roll on the sheets, smooth silk makes your core cool just a bit, the pressure only building with each time you try to hump the sheets, not caring anymore if you were behaving like an animal. 

Perhaps, the Knight’s maiden really wanted to make everything easier for you – just in her own way. 

— Wh…what have you done to me? 

He is bracing his hands between your legs, lingering touches on the wetness of your garments, making you both shiver in anticipation. He is forcing his tongue on you, the immediate pressure making you meow from the sensation. You hate it, you hate it, you have to hate it because if you don’t, then what the hell are you even doing. It’s too much and too little, it does nothing to relief the warmth between your legs, only making you wetter with each stroke of his wide, warm tongue. — I haven’t done anything, little princess. You just want me. 

— I would never want you. 

— I can stop. 

You snap your legs around his neck before he can withdraw his face. 

König is laughing, the sheer adorableness of your expression making him want you even more. You look perfect, so lost in desire for him – gods, he just wanted to devour you, to strip you of all you worth and make you his just as much as he is yours. But simply pleasing you with his tongue won’t ever be enough for this night – he had waited for so long, too long, disgustingly long, he had to have you in every way possible. If he won’t consummate the marriage today, he might as well just die. 

Other night, he will make you beg – plead for him to give you his cock, push the throbbing member in your trembling folds, snap the pleasure from your hands and force you to accept being his wife. The other night, he could wait and tease you for as long as possible. The other night…

He doesn’t have the patience for this night – he can’t even kiss you now, the mere feeling of your trembling lips would snap him beyond repair. It’s unfair to you, little princess, his desire is too much for someone like you to take – alas, he has to have you. Alas, he will have you, one way or the other, even if he’d have to push your pretty head into the pillows and force his manhood between your folds. 

But you plead for him, the desire in your eyes, mixed with fear and anticipation, is enough for him to laugh again, his hand squeezing your chest. You look divine, absolutely – you would look even better when properly bred, tits full of milk, and belly swollen with his little soldiers. Emperor never thought of getting an offspring, always knew his fate was to fall into obscurity with the country he created, but you have wide hips, a soft belly, and warm hands – all the requirements of a mother. But you have the submissiveness of a pet and the wit of a wife. 

But he can’t wait to push his seed into you – with a groan, before you could even lay your eyes on his cock, he is already forcing it in, ravaging all the resistance you once had. 

The plant made you warm, aroused, and wet enough to be dripping when he first pushed his cockhead between your glistening folds. You cry, the feeling of being intruded, ravaged, bot entirely painful, but now very pleasant either, is nothing you were expecting of the first night with your husband. You were expecting screaming, pools of blood, half of your organs falling out from the newly made hole between your legs. 

You just feel…intruded. The knot in your stomach is as tight as ever, even as König gives you a few minutes to adjust, the outline of his manhood throbbing in your tummy. You don’t even want to look at him, and he allows you to drift into a trance, the aphrodisiac you took doing all the job of preparation for him. 

He is feeling you, raw and sensitive, your maidenhood is dripping down your thighs and his cock as he wasn’t exactly gentle – he will be the next night, and the night after, and after, he will promise to take care of you, little princess, but this night is about taking what belongs to him – and he will never allow you to keep your dignity when you can simply be his dumb, adorable wife. 

— You’re so…heavens, princess, you’re strangling me. 

He laughs, struggling to push in and out, his hand finding its place on your folds, playing and tugging with your swollen little clit. The bud is wet, no matter the pain you’re experiencing – the drug won’t allow you to stop wanting it, wanting him, König knows it’s not genuine, he has to work to make you this aroused, but for now, it will work. He doesn’t want you to feel pain – and he will make sure you’re able to take him. 

— Too much, it’s…stop, wait, I am…

— You can take it, Schatzi. 

— I can’t! — You will. 

You whimper under him, you cry under him, he only continues to move, tearing your loyalty to your kingdom with each harsh thrust. You came to this room wanting to die, but now you feel your hands wrapping around his neck, your hips buckling to meet his, to bring the overcoming pleasure like König isn’t the one to tear you apart – you feel raw, you feel tainted, the pleasure in your folds is nothing what you ever had before. 

You’re betraying yourself with each moan and each whimper – you find yourself begging for him, the tears of yours is not just from pain anymore. He kisses you, rough lips on your mouth, making sure you’re as prepared for him as he is, you want for him to stop, but you plead with him to continue. 

— Stop already…I…

— I only came twice, little princess. And you – trice. Doesn’t feel fair, ja? — ‘s not, I can’t take it anymore…

— I will breed you, Schatzen. Until you’re swollen with my sons. — It w…won’t be royal children…

— Ach, my blood is enough to make a dog royal. — But…

— I will breed you, little princess. You can stop pretending you don’t want it.

You’re not even sure at what orgasm you are already – you feel like he came already, the wetness in your cunt should be evident of his already breeding you quite a few times, but the time is a blur when every time you cum, your vision blurs and your brain becomes foggier and foggier. 

König knows you will look perfect, all thoughtless and swollen with his children – not now, maybe, with a few elixirs to enhance your ability to bear children, but he can’t wait till you’re done. You might not like it at first, princesses do tend to be just a bit dumb when it comes to their duties, but there is something in your eyes that is telling him you’re going to bring him sons just like a good girl you are. Just like he expects you to do, your pretty tummy all swollen, and your body is barely handling the passion of his lovemaking. Gods, he knew you would be worth it. Even if, to his knowledge, you’re not a princess at all.

[ratatouillewastakendammit]

30% Off

Pairing: Hawks x reader

Summary: In the end of the world, death around every corner means you don’t exactly get much time to pleasure yourself. Thankfully, someone you’ve had your eye on is more than willing to help

Warnings: smuttttt; edging; language; apocalypse AU; the 'monster cocks' that I found in a Spencer's the other day.

(I originally wanted to write this for an AIB character, but it's been a while since I've touched on Hawks so I literally just did it again with him.)

Your fingers flit through a small sea of heavy fabrics, each embroidered with some colorful design of whatever video game or anime character had been trending when the world stopped.

Apparently, it had been Gojo, the white outlines of his hair a stark difference to the black of the hoodies base framework.

The material was heavy and warm, hiding your fingers from the damp chill in the air as you slid them underneath to find the price tag.

$49.99

The notion of one piece of clothing being nearly worth a young teens entire shift made your eyebrows tug upward.

Slipping the cloth off of its hanger, you gently ripped the price tag off, letting it fall to the floor as you snuck an arm into one of the sleeves.

Once upon a time, you would have cared about the littering, but it wasn’t as if rest of the mall didn’t look any different.

It was getting increasingly hard to care about things like that.

Instead, you focused on the comfort of your newfound treasure. Taking what you wanted was one of the few benefits you reaped in a place like this.

The mall doors had been hard to pry open, but a crowbar and a few minutes had done just fine. With a few days of peace before another game needing to be won, Mirko suggested some good old scavenging.

If anything, it was a lot better than sitting around and starving to death.

So you, her, and a few others had ended up here, each going their own way to cover the maximum amount of ground before darkness fell over this wasteland.

And while you didn’t exactly think Spencer’s would have the most survivalist-prone gear, it was one of the only stores in the North end of the mall that didn’t reek of rotting food.

You slipped through a wall of nose piercings, grabbing another thick hoody that sported a small drawing of Killua Zoldyck on the lower right corner.

Going towards the back of the store, you rummaged through the trays of snacks that could usually be found near the checkout desk. Even though they technically weren’t the most nutritious, sour gummies and sodas were known to have a better-than-average shelf life.

As you scoured over numerous packages and Best Buy dates, your gaze slipped a few feet to your left, eyes widening as a short chuckle bubbled up into your throat.

You walked over to a stand proudly boasting its abundance of ‘Creature Cocks’ and picked up a glow-in-the-dark Unicorn dildo.

It was nearly 9-inches.

Guess I could use that thing as a weapon if anything.

Snickering, you put the sparkly sex toy back and let your line of sight graze curiously over the smaller, more much conventional ones.

It had been a long time.

Which wasn’t surprising, since personal pleasure wasn’t exactly a priority during what many would define as the apocalypse.

Still…

Almost unconsciously, you reached out, fingers curling around a small toy that slightly resembled one you used to have.

“You know most of those don’t work anymore, right?”

“Shit!” You spun around in fear, locking eyes with the second male in your little group, Hawks. His lower lip was curled in amusement as you pressed a hand to your pounding chest. “You just gave me a heart attack, asshole!”

Regardless, nervous excitement brewed in your stomach. The feelings you harbored for the individual in front of you were dangerous and you knew that, but they were hard to ignore.

“Sorry, didn’t think I was interrupting anything,” his eyes flit down to the device in your hand, a feline-like smirk spreading across his features as he turned and began to leave. “But I’ll leave you to it.”

You dropped the toy, it’s clatter against the floor causing him to swivel his gaze back and you to internally cringe. “Batteries,” you swallowed, cheeks beginning to burn as you mentally fumbled for an excuse. “Some have batteries. I figured we’d run out at some point. For flashlights and stuff… ya know?”

Rambling. You’re rambling. Stop it.

Hawks cocked an eyebrow, stalking closer and quietly bending down to pick up the device. When he straightened, his body was a few centimeters from yours.

A contrasting scent of ashes and spice hit your senses as he lifted an arm to put the toy back, effectively caving you in on one side.

You wondered absentmindedly if he still would’ve smelt faintly of fire if he wasn’t stuck here, in a world surrounded by death and decay.

“If you really needed help that badly, you could’ve just asked,” he replied, wolfish grin doing nothing to quell the heat blooming into your face.

The meaning of his statement hit you like a train, the suggestion crawling below your abdomen to tease you with a flash of pleasure.

“I don’t… I wasn’t trying to-”

“But you want to,” you blinked, eyes wide in surprise as his arm snaked around your waist. “Besides, it might be dangerous to leave you all hot and bothered during an attack or something, don’t you think?”

“I’m not… I’m fine,” the reply definitely lacked the assertion you planned to give it, the idea of his skin against yours more than distracting.

He let out a raspy hum. “So it wouldn’t turn you on at all if I did something like this?”

The hand resting on your hip began moving downward, began toying with the top of your jeans.

Mindlessly, your hips lifted upwards, practically begging to meet his touch.

That smirk grew slightly, excitement flashing through brown irises. “Thought so.”

His hand slipped under the fabric, gently brushing against your clit. The contact made your body jerk in surprise, that soft heat slowly building as the touch moved in between your thighs.

“I-” One finger pushed between your folds, drawing a soft groan from you as he began to slowly thrust the digit in and out.

“I know, princess. Don’t worry, I’m gonna take care of you.”

His lips grazed over yours, gently stealing the sigh you gave in response to his movements. Blond hair tickled your face as he continued to whisper praises in your ear.

“So pretty,” his free arm linked under yours when your knees threatened to fall out from under you.“Do you know long I’ve wanted to do this? Wanted you?”

He watched as you continued to slip away in a pleasured haze, expression flashing for a mere second in adoration as his finger drew soft circles over your clit.

The feeling was overwhelming, the rest of the world melting away from the burning heat just begging to reach its climax.

Then it vanished, his touch slipping away as quickly as it came before he pressed his lips against yours, the moment lasting mere seconds but leaving you breathless.

“Why did you stop?” The desperation in your tone might have embarrassed you, if you cared.

“So needy,” he taunted. “I’ll fuck you properly when we have some more privacy.”

You almost reached out to stop him when he backed away, your pride saved as the rest of your group pushed through the isles.

“You guys okay? We’re gonna head back to the shelter soon.” Mirko stopped, eyes widening as she took in the area. “What are you doing back-“

“We thought there might be some batteries in here.” Hawks grabbed one of the toys. An effortless smile gracing his lips , he spun the package around so the label was visible. “30% percent off.”

[mawidixon]

"I will be your light in this cruel world"

Daryl x fem!reader

one-shot

Genre: fluff

Setting: Season 5 - Alexandria

Warnings: Twd violance (killing walkers and other stuff), swearing

Summary: Daryl never thought about marriage until he stumbled upon a beautiful ring in an abandoned jewelry store. From that moment, he put all his effort into making the engagement special.

A/N: I love that one-shot! I wanted to write Ink and Ashes first, but I just needed to write this!

@mawi22 I don't want my work to be modified, copied, or any of this kind of stuff without my consent!!!

It was one of those days when nothing seemed to happen and all the time was wasted. Daryl was on the run, alone because you were assisting Carol in cooking a meal for the rest of the people. To make matters worse, you had accidentally cut your leg while in the woods and you could not run in case of anything. Daryl, the hunter that he is, was now walking on a street that looked as if it had been abandoned. Attached to his belt were several rabbits that he had killed during the day.

The street was deserted; the closed shops bore testimony to what they used to be some time back. Cracked wooden panels and peeled paint spoke of a different reality that no longer existed. Daryl’s eyes shifted from one store to the other, the archer was ever vigilant. He was not only hunting for food but he was looking for anything that could be of use back in Alexandria.

He walked around each shop with purpose, looking for groceries, food tins, medicine, utensils, clothes, and other items. The rabbits followed the movements of the man, a small sign that he was successful in hunting. With every twist of the handle of a door and every crunch of his boots on the floor littered with debris, his senses were heightened. Daryl was determined; Alexandria required much more than food, and he aimed to make the people there as ready as they could be.

Soon, Daryl approached a destroyed jewelry store, its windows shattered and the door barely hanging on its hinges. With a cautious glance around, he pushed the door open, the jingle of a broken bell echoing eerily in the silence. Inside, the store was a chaotic mess, but remarkably, the displays of rings, necklaces, and other jewelry remained largely untouched. As he stepped further in, Daryl's eyes scanned the glittering pieces. Gold, silver, and other precious metals lay scattered about, some adorned with diamonds, others with various gemstones. The price tags, still attached, revealed their former value—these items had been incredibly expensive. In the old world, Daryl wouldn't have given them a second look, their opulence far removed from his everyday concerns. But now, in this new world where rules no longer applied, he could take whatever he wanted without consequence. Yet, the question lingered: what was the point?

Daryl continued his search, moving from display to display, his mind occupied with thoughts of Alexandria and the group. He checked behind counters, opened drawers, and scanned the room for anything useful. He was about to leave, dismissing the jewelry as unnecessary, when something caught his eye.

In a dusty display case near the back, a beautiful gold ring with a shiny sapphire gleamed faintly. The deep blue stone seemed to capture the dim light perfectly, drawing him closer. Daryl's thoughts immediately turned to you. He remembered the welcome party in Alexandria, how stunning you looked in that blue dress, the way it brought out the color in your eyes. The sapphire reminded him of that exact shade. He stood there for a moment, the ring in his hand, feeling an unexpected wave of sentimentality. In the chaos of their current lives, moments of normalcy and beauty were rare. This ring, this small token, could bring a bit of that back. He imagined your face lighting up when he gave it to you, a symbol of something good amidst the turmoil.

With a newfound resolve, Daryl slipped the ring into his pocket and left the store. The day, which had started as long and monotonous, had suddenly gained a new purpose. He continued his search of the abandoned street, but now with a hint of a smile, knowing he had found something special for you.

"I dun' know when to give 'er this ring," Daryl said, his rough voice barely a murmur as he twirled the sapphire ring between his fingers. The deep blue gem caught the light, casting small reflections on the walls of the dimly lit room.

Rick, leaning against the doorframe, glanced at the ring and then back at Daryl. "You've been together for a long time," he said, his tone gentle but firm. "Maybe it's time to propose to her." Daryl shook his head, a mix of uncertainty and self-doubt clouding his usually stoic expression. "Nah, she gonna say no," he muttered, his gaze fixed on the ring. Rick stepped closer, his brows furrowing in concern. "Why do you think like that?" he asked. "She loves you, man. And you love her. What's the problem?"

Daryl let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. "It's jus'... things ain't never been normal for me, Rick. I ain't used to all this," he gestured vaguely with the ring, indicating the weight of emotions and commitments it represented. "What if I ain't good enough for 'er?" Rick's expression softened. He placed a reassuring hand on Daryl's shoulder. "Listen, we've all been through hell and back. None of us are the same as we were before all this. But what you have with her, that's real."

Daryl glanced up, meeting Rick's eyes. There was a flicker of hope in his otherwise guarded expression. "Ya really think she'd say yes?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Rick nodded firmly. "I do. She's stuck by you through everything, Daryl. That means something. She sees the good in you, even when you don't see it in yourself."

...

After that talk with Rick, Daryl began seriously thinking about how to propose. He knew it had to be perfect, something truly special. Unsure of how to go about it, he sought advice from Carol and a few others. Carol, always insightful and supportive, offered him some ideas and shared stories of heartfelt proposals she had witnessed.

With their guidance, Daryl finally crafted a plan. He remembered how much you loved daisy flowers, and he knew of a meadow not too far from Alexandria where plenty of daisies grew. It was a place you often spoke about with fondness, a reminder of simpler, happier times. He also knew the perfect spot to propose—a secluded lake nestled in the middle of the forest. This location held a special place in his heart, reminding him of your gentle touch and the soft kisses you often placed on his forehead. The tranquility and beauty of the lake made it the ideal setting for such an important moment.

Determined, Daryl set his plan into motion. He decided to tell you he had arranged a special date, something to brighten your spirits and provide a brief escape from the harsh realities of their world. On the day of the proposal, he rose early and made his way to the meadow. There, amidst the tall grass and wildflowers, he carefully picked a bouquet of the freshest, most beautiful daisies, picturing the delight on your face when you saw them.

"Y/N! You really dun' have to do make-up. Remember we're goin' to the forest," Daryl called out from behind the door, his voice carrying a mix of impatience and affectionate concern.

Inside the room, you were transforming yourself into a vision of beauty. With careful precision, you applied your makeup, enhancing your features with subtle touches. Your eyes sparkled with a hint of eyeliner, your lips a soft shade of pink. As you finished, you turned to the beautiful long white dress that Jessie had given you. The fabric was soft and flowed gracefully around you, hugging your figure perfectly and making you feel elegant and radiant.

You slipped into the dress, smoothing it down and twirling slightly to see how it moved. The dress was more than just clothing; it was a piece of the old world, a reminder of times when dressing up was a regular part of life. In this dress, you felt a connection to those memories, a sense of normalcy that was rare in these harsh times. True, you were heading into the forest where walkers could be lurking, but you felt confident. Your experiences had honed your survival skills, and you knew you could fight and run if necessary, even in a long dress. The dress might be unconventional for such an outing, but it made you feel special, and you wanted to hold onto that feeling.

You took a final look in the mirror, admiring the transformation. The long white dress accentuated your grace and poise, and the makeup highlighted your natural beauty. With a deep breath, you turned towards the door and opened it. Daryl stood there, his rugged features softening as he took in your appearance. His eyes widened slightly, a mix of surprise and admiration flickering across his face. He scratched the back of his head, looking a bit flustered.

"You look...amazing," he said, his voice sincere and a bit husky. "But you sure 'bout that dress? We might have to run."

You smiled, feeling a rush of affection for him. "I'm sure, Daryl."

Daryl chuckled, shaking his head. "Alright, jus' stay close to me."

You nodded, and together you stepped outside. The late afternoon sun cast a warm, golden glow over Alexandria, and the path to the forest beckoned. As you walked beside Daryl, the dress swaying with your movements, you felt a sense of excitement and anticipation. Whatever the day held, you were ready to face it, with Daryl by your side and a touch of elegance to remind you of the beauty still left in the world.

You had been walking for about ten minutes when you finally reached the place by the lake. The forest seemed to part just for you, revealing the serene expanse of water nestled among the trees. The wind gently swayed the leaves, creating a soothing rustling sound, and the lake's surface was calm, reflecting the late afternoon sky like a mirror. You and Daryl found a spot by the water's edge, where the grass was soft and inviting. As you sat down, you couldn't help but wonder if Daryl had scouted and cleaned up this area beforehand. There were no walkers in sight, save for maybe two or three in the far distance, making you feel surprisingly safe and at ease.

Settling onto the grass, you let out a contented sigh. The tranquility of the place was mesmerizing, and you felt a rare sense of peace wash over you. Daryl sat beside you, his presence warm and comforting. As you talked and laughed together, he reached out and rested his hand on your thigh, a simple gesture that always made you blush. His touch was gentle yet possessive, a silent reassurance of his affection. You glanced at him, catching the way he was looking at you. His eyes were filled with a mixture of admiration and tenderness that made your heart flutter. The intensity of his gaze left no doubt in your mind-Daryl adored you. Each look, each touch, spoke volumes of his love and devotion.

The conversation flowed easily between you, interspersed with moments of comfortable silence. The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the lake and the surrounding trees. You leaned back on your hands, your dress spreading out around you like a halo, and took in the beauty of the scene. The soft hum of nature, the warmth of Daryl's hand on your thigh, and the serene ambiance of the lake combined to create a perfect moment. Daryl shifted slightly, and you turned to look at him again. He seemed a bit nervous, his usual calm demeanor tinged with something else. He took a deep breath, and you felt a sense of anticipation build.

"Y/N," he began, his voice low and earnest. "There's somethin' I wanna ask" Your heart skipped a beat as you saw him reach into his pocket. The world seemed to slow down as he pulled out a small box and opened it to reveal a beautiful gold ring with a sparkling sapphire.

"Will ya marry me?" he asked, his voice filled with hope and love.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at the ring and then back at Daryl. This moment, in this beautiful place, was everything you had ever dreamed of. With a joyous smile and a heart full of love, you answered him.

"Yes!" you said, your voice trembling with emotion.

He slipped the ring onto your finger, and you both leaned in for a kiss, sealing the promise of a future together. The lake and the forest stood as silent witnesses to your love.

As you admired your new ring, you noticed Daryl seemed a bit uneasy. "You okay?" you asked, your voice filled with concern.

"Yeah...jus' I forgot 'bout..." he muttered, sighing heavily. You gave him a look that immediately coaxed the rest of his words out. "I wanted to give ya daisy flowers but I fuckin' forgot. 'M sorry," he admitted, his eyes dropping with a hint of regret.

Your face softened, and you laid a gentle kiss on his cheek. "You can give me them at home. There's nothing to be sorry for."

Just then, you both heard a cracking sound. Daryl immediately stood up, crossbow in hand, ready for action. Emerging from the trees were six walkers, their movements slow but menacing. Without hesitation, Daryl shot four of them with swift precision. You sprang to your feet, adrenaline coursing through you, and with swift, practiced movements, you took down the remaining two, leaving your dress and pretty face splattered with blood. Despite the gore, you smiled triumphantly. Daryl looked at your blood-stained dress and shook his head. "I could've shot them all, darlin'. No blood on your dress was needed."

You glanced at the lake and chuckled. "Maybe a quick bath?" you suggested, a mischievous glint in your eye. Looking at your future husband, you smirked and grabbed his hand, trying to pull him towards the water. "Come on!" With a playful laugh, you both stumbled into the lake, the cool water washing away the blood and grime. The sudden chill took your breath away, but the laughter and the joy of the moment kept you warm. You felt the weight of the world lift as you splashed around with Daryl, the man you loved.

The atmosphere was perfect, filled with laughter and light. You looked at Daryl, his hair wet and his eyes twinkling with happiness, and felt a surge of love and gratitude. This man, who had been through so much, was your friend, your partner, and soon, your husband.

As you floated together in the lake, the setting sun casting a golden hue over the water, you felt an overwhelming sense of peace. The feeling that you would soon be married to the man you loved filled you with joy. You knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together.

You are his light and hope for a better tomorrow.

[neteyamssyulang]

☽ Forbidden Moonlight ☽

Adult lo’ak art belongs to cinetrix <3

☽ Pairing: T'ahtu (Male yautja) x Fem human reader x Adult Lo’ak ☽

☽ Instead of heading the warnings, you chose to go out anyway. Now you must pay the price ☽

☽ Warnings: Non-con/Dub-con, Dark, Size difference, P in V, Dom T’ahtu, Sub reader, Dom Lo’ak, Belly buldge, Mentions of blood, Creampie, Implied somnophilia.

☽ Word count: 2,133 ☽

☽ Translation(s);

Na’vi: onvä'wll -> skunk palm, vrrtep -> demon, sevin -> pretty, tawtute -> human, syep'an -> lift vine.

Yautja: ooman -> human.

☽ A/N: Soo I’m still not sure about this but I wanted to post it anyway.

☽ Tagging: @ikeyniofthetayrangi @itchaboi-itchyboy @aria-tempest @anemonelovesfiction @loaksulluyswife @tallulah477 @shifting-questions @sinful-tawtute @bambithewriter

Tonight was the night, the annual blood moon and it would just so happen that this blood moon was special. Yes it brought out the na'vi's more feral side but this particular night another creature would make an appearance.

No one knows what it is, all they know is that it comes from a planet light years away and loves the thrill of the hunt. Every couple thousand years, the creature would travel to pandora in search of something worthy to take as a trophy.

This creature knows to respect the balance of eywas creations, which is why it only hunts and captures one prize.

Little did you know that prize would be you.

"Your not going, end of story" Norm spoke, crossing his arms. You had asked him if you could go on a walk just to collect some fruit you were craving. Eclipse hasn't even started yet so you would be fine, atleast you hope you would be.

Huffing you began to protest till Spider walked past, chuckling to himself after seeing Norm finally tell you no. Norm rolled his eyes knowing all too well what was going to happen,"Why does this make a wish Tarzan get to go out but I can't?!"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Norm shook his head "He is more responsible and knows the forest y/n." Spider turned around putting on a fake pout "Aw, is the little girl mad because she's too fragile to go ou-" , "Spider do not finish that sentence!" Norm spoke firmly, trying to not make the matters worse.

"You know damn well when I do get the chance to go out I'm much more safer than him!" You shouted at Norm, it was true though. Your brother always found a way to get himself into danger whereas you were careful and made sure to avoid certain areas.

"Safer or just smelly to where everything and everyone avoids you like the plague? You wonder why your still single and yet you continue to rub that horrid stuff onto your skin when you go out" he mumbled, getting some yovo slices in a bowl then walked to his room closing the door.

Norm sighed, placing a hand on your shoulder "Please angel, tonight is not the night you wanna go out. Maybe tomorrow though" he gave a soft smile then returned back to his desk, finishing up some work that Grace had assigned to him.

Screw what they said, you could easily make it to the gathering spot and back before the blood moon started, right?..

Maybe also pick up some more onvä'wll since you were out.

You made your way quickly through the forest, towards where the gathering spot was. Upon arriving though you were greeted by the sweet yovu smell, and quickly got to work with picking atleast a few from the bush.

Once you had enough, you quickly started making your way back home. Sure you could try going further out for the onvä'wll but it was risky, if you had left sooner maybe you could've gotten them.

Eclipse had begun, with now the blood moon shining bright in the sky. Your senses were on high alert, knowing that if you made one wrong move you'd be dead.

The forest looked like something out of a horror movie, instead of the usual beautiful glow, everything was red. The only sounds you could hear were various clicking noises that sounded as if they were getting closer and closer each passing second.

Feeling as if you were being watched, you made a beeline for the outpost when something jumped down from the trees infront of you.

"Well well, what do we have here?" Lo'ak chuckled darkly, stepping closer. Instinctively you took a step back making him smirk "Aw, the little vrrtep thinks she can get away that easily."

The clicking noises were louder now, a branch snapping behind you had you turning around quickly, only to be met with a creature. This..this had to be the creature that you heard about..

It was tall, taller than the omaticaya boy making you reach only up to his stomach. Long locs fell past its shoulders and it's eyes glowed like amber. Lo'ak crept up behind you, coiling his tail around your waist as he glared at the creature.

The mysterious alien clicked its mandibles again, almost as if it was trying to communicate with you.

One part of you is aroused to be between two giant men, but the rational side reminds you that one only wants pleasure while the other wants a prize.

"Lo'ak please.. just let me go and I won't tell anyone I promise" you pleaded with him, Lo'ak only looked down at you raising a brow "Oh? you think you have a say in this little girl?"

"You are ours to claim, ours to ruin, it does not matter if you want it or not baby. You'll take everything we give you like a good slut."

His gaze moves back to the other creature, giving it a simple nod while holding you still. The predator looks down to his wrist, fiddling with something on it. The sound of a small hiss escapes the item and he pulls out a little metal disk, your brows furrow "Wh-what's that?"

Lo'ak's left hand went to grip onto your hip while his right moves up to your throat, forcing you to turn your head to the side. The predator steps closer, reaching his reptilian hand out and places the disk behind your ear.

A scream leaves your lips at the burning pain coursing through your skull, it felt as if you were being stabbed by a thousand hot needles.

Soon enough a deep voice fills your ear making you jump slightly "Good, the pretty ooman can understand me now."

Lo'ak releases his hold on you, shoving your body to the ground. Gulping, you back up in fear making both men amused. The omaticaya crouched down then moved closer, leaning in close to your ear whispering only one thing;

"Run”

Your lungs burned as you ran for what seemed like forever, they were playing with you, letting you think you could get away just so they could take that hope away from you.

Loud clicks and yips filled the night air, slowly getting closer and closer. In the distance you saw what looked to be like a cave and made your way towards it, hoping you could atleast be safe there.

The cave was eerie and smelled musty the further you went inside, turning a corner you saw a pink glow from what looked to be a rib plant. Unfortunately though you couldn't open it from this end as it was facing away, looking around more you finally mange to spot a syep'an.

Walking over you tugged on the syep'an, causing it to lift you up just as soon as you heard footsteps entering the cave. Quickly you ran and hid in a small space between two rocks, surely they couldn't get you here.

"Come out come out little one" T'auth taunted,"You can't hide from us baby, we will find you" Lo'ak chimed in, a dark chuckle leaving him as he and T'auth began looking for you.

You could hear their footsteps getting closer, the predators clicks sending shivers down your spine.

Suddenly everything went quiet, the footsteps were gone. Confused, you were about to move out of your hiding spot when a long scaly arm appeared, grabbing at you.

Screaming, you tried moving farther back but you couldn't. T'auth grabbed your leg, pulling you out from your spot "What a pretty little thing" he murmured, using one of his sharp claws to tear your clothes to shreds, leaving you completely exposed under his hungry gaze.

"I bet she tastes as good as she looks" Lo'ak purred from behind you, T'auth layed on his stomach draping your thighs on his huge shoulders "Only one way to find out" he smirked before diving in.

T'auth was ruthless, his long tongue licked from your entrance to your clit where he sucked on the small nub, sending shivers down your spine.

His mandibles gently scraped across the flesh of your thighs as he feasted on you. Your moans echoed throughout the cave, as much as you didn't want this there was nothing you could do except take it.

You were at the mercy of two huge aliens who could kill you at any given second, especially the one who's head was between your legs right now.

The predator reluctantly pulled away, only to let Lo'ak take his spot, but Lo'ak didn't want to waste anymore time. He was already dying to feel your pretty tawtute pussy wrapped around his cock, moving his tewng to the side he groaned as his cock slapped against his stomach. Beautiful patterns of tanhì scattered across his throbbing length.

Your eyes widened at the sheer size and girth of him, no..no that was never going to fit, it couldn't! You tried to scoot back but T'auth was right behind you, he held you against him while his massive arms hooked under your legs, keeping you spread for the other alien.

Grinning, Lo'ak crawled forward "What's wrong mamas? Afraid of a little alien cock?" He teased.

Before you could answer, Lo'ak had already notched his tip at your entrance, a small "Keep her still" left his lips as he thrusted his entire length inside you.

Lo'ak grunted, feeling your tight walls try to adjust around his cock. For him it felt so heavenly, his ears lay flat against his head while his eyes were squeezed shut.

For you though- it felt like you had just been impaled. The stretch to accommodate him hurt like a bitch to where tears were freely flowing down your face.

Did they care? Absolutely not.

Lo'ak rutted into you like his life depended on it, coaxing out noises not even you thought you could make. "Sh-shit mamas.. keep gripping me like that.." he moaned, sharp nails digging into your sides drawing blood.

You couldn't speak at all, all you could think about was how good he felt inside you. It felt wrong yes but felt oh so good too.

Meanwhile the one behind you licked a small stripe along the nape of your neck, a purr rumbling through his chest at the mewl you let out.

The na'vi's hand suddenly pressed down on your stomach, a moan like scream echoed through the cave as you came gushing around the thick cock inside you.

Lo'ak groans loudly at the feeling of your walls clenching tightly around him, the sensation pushing him over the edge and making him release inside you, so much so that it causes a small buldge to form in your tummy.

Slowly he stills his hips, still trying to catch his breath. "See? That wasn't so bad" he chuckled breathlessly, now pulling out.

You glared up at him, your breath coming out in short pants as the two men switched positions. Lo'ak was now behind you, his hands rubbing your sides, claws gently scraping your skin while T'auth made his way between your plush thighs.

His amber eyes locked onto your own as he shoved his cock inside your abused hole, Lo’aks cum acting as lube so T’auth can just slide inside perfectly.

You yelped tried to squirm but it was no use, Lo’ak had a firm grip on your sides while this other brute was nestled between your thighs.

With each thrust he delivered, punched out moans fell from your lips. Your head dipped back, resting against Lo’aks chest as you neared your second climax of the night.

T’auth didn’t talk much but gods was he vocal, he threw your legs over his shoulders while dipping his head back in pleaure. Grunts and moans filled the cave along with your mewls.

“Pleasepleaseplease..” you slurred, looking up at the alien through half lidded eyes. Lo’ak only scoffed, rolling his eyes “You beg for him but not me?”

You didn’t have the words to reply back, T’auth was hitting all the right spots inside you that Lo’ak couldn’t. Your mind felt like mush at that moment, not even registering Lo’aks words anymore.

T’auth couldn’t hold back any longer, his mandibles opened wide and a piercing screech left his throat as he buried himself to the hilt, shooting his seed deep inside your womb.

Lo’ak hissed from the loud screech, his ears slightly ringing. Your own body seized as your climax was triggered, the alien grunted feeling you tighten around him.

Just as your vision was going black, a voice whispered in your ear;

“Sleep if you want sevin tawtute, that won’t stop us from fucking your cute little body though”

[blingblong55]

Perfect imperfection- John Price// Simon Riley

Photo credits: @ave661

Based on a request: Hi! can you please maybe do price or simon w a reader who gave birth to a child with some sort fo dissability or sickness and when reader and simon/price goes out reader sees a happy family and reader starts to feel insecure that they couldn't give price/simon the "perfect family" and price/simon is like oh no u and the kid are already perfect and ill beat up who ever made you feel insecure

---- F!Reader, established!relationship, mum!reader, dad!price, dad!ghost, fluff, baby with a disability/sickness, comfort ----

A/N: didn't tag those in my list since I wasn't sure they'd be comfortable with this one

Price:

It was a long day today. After your daughter was born, it had become a routine to go on walks. Even on days when she would make you stay up later than usual, a walk was a must.

Now, John walks hand in hand with you, his beautiful wife, through the bustling streets, your newborn daughter cradled in her stroller. Isn't she so beautiful? The soft coos and occasional giggles from the baby filled the air with a sense of warmth and joy. But beneath that happiness lingered a layer of worry, a shadow that casts the knowledge that your precious daughter was born with a disability.

As you three stroll along, you can't help but notice the curious glances and sympathetic looks from passersby. Each stare felt like a dagger to your heart, a reminder of your daughter's differences. You try and push away the feelings of insecurity, but they claw at you, threatening to overwhelm your fragile confidence.

"John," you whisper, your voice tinged with uncertainty, "do you ever…feel like she's not…normal?" What a question.

John stops in his tracks, turning to face you with a gentle smile. He reaches out, gently brushing a stray lock from your face.

"Y/N, listen to me," he says, his voice soft but firm. "Our daughter is perfect, just the way she is. Her uniqueness doesn't make her any less beautiful or valuable. She's a miracle, a blessing in our lives."

Tears well up in your soft eyes as you look into your husband's loving gaze. At that moment, she felt a surge of gratitude for the unwavering support he offered, even in the face of your insecurities.

And this was usual at times, he knew best that when they had run tests when you were pregnant, and you had been informed about your daughter's disability something in you doubted carrying the pregnancy. He knew you didn't like to announce your pregnancy anywhere you went. Instead of having that beautiful look all pregnant women had, your face was dull. It wasn't that you would hate that precious angel you carried but rather you were scared for if anyone besides John and you would appreciate her in this world.

How could anyone ever hate this precious baby? How can anyone not want to hold her and squeeze her chubby little face?

"But what if…" you trail off, unable to voice your deepest fears.

He gently takes your hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "We'll face whatever comes our way, together," he promised. "And no matter what, our love for her will never waver. She may be different, but she's still our little miracle."

With his words echoing in your mind, you feel a newfound sense of strength and resolve. You wipe your tears away, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"You're right," you say, your voice steadier now. "I'm sorry for….doubting this, I'm just scared," you mention and he cups your face. "I know, doll," he kisses your forehead and smiles, his eyes falling upon his sweet princess. "Let's get her home soon, her mum is about to have a dinner date soon," he smiles.

As you continue your walk, the weight of the insecurities feels as if they are slowly leaving you. In the embrace of his love, you slowly find the courage to block away the what-ifs.

At this moment, your little family was perfect. As it's always been.

Ghost:

Simon Riley, renowned for his bravery and resilience on the battlefield, found himself facing a new kind of challenge at home: parenthood. His days of clandestine operations and covert missions had taken a backseat to the joys and responsibilities of being a father. Together, with you, he now takes the journey of being a dad to his son, that little ray of sunshine amidst the chaotic world he lives in.

Your son, however, was born with a condition that makes him different from other babies. As you two navigate through doctor's appointments and endless nights of worry, Simon and you find yourselves grappling with insecurities that were never anticipated.

One sunny afternoon, as you both stroll around through the park with your daughter cradled in Simon's arms, you can't shake off the feeling of inadequacy gnawing at your heart. You watch other parents with their perfectly healthy babies, and a wave of self-doubt washes over you.

"Simon," you murmur, "do you ever wish things were different? That our baby wasn't… like this?"

Simon halts, his eyes gentle yet firm as he meets yours. "Hey," he whispers, his free hand reaching out to caress your cheek, "our baby is perfect the way he is. And you, my love, are the most incredible mother he could ever ask for."

Tears well up in your eyes as you listen to his reassuring words. "But… he's not like other babies," you choke out.

there is one thing besides being a soldier that Simon is and that is a father, a proud one at that.

He presses a tender kiss to your cheek. "And that is what makes him special," he declares. "He's unique, just like his beautiful mum. We're a family, and our love for this baby is stronger than the nasty stares from those other parents. Plus, I doubt their baby is as cool as ours," he smiles.

What other baby makes their parents laugh at the cute little stuff they do? What other husband is as amazing as him?

His words were a balm to your wounded spirit, easing the burden of doubt that weighs heavily on your shoulders.

You nod and rest your forehead on his shoulder.

Why must just being this close to him be so comforting? He is precious, isn't he? They are both precious.

This is gorgeous.

Tags:

@scarletdfox @fivmedibenxina @aethelwyneleigh27 @annoyingdragonheart @undercover-smutlover @goldenmclaren

[iblameashley]

Interruptions and Interlude

Civilian | Male | Gay

2,900~ words

Content: Injury recovery, medication, alcohol, nightmares, relationships (platonic and intimate mentioned), swearing, cohabitation, teasing and ribbing of friends, mostly fluff, gay stuff.

Follow up to Ghost Falls Silent, Simon Stands

Simon 'Ghost' Riley | John Price | Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick | Male Reader

!!!SFW!!!

[Its been a while since my last update! Sorry!] Ghost recovery gets a bit upended when he gets a visit from Price and Gaz, who want to check up on their friend and brother-in-arms... and maybe to see how well he's getting along with his 'temporary' roommate. Neither can resist the opportunity to mess with the man, especially when said roommate returns to the flat.

Tag List: @a-sleepy-dissapointment

(Permission to use image from @loneghostwolf)

The quiet routine of recovery was getting easier for Ghost – more than he wanted to admit. Even with you around, his flat was still, miraculously, a bubble of calm. Perhaps he had just gotten used to the sound of your steps at night, or the soft clattering in the kitchen each morning. But you weren’t intrusive anymore. You were just... there.

About the only thing you did to truly piss him off – which he apparently had just adjusted to – was you pulling the cigarette from his fingers and putting it out.

“Smoking will kill you.” You had said. Ghost would have burst out laughing at the comment, but his body still hurt. There was a part of him that couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being a little shit with him, too.

But at one point, Ghost had made an unspoken agreement with you. He’d go on the balcony, and he’d only smoke once a day, just to shut you up. Just so you wouldn’t give him that look.

Today was different though. The silence of the flat was... quieter. You were currently back at your flat, doing laundry, checking the post, and whatever else you needed to do on your day off.

“Finally some peace.” Ghost grumbled to himself, though even he was unconvinced by the statement.

Ghost tucked his hand under his shirt to run his calloused fingers over the newest addition to his scars. The scar was rougher than his fingertips, and itched something fierce. He let out a throaty growl and pushed off the balcony railing, flicking his cigarette butt into the nearby tray.

“Fucking hell...”

Before the lumbering grump could do anything else, there was a loud rap at the door. He inhaled sharply and made his way to the front door.

Opening the door with some force, he gave a cocky smirk, “Forgot yer key agai-”

He stopped mid-sentence as he took in the sight before him. Price and Gaz stood there in the hallway in their civvies.

“Oh... Cap, Gaz.” Ghost nodded before stepping aside to let the two men in. “Thought you were my shadow... forgetting his key again.”

As Price and Gaz entered, Ghost noticed a paper bag in hand. Burgers.

“You like that shadow of yours, and don’t you dare try to convince me otherwise, Simon.” Price shot back with a cocky smirk as he walked in.

Ghost grabbed his shoulder and stopped him. “Shoes off. Flat rule.” He said. His brow furrowed as he realized that rule was yours, not his, and somewhere along the way just stuck. He grit his teeth and let go of Price.

Price of course didn’t question it, Gaz either, and both removed their shoes before going further.

“Burgers?” Ghost asked, changing the subject abruptly.

Gaz gave a curt nod and moved to the kitchen table, setting the bag down. “Figured you were getting tired of homemade meals and someone picking up after you.” He prodded Ghost.

“Fuck off, Gaz, and get the burgers out.”

Price let out a sound similar to a snort as he made himself at home, opening the fridge to grab some beers for the group.

“Yes, sir.” Gaz mocked him with a salute before opening the bag and setting four burgers on the table with some chips. “Where is ‘the shadow’ you two speak of?” He inquired.

“Back at ‘is flat right now. Living out of his luggage right now and needed to do some errands.” Ghost explained, trying to sound as disinterested as possible. “Got ‘im a burger too?”

“Of course, gotta thank the mate that’s been taking care of our LT.” Gaz grinned. “We’ll save it for him.”

Ghost gave a grunt and joined Price and Gaz at the kitchen table, slumping down in the chair and scratching at the scar.

“Shouldn’t be scratching at it.” Price chastised Ghost like a father.

“Christ, you sound like ‘im right now.” He hissed, scratching it more indignantly. “Like I got my own missus on me arse. Pattering behind me like a fuckin’ puppy.” He continued to complain. He stopped scratching and grabbed the burger, unwrapping it and taking a large bite.

“...and for some reason, that lad sees charm in you...” Gaz said, squinting at Ghost as if trying to see that charm for himself. He knew it was just Ghosts personality. The alley cat in him was coming out; he wants friends, family and love, but already hissing and swatting everyone back.

“Domesticated life suits you, Simon.” Price remarked in his usual gruff tone.

“You two come here to tell me to put a ring on the lads finger? Or check up on me?” Ghost replied, this time actually annoyed by the teasing. He wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of such ribbing since he was a recruit.

“Both, obviously.” Price grinned, chomping into his burger.

“So how are you doing?” Gaz asked, picking up a chip and biting the end off.

Ghost fingered his beer for a moment, then took a slow sip. He swallowed and stared at the men opposite him. “I want to be back on base. I want to be back on missions.” He replied, trying to be diplomatic about his answer. “Can’t do fuck all as a civvy.”

“Well, you are technically a dead man, does make taking a holiday difficult without being smuggled over boarders as an operative.” Gaz laughed. “But that wasn’t the question, mate. How are you doing?” He repeated.

Ghost looked at Price as if expecting him to bail him out, but Price just sat there eating his burger and drinking his beer.

Prick.

“I’m antsy. Feel useless.” He confessed. A heavy sigh escaped his mouth. “Hate the lad doting on me so much, like I’m incapable...”

“The lad likes you, Simon. Whether that’s in a romantic way or platonic, I can’t say. But he wants to help you. He wants his friend to be OK.” Price finally interjected plainly. No, it was soft again. He was being a father again.

Prick.

As is the topic of Ghosts new flatmate was a summoning spell, the front door clicked open and you appeared, suitcase in tow and a couple grocery bags slumped over on the floor.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

You took a few minutes to get settled, giving a polite nod to both Price and Gaz as you entered the flat. Price, being the gentleman he is, came over and took the bags from you and put the items away until you returned from your room, suitcase no longer in tow.

“Got ya’ a beer, mate.” He nodded at the cold beer at the empty spot at the kitchen table. “Take a seat, we brought ya’ some food.”

You smiled and plunked down into the seat with the three other men. “Thanks, I’m starving.” Your stomach grumbled on cue. You look over to Ghost eating his burger and chips, “Hey did you remember to take—” You begin to ask.

“Yes, I took the damn pills, mum.” Ghost cut you off, taking a long swig of beer.

“Good.” You unwrap your burger and take a bite.

Gaz can’t help but smirk, “Don’t talk to your mum like that, mate, its disrespectful.” I chides Ghost.

You slide down in your seat a little bit, a bit uncomfortable with the interaction. Had you been taking things too far? Were you being to pushy about everything? Questions started to whirl around in your head.

Not going unnoticed, Gaz placed a hand on your shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “We appreciate you looking after the LT here. He’s a good man, bit daft, and doesn’t tend to take care of himself... so needs someone to light a fire under his arse every now and then.”

You nodded, though it only partially comforted you.

You pick away at your food and sip on your beer, watching the three of them talk among themselves. Its nice to see Ghost more in his element – with his mates – but you couldn’t stop thinking that you were an outsider looking in.

Price let out a low groan as he leaned back in his chair and extended a leg, making himself comfortable like this was his home. “So...” He was looking directly at you. “What’s your appraisal of Simon’s condition. Think he’ll be ready to return to work anytime soon?” He asked.

‘What the fuck am I, his spouse?’ You thought to himself. ‘Or a fucking doctor?’

“Might be good to get him back to work, he’s cantankerous on the best of days.” You huff, shoving several chips into your mouth and chewing.

“So... he’s Ghost...” Gaz mutters, furrowing his brow.

“I swear, mate... keep this up and I’ll throw yer ass out.” Ghost said, actually annoyed at this point. “Ganged up on in my own damn flat.” He growled.

“I’m sorry if –” You started.

Price held up a hand to stop you. “Seems you’re the only one Simon actually listens to. We’re grateful.” He reassured you. “But go on, tell us what you think.”

You gave a shrug, taking another bite of your burger and eating slowly. On one hand, you wanted to make Ghost happy and send him back to work, but you couldn’t stop wondering if he was really ready to return to duty. Or maybe... you just didn’t want this to end. It was nice to always have someone around, even if Ghost walked like his name implied. ‘Gotta put a bell on that fucker.’ You thought with a smirk.

“I don’t know fuck all about military service, but I think, at the very least, he could return to light duties.” You finally managed to confess.

Ghost shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His return to duty hinging on a civilian babysitter.

Price just sat there nodding and caressing his mutton chops.

“I mean... he hasn’t had much opportunity to train, being cooped up in this flat.” You continued. “I think he needs to go back to hitting the gym and adjusting to being back on base and being more regimented... he’s getting a bit... lethargic.” You smirked, casting him a coy look.

“Oh fuck off. You make it sound like I gained two stone and sleep all day.” Ghost grunted. He kicked you foot with his under the table, but there was no edge to either his words, or the kick.

Ghost looked to Price, “You gonna ask Soap his opinion next?” He fired at the man, though his irritation blatantly clear this time. “Speaking of which, where is that idiot Scot?” He inquired.

Price gave Gaz a look, then they both looked at you, then to Ghost.

“I can leave.” You said, starting to stand up.

“No, no... sit back down mate.” Price waved you back into your seat. “Ghost is on leave anyway, so he’s not privy to the details either.” He explained.

“All we can say is that he’s on a recon mission.” Gaz said, his fingers playing at the base of his beer.

“He’ll be back in a couple days. Said he’ll stop by and see ya, then.” Price continued.

“Oh, lovely. Then I’ll have my babysitter and a puppy on my arse.” Ghost let out a throaty chuckle.

You got a little bold, and a bit annoyed by Ghosts incessant need to beat his chest in front of his mates. “Didn’t seem to mind this babysitter sleeping beside you the last few nights.” you said in the most casual, nonchalant tone you could muster. You took a very long swig of beer and just stared the man down.

Price and Gaz stared into the distance for a minute as their minds processed this new information, a mischievous look stirring in their eyes at the revelation.

“Oh you prick.” Ghost began, his body tensing in his seat.

Price arched a brow. "Sharing the bed, eh? Well, well, Simon… didn’t peg you as the cuddly type."

Gaz snorted, “Is it still pegging if its two lads?” he threw into the mix, “...and tell me, does the mask come off for sleepy time?”

Ghost stood up so fast his chair screeched on the floor before toppling over. “Fuck the lot of you.” He hissed, grabbing he beer and making his way to the balcony for a smoke.

“You the big spoon or little spoon?” Price called to him, his chest and shoulders heaving with amusement.

The balcony door opened with a loud slam as the metal connected with the frame, and then was shut with equal enthusiasm.

“Shit... I think I took it too far.” Your voice shook a little. Ghost actually seemed really pissed off this time.

Gaz was shaking his head, “No need to worry about it, mate.” he said with confidence. It was hard to not believe those pretty brown eyes as they stared at you.

“Yeah... if Simon were truly mad at any of us,” Price scratched at his beard, “We’d have been kicked out. The man would have made us leave his space, not stomp off to the balcony for a smoke.”

“Its true that Ghost isn’t used to being on the receiving end of shit-talking,” Gaz continued for them both, “And he’ll never admit it... but he likes being put in his place a bit. He likes being challenged and stumped. And I think he likes you being the one to do it.” There was a smirk tugging at Gaz’s lips. “Only you and Soap seem to have that affect on him, but I think it means more from you because you’re civilian. He doesn’t expect you to have the same ability to banter like his superiors and subordinates.”

Price was still nodding. He inhaled deeply and let it out just as slowly.

“I think he’s just grappling with the fact that you’re family now.” Price finally said. “He’s struggling because he’s no longer alone. He has the one-four-one, and now you. And we’ve all accepted you as a part of the group... like we do all partners and spouses.”

Your heart thumped in your chest and you felt the heat rising in your face. You turned a few shades of red before Price realized what he had said.

“I just mean that we accept anyone who is close to one of our teammates. Simon doesn’t have partners or a spouse, but you the damned closest thing he’s had for as long as I’ve known him.”

That didn’t stave off your feeling of embarrassment, not entirely. You couldn’t deny that, even as grumpy and prickly as the man was, you were attracted to him. Underneath all that armour, both real and emotional, was a good man just wanting to do the right thing.

“That being said... you’ve been sleeping together?”

The change in conversation was like whiplash to you and you found yourself slinking down into your seat again, amusing both Price and Gaz.

“Its not what you think!” You barked.

It didn’t deter either man from eyeing you down, waiting for you to crack like an egg and spill any details.

“He was having a hard time sleeping! Partly due to the wound, partly due to some nightmares he had.” You explained, trying to keep a bit of Ghosts privacy.

“Nightmares?” The question was asked a bit too curiously by Price.

“Seemed to happen when he was more medicated.” Your stomach turned. It was a bit of a fib since it only happened twice, but you didn’t want to dig Ghost a grave.

“When was the last one?” Price continued the interrogation.

You sucked in a breath and held it. Your brain worked to think when the last time he had a nightmare actually was. “Uh...” You muttered. “Its... actually been a while. Maybe two weeks ago?” At least that was the truth.

Price stood up slowly, groaning a bit as his knees popped. “Gonna go have a cigar on the balcony with our boy.”

Price gave his back a stretch before meandering his way to the balcony.

“I hope I didn’t fuck something up...” You practically whispered to Gaz.

He shook his head. “Nah, if anything, you’ve helped Ghosts case in Prices eyes.” His voice was surprisingly soothing. “You just told Price that Ghost is comfortable enough with and around you, to let you be next to him in his most vulnerable state. You make him feel safe, even if the way he shows it is by being a slag.” He snorted. “So... when are you two gonna consummate your relationship?” He winked.

“Fuck off, Gaz.” You laughed in reply.

“That’s the spirit!” He continued to tease, patting you on the shoulder. “See? You’re one of us. But seriously, mate... you’re good for Ghost. We’re happy to have you around almost as much as he is.”

You sat there and gave a meek smile. Its not that you disagreed, it was just hard to wrap your mind that you of all people had wedged yourself between Ghosts armour and his heart.

...and maybe there was a few lingering thoughts about consummation. Who wouldn’t want a big man like him under them?

“Join us for a smoke?” Gaz asked, snapping you back to reality.

You shake your head, “Don’t smoke.”

“Good lad.” He tapped the table and gave you another warm smile before standing. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and made his way to the balcony. “Enjoy the rest of your burger. We’ll be back in a few. Girl talk... you understand.” He joked.

‘Girl talk. Fucking idiots.’ You shook your head and went back to your meal.

[maria-and-aguilars-codex-1492]

The Old Guard AU where the poly!141 are a group of immortals who seemingly cannot die so they travel around for centuries fighting battles, wars, and injustice.

John Price, the eldest of them all, the first known immortal. He cannot entirely remember how old he is or anything of his mortal life. There are memories that he carries of fighting against the Romans in what he believes is present day England. Eventually though everything began to bleed together and he almost gave up hope entirely until one fateful event.

The Battle of Culloden. It is where he meets Simon Riley and Johnny MacTavish.

Simon is a lieutenant for the King, a British red coat, different from the rest if only by the black bandana with the white paint of a skull covering his face. A man who Price encounters before his death. Something about him pulling the immortal to find him upon the battlefield. That is, of course by fate, where Price first meets Johnny MacTavish as well. A proud Scott fighting for independence. Face marked by warpaint, dirt, and blood as he kills Simon with a battle cry upon his lips. And in a moment that Price cannot comprehend being reality in its entirety or flashes of the new immortals being bound to him he witnesses this: Johnny kills Simon. Simon rises and kills Johnny. Over and over the two fight, killing each other and healing, until finally they pause. As if realizing that neither is truly dying they hold each other, both looking up to Price just standing over them. A calm silhouette against the backdrop of brutal battle.

Something telling them that he knows.

Of course, none of them understand that they are bound together until later that night when they dream of the other. Price. Simon. Johnny. Living and dying. Plagued by their personal inflictions and differences. Causing Price to have to hunt the two down. Explaining that they have to all be together. They have a job to do. A greater purpose that goes beyond Johnny not wanting to work with Brits and Simon not wanting to work with anyone. (Not that John would ever admit that in truth...he just didn't want to be alone anymore.)

And by the time they dream of a fourth, the consequences of Culloden is gone from them against the sounds of a world at war.

World War II is where they find Kyle "Gaz" Garrick. Dying from a gunshot wound after freeing a camp of POWs from the Germans. Price, Simon, and Johnny race across no mans land and trenches. Across borderlines and battlegrounds to find him. It takes nearly ten days across foot before they come across Gaz collapsed upon his knees drenched in blood. Surrounded by dead German soldiers. A sob shaking him as Price settles a hand across his shoulder. The three immortals explaining that everything would be alright. That Gaz wasn't alone anymore. He'd never be alone again.

And when that war ended well the wars never end. However, the 141 as Price names them certainly didn't expect to gain another member, but one night upon a cargo train within the middle of the desert, they suddenly gain you.

Your death awakens them from sleep far worse than if the train itself had crashed.

Price watches you die, sees the wound that kills you, the pain and fear flashing across your eyes. Johnny catches a glimpse of your name tag and the features of your face; his hands hazardously sketching you upon a notepad he had stuffed away. Gaz quickly tries describing your environment and clothing. Simon looks upon them all with darkened eyes, his hand grasping his throat, as he announces that he felt you die. A statement that has Price standing as he suddenly realizes where you must be and what had led you to your death.

No more words were needed for them to all agree to find you no matter what.

[onpointedfeetandbrokendreams]

Day 4 - Painland Week

Day 4 of Painland Week 2024: August 5th - August 11th by @painlandweek

Prompt: Domestic

Tags:  Post-canon, Slice-of-life, Alive Niko Sasaki, Established Relationship

TW: None

--

Solving big cases had its perks. After Port Townsend, the reputation of “The dead boy detectives and their brand new psychic” had caught on, and with more requests came higher prices. In just a couple of months they didn’t need to worry about paying rent in time for their office space anymore. In a year, they could afford to expand to the apartment next door. Crystal and Jenny had a lot of fun throwing down the wall between the two places with a hammer, and Niko spent an entire month drawing different plans for the new space. They had to hire actual construction workers at some point, but they wanted the first part of the renovation to be theirs.

There were many debates about who would get a personal room, since they only had two. Jenny said she would rather die - no offence - than live with them, but both Crystal and Niko wanted one and they were adamant that they needed them more than a ghost, which was exactly the moment when Edwin decided he needed one, being “one of the founders of the Agency”. Charles, on the other hand, was just trying very hard to hide how much it triggered him when the members of his new family fought with each other.

“How about this,” he said, “we split the two rooms, Edwin and I will take one, you two the other, and we buy more of those rollable mattresses to put in the common space when one of you needs more privacy.”

It was, undoubtedly, the best compromise, so the others had to agree - not without one last challenging glare between Crystal and Edwin, but that was to be expected.

“Thank you, Charles, I know it was silly of us to argue on such a matter,” Edwin said when the two of them were left alone.

Charles hugged him around the waist and hooked his chin on his shoulder. “I mean, I didn’t want to say anything before, but it wouldn’t really make sense for them to have two separate rooms in our office, would it?”

“I feel like I am being a bad influence on you, darling,” Edwin chuckled.

With an answering grin, Charles disentangled himself and started walking towards their new room. “I suggest we buy a very large bed, and we use those two walls for libraries,” he pointed at the different parts of the space as he talked.

“We can put the libraries outside, in the shared space, seeing our collections of tomes and artefacts always impresses the potential clients. How about posters?”

Charles’ eyes widened with wonder. “Really? You would let me?”

“Charles, you do not need my permission, it is a personal room, so clients will not see it, you do not have to remain professional in here.”

It felt like it was Christmas’ morning, except better, because he could share it with the best person who had ever existed instead of his asshole father.

–

It took them months to finish the renovation, but it was so worth it. They finally had a waiting room, a functioning toilet for the living, coffee and tea machines, central heater, two desks, one for meeting clients and the other for research, and the almost fully decorated rooms.

“There is only one thing missing,” said Niko, excitedly. She had been looking like that for an entire day, like she was hiding the most juicy secret and she was barely able to stop herself from telling everyone she met.

“Construction workers have officially left, thank god,” Crystal groaned, closing the door behind her to join the others. “Which means, tonight is the first official house party!”

“This is not your house,” Edwin had to point out, earning himself a raised brow. “Also, Niko was about to say something.”

Niko’s grin, if possible, widened even more. “Yes, I have the best gift ever.”

She produced from her bag something that looked like an old polaroid camera, and before anyone could say anything, she explained:

“You know I went to Port Townsend in December, with my mum. Tragic Mick gave this to me, he says it’s enchanted to allow ghosts to appear in pictures!” She jumped in delight.

Edwin was on the item immediately, opening his palm behind him, in a way that Charles knew meant he wanted his book on “Magical Objects for the Day to Day Life”.

“Edwin, mate, before you go all business on this, do you realise what it means?” Charles said, very softly. “We can finally take a picture together.”

Even Crystal was smiling at the idea, despite her usual distaste for their “too explicit sappiness”.

Edwin looked around at them all, then at the object in his palm again, and smiled the biggest smile Charles had ever seen. He hugged Niko, and all four of them piled on before starting to take pictures in different corners of the new space.

At some point, boxes of Chinese food appeared on the floor, followed by a cake Crystal had ordered for the occasion with the icing forming the words: “Happy Agency Reopening Day!”. While Niko and Crystal had dinner, the two ghosts retreated to their room for a moment, still overwhelmed by the pictures they were holding in their hands.

Edwin caressed them with trembling fingers. “Which one should we put on the wall?”

“This one,” Charles said immediately, but instead of pointing to one of the pictures, he pressed a kiss to Edwin’s lips and clicked the button on the polaroid camera. He hadn’t dared do that in front of the girls, but he had desperately wanted to since Niko had shown them the object.

“You are lucky I love you so terribly,” Edwin said in a mock offended tone.

“I know,” Charles replied, putting the camera and the precious picture on one of the shelves.

“Guys! It’s still friendship time, you can go be lovesick idiots later!” called Crystal from outside the door. Quieter - but not enough not to be heard - she added:

“Shouldn’t the honeymoon phase be over after a thousand years?”

Charles chuckled. “Ready to go back there?”

Edwin nodded and entwined their fingers together, walking towards the door. Before they could walk through it, Charles whispered: 

“I forgot to say, I love you too.”

[deliverusfromevillll]

A Sticky Situation [Mammon/F!Reader]

❝ What fuckin' nonsense have ya' been telling y'reself this entire time? ❞

warnings ⨾ blood, descriptions of gore, guns, gunshot wound, choking, swearing, arachnophobia (the irony), established prior connection, soft mammon, sexual content, unresolved sexual tension, resolved angst

terms ⨾ ❝ Drakon ❞ the Latin word meaning "dragon." ❝ Bogan ❞ Australian slang meaning (in negative connotation) someone who's a bit of a nerd or geek, holds no dress sense and/or has poor social skills.

notes  ⨾ I am very much not Australian so when I looked up slang and could not find ANY concrete definitions for anything: I was in major pain. Anyways quick thing because [F/n]'s lore might seem confusing. I created an entirely different race of "humanoid" dragons that acted as the knight/official guards for the Ars Goetia incase of extermination/assassination attempts. [F/n] retired from her position as knight for an unnamed Goetia. This entire chapter was originally 13K words but I felt as though the plot arc with the Goetia drifted way too far from the original point of this fic since it was so, so needlessly lore heavy for a reader insert and made this 100x more angsty like you have no idea. Especially since this is only meant to be two chapters. This chapter was cut down for your reading pleasure! If you would like to be part of the process in between me brainstorming and posting ( as I am currently looking for beta readers ) and/or generally would like to see WIPs feel free to join my discord ( NgT88bybyY ).

[02]

As always minors DNI.| 6.3K words

[F/n] and Mammon's relationship is unique.

He was her boss, and she was his secretary.

Running the errands, info graphing, and scheduling his business appointments when due. But it wasn't so simple.

With his artificially friendly attitude in public, behind the scenes he was nothing but cynical— snarky and demanding. Hardly surprising for the king of greed.

[F/n] was no fan, she made it clear.

Despite the lethal glares and threats she managed to shoot a quip or a snark in return each time. It initially prompted a warning hiss or a growl, an insult or a threat.

Then he resorted to shredding through his confined costume to intimidate her one time after they both seriously got into it. Neither party was satisfied in not having the last word.

Despite however many threats were hurled nothing ever came about them.

[F/n] desired the experience the job gave her and Mammon found her too entertaining to simply let go.

[F/n] and Mammon's relationship is undeniably unique.

But damn, there was no shying away from the fact [F/n] did her job exceptionally well. The best in all of Hell. And that's another one of the handful of reasons why he tolerated her.

"Y'er getting on my nerves lizard." Mammon seethes with a false smile.

He sulks leaning away, poisonous puff of green air seeping though his teeth.

[F/n] raises a brow at him, eye roll following. "I need you to work with me here, asshole." [F/n] adjusted herself, turning towards him.

"If you wanna reduce the immediate damage Asmodeus and his little lapdog made we need to start advertising the twins asap. What's bothering you right now?"

Mammon huffed. "The leftover Fizz merch— sales are declining incase ya' haven't seen mate. I'm losin' money."

[F/n] clicked her tongue.

"Whatever doesn't sell now we can resell in a few weeks as vintage or some other bullshit with a higher price tag. You have any idea how much these loser collectors will pay to get their hands on discontinued merchandise?"

That's all it took for Mammon to light up, snatching [F/n] with his top hands in excitement.

"Y'er a bloody GENIOUS!" He shakes her, dropping her instantaneously. "We could double —no— TRIPLE our profits thanks to these degenerates! Ahh I taught ya' so bloody well!"

Mammon splays his hands towards the imaginary dollar signs in the air, clapping eagerly.

"And that's why I love ya' doll!" He shouts with a hefty grin, giving her a final charmed glance as he turned to make way towards the awaiting camera crew. Robo-Fizzies chasing after him with lighting sticks and microphones.

[F/n] catches herself after his stare, the spines on her tail rattling flustered. Her posture eases before anyone else can see as she flicks her tail in response.

Damn did she hate whenever he said things like that.

It's almost as if he knew the effect he had on her, doing and saying things that would purposefully rile her up. [F/n] refused to acknowledge any part of it, counteractive to the very obvious blush on her completion.

Through the commotion, Mammon smiled charismatically in [F/n]'s direction as their eyes met again. This was going to be a long shoot.

"That went better than I expected." [F/n] mumbles. Mammon appearing in a green cloud next to her. Bells chiming happily.

"Why'dya say that? Doubted me?" He rung.

"Well for all the years I've known you— Accepting you got fucked is definitely not something you're known for... You're taking losing your star clown better than I thought."

Mammon chuckles in amusement.

"Star clown? I am the star clown. With or without him I'll still make a fuck ton o' money." He nudges her. "With y'er— uh, our ideas and my reinforcement I don't see any issue mate."

[F/n] looked very, very, unconvinced. Mammon thinks for a moment before shrugging.

"At the end of the day you are my most valuable asset after all."

"What a way to make a girl feel special Ammo." Her eyes roll.

Mammon only giggled for a moment, attention immediately stolen upon taking in a familiar scent.

The smell of coffee meets his nose as they walk before the café in his estate. It takes him no time to decide he's in the mood for another cup of coffee.

[F/n] could already tell by the expression on his face. However unconvinced about giving the bug even more caffeine after his last.

Mammon playfully puts on a puppy-eyed expression as he bends town to her level.

He shoves his face in front of hers, frowning, the green glow of his pupils becoming brighter. "C'mon doll, ya'd say no to my lil 'ol face?"

His smaller spider eyes make a show as he frowns with an exaggerated pointed lip.

She sighs, gently pushing his face away. "Enough with the eyes. I'll be right back... Not like you'd let me say no anyways asshole."

Like a cat that ate the canary, Mammon smiles triumphantly as he took a moment to get seated on one of the empty tables outside the shop.

He enjoys the smell of coffee beans while searching in her direction through the large glass windows. He watches her make some hand motions towards the menu.

Letting out a big yawn, he blinks blearily. He could use a nap after all this.

Exploiting his employees was hard work after all.

Mammon observes her pull out her wallet, swiping her card. His smile becomes gentler, enamored at the idea of her willingness to spend her own money on him.

He became increasingly aware the expression he wore, quickly clearing his throat to look more serious.

It takes the café worker a second to hand her the single cup of coffee alongside a paper bag. He waves her goodbye with a bold wink, [F/n] unable to hold her laugh.

Mammon gritted his teeth. He conditioned his employees not to unnecessarily pester him, or her, especially when they were out together. Seems like one of them hadn't learned this yet. He took a mental note.

He was about to get up from his seat until [F/n] audibly shut the door behind her with a small jingle. She takes a seat across from him as he leaned forward and snatched the drink from her hand.

"'Bout fuckin' time cunt." He grumbles.

Mammon takes a sip of the cold coffee, ignoring his irritation as the sweet contents hit his tongue.

Or at least he tried to, the sweetness of it tasting rather dull part in due to his thoughts.

"Was this made by that fuckin' bogan?" He wonders.

His hand tenses, squeezing the drink at his palm slightly.

"I got you this." [F/n] mumbled, scooting the bag towards him.

Mammon snaps his attention towards back towards her, pausing to glance between her then the baggie before fishing through it. He pulls out a small box, opening it to reveal a cream colored pastry.

It takes him a moment to collect his thought.

Confused, he asks, "Why the cake, doll? Ya' know all I wanted was my coffee."

"You were feeling like shit earlier." She puts it simply.

Mammon shifted from the cake to her in his peripheral vision.

She was worried about him. Had him in her mind. Considerate about how he felt, albeit she wouldn't admit it out loud.

He couldn't help but grow a fat smile, genuine smile, as he scoots closer towards her.

"I'm starting to think ya' actually care about me, love." [F/n]'s eyes widen for a second.

She looks away from him, scoffing.

"Don't overthink it. I don't want to deal with you when you're in a mood."

Mammon takes a small bite, savoring the even sweeter taste. Humming with delight, he takes another portion of it with the plastic spoon, leaning forward to bring it to her mouth.

[F/n] glances between the cake and Mammon, who's unashamedly eagerly watching her.

"I-I don't—"

"Ahh don't fuckin' be like that mate. It's good, try it!"

The dragon takes a bite, flushed, as she ate the piece in silent agreement. Her tail sticking to her leg somewhat embarrassed.

He was right, the pastry was fluffy and flavorful. Not that she expected any different, that was the reason why she bought it for him. She would've never anticipated this however.

Another spoonful reaches her lips, she accepts it without complaint this time. Expression easing. Her tail wags behind her in satisfaction.

Mammon carefully scoops more, bringing it to her face once again.

[F/n] quickly swallows the bit already in her mouth, shaking her head this time.

"I bought it for you, I'm eating more of it than you are. You're being a little bit too charitable."

"Yeah but who's to say I'm not getting anythin' out of feeding ya', love?" He dotes.

[F/n] felt the tips of her ears warm, tail flicking.

Mammon soaks in her flush, turning to take another sip of his coffee. His eyes follow the direction of his lips for a glance before returning at her image.

He freezes for a moment, brows furrowing. Mammon checks the cup again to ensure he saw it correctly. [F/n] immediately notices his expression drop and leans over to see the source.

A phone number was written just under her name with a heart.

"Aw how cute!"

Mammon gags. "Cute?!"

"Yeah, first time someone has done that for me. It's kinda sweet!" [F/n] reaches for the cup, Mammon hisses as he holds it further away.

"Doll, there's no bloody way you're actually interested in this cunt. He's some fuckin' nobody workin' below minimum wage!"

"Oh please, you sound jealous, he was really n—!"

Mammon immediately crushes the cup in his grip, indifferent feeling the coffee spill onto his glove and trickle to the table. He reaches over to grab [F/n]'s extended hand to move it away as he leans towards her features.

His face was centimeters away from hers, sharp breath tickling her features.

"I ain't the sharing type." Mammon growled.

The cup gets engulfed in a green cloud, vanishing as the smoke dissipated. [F/n] glared at the spider, brows furrowed in uncertainty.

He was acting like this again.

"Fucking hell, I didn't want any of your coffee. I just wanted to see the goddamn number."

Mammon blinks, head tilting. He mutters something under his breath as he stands, breaking eye contact.

She thought he was upset over sharing a drink? Far from it, but he wasn't going to clarify if that's the conclusion she came to.

Still holding onto her hand, he strings her up as he gets out of his seat.

"Better ya' don't. This cunt wouldn't even be able to take care of ya'." [F/n] rolls her eyes. Though it didn't go unnoticed, as Mammon grimaced.

"It's impossible to find anyone at all when you scare everyone off." She growls lowly.

"Don't fuckin' hiss at me doll. I'm savin' ya from the embarrassment."

"The embarrassment of what exactly?"

"Of goin' out with the lower class, hells y're considered a knight for the Goetia ain't ya'? Y're not gonna get anythin' worthwhile in some random mutt."

[F/n] swats her tail very irritably, yanking her wrist back forcefully.

A loud tear following in the process.

"I can be with whoever the fuck I want and feel like, I'm not some goddamn princess."

Mammon looks at his glove, seeing as the motion of her pull had tore through the material. It was a reminder of how sharp her scales were.

It wasn't deep enough to cut his actual skin. But the damage on his glove was done. A rush of anger at her defiance. 

He sneers, looking between the café and her short figure. A cloud of green exits through his teeth as he grips her by the neck, lifting her effortlessly to his face.

[F/n] grabs his wrists, squeezing equally as hard, as her wings flutter behind her to give herself some leverage and room to breathe.

She looks genuinely shocked for a moment, though it only took a second for her to regain composure to glare at the sin with bared teeth. Scales began to form on her complexion. 

Mammon stares deeply into her eyes with a menacing smile. His miniature eyes emitting a soft glow.

"REMEMBER Y'R PLACE BENEATH ME BEFORE I REMIND YA'."

He let's her go, watching as she wobbly lands on her feet.

I gust of wind hits his face as she flapped her wings to soften the fall. The scales that covered her face immediately erase as the tension breaks with a longer sharp inhale of air.

They had instantly gained the attention of everyone around them if they hadn't already, silence deafening.

[F/n] felt humiliated. Hurt. Used.

Defeated, for once.

"I don't fuckin' pay ya to run 'round with y'r bitch hormones. I hired ya' to serve me and me only."

[F/n] bites her lower lip, her claw reaching up to feel where his met her throat.

That was the first time he'd ever grabbed her like that. Sure he'd scream and threaten her before, even swung at her at times however each time he did so slow enough to miss.

He'd chuck random items in reach sometimes knowing she could just dodge or fly out of the way.

It never crossed further than that.

Now to be grabbed by the neck? That was new.

The trace of his hand lingered warningly as she tried to sooth over her bruised skin.

She looked up at him, tail tucked in between her legs.

He would only ever harm people he saw replaceable. His subordinates. The realization came crashing down on her incredibly hard.

He could've just as easily killed her in that moment, snapped her neck and that would've been it.

Did their history mean nothing to him? 

What changed?

"Fuck you..." It came as a whisper.

Unsure of whether he heard that or not, he chose to ignore it either way in favor of her tail.

He pointed at it, releasing a laugh as if it was the most amusing thing he'd seen.

It felt nauseating. One moment he was warm: the next, cruel.

Despite all the time spent, she concluded he never saw her as anything further than another form of entertainment.

An animal he can poke and prod for a reaction. Even in her state of shock all he did was laugh. The sound echoed in her head.

A familiar tone rings, buzzing. And Mammon instantly snaps out of his laughter.

He fishes through his pocket to pick up his phone.

His alarm was going off.

"Ahh fuckin' bitch— meeting is about to start." He groans, recovering quickly.

"C'mere." He demands, forgiving the glare she shot at him as he pulled her arm so forcefully she knew she'd bruise.

Mammon teleports the two of them into his office.

The jiggles of coins chime as he lands into his web, [F/n] perched beside him.

Her eyes widen slightly, trying to adjust herself in a better position. She tugs on one of her wings stuck into the webbing with an irritated scowl. He quickly removed the damaged glove and snaps a new one in its place out of thin air.

Mammon, who's busy with a drumstick he seemingly pulled from nowhere, nonchalantly untangles her wing in a simple swipe.

He stops chewing for a second to give her a toothy smirk: [F/n] returning a huff.

"Oh come off it will ya', ya' bitch?"

"We need to talk."

Mammon, who doesn't give it any thought, takes another bite of his food.

"More bitchin'." He imagines.

"Some other time."

[F/n] looks away from him, curling her tail around her leg to try and provide some sort of self comfort. She felt disappointed.

Despite all the breakthroughs made in their partnership, he still treated her like an object. His object. Something he was free to do whatever he wanted to. Truth be told, it stung deeply.

It was the only thing she could think about lately.

There was no denying Mammon grew incredibly on her, she only wished he felt the same in return. Maybe then he wouldn't be so needlessly mean.

Was it something she did? Something she didn't do?

There was no point in even thinking about it, [F/n] didn't want to be embarrassed again. She refused.

Security open the doors of his office, and in come a small group of incubi.

The one leading the group takes a quick bow before the two, tipping his hat while smiling on his way up.

Both watch as they fill the room, trotting with some briefcases in hand. The thumps of their boots semi-absorbed into the carpet they walked on.

"What an honor to see Mammon and his little butterfly, even more so present our wonderful idea to." He starts, slowly pacing left and right.

"We all know about the massive, massive, slaughter that came of the drakon specie during the first war with heaven. Terrible thing really." He smirks.

[F/n] raises her brow, crossing her arms further.

"A bigger shame would be to allow the fun of them go." The incubus pulls out his phone to project a screen before them.

[F/n] and Mammon look less than impressed.

"I present to you the dragon dildo, made with real dragon scales! The synthetic crap can't compare to this." He chuckles, arms extended either way.

The incubi look impressed by their own work. "Dragon scales are the hardest material in all of hell. This thing would be fucking indestructible! It's every horny sinner's dream!"

Mammon yawns, waving a finger.

"And how exactly are ya' going to farm real scales? There's hardly a handful of drakons in all o' hell left mate n' the survivors are all considered royalty."

"Well my good sir, that's where we were hoping you would come in. Seeing as you already possess one of them. I'm sure the king of greed wouldn't mind parting with it in turn for a greater profit."

[F/n] leans out of her seat, seething at the disrespectful implication. "Are you stupid or suicidal?"

The incubus hands one of his partners the briefcase, who held it sideways.

"Oh but my dear, you are very valuable. Your title as knight is only a benefit you see. You can be a brand on its own with how infamous your status was."

He starts unclipping the handles of the case.

"My title was granted to me because of how efficient I was in fighting angels. You— I'd MOP the floor with you."

Mammon tugs her back onto his side. His expression doesn't say much, however, the hand planted around her thigh possessively said it all.

"Y're gonna die for wastin' my time." He snarls, grinning wildly.

Mammon snaps his fingers and in rushes his security of robot Fizzarollis.

[F/n] felt him squeeze her thigh as he presses her deeper into his side. Her initial anger melting as her heart beats faster in reaction. [F/n] stares up at him, his image burning into her mind.

Her hand rested on his chest— able to feel his warmth, his breathing, it felt too intimate.

She felt his heartbeat at her fingertips, beating a tad bit faster than usual.

Then, she remembered. She thought his claim over her was nothing more than superficial, for looks, all this to keep her obedient and lull her back into his claws until the next time she slightly agitated him.

She looks back at the group, frowning.

"Shame, really. I was hoping you'd cooperate for your sake." The incubi frowns.

He opens his briefcase, incubi's devilish smile doesn't go unnoticed.

[F/n], unable to say anything in time, connects two and two as a familiar glint reflects off the metal brandished.

Breaking out of Mammon's grasp, she straddles him and extends her wings— covering as much of him as she possibly could.

A glowing bullet hits [F/n] directly the bend of her wing, the jolt of pain sucking the wind out of her as she slips onto Mammon's stomach.

The incubi's angelic revolver smokes at the barrel.

Security tackles the gunman.

They struggle to get each of his henchmen into cuffs, but with increasing numbers it quickly becomes apparent the gunman along with his goons has no chance.

Mammon immediately moves to shield [F/n] with his body, placing her onto the web. They both look at wound, [F/n] hissing as she tries to stretch her injured wing.

"Fuck— A-Are ya' alright? I didn't think..."

"I'm fine Ammo, he just nailed my joint. That's it." She interrupted, groaning.

His face turns between her injury and her expression several times. He looked worried. His eyes glossed. 

[F/n] frowns.

Electricity flies off of Mammon, turning to look at the commotion behind him. Panic quickly turns into rage as he bursts out of his confined costume with a deafening yell.

The room fills with green.

Sounds of screaming immediately follow.

Mammon smashes some of the incubi into the floor, completely crushed under his weight. He makes sure to smear them in, grinning like a Cheshire cat as he does so.

Those unfortunate enough not to cease on impact were left wailing in agony: taking a fistful of the carpet in a hopeless attempt to pull themselves away with a gaping hole going through their back to their stomach..

It was messy.

The blood from their bodies popped similarly to that of water-balloons. It was a gross, alleviating sight. [F/n] could take comfort knowing sinners like these wouldn't be able to come after her again.

After having his fun, Mammon darts his head towards the remaining incubus.

His mini spider eyes radiated a toxic green as he slinked over. The two robo-fizzies who had captured him meekly raised him towards Mammon: who instantly snatches the man and brings him towards his eye level.

"PLEASE N—"

"B̴͍͚̀E̴̯̘̊G̴͈͍͝ ̸̯̩̌F̸͖̗̈́Ò̸͉́Ṛ̶̪͆ ̶͓̑͒Y̷̥͌͂Ŏ̴̖̩̒U̷̲̳͆͌Ṙ̶̟̂ ̸̦͓͂L̶͍̺̈́Ḯ̸̬F̶̨͓͋̅E̵̩̦̋."

Before even giving him the chance, his please come strangled into whispers as Mammon squeezes him in his fist.

He exhales a large green cloud onto his pitiful expression as he attempts to gasp for air, coughing violently in response. A crack erupts.

Mammon drops him to the floor, watching as he contorted with a deafening scream. Observing him cry for a moment: he does the same as he dealt with the ones previously, popping him like an unwanted pimple.

His breathing labored, the high coming down upon realizing he was the last of the group.

Mammon raises one of his bloodied spider legs out of a fresh carcass, inspecting it, grumbling something under his breath.

The security group of robo-fizzies seem unsure on how to proceed, each of them timidly watching awaiting orders.

"The fuck are ya' looking at? Get this cleaned up NOW!" He roared.

The robots scrambled, tumbling over each other as they struggled to organize themselves.

Mammon slinks back towards [F/n], expression instantly softening.

She lets out a whine, yanking out the glowing particle as the pain of it courses through her back. "Gods fuck that hurt..." [F/n] bit her tongue, aimlessly tossing the bullet at the floor.

"Shit, let's go get ya' patched up beautiful." He mumbles, taking her carefully into his arms as if she'd shatter entirely at the slightest bump.

"Fucking— OW!"

"Ahh can ya' fuckin' hold still for a minute mate!?"

Mammon quickly wraps a thick webbing around her wing, using a splint to keep it straight in place.

[F/n] squirms, suppressing the acid-ball forming at her throat. Mammon makes his final wrap as he sticks the web onto itself, hands gently caressing her wing.

He sighs.

Neither of them say anything for a moment. The silence deafening as the reality of the situation sinks in.

He frowns, gently letting go of his work.

Moving to cup her cheek as he turns her expression towards him even gentler, afraid he would somehow shatter her.

"Why the face? What's the matter beautiful?"

There it was, again, the rapid beating of her heart over his artificial pet names.

"Nothing. Just... I can't fucking believe I got shot right in the elbow." She mumbles, sparing a glance at his handiwork on her wing.

"Normally my scales are able to tank angelic bullets... Maybe I'm becoming weak." [F/n] sighed.

"I, uh, well ya'know... That bullet would'a sent me to the bloody hospital. Cunt aimed for my head." Mammon swallows.

He drags a finger under the fabric of his neck, pulling on it momentarily.

"And honestly... I think y're the only bloody demon crazy enough who'd ever do anything like that for me."

He strokes the webbing gingerly, feeling the material brush against the rest of her scales. He paused.

Mammon tenses slightly as he rehearsed his next sentence in his mind dozens of times, feeling awkward as the very unfamiliar phrase leaves his tongue.

"So —uh— I appreciate ya' more than ya' think..."

It falls silent as her face hues.

Though it doesn't bother him remotely, continuing to massage around the bend of her wing.

If only he were consistently like this. Then it would make the signs so much more visible.

Visible he actually wanted her.

[F/n] swallows thickly, doing her best to calm the trot in her chest. She knew despite everything if she could go back in time she wouldn't change the outcome of it.

Even in the chaos of it all she cared too deeply about him to imagine him hurt. With that, the wave of knowing she completely lost to him finally came crashing down on her.

Their game of chess was finally concluded, he won, and that's why she needed to get out.

"Mammon we really need to talk."

Her wing pulls away from his petting, curling back into its usual space. He seemed disappointed as the warmth of her injured limb left his grasp.

"What about?"

Her lips quiver, the frown on her expression breaking through the poker face she tried to maintain. Her eyes water, tail curling.

She thinks of all of their mishaps together. To when she first agreed to work with him, their first banter, their first success together, how they progressively got more and more comfortable with each other.

She went from someone behind the scenes to being his only companion. He was a hothead, but so was she. But their differences felt too great: the hot and cold treatment was driving her crazy.

"We need to end our contract."

Mammon blinked. Frozen.

He slowly clenches his fists impossibly hard.

"Why? Was it because o' that fuckin' incubus? Y-Ya' watched me kill 'em. I promise next time I—"

"It's not that. None of that."

"Then what is it? Fuck changed?"

"Mammon as much as I love being here with you and working alongside you, I just can't be around you anymore."

It was obvious he didn't understand, his pause with unsure searching eyes sought to try and read the static expression she did her best to maintain. 

"I'm sorry."

Mammon felt himself burn. He felt his insides ignite with such intense desperation with a feeling he didn't entirely recognize.

Even knowing her more basic tasks could be given to someone else to fill just as easily did nothing to reassure him.

Hells he didn't feel this lost when Fizz quit his position. He got over that so insanely fast. It was deeper than that.

This was the only person he remotely cared about in all of hell resigning.

The idea felt so unreal.

"I'm so sorry." [F/n] repeated.

The click of her boots echo as she walked towards the double doors of his bedroom. Like a whisper, she faded.

Mammon watches as her tail hovers just above the ground. Immediately noting how she didn't just drag it as she normally would. The low rattle it'd make was erased, as if she wanted to create the least bit of noise possible.

Why? Did he scare her?

Nonsense. She was the only one who wouldn't cave to his ridiculous disrespect despite his threats. And though it did get in his nerves initially, it grew on him and made everything in his life new again.

He enjoyed hearing her voice.

Hearing her talk about frivolous, nonsensical, shit. Enjoyed observing the smallest things about her.

Like the way she would hide the joy in her expression but unable to maintain the same façade in her eagerly wagging tail.

Or the way her wings would flutter for a second whenever she was blushing.

Or when she would get too excited her hair would pulse the color of her element. And how whenever she's extremely upset her clear complexion starts forming scales as if she were ready to morph.

Or how she sometimes has difficulty not tearing clothes due to the sharpness of her claws. She would always let out a loud groan and a few swears before deciding if it were salvageable.

He felt electricity course through his body. His eyelid twitching.

[F/n] hugged herself, shutting the door behind her as she power walked through his manor.

She used her sleeve to wipe away the tears before they could spill. Quietly whimpering to herself to alleviate the ache in her chest.

She doesn't get very far however, before snapping out of her emotions as a loud bang interrupts her.

[F/n] points her gaze backwards, watching the doors fly open while cracking at the force of his push.

"OUR CONVO AIN'T OVER!"

She backs up hesitantly as Mammon runs at her. The thumping of his soles grew louder, seemingly indifferent at the idea he may trample her.

Clouds of swamp green smoke exit through his teeth. He halts just before her, punching a hole through the wall next to them to release his rage. Chips of brick and dust recoil along with his fist.

"You— YA' THINK YA' CAN JUST JOG OFF?" He growled, leaning down as he stared at her.

"Whatever idea ya got in that pretty lil' head o' yours, toss it. I won't break our contract. You are MINE."

[F/n] sighed, eyebrows furrowed as she shook her head at him.

"You don't get it." Her disbelief erases as her head comes to point towards his.

She snaps her fingers and out manifests a golden sheet between them with both their signatures held within the bottom. 

"It's written agreement in our contact that only requires the consent of one party to break it."

Mammon felt a drop of sweat come down his neck.

He froze. The pain grew.

And she was right, the section she was referring to glowed faintly among the rest of the text as she highlighted it. Demanifesting as she withdrew her hand.

"A rule you imposed since you were initially skeptical about my performance in your estate."

"I- I... Fuckin'..."

It goes silent.

The rush of anger evaporated from his body with the sparks. Feeling at a loss on what to say, Mammon swallows thickly as he blinks.

He reaches a hand to clutch the material over his chest, squeezing it.

His gaze eventually trails back to hers.

His mind returns to the thought of massive their height difference was. She was so small compared to him. It made his heart chirp. His hand comes up to erase the flustered look looming on his features.

Mammon recollects himself as best he can in a pathetic attempt. He brushes his hat shakily, the bells chiming as the material bounced back.

"So then tell me why—?"

[F/n] growls, pressing her claws into her palm.

"STOP!" She shouts at him, quickly wiping away at the corner of her eyes. "D-Don't make this needlessly complicated."

Again with the tears, only this time she couldn't prevent them.

Mammon frowned, reaching out to her. He wanted to console her, wipe away those tears. It pained him knowing he was the source.

The tip of his index finger brushed against her cheek unable to get far.

[F/n] swatted away his hand. And that hurt him.

"You fucking... g-goddamnit you fucking dumbass... Can't you see what's going on?" She hissed stomping a few steps away from him.

"I fell so hard for you, and it fucking blows because I can't just have you." She turned towards him.

[F/n] gestures to herself angrily through her cries. "Do you fucking get it now?! I'm in LOVE with you— that's why I need to get the hell away from you. I want to be something more to you but you'll only ever see me as your subordinate."

She shouted, adrenaline coursing through only heighted by her emotional outburst.

Mammon grabs her despite her struggling with his lower pair of hands, leaning over and forcing her to allow him to clean her face.

He absorbs her tears through the material of his upper pair of gloves with gentle strokes.

She grips his wrists with enough force that'd dislocate them if he were any other sinner. He felt her tremble against him.

How could he not notice her pain before?

How long ago did she start feeling this way?

There was a pool of regrets swimming in his chest and among them the biggest was not erasing her doubts sooner.

"What fuckin' nonsense have ya' been telling y'reself this entire time? I'm smitten with ya' dollface."

"You're a king sin— hell you outed Asmodeus for dating someone beneath him, how am I any different from that? People would think you're a hypocrite."

"Ya' think I give a remote fuck about what these cunts think? I'm the richest fucker in all o' hell, I didn't get here caring about what some bitch thinks o' me. I don't really give a flying shit about Asmodeus fuckin' some circus imp."

[F/n] immediately becomes less resistant to his advance. [E/c] eyes staring up at him in disbelief.

She searched desperately for any indication he was lying.

Mammon cups her jawline.

"I dunno how ya' haven't realized how obsessed I am with ya'... Thought it was reaaal obvious: I mean for fuck's sake I don't wanna be anywhere without ya'. Everything I do is with you." Mammon sighed nervously.

He lifted her in her arms, bringing down his face to gently set his forehead onto hers.

He didn't entirely recognize it before, but now that the cat was out of the bag it was so painfully apparent.

Everything he did was by her, to her, and for her. He found himself more temperamental and bored in the situations he had to exist without her. The cogs in his head finally spun, blushing for a mere moment as he finally admitted it out loud. 

"I'm obsessed with ya princess. I'm fuckin' crazy over you."

If her heart pounded any faster she was sure she'd pass out.

Her eyes glued to the tiny white slits in the sea of bright green within his eyes.

They both glance down at each other's lips then back at their gaze.

Immediately realizing what the other was doing, they both smash into each other desperately. Mammon felt a firework go off in his head. She was putty in his hands. A little butterfly caught in his web.

He growled.

[F/n] caresses his features, brushing her thumbs over his cheeks and pulling him closer.

A surge of electricity runs through his expression and tickles hers affectionately. It courses her hands and down her arms eagerly. 

Mammon drags his bicolored tongue across her lips, pushing himself in at the slightest gap.

Their tongues dance and with no protest Mammon explores his new territory. Their teeth clatter, Mammon doing his best not to pierce her.

The taste of coffee and pastries still lingered strongly on his saliva. Their tongues dance, aching. It's as if they couldn't get close enough to one another, both feverishly pushing into each other craving every bit of contact the other could provide.

Pleased with her submission, he makes way back into his room.

Massaging her ass with his upper pair of hands and grabbing onto her heels with the other. [F/n] releases a muffled moan.

Mammon breaks the kiss first, glancing at the spirit trail that still connected them. He licks the drool from his lips, savoring their long overdue tension-breaker.

He steals a few more pecks before taking a seat on his bed, holding onto her. He brushed a strand of her [h/c] hair out of her face.

Mammon chuckled softly, enamored with the bright hue on her complexion: gaze hungry.

Mammon stares at her. Unmoving. As his breathing very audibly becomes heavier.

It takes him a painful few seconds to snap out of his own trance.

"As much as I wanna fold ya' in my bed and have ya' take care of my stiffy— y're injured and need to rest princess."

"Oh come the fuck on Ammo, I'm fine!" [F/n] pouts, huffing while trying to feel him up through his clothes.

She slinks downwards to attempt and grind against the growing tent underneath his layers of clothes to entice him.

Mammon with every bit of self control in his body, has none of it, interwinding her hands into his instead with force as he pulls her back up to steal another peck.

"I love y're excitement but I will hurt you."

"You're no fun."

"You'll fuckin' get what you want later... Needy whore."

He scoots closer into bed.

Mammon snaps his fingers. A puff of green surround both of them, clearing quickly to reveal he had changed them into their sleepwear. He smiles softly.

His blanket flies over them as he adjusts more comfortably, plopping [F/n] on his chest.

[F/n] coils into a ball, purring happily while nuzzling herself into the crook of his neck. She quickly settles. His hand reaches to pet her hair lovingly, listening patiently as her purring gradually became more distant overtime until she drifted off entirely. 

Mammon sighed with satisfaction, captivated, only then closing his eyes. "Y're gonna stay mine forever." 

[jpmarvel90]

The Healer

Masterlist Natasha Masterlist

Word Count: 3588

Relationship: Natasha x Reader (but not really)

Summary: Y/n was a prisoner of Hydra where she was experimented on to give her the powers to heal. She was then forced to use those powers to heal any person Hydra sent her way. That was until the Avengers stormed the base she was held at. Surely her life would only get better from here....right?

Y/n's POV:

You'd think being an Avenger is a dream. Maybe for the others it is. But for me it's a nightmare. For the majority of my adult life, I had been held captive by Hydra. In that time, I was tortured and tested on. So much so that I now have the ability to heal people. I would dream for the day that I might escape and be able to use my powers for good, rather than healing those causing pain and destruction.

Then one day, the Avengers came and stormed the base I was being held in. Because of my powers, I was being forced to heal the wounded and when Tony Stark came across me, he assumed I was one of them. He knocked me out and I woke up in a new cell. Granted this one was slightly more comfortable.

Three months I spent in there, only being let out if it was to heal one of the team if they were hurt. I had tried to explain to them that I have never and will never support Hydra, but they wouldn't listen to me. I gave up in the end, realising that they would never listen or believe me. After some time had passed, Fury decided that I would become part of the Avengers or be sent straight to the raft. I obviously decided the former and soon was allowed out of my cell and into a room of my own. Not that I was ever permitted to leave the compound, except for missions.

I had hoped that over time, maybe I could earn the team's trust. That I could prove to them who I really am and maybe even make some friends. But I couldn't have been more wrong. None of them cared for me. I wasn't welcome at team meals. I was to eat on my own. So, you can imagine that I was never allowed to team building events or parties.

I was simply a healer to them. And an evil one at that. I was used to go on endless missions and heal anyone who was injured. From small cuts to stab and gun shot wounds. They had no care for the impact that it was having on my body. Each time I heal, it drains me. The more severe the injury, the long it would take for me to recover. But to the team, it was a price I had to pay for my sins.

I wasn't just sent on Avenger missions either. Any important Shield ones, I would be made to tag along. There were times I struggled to see the difference to Hydra. I was being used in exactly the same way but here, I had a more comfortable room. But I was still a prisoner, being used for powers I never asked for.

It didn't take me long to realise that I would never be able to show the team that I'm no threat and was taken against my will. Not even Wanda, who did actually volunteer to work with Hydra, gave me the time of day.

I would hear the snide comments and questioning of my worth. Then Steve would speak up and talk about how valuable I was. But not because of me as person, but because of my powers. If they could take my powers from me and give them to someone else, I know they would do it in a heartbeat and I would be locked away for life on the Raft.

I started to train myself to help with trying to keep my mental health in check. Some days it was hard to get out of bed. I'm ashamed that I have considered ending everything. Maybe I wasn't meant for this world. But then I would snap out of it and know that I have to fight. So, I taught myself how to. I wasn't too bad, and Steve found me one day and sparred with me. He was impressed and told me that I would be able to support in more than just a healing capacity. It didn't change his view of me as a person though.

So that's what happened. I was expected to fight alongside them, as well as heal them. Although my stamina increased overtime, I still couldn't control the impact on my body when healing someone. But once again. The team didn't care when I would practically crawl back onto the QuinJet. In fact, I'm sure they would leave me behind if they weren't so desperate for my healing abilities.

Today, we're heading out on a big mission. They have found one of the main Hydra bases. Our job is to go in, get intel and blow the place up. Natasha and Wanda will be going in and getting any information they need. Steve will plant the bombs, whilst the rest of us keep the Hydra agents busy.

There weren't too many injuries that I had to heal. Barton took a knife to the stomach, but it missed any vital organs, so wasn't too bad to heal, whilst Sam broke his arm when his wingsuit was taken out and he fell to the ground. It meant my energy was up and I was able to focus on fighting and making sure I did my job to the best of my ability.

As the fighting grew more intense, my comms crackled and I heard a shaky voice coming through. "Y/n. We need support in the comms room. Nat's been hit. I-it's bad." Wanda calls out.

Nat's POV:

This mission was going to be a huge success if we could take this base out. It was one of Hydra's 4 main bases. It would significantly affect their ability to carry out attacks on the scale they have been doing so.

Wanda and I were able to get inside relatively easily with the others fighting out the front. Wanda used her powers to deal with any agents we came across and protected me whilst I started to download as much information as I could. I then started looking through the rows of filing cabinets, hoping to find something useful. Whilst flicking through one of the draws, I see a picture of someone I recognise.

It's Y/n, though she looks far younger. Maybe 18. Intrigued, I start flicking through the file, but soon regret it when I read her history. My hand flies to my mouth and I gasp as I see the evidence that proved what Y/n had told us was true. She truly was a prisoner. Captured when she was 19 and held captive for 7 years. She wasn't born with her powers but was instead tested upon. My whole body fills with regret and I feel like I could be sick. We have treated her like the enemy for so long when she was the victim.

"What is it?" Wanda asks me as she appears by my side. "We were wrong about Y/n." I state, handing her the file, before running my hands through my hair. "Oh my God. She was telling the truth." She gasps herself at the realisation. "How could we treat her so badly. We basically have held her prisoner and forced her to heal us. It's no different to what Hydra were doing to her." I exclaim, anger building within me at how we treated someone who just needed our help.

"We can fix this. When this mission is over, we'll show this to the team, and we'll work to make this right." Wanda suggests. "Assuming she could ever forgive us." I mumble, knowing we have done far too much damage for her to easily accept our apology.

My guard is down as my mind races over all the horrible things I've said, that we've all said. I don't see the guards coming in the room behind us. Both Wanda and I are too late to react before two gun shots go off. I feel the burning instantly in my chest and stomach as my mouth starts to fill with blood. "NAT!" Wanda calls out, rushing in my direction. Not before using a blast of her red magic to end the agent that had managed to hit me.

My legs start to wobble, and I fall to the floor in a heap, my hands trying to stop the bleeding. Wanda drops to her knees and presses her hands down firmly on my wounds to help in the task, but it's all in vain as her own hands are soon painted in red. "We need Y/n." Wanda mumbles before activating her comms. Her eyes never leave me as they fill with tears. I know it's bad. I'm going to die if Y/n doesn't get here in time. "Y/n. We need support in the comms room. Nat's been hit. I-it's bad." Wanda calls out for our teammate. The one that we have failed so badly.

We're amazed at how quickly she gets here, she's out of breath as she drops to the floor besides me. I can feel my life slowly seeping away. "It's ok Agent Romanoff, I've got you." She smiles at me. I can never understand how she is so kind in these moments. She's soft and caring as she heals you. Then once it's done, we treat her like the enemy we thought she was.

"You guys need to get out of there. The bombs have been set and are due to detonate in a couple of minutes." Steve informs us and I see panic form in Wanda's eyes. "Go Miss Maximoff. I've got this." Y/n tells the witch. She's reluctant to leave as Y/n places her hands over my stomach to start healing. "GO! I promise that Agent Romanoff will be safe." She shouts, taking Wanda by surprise. Reluctantly, Wanda gets to her feet and walks backwards slowly. "I'll see you at the jet." She says, before running back through the building to safety.

I look to Y/n who is focusing on the job at hand. I can feel the warmth as my body starts to heal. Though with each passing second, I see Y/n's face become paler. Her eyes struggle to stay open and it's then I realise the real impact of healing someone does to her. Especially when they are so close to death. We've tortured her ourselves as we've forced her to heal us.

Her body suddenly crumples to the floor, and I look down to see my wounds completely healed, not even a scar. "Y/n, wake up. Stay with me." I say, moving to her side, tapping her face gently to get her to wake. Her eyes flutter open and I smile at her. "Thank you." I say, though my heart breaks at the affect my words have on her. I don't think we've ever thanked her for saving our lives. She's done it on numerous occasions.

"You both need to get out now. The bombs are due to detonate any second now." Steve yells down the comms. "Go." She indicates to me, but I shake my head. "Not without you." I tell her, wrapping my arm around her trying to lift her. She's a dead weight but I know I can carry her out. "Stop." She says firmly. "We won't make it if you try and get me out." She says with a look of acceptance on her face. "No, I won't leave you behind." I reiterate, but she uses what little strength she has to push me off her. "It was only a matter of time until I was no longer useful to you all. Go and save yourself." She snaps at me, and I realise that she thinks the only reason I'm saving her is because of her powers.

"No Y/n. I know the truth now. You deserve a happy life. One where you chose your destiny. I won't let you die here in this hell hole." I tell her firmly. "Mr Stark, are you able to come and get Agent Romanoff?" Y/n asks through the comms. "We're both getting out of here. Do you hear me?" I shout just as Tony confirms he's a minute out.

We feel the ground shake as the first bomb goes off, it's only a matter of time until they reach us. "Maybe my death will purge me of my sins." Y/n says through laboured breath. "No, you have nothing to atone for. We do. For how we've treated you. I'm so sorry Y/n. We never should have done what we did to you. It's unforgivable." I try to apologise to her, cupping her face.

Before I can say anything more, Tony blasts through a wall and grabs me in his arms. "Time to go Romanoff." He says but I fight to get out of his arms. "NO! Not without Y/n." I try to get back to the stricken girl on the floor. She can't die. Not like this. "We're going Romanoff. It's fitting that she should die in the place she called home." Tony snarls, making the anger boil within me as he runs out the hole in the wall he had just created.

Even with all my strength I can't get out of his grip, and I give in as he flies away. I watch the building below me getting smaller as we get further away. Just as we're out of danger I watch in horror as the building explodes. "NO!" I scream knowing that Y/n is in there. Tony lands and places me on the floor and is shocked when I start pushing him. "You left her there to die! You asshole!" I scream at him, my anger boiling over as the others come to see what the commotion is. "It was you or her Romanoff and that wasn't even a choice." Tony growls back at me.

"She was innocent!" I yell, taking them all by surprise. "She was telling the truth. She was never working for Hydra by choice. She was a prisoner who spent the majority of her time there being tortured. She would have thought she was free when we saved her, but instead we made her a prisoner of our own, using her for her powers." I rant angrily, tears falling down my cheeks.

"Come on Romanoff, she got to you. Just because she healed you doesn't mean you have to believe her." He argues back. "She's right. Y/n was telling us the truth. We've treated her like the enemy when really, she was the victim." Wanda backs me up. At our revelation, I watch as the others come to terms with what we've done. Steve's head drops as he pulls off his mask. Sam holds the arm the Y/n had not long ago healed whilst Clint looked like he had seen a ghost.

"How do we even know this is true. It could still all be some elaborate plan." Tony tries to dismiss the truth. I reach into my pocket where I had put her file and slammed it into his chest. "Read this and tell me you still feel the same." I spit at him. "We're meant to be the world's mightiest heroes. But how would people react when they hear how we treated a helpless prisoner." I fume, embarrassed by our actions.

I turn away from my team and look to the mountain of rubble in front of me. Maybe she's still alive. Maybe I can find her. With determination in my step and tears stinging my eyes, I start walking towards the rubble. "Where are you going?" Wanda calls after me. "To find her. Hopefully alive, but if not, she deserves a funeral. One showing the real hero she is." I shout back over my shoulder, my eyes locking on to the rough area she would have been.

I start moving the rubble with my bare hands, calling out for Y/n periodically. I'm praying that she responds to me, that she calls out and we're able to save her. Whilst I'm moving the rubble, I see a whisp of red, helping to move it out of the way. I look up to see Wanda, giving me a tight-lipped smile. "She's our teammate. We do this together." She tells me. Soon after the others join us, working to move as much as we can in the hopes of finding Y/n alive.

"Can you feel her at all?" I ask Wanda when we're no closer to finding her. She doesn't respond. She doesn't have to. The pain and regret in her eyes give me the answer I didn't want.

As time goes on, my hope starts to dwindle. She can't die like this. The last words said to her were out of such malice. She needs to know how much we appreciate her, how sorry we are and how much we want to make this up to her. I can see the hope fading for everyone, but we refuse to stop. Even when Fury sends Maria to get us back home. She's soon to join us, her own guilt building.

When I move a large bit of wood, I see a familiar tattoo. 98-321. Y/n has that tattoo. "OVER HERE!" I shout out to the others who are quick to head in my direction as I quickly work to remove the rubble on top of her, ignoring the blood and bruises forming on my hands. I manage to get her free and pull her into my lap whilst the others gather around. "Y/n? Y/n? Can you hear me? It's Natasha." I say to her, tapping her face. But unlike earlier, she doesn't wake.

With shaky hands, I move my two fingers towards her neck and press against her pulse point. I close my eyes tightly hoping to find any signs of life. Though if I really took in her body, I would have seen it would have been an impossible ask. "No." I whisper when I feel nothing.

I hold her close, her skin feeling cold against my touch. "I'm so sorry. Please come back to us. I'm sorry." I start to cry as I hold her limp body in my arms. I rest my head against her chest where her heart no longer beats. I don't care about the blood and dusty that is starting to cover my body. I just want to hold her, in the hopes that, by some miracle, she may understand how sorry we truly are.

"You were a hero Y/n and we didn't treat you like one. We let you suffer when you needed help more than anyone. I wish we could have saved you. Given you the life you deserved. I can only promise that we will never allow this to happen again. Believe me when I say you were seen, and your input to this team was invaluable. You have saved all our lives in some capacity or another. I'm sorry we couldn't do the same for you." I apologise to her through my tears.

A hand on my shoulder brings me back to the devastation around us. "We should go." Steve tells me, with a sad look on his face. He bends down and carefully takes Y/n in his arms. "Be careful with her!" I warn him and he nods. "We will treat her with the utmost respect. As late as that may well be now." He reassures me.

Wanda helps me to my feet, and we follow behind Steve as we make our way back to the QuinJet. The whole team is in shock. I watch as Steve lays Y/n on one of the medical beds and gently places a blanket over her. I quickly move to the seat next to her and hold her hand. I hate the idea of her being alone in this moment.

The journey back is silent as we mourn the loss of a teammate and the embarrassment and guilt settles. When we arrive at the compound a team is waiting to take Y/n's body away and I'm reluctant to allow it. I'm alive because of her. Yet she is dead because of me.

The next few days are dark. Wanda and I plan a service that Y/n deserves. We were able to trace some family. Her sister, Sam, talked of how Y/n was taken one night, and the police were never able to find her. They had assumed she was dead. She had asked why she didn't try and find her once she had managed to escape, and I had to admit that she wasn't permitted to. It's safe to say Sam wasn't too happy when she heard about how we treated her sister.

Despite that, she attended the service for her little sister. She held a lot of pain. I guess finding out that Y/n was alive all the way along only to learn she died like she did much have been hard.

The service was perfect, and the majority of Shield turned up for it. Word had gotten around about the truth and there was a great shame felt by many. None more so than me. I'm a spy, I pride myself on being able to see what others don't. But for some reason I was blinded to this. I could have saved her. She died because of me. It's something I'll never be able to forgive myself for. But I know, that I will never let anyone else be treated the same. I will also never allow anyone to forget that Y/n Y/l/n was the true hero of the Avengers.

[floral-force]

hey babes!!! I loved that one of Simon and the meet cute, it had me melting 🥹♥️ I was wondering if I could perhaps request a Simon Riley x reader where the reader is part of the 141, but before working with them, she was apart of a special ops group that focused on stuff like infiltration/sabotage, and she’s almost like a black widow sort of character? seduces her targets and takes them out when they’re alone? she’s usually a ray of sunshine with the group, but Laswell presents the mission and everyone’s like “????” and the reader’s like “fine, I guess we’ll do this again” and she’s just COMPLETELY different once she infiltrates??? it gives the whole crew whiplash, but I’m particularly interested in how Simon would react!!! I hope this isn’t too much!!! thanks for always blessing us with your amazing work, and I hope you have an amazing day!!! ♥️

thank you for loving the meet-cute!! this request was fun to fill. I took some artistic liberties and this one really ran away from me...I hope you enjoy this!

(requests are open! search the tags #prompt requests or #prompts and send me an ask!)

Honeypot

Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader (code name "Honey")

summary: You’re Task Force 141’s newest operator, and everyone knows you as bubbly and sweet, earning you the code name Honey. How will the team react—especially Ghost, your stoic but sultry lieutenant—when a mission requires your espionage expertise?

words: 2.9k

warnings/tags: my blog is 18+ only. innuendo, canon-typical violence (fist fighting, gun mentions), bamf reader, task force 141 being buffoons, protective and jealous simon “ghost” riley, competency and size kinks if you squint, reader has a code name and uses she/her but no other descriptors

read on ao3 | masterlist

“The coup in Luxembourg is out of our usual bounds,” Laswell said, “but a covert agent working under the deposed Grand Duke has requested our aid.”

“They’ve been an ally to us in the past,” Price added, looping his thumbs under his tac vest, “so I expect you lot to execute this mission with as much precision and urgency as you would any other.”

“Country’s smaller than Scotland, innit?” Soap asked. “How the hell are we s’pposed to be discreet?”

“That’s where you come in, Honey,” Laswell crossed her arms and gave you a pointed look. “You remember your mission in Morocco?”

You smirked. “Is the sky blue?”

She gave you a small chuckle. “We need your expertise.”

“Fine.” You gave a dramatic sigh. “I guess we’ll do this again.”

“”M sorry,” Gaz interrupted with a scoff. “Do what, exactly?”

You turned to look at where he sat across the table from you next to an equally confused Soap. Ghost was twisted in his chair to look at where you sat behind him. 

You raised an eyebrow, your eyes flicked between Price and Laswell. “They don’t know what I did in the States?” 

“No,” Price muttered with a hint of embarrassment. He cleared his throat and shrugged like a tired parent as he said, “I suppose it never came up.”

Gaz gave an exasperated sigh, his impatience getting the better of him. “Well, go on then!” He urged. 

“I was a contracted espionage agent for the Department of Defense, and—”

“The Yanks used contracted agents?”

You rolled your eyes at the interruption. “Yes, Soap. Now, as I was saying,” you continued, shooting the Scotsman a playful glare, “I was hired for infiltration ops. Ones that required a certain…je ne sais quoi, a more feminine touch you lads wouldn’t be capable of.” 

When they all stared at your smiling face with blank expressions for a few moments—even Ghost’s eyes were narrowed with confusion—you jerked your head forward and waved your hands. “Guys, I seduced the targets.”

The confused silence persisted, and you looked around, giggling at each of the guys’ reactions, looking at Ghost last. His gaze pierced you the most, his brown eyes never leaving yours. Your teasing giggles faded, and you severed the eye contact with a roll of your eyes. You looked at Laswell again and crossed your arms, bored of the topic. 

“Now that that’s settled, can we please finish this briefing?” you implored. “I have to make sure I have a dress that’s fitting for a date with a dictator.”

“You sure you’re gonna be alright?”

“For the hundredth time—” you swung a heeled foot on a worn curb with a huff and hiked up the fabric of your dress—“yes, LT, I’ll be fine.” You adjusted the holster on your thigh and smirked at Ghost’s silence. “See something you like?”

There was a pause, and you looked up to see Ghost quickly look away at the street. Guilty.

You knew he felt some sort of way about you; whether it was good or bad was still unclear. One thing was for damn sure: Ghost had his sights set on you. You’d felt his skeletal stare linger on you ever since the briefing a week ago, and he wasn’t as sneaky as he thought he was at stealing looks when you were at the range or sparring.  Anyone else might feel like his prey—trapped by hungry eyes and cornered by a hulking frame—but you were so used to being the predator that you didn’t let it get to you. It was a little…fun.

Sure, he gave you butterflies, but that was because you’d never dealt with seducing men like him—at least, that’s what you told yourself after thinking about him with your hand between your thighs.

For now, you’d innocently tease and poke and prod the masked man with Soap and Gaz’s support. For now, you’d holster your loaded M9 and leave your leg exposed in yellow lamplight as you made sure your clutch had everything you needed. For now, you’d pretend that you weren’t thinking about him trailing his hand up from your ankle to the holster and grabbing the meat of your thigh.  

“We’ll be able to hear everything through your earpiece. Soap and I will have eyes on you in the palace, but stay near windows,” Ghost said, interrupting your thoughts. “Gaz’ll be on the roof.”

You swung your leg back down, wobbling. Ghost clutched your forearm, and you gripped his, fingernails scratching the fabric of his sleeve and digging into it for stability. His large hand snaked up to hold your bicep right above your bent elbow, your ears heating up when you met his eyes and saw something akin to lust in them.

His grip lingered even after you were steady on your feet again, only letting go when you gave him a flustered smile. You busied yourself with smoothing out the full skirt of your dress and adjusting the discreet monitor in your right ear. 

“All you have to do is get ‘im to the roof. The lads ‘n I will take it from there, as planned.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “If anythin’ goes wrong, jus’ get yourself out alive, Honey.”

“Got it.” You adjusted your necklace, and sheepishly asked, “Is it centered?”

You could smell sweat and sandalwood when Ghost stepped closer, his broad armored chest just inches away from your body. His large, gloved fingers graced over your skin and hands, delicately centering the elegant piece with tactical precision. 

Brown eyes looked you up and down. “Looks good, Honey.” 

Ghost stepped back and his hands fell, one curling around his radio and the other limp on the rifle slung across his body. You burned underneath your dress.

After testing the comms and getting location reports, you gave Ghost a thumbs up and started walking to the palace down the street, rolling your shoulders back and taking a few deep breaths. You could feel his brown eyes burning a hole through you the entire time, so you made sure to sway your hips a bit more than you usually did while seductively strutting somewhere.

It hadn’t taken her long to reach the third floor and approach the tall paned window with the target, just as she’d been instructed to do in their final briefing. Watching Honey expertly navigate the gala and get the target attached to her side faster than the speed of light stirred something within Ghost. Whether it was admiration for her skill or arousal was unclear. Either way, he’d be lying if he said she didn’t look ravishing in her dress. He tilted his head and greedily peered through the scope one last time before tearing his eyes away and adjusting his position on the grassy hill.

Honey was as lethal as she was sweet, and if her saccharine smile didn’t instantly ensnare her target, her sugary tongue would. Instead of doling out compliments, she accepted them and kicked innuendos back; instead of making cringy puns and flashing finger guns, she bit her lip and tugged the target’s suit jacket. It was entirely different from who she was around the team on base, and Soap had made sure to emphasize that all bloody night. Even Gaz had chimed in a few times, both men trying to get him to comment. Ghost silently refused, skin flushing under his mask.

Now that she was closing in on the target, things had become even more heated. He looked at her through the scope again and listened. Ghost heard her laugh, the sound bubblier than the champagne in the flute she raised to her pretty lips. She took a sip right as Soap said the punchline of a joke, her shoulders rising and falling sporadically with a daintily covered cough. 

“Watch it, you twat, you made her choke,” Ghost snapped.

“Sorry, lass, sorry!” Soap crackled over the comms. There was a rustle. “In my final position. Eyes on Honey and the target, LT.”

“Gaz?”

“In my final position, LT, eyes on the extraction point,” Gaz replied, his voice set and sure.

“Captain Price will leave on your command to meet you and Sergeant MacTavish at the rendezvous point, Lieutenant,” Laswell buzzed in his ear. “Gaz, you go with Honey and the target.”

“Affirmative,” Gaz and Ghost responded.

“Affirmative. And, Laswell, you can call me Soap.”

“Negative, Sergeant.”

“Aye. Copy that, loud and clear.”

“Shut up, Soap.” Ghost grumbled.

They heard Honey giggle in response to another one of the usurper’s idiotic compliments, and Ghost saw her flirtatiously tap his arm with her knuckles. 

“Y’know, if she heard one of us say tha’ in the pub, we’d never hear th’end of it.”

Gaz hummed in agreement with Soap, and he couldn’t help but shake his head and smirk. Honey laughed again and clearly echoed another awful line the target gave her. Ghost could tell the grin splitting her pretty lips wasn’t genuine—her nose didn’t crinkle like it did when he deadpanned the punchline to a stupid joke or when Soap had called Price “Pa” a few weeks ago.

There was snickering over the comms. Ghost boldly asked, “Honey, take a drink if you meant for us t’hear that shite attempt at flirting.”

Soap cackled when the rim of the champagne flute touched her lips and her throat bobbed with a long sip.

“Well?” Gaz asked expectantly.

“Was a yes, Gaz,” Soap responded.

Ghost saw her eyes flutter closed as she pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, and he grumbled; hopefully nobody had heard him. He was itching to move, his finger hovering over the trigger and his jaw clenching each time the target touched her.

“Right, Honey,” Ghost said, focusing the team again and settling himself down. “Once you’re on the roof, I’ll call Price—Gaz, move on my word or Honey’s, or when Price arrives. Soap, get to the rendezvous when I call Price. I’ll watch Honey and the target. Understood?”

Gaz and Soap gave him their affirmatives. Honey nodded, looking out the window and winking.

She looked back at the target and seductively bit her lip. “Do you think we could go somewhere a bit more…private?” Her query was laced with something sticky.

The target gave her his piss-poor attempt at a sultry smile, resting a hand against her neck and disturbing the necklace Ghost had adjusted earlier. 

He’d be lying if it didn’t make him want to shoot the git dead where he stood.

There was a quiet yes, and Honey said, “I’ve always wanted to be kissed under the stars.” She forced a coquettish giggle. “Well, kiss, and…more, if you catch my drift.”

The target leaned in and pressed a kiss on her right cheek, the act on full display to Ghost.

“That can be arranged, my sweet,” the target murmured, his voice tainting their comms and making Ghost roll his eyes. 

When the target abruptly gripped her waist and pushed her against the window, Ghost heard the faint sound of glass breaking and heard Honey force a playful comment about dropping her flute. Now, Honey’s back was to him, one of her hands flat against the window, her fingers splayed out. His clear shot was ruined. Ghost swore and Soap did as well.

“Target moved too far to my right. Can’t get a clear shot. LT?”

“Negative,” Ghost answered. “Honey, make a fist if you need back-up.”

Normally, he would’ve already had someone storming in to help if he wasn’t already, but Price had made it clear that this mission required tact. Ghost was on edge, but he had to trust Honey, even if the sight unfolding in the scope of his rifle made his skin crawl.

Honey clenched her fist.

“Affirmative. Gaz, Soap, hold your positions. Comms are quiet unless absolutely necessary.”

“Affirmative, LT,” the men immediately replied.

“Extraction is ready on your word. Get out of there—alive,” Laswell stressed over comms. 

“Affirmative,” Ghost sighed, his trigger finger ready and aching to move.

“Not here,” Honey mumbled. Her fist remained clenched, the other hand still clutching her tiny bag. 

She squealed in surprise when one of his hands dropped to grab her ass and squeeze. Ghost sharply inhaled, and he heard Soap clear his throat, holding back from asking for a visual on Honey.

“Not here, Johann,” Honey snapped, the sweetness quickly melting off her voice. “I want you, but I want you to touch me on the roof.”

The target’s other hand grabbed the other hidden cheek, fabric bunching up in his grip. “Want you here, you lovely little thing. Roof can come later.”

Honey gave him the tinkling laugh she shared with the team after showing them a video of a puppy or some other baby animal. Sometimes, Ghost smiled under his balaclava when it was thrown his way—but he’d never tell a soul.

This time, the sunny bells were a warning, and if the target didn’t do as she said, Ghost had a feeling he’d regret more than the coup. 

“If you say so.” Her voice was uncharacteristically dark, its hidden sharp edges revealed.

“Gaz, Soap, be ready for my word,” Ghost said as Honey pushed forward, her heel pressing her dress’s hem against the window.

Just as they both responded, a howl pierced the comms, making Ghost wince. The target was doubled over, and Honey was kicking off her heels, sending them flying towards the windows across the hall. She took a lunging step forward over the broken glass and adjusted her body before throwing a punch to the target’s left cheek. He staggered up and took an angry, sloppy swing at her, but she dodged it and kicked her heel into his knee to destabilize him so she could gut-punch him. The target dropped to the floor. Ghost’s mouth went dry, and his cock twitched as she grabbed a fistful of the target’s hair.

“We’re going to the goddamn roof,” Honey gritted out. 

When the target gave her a sly smile, she took a step back and let go before punching him again. The corner of Ghost’s mouth twitched with a smile when he saw the target staring at her with fear. She’d literally punched the smile off his ugly mug.

“On your fucking feet,” she growled, and he obliged. 

Though he stood, he fought her the whole way to the stair entrance, and each time, his resistance was met with another blow to the gut. Ghost hummed in approval. This honeybee had a wicked stinger and wasn’t afraid to use it.

When she disappeared from Ghost’s sight—still swearing and commanding the target up the stairs—he made the call to Price, then barked over comms, “Soap, rendezvous. Gaz, be ready to assist if Honey calls for it—and, Honey, Gaz is ready to help restrain the target.”

“Negative, LT,” he heard her pant. 

He saw her push the target through the door and onto the roof’s hidden balcony. Gaz was crouching down where he hid, his feet ready to run and his gun in his hands.

Ghost heard her sharply exhale and barely tracked her hand fly up to the target’s bicep. Then, he saw the target slump down to his knees and fall face-first to the ground. 

“Is the target alive?” Ghost hissed, impressed but angry. “If you killed him—”

“Affirmative, LT,” she interjected, catching her breath and pulling an orange bag out of her clutch and depositing something in it. “Just a sedative. He’s gonna take a nice nap during the flight home.”

She hummed a random tune—her favorite song, Ghost noticed—as she put the bag back in her clutch. Honey waved at Gaz when he came out of hiding and walked over to her. Ghost saw her nudge the target with a bare foot and proudly put her hands on her hips.

“Bloody hell, Honey!” Gaz exclaimed, shaking his head. “Did Price know?”

“Affirmative,” Price boomed through the comms. 

The helicopter came into view and Ghost stood up with a huff, slinging his rifle back across his body. He could see them helping Honey up onto the hovering ramp, her dress blowing in the wind. He chuckled before turning running into the forest behind him towards the rendezvous point.

“Headed your way, Lieutenant.”

“Affirmative, Captain,” Ghost replied as he came to a halt next to Soap in the clearing. 

“LT!” Soap exclaimed, yanking his earpiece out, mouth agape. “Th’fuck I’d miss?”

“Ask Gaz,” he said simply, earning a groan from Soap.

The chopper thrummed overhead as it descended. They ran towards the ramp as it lowered, Honey’s triumphant face illuminated by the hold’s red light. Ghost climbed in and sat beside her with a grunt. 

Once they were airborne and starting their flight back to base, Gaz described the scene Soap had only heard. Ghost noticed her diamond necklace was askew from her skirmish and hesitantly centered it. She gave him a soft smile and turned her head so her chin grazed over his covered knuckles. The gentle hum she gave him coated him in sticky-sweet syrup. “Honey” certainly was a perfect codename for her, he reckoned, contrasting her innocent sweetness and cutesy smiles with her impressive—and, at times, lethal—infiltration skills. 

Yeah, Ghost was stuck in her treacly trap—and he didn’t plan on escaping.

masterlist

taglist (join here): @tizylish @dheet @sinfulsalutations

[boy-comics]

RENT-FREE

── .✦ pairing; ♭form!o.de x gn!reader

── .✦ summary; chance leads you to oh seungmin. something else leads to you stay.

── .✦ word count; ~4.7k

── .✦ tags; swearing, mentioned family issues, discussions of death, fluff, hurt/comfort, romantic tension, roommates to friends to lovers(??), seungmom™, takes place in the "real" world

── .✦ a/n; ahahaha (lying in a ditch)

After graduating, getting a job, moving out, and doing all the other things one needs to do to be considered a real adult, you realize something: pride, that bright, delicate thing that you've clung to all these years, means very, very little.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"It's just until I find another apartment. I won't even argue with him anymore, Mama—"

"Honey, I'm sorry, but you should know why I can't trust you to do that."

You stare at your phone screen, the call time climbing up ever slowly. Your mother continues talking, her voice tinny through the speaker, trying to soothe your irritation without giving in, but you can feel your thoughts growing pricklier and pricklier with each reasoning.

Just kick him out for a little while, you want to yell at her, don't you care about your own kid having a roof over their head? Why choose that deadbeat over me?

"So what am I supposed to do, then, Mama? My roommate's gone and I can't pay rent all on my own. I don't know what to do."

"I don't know either. I'll ask around and see if anyone can help you out. But this is adulthood, honey; things like this happen, and you just need to figure out what to do."

If you could afford it, you'd throw your phone against the wall.

"… I know. Thanks, Mama. Talk to you later."

"Make sure to eat, honey."

Pressing the end call button, you drop your phone on your bed and scream into your pillow.

—

What you end up doing, all by yourself, is break your lease early and shoulder the penalty fees. Then you pack up what little belongings you have and camp out at an old classmate's place (just until your next paycheck at the most, you had promised), and work and search for apartments and search for roommates and sleep and eat and work again.

Your mother calls just as you're looking up motel prices. You don't want to pick up, but again, pride means very, very little.

"Hi, Mama."

"Hi. Are you still looking for a place?"

"Yep."

"Okay, good. I was talking to Oh Seungmin's mother. You remember him, don't you? You went to the same high school. He was on the basketball team."

Your brow furrows. "Oh Seungmin?"

"So you do remember him."

"… Yes."

You're sure he doesn't remember you, though. Oh Seungmin had always belonged to a different crowd than yours, a really different crowd, even if you did walk to and from the same neighborhood together for a brief time. If your mother is suggesting what you think she's suggesting, you must be thinking wrong, somehow.

"He lives somewhere near where you work. His mother talked to him, and he's willing to let you stay with him until you find something more permanent."

You blink.

"Honey? What do you think?"

"I—uh." Your cursor continues to hover over the room price typed in bold on your laptop, and as you absorb what has just been offered, it drifts down to the corner of the screen. "How much would I need to pay?"

"Ah. I forgot to ask. She gave me his number to give to you just in case, though, so just ask him. It's—"

You type down the number and save it, praying to whatever lives upstairs that this isn't the beginning of some awful cosmic joke.

—

You move into Oh Seungmin's place on a late Sunday morning in May.

"Do you need help unpacking?"

"No, it's okay." You gesture vaguely at your suitcase, backpack, and laundry basket of bed things. "This is it."

Seungmin nods, his eyes flitting between the three things containing your entire life. There is a smile on his face, small and polite but awkward, like he's entertaining a surprise guest despite having expected you for the past three days. "Oh, okay. Cool."

You smile back, just as awkward. This Seungmin is slightly different from what you remember. High school Seungmin was more outgoing, a star athlete and the dream of every girl in your class. In this small apartment in the shadier part of the city, he seems more subdued, a little lonelier around the edges. Or maybe that's only because it's you.

He is still absurdly good-looking, though.

"I didn't know if you were okay with the couch or a futon mattress, so both are out. I have extra pillows if you need them … you don't have a closet, so we could buy a foldable one or something and put it in the corner if you want."

"I'm okay with the futon mattress. And it's fine—I'll just keep things in my suitcase. I won’t be in your hair for long, anyway."

"All right." His fingers tap an oddly controlled rhythm along the side of his thigh—not that you were already looking, you just catch the movement at the edge of your vision—and then he clears his throat. "Well, I'll let you get your stuff unpacked. I made some curry rice so we can eat afterwards. Hopefully you'll like it. I think you told me it was your favorite, once, a long time ago."

Some of the ice on your tongue melts.

"It still is."

His smile cracks open a bit wider, a bit more genuinely. "Really? Nice. I'll get everything set up, then."

"I'll be quick."

The living room and the kitchen are squeezed together with no divider, so you are graced with the ambiance of clinking ceramic bowls and silverware while you set your things out to organize them. The faint smell of curry and rice that you had detected when you had first stepped foot into this home intensifies with the sound of the microwave running.

Eating lunch with Oh Seungmin is a simple affair that grows more comfortable with time. You go over the house rules and contributions again, and it's funny, you find, the way the two of you agree on things so easily despite not having talked in years. Then again, it is only the first day.

"There is one thing, though," Seungmin says, taking your plate along with his to rinse them in the sink. "I have a synthesizer and record a lot of music for work. I'll keep my door closed, but if you're here and it bothers you, just tell me. I'll use headphones."

"Oh," you say, surprised. You don't remember Seungmin having a strong interest in music. A synthesizer. That's interesting. "Okay, I'll let you know." A thought hits you and you ask conversationally, "Do you use ♭form at all?"

You don't have an account yourself, having put it off time and time again. Conversation, that's all you had intended. But as soon as you mention ♭form, it's like the shutters close, and Seungmin's tone shifts from open and friendly into something strange and even guarded.

"Sometimes. Just the audience and solo modes, though."

He changes the subject after that. Of course, you still can't help but wonder for the rest of the day, especially when he disappears into his room for the rest of the afternoon, strange and beautiful music trickling out from underneath the door.

—

Seungmin tells you that it's been a while since he's had people stay over, but despite his modesty, you find him to be a wonderful roommate.

"Are you done using the glass cleaner?"

"Yeah, it's in here."

Heading to the bathroom, you spot Seungmin dutifully spraying the shower with cleaner and hold your breath, grabbing the glass cleaner from its place on the floor and stepping back out quickly.

"Did you find it?"

"Yeah, it was right there," you say.

He turns around to check, and you can't help but grin. Standing like that in the bathroom, he almost looks like a harried mom, old baggy shirt tucked into equally worn sweatpants, hair messy, a mask covering the lower half of his face and large yellow gloves covering his hands. When he raises his eyebrows, you snort.

"What?"

"You look like a mom."

"Finish your chores," he says sternly, even waggling his head, and you laugh again before leaving to wipe the windows.

Cleaning day is surprisingly mellow in your temporary home. Seungmin has the bathroom and his bedroom while you take the kitchen and living room, and you're both quite efficient. The initial awkwardness at the beginning has eased significantly over the past week, and if you were feeling optimistic, you'd say that the two of you are friendlier now than you were as students—even if he does spend a lot of time in his room.

"Hey, you wanna do something after this?" Seungmin calls out. You hear the shower turn on, followed by the sound of water splashing over the walls.

"Like what?"

"We could shoot some hoops."

"Ha-ha, that's funny."

"Well, now we have to go shoot some hoops." You make a face, and even though he can't see it, Seungmin tacks on, "I'll buy you garlic cheese bread after."

"How many?"

"One plus one more for each basket you make."

Well. That's an offer you can't refuse. "Deal."

"Okay. After I clean the toilet, I'm gonna shower and then we can head out."

You finish vacuuming and mopping the floors by the time he comes out of the bathroom, hair toweled to a curly dampness and no longer smelling like bleach. He looks like a young, fashionable man again, and you think that it might have been a little easier to talk to him when he was masked up and rubber-gloved.

"Ready?"

"I'll still get one free garlic cheese bread even if I miss all the shots, right?"

"Yes, but you can't be that bad at basketball."

"Try me."

There's a basketball court about ten minutes away from the apartment complex that Seungmin frequents. There's another one that's closer, newer, but upon passing by and asking about it, you're told that he avoids that court because it's too popular.

"Isn't it better to play with a group of people?" you question.

He shrugs, head turning away from you. "I just like to do my own thing when I'm here."

(It strikes you as a bit odd, but you keep that thought to yourself.)

"We're here." Seungmin dribbles the ball for a few seconds, then passes it to you. "You remember some stuff from gym class, don't you?"

"I mean, yeah, but that doesn't mean I can do it," you retort, passing the ball back. "Why don't you give an example and I copy it?"

Your companion turns and promptly shoots the basketball towards the hoop. It cuts a majestic arc through the air before falling through the hoop with a devastatingly clean swoosh.

You stare as he jogs down to fetch the ball, returning with a self-satisfied grin. "Okay, well, don't expect that kind of technique from me. I'm fine with my one bread."

"No, I'm going to make sure you get at least two. Here." Seungmin comes closer, plopping the basketball into your outstretched palms. "Just dribble it a little and pass it back and forth so you can get the feel for it."

You slowly bounce the ball on the concrete. It's haphazard, coming back up at different angles with no discernible rhythm, but you can actually keep it up for more than ten seconds. Clapping his hands, Seungmin shouts encouragement and gestures for you to pass it to him.

"What were you talking about? You're fine at this." The ball travels between the two of you several times before he points to the hoop. "Try to shoot."

Emboldened, you cradle the basketball in your dominant hand and stare up at the hoop. Aiming at the backboard, you launch it with a quiet grunt.

The ball hits the rim and shoots off to the side.

"... That's okay, that's okay! Try again."

You feel like the kid winning a pity prize at school. It really shouldn't be a big deal, with you being a whole-ass adult and all, but you can't prevent the frustration that roils up anyway as Seungmin tosses the ball back to you.

"I'm just going to miss."

"You won't know unless you try, right?"

When you roll your eyes at his sage-like wisdom, he sighs, circling around to stand behind you.

His arms come around to adjust yours into the right position, and you nearly choke on your own spit.

"Keep your shooting arm close." He taps the inside of your foot with the toe of his shoe. "Feet shoulder width apart, knees bent, 'cause the power comes from your legs. Your other hand is just there to guide. And follow through."

His voice is soft against your ear. You swallow dryly, only daring to breathe again when he steps away.

Oh, no.

"That easy, huh?" you croak, bending your knees.

"If you want it to be."

You shoot the ball. It soars upward—downward—hits the backboard, rolls along the orange rim and falls through the net.

You and Seungmin stare for a moment. Then Seungmin nudges you with his elbow and holds out his fist.

"Yo, yo, yo! Good job, [Y/n]-ssi!"

Your eyes roll again as you bump fists with him, but it's bashful this time, and you hate how exposed it makes you feel. "You're a literal mom and dad rolled into one."

"Does that make you my offspring?"

"Sure would beat being the offspring of my actual parents." You wince as soon as the joke leaves your mouth.

"Oh."

Seungmin blinks, and laughs a bit, but it's so obviously unsure that everything that's been going so right today veers into complete fuckup territory.

You dig your hands into your pockets and scuff your shoes. "... Sorry. Shitty joke."

"Ah, it's fine ..."

And yet, neither of you say anything more.

Shit.

While you rub your arms, hobbling towards the basketball rolling steadily towards the grass, you hear Seungmin follow. The scrape of his shoes against the asphalt peters out as you pick up the ball, and when you turn around, he's regarding you carefully. You find an interest in the words stamped onto the basketball.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks.

"Not really." You spin the ball in your hands. "I mean, it's not like you never knew, and nothing's really changed, and that's why I'm here in the first place. So."

Seungmin nods slightly and hums, scratching his nose.

"I didn't mean to kill the mood."

"No," he says immediately, "don't worry about anything like that. You're good company."

You look at Seungmin. He stares back, and for a brief moment, you remember a boy with the same dark eyes, under a similar sky, sitting with you at the corner of a convenience store after school because you didn't want to go home.

"Oh. Okay."

"You wanna try for a third garlic cheese bread?"

"Nah, you kinda killed the vibe with all that mushy gushy stuff."

Seungmin hisses through his teeth when you punch his shoulder. "Damn."

"Only joking. Can we go now, though? I'm hungry."

"Yeah, sure."

—

In the brief interludes where neither of you have anywhere to be, you and Seungmin inevitably gravitate towards one another. That's what happens when people get along, you guess, though it's been so long that it surprises you when Seungmin actually joins you on the couch with a tub of popcorn.

"That for me?"

"That for us," he corrects as you press play on the laptop and settle back into the cushions. "Is the volume high enough?"

"Oh." You lean forward again. "Now it is."

Seungmin had been neutral at best towards pirating a horror movie from five years ago—he could take them or leave them, depending on the quality—but you had cited its several awards and didn't want to watch it alone, so here he was, ready to pass judgment on your choice.

"Don't scream too loudly," he gibes as the music drops to a low simmer, "or the neighbors will complain."

You scoff, grabbing a handful of popcorn. "I'm right here if you need a shoulder to cry on, Seungmin-ssi."

Thirty minutes into the movie, both of you swallow your words.

You'd taken it as a sign of good taste that multiple reviews had credited Come Into My Head as providing nightmare fuel for weeks, but now you realize that good taste may not be in your best interest. Not when you're shaking like a leaf next to your roommate, who is sitting stiffly, nearly stone-like.

When the killer jumps out, both of you let out a shriek that triggers angry thumping from above.

"Shitshitshit." Another jump scare slashes across the screen, and you leap out of your skin when Seungmin's hand clamps down on your arm. "SHIT."

"Y-You're making my arm numb," you whisper, but you make no move to pry him off, eyes glued to the screen.

"Sorry—"

When the lead actor screams, you can't take it anymore and suffocate Seungmin's arm between your own, smashing your face into his shoulder with a pathetic whimper.

... Unfortunately, said shoulder ends up being so warm and muscular that you sober up from your fear-drunkeness long enough to be overcome with embarrassment.

"Uh." Your action seems to have the same effect on Seungmin, whose grip immediately loosens.

"I'm sorry," you blather, starting to pull away. "I swear I'm not trying to—"

"It's fine," Seungmin interrupts. "I, uh, don't mind if you don't. I'm kind of terrified right now?"

"Me too."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

The corners of his lips quirk upward. If it weren't for the gory, red lighting of the movie illuminating his face, and if you weren't so sure of his opinion on you, you would think that Oh Seungmin was blushing.

Yeah. You lean back until you're pressed against Seungmin once more, arms wrapped around his and shoulder pressing shoulder. His right hand reaches around to squeeze yours with every on-screen death and you can feel each joint of each finger over your own. I'm terrified.

—

It takes two whole weeks before shit hits the fan.

It had been an unexpectedly warm day, so you had decided to impulse buy some ice cream bars on the way back from work. Seungmin would appreciate it, being cooped up in the apartment with his synthesizer. You haven't been able to catch him outside his room for the past day. Maybe you could hang out and talk in the kitchen while you polished off one or two ice cream bars.

Sticking the box of chocolate-coated vanilla in the freezer, you quietly walk over to Seungmin's bedroom and examine the doorknob. There's no Do Not Disturb sign hanging from it, and it's not locked, which you take as the go-ahead to knock.

"Seungmin-ssi, I got ice cream."

You wait. No reply.

Frowning, you press your ear against the door, wondering if he's working on some music, but you don't hear anything. Of course, he could be using headphones for some reason.

"Hello?" You knock and then call for him once more, making sure to be loud. "Hey, I'm coming in."

With that, you enter his room.

Nothing seems out of place. That is, until you see Seungmin hunched over on the edge of his bed, hands trembling and forehead drenched with sweat.

"Seungmin!"

Stumbling over your feet to rush over, you grab ahold of his shoulders and shake him. Seungmin jolts and shivers, then looks up with wide, glazed eyes, and it frightens you so badly you reach up to grab his face. It feels cold.

"Hey. Hey! What happened?!"

He stares up at you, completely vacant, and then he finally blinks. It seems to trigger something because he starts gasping for breath, clutching your wrists as he registers your presence.

"What happened?" you repeat, voice cracking from the volume.

He winces. "I dunno," he rasps, wetting his lips. "I think we ... I think we broke the system?"

The use of we raises a flag in your mind, but considering the present circumstances, you put that aside for now. For all you know, his brain could be fried like an egg and churning out nonsense. "Broke what system?"

He looks down.

You follow his gaze. There is a pair of strange glasses on the floor by his feet. Hesitantly, as if you might get burned, you pick them up.

Upon inspection, you notice '♭form' faintly etched into the frames. There's a button on top of the left hinge, but nothing happens when you press it. Frowning, you press it again, only to curse when something neon red fizzles briefly across the lenses. Then it’s dead once more.

"Oh," you murmur dumbly. You look at him again.

Seungmin's lips press together, eyes still fixed on the glasses, and he swallows. His gaze then moves to you and the emptiness of it slowly ebbs away.

He is silent, despondent, and he takes a moment before he tells you something so sincerely it stuns you.

"That was the only place where I mattered."

And, truthfully, it feels like he's slapped you across the face.

You gape at him, throat suddenly tight, and when he continues to sit without another word, you shut your mouth so violently your jaw tingles.

The strange behavior makes sense now. The brief periods of dullness after leaving his room, the rare but suspicious checking out from conversations, the obsession with music. You had overlooked these things because the moments between them had been some of the best you’ve ever had. They had mattered to you.

Apparently, he had never felt the same way.

"You don't think you matter here?" you say, numb. Your grip tightens around the glasses. "What was the fucking point of all this, then?"

His brow furrows. "… What do you mean?"

It feels like prying open the shell of a living creature, exposing everything that's meant to be kept safely hidden away. You do not know why the living creature is you and not Seungmin. You don't know why Seungmin makes it so damn easy to spill your guts, revealing the self-centered and bitter parts of you that drive everyone else away.

"Do I not matter either?" you ask.

The sound of your own voice, angry and trembling, immediately disgusts you. You bite your tongue and turn away.

"What? Hey, that's not—"

"Nevermind. Forget it."

As you head straight for the door, you have this grand idea in your head that you're going to storm out of the apartment, spend a few hours blowing off some steam, and then return to pack up your stuff and stop adding to Seungmin's misery. But that would require you to be faster than Seungmin, and for his apartment to be large enough to create enough distance between you and him.

Reality unfolds as such: you getting one foot across the doorway, Seungmin grabbing your wrist, and you stopping far too quickly.

"That's not what I meant at all. I'm sorry, I'm just—just let me explain."

"I'm a little too pissed off to listen nicely, Seungmin-ssi."

"That's fine. As long as you believe me." When you look back at him, he squeezes your wrist. "Please stay."

He's pleading. His hand is clammy. And because your pride means so little, and because you have become so horribly attached—you stay.

You let him lead you back into his room to sit on his bed. You stay, and you listen as he starts from the very beginning.

By the time he's done, having explained the train, the fighting, the surreal time loop his band had just broken after what had seemed like days, you are just about ready to break down.

"So you're telling me that you've been wanted by ♭form for the past year?" you say, throat dry, and Seungmin nods. "What would've happened to you here if you died in there?"

"I don't know. All I know is that the pain sticks after I log off."

The pain sticks. Good god. You lean over and hold your head in your hands, feeling nauseous. "Seungmin-ssi, that's not okay. What the fuck."

"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "I didn't think you would be this upset if you found out."

"Of course I would? I live with you? Do you know how traumatizing it would be to come back from work and find out you're brain dead? Like, fuck," you laugh, feeling your lungs constrict, "oh, my god, what if I lost you?"

Seungmin is quiet. Then he says, almost whispering, "Lost me?"

The disbelief in his echo causes you to close your eyes. Everything is coming out now. You can feel them bubbling over, crawling out from between your ribs, thoughts and confessions that you have stuffed down for fear that they would be ridiculed.

He utters your name, the end of it curling upward in bewilderment.

"Seungmin-ssi." You take a deep breath. "You're kind, and caring, and the first person in actual years who I felt actually gave a shit about me. If something happened to you, I ... part of me would probably die too, I think."

It's too hot in his room. Your vision goes blurry, and you feel your nose start to burn. You sniffle. Hands falling into your lap, you dig your nails into the fabric of your uniform pants. You're sweaty and teary and miserably cracked open, and it's hot, and all you can do is sit and wait for his response.

Beside you, Seungmin shifts in place.

Then two arms wrap around you, warmth upon warmth, a cheek resting against the side of your head as he holds you.

"I didn't know you felt that way about me," he breathes. "I'm sorry for being so reckless with myself. I was ... I was wrong."

Your tears start to fall onto his shoulder. "Don't leave me."

"I won't. I'm here." His hand ghosts up and down your back, the barest of tremors in his fingers. "You matter to me, too. So, so much."

Oh. A sob escapes your lips.

You're so selfish. Selfish for having him comfort you after what he went through in ♭form, selfish for dirtying his shoulder with your tears, selfish for feeling this way about him after so little time.

Selfish for wanting to stay.

You tighten your grip on the back of his shirt. Seungmin hums. He pulls away just slightly to look at your face, and you almost tear up again when he wipes the wetness from your cheeks with his thumbs, his eyes glossier than normal.

"I'm sorry," you croak as he does so, reaching up to touch the dark circles under his eyes. "I didn't even check if you were okay. Are you okay?"

He chuckles a bit wetly, hugging you again. "I'm better now. Thanks for asking."

"Do you need water?"

"I'll get some in a few minutes. Don't worry."

"It's hot. I came in to ask if you wanted ice cream. I bought a box from the store."

"Oh, you did?"

Neither of you move, bodies pressed close, intertwined. You are buried in his scent.

"We can have them now," you offer, with effort, "if you want."

"Is that what you want?"

You bite your lower lip. "... If it makes you feel better."

His mouth presses against your temple. Against it, he admits, "It is hot. But ..."

He does not finish that sentence. But you understand, and something blooms, trembling, in your chest.

"Maybe later," you finish drowsily.

Leaning into him further, you hear his soft agreement, his hands stroking down your arms with a surety that had not been present before. He keeps you here, with him, real and breathing, living.

You are not alone. And neither is he.

Thank you for accepting me. Thank you for loving my prideless self. I'm glad we exist here, in this world, together.