#i promise i’m not insanely protective

[wollerjoseph]

💔💔💔why would they do this to him tonight guys

[avirael]

Stuck on Repeat

He wanted to scream.

To scream and to cry and to be anywhere but here. But the best A’viloh could do was try not to tremble and instead follow Rael‘s example, who - despite the fact of being shackled and pushed around - still maintained a certain stubborn grace. He wished he knew how they did that.

What exactly was going on? A‘viloh wasn’t sure of that yet and it would take a while for him to process all of this. Everything had happened so fast. Suddenly the sultana had gasped for air, her goblet falling to the ground along with herself, soaking the expensive carpet with its dark red content. While A‘viloh had only stared in shock, Rael had immediately jumped up and was by Nanamo‘s side only split seconds after she collapsed. The next moment there had been guards everywhere and also that mean Lalafell accusing them of regicide. They had barely been able to say anything before the guards had grabbed them both, checked them for weapons and tied up their hands.

Now, as the door in front of them opened, the soldier behind A‘viloh gave him a rough push. The miqo‘te winced and stumbled forward into the room filled with people, all eyes on him. He lost his balance and with his hands tied behind his back, he landed rather ungracefully on the hard, cold stone tiles. His head started to spin, his vision began to blur, his heart was racing. It was all just too much and also too late to stop the memories that had buried their ugly dark claws deep in his mind. Miserably he gasped for air.

Rael hadn’t fallen but still knelt down and leaned towards him, wanting to make sure he was alright. „A‘vi! Please stay calm. I’m trying to find a way to get us out of this…“, the viera managed to whisper before someone pulled them away.

A’viloh still struggled to sit up and at the same time tried desperately to see where Rael had gone, when someone grabbed one of his arms and a handful of his hair and yanked him into a kneeling position. He pressed his eyes shut and tried to breathe, tried to not let the fear and the memories overwhelm him, but a small whimper still made it past his lips. He fought against his own mind, racing and about to shut itself off from all of this.

„Stop it!“, Rael hissed angrily. What else than complain could they do with their hands tied behind their back. The brass blade turned his attention to the viera instead of A’viloh. „Shut up!“, the man growled and struck Rael across the face with the back of his hand. They gasped and when they looked up again a moment later, with a mix of shock and indignation on their face, their lower lip was split and bloody.

Ashamed A’viloh stared to the ground and tried to pretend that this wasn’t his fault while the voices and turmoil around him faded to the background. Instead his mind was filled with questions and fears. Would they be executed? Thrown in jail? What had happened to Nanamo? Would their friends at least get out of this with their lifes, if Rael and him were made responsible?

Suddenly something touched his shoulder and pulled him out of his thoughts. A’viloh gave an alarmed shriek.

„Shhh!“, Rael shushed him, leaning their shoulder against his. Worried they glanced at him. „You were gone for a moment weren’t you?“ A’viloh didn’t answer but that wasn’t necessary. Rael sighed deeply. „Give me your hands. Maybe I can loosen the knots…“

Working behind their backs Rael tried their best but it was impossible. The angle was bad, they didn’t see what they were doing and the knots were simply too tight. On their own the two of them would never make it out of their ties. “Seven hells!”, Rael cursed. “I would sooner chew through these things than get that knot open!”

It was a funny imagination and under different circumstances A’viloh would maybe have laughed about it. Instead he turned to look at them and offered a sad smile. “It’s alright. At least you tried��I’m sorry about your lip.”

The viera looked surprised and then shook their head. “Don’t worry. I can fix that.”

Suddenly the turmoil around them got even worse. A’viloh only now noticed the screams and the fighting. “What’s happening?”

“Raubahn killed Adeledji. Tried to kill Lolorito too. Panic broke out and now he is fighting Ilberd. But I honestly don't think he has a chance...”

As if to confirm this, one of the giant stone pillars exploded under a heavy misaimed hit and through the cloud of dust and rubble Raubahn was hurled through the air and landed right beside them. With a swift movement of his blade he cut their ties and only then as he stood up, rubbing his wrists, A’viloh noticed that the Flame General was missing an arm.

But there was no time to question how that had happened and what else he might have missed while dissociating. Confidently as ever Raubahn spoke up saying that he never doubted them or the Scions and that they should flee. A’viloh was still to dazed to argue against that and so let Rael pull him along, to Minfilia and the others and then out of the palace.

As they hurried down the stairs of the Royal Promenade Thancred ran towards them and with a sudden peng of guilt A’viloh realised that he had been so shaken until now that he hadn’t even noticed yet that the Hyur hadn’t been with them. Thancred warned them that Lolorito’s soldiers had already taken control of all important points in the city and that it would be impossible to just walk out through the city gates. Luckily he offered another plan. Rumours about very old secret passages leading out of the city and luckily he knew how to get there.

But just as they wanted to leave the heavy steps and yells of the brass blades got closer.

“Go ahead! I’ll handle this!”, Yda exclaimed and turned towards the soldiers.

Papalymo made an incredulous face. “By yourself?! …I suppose I shall just have to join you.”

Rael offered to help them too. Papalymo and the viera could cause quite the destruction together that was certain but the thought of leaving any of them behind made A’viloh sick. There had to be a different way. One were all of them got out of here together.

“Don’t!”, he croaked and hated how his voice sounded a lot quieter and squeakier than he had intended. Had anybody heard him at all? But before he could say anything else or before Rael could join Yda and Papalymo, the Lalafell shot a fireball at the mechanism that held the palace gate open and with a roaring sound it crashed down and cut of the path between the two of them and the rest of the group. It would give them some time but neither Minfilia nor A’viloh seemed to be willing to leave without their friends. Helplessly and pleading the Miqo’te reached through the bars with one arm and stretched out a hand towards his friends. A’viloh and Yda had quickly befriended each other after meeting for the first time. They had spent a lot of time training together and Yda had soon become one of his dearest friends among the Scions. The thought that something could happen to her was unbearable for him. “Yda! Please!”

But the girl laughed at him and locked her fingers with his for a second. “Don’t worry, A’vi! We’ll see you later!” Confidently she smiled at him before she let go of his hand and turned back around to face the soldiers that had almost caught up to them.

The others called out for them and reluctantly Minfilia and A’viloh followed. There was nothing else they could do now apart from making Yda’ and Papalymo’s efforts worth it and get out of here before more soldiers appeared.

In a haste they ran through the decorated corridors of the palace district and luckily the entrance to the secret passage was exactly were Thancred had suspected it to be. The tunnels were bigger and more complex than A’viloh would have thought and for quite a while they ran through dusty old corridors trying to find the right way that would lead them out of the city.

After a while the echoes of yells and footsteps appeared again and unlike them their pusuers seemed to know the ways down here. They tried to hurry but in no time the voices were coming closer and closer.

“I will stop them.”, Y’shtola exclaimed and abruptly stood still, making everyone else pause for a moment as well. “You go on ahead!”

“No…”, A’viloh protested, he wasn’t willing to leave any more people behind. But Thancred nodded. “Then I will stay too! It would be rude to let you fight alone…”

“No! This is all wrong!”, A’vi repeated a little more loudly. “Let me and Rael fight them, we can defeat them surely.”

Y’shtola shook her head. “Not that many of them…” and Thancred agreed, “The two of you are far too important to get captured...” He didnt say or worse but it was clearly there.

“But…” A’viloh wanted to protest but what was there to say? So he just helplessly stared from one of them to the other. Instead Rael nodded. “Alright!”

“No! Nothing’s alright!”, A’viloh exclaimed pleadingly. „There has to be another way!“

“No, there isn’t.” Thancred said and put his hands on A’viloh’s shoulders. „Listen! There is no time. You have to get out of here, do you hear me? And you have to get Minfilia to safety. Look at me A’vi!“

He slightly shook him and despite the closeness between them A’vi did as he was told.

“Can you promise me that? To get yourself and Minfilia to safety?”, the Hyur asked with a serious voice.

Pleadingly A’vi stared at Thancred’s face wondering if it would be the last time he was going to see it. He hadn’t stopped shaking since Ilberd’s soldiers had put him in chains but now it got worse again. Nonetheless he nodded slightly.

“Good.“ Thancred said and nodded too, but hesitated to let go of him.

A strange expression appeared on his face, one A’viloh never had seen on him before. A mixture of doubt and maybe fear? Thancred sighed and muttered “Just in case…“ more to himself than anybody else but A’vi was close enough to hear it anyway.

A’viloh hadn’t expected at all what happened next. Before he even realised it, Thancred had leaned down, closed the gap between them and kissed him. He was too shocked to react, too confused as well, so he just let it happen. Weirdly this made him feel better but also hopelessly sad at the same time. What was he doing here? This was crazy! Maybe he would later curse himself for allowing this or he would wish he hadn’t wasted this moment like this but before he had figured out how to feel or to react the moment was over. Thancred pulled back a little and looked like he already regretted either what he did or simply having to let him go. Or maybe that was just how A'viloh felt himself. “Consider this my lucky charm…“, the hyur whispered, barely audible, and weakly smiled at him.

Then he pushed A’vi away, as gently as the urgency of the situation allowed, and spoke up louder to all of them.

„Now, get out of here!“

„No!“, the Miqo’te whimpered, his hands tried to hold on to Thancred’s arm but he ignored him and looked at Rael instead. „Get them out of here, please. I’m counting on you.“

The viera looked annoyed, more than usually, but nodded without a word and only when A’vi felt their hands at his arms pulling him away, he realised they were all still here watching him. At any other occasion he would have felt horribly embarrassed now but all he could think of right now was that he couldn’t leave all of his friends behind here to fight, and possibly die, while he fled to safety. He didn’t want to run any longer. But Rael seemed to share Thancred’s opinion.

“Come on, A’vi. We can’t waste time now. Every single soldier in this twelves-forsaken city is after us now, we can’t fight our way out of this. There’s no way to set this right if we don’t get out of here first.”, they explained as calmly as they could in this situation, then grabbed A’vi’s hand and dragged him along as they ran. A’viloh followed on stumbling feet but only because his body had long since stopped listening to anything his brain screamed at him. Stop! Go back! Fight!

Rael’s words made sense but still… weakly he tried to look back and see what was happening behind them but then Rael and Minfilia took a turn into another tunnel and he lost sight of Y’shtola and Thancred. For another while he just numbly let the viera pull him along until they abruptly stopped at an intersection.

“There is light! The exit must be right around that corner!”, Rael announced pointing to one of the tunnels.

Minfilia nodded. “I think so too. But I have somewhere else to go. Hydaelyn speaks to me, I have to stay behind but you two, you cannot stay with me.”

Rael shook their head: “We promised to protect you and I don’t plan to break that promise.”

Minfilia smiled kindly.

“I release you from this promise. Instead promise me to flee and clear our names for us! You are the only ones who can do this. I have a different task to fulfil. Please, you must go on! You are the Warriors of Light! You are hope - for the Scions, and for all the realm! As long as your flame continues to burn, the light of the dawn may ever be relit! You must escape, and save Eorzea from those who would plunge it into darkness! This is the only way...”

Rael grimaced but nodded. “Fine…”

A’viloh on the other hand just weakly shook his head. Words had long failed him and with every minute all of this felt more and more like it was happening to someone else and not him. Like all of this couldn’t be real. Like it was a horrible, weird dream that he would wake up from every second now! How had everything escalated so fast?

Minfilia saw his expression and put her arms around him in a tight hug. “Don’t blame yourself for this, A’vi. None of this is your fault. Everything will be alright, I promise.“

Then she ran in the opposite direction and all A’viloh could do was watch her vanish in the maze of tunnels.

After a few seconds Rael took his hand again and A’vi snapped back to attention watching the Viera’s free hand point towards the light. “Let’s go, the exit is right there.”

But A’viloh refused, even if his voice was nothing but a weak whisper. “No, please go alone. I’ll follow Minfilia. Someone has to protect her.”

Rael growled. “Were you listening at all? Do you want all of this to be in vain? I know this is difficult for you, but so it is for me!“

“But-“, A’viloh tried to protest but Rael looked like they almost wanted to hit him and angrily yelled at him. “I want you to be safe too, you know?! I would gladly stay behind and fight if it meant you and the other’s were safe but the best we can do now is run!”

Before A’vi could say anything else a deafening crash sounded through the tunnels. Alarmed they both stared back the way they came. The walls and the floor seemed to tremble and a roaring sound echoed down the tunnel and came closer and closer.

“Oh no!”, Rael gasped. “The ceiling is coming down! We have to get out of here! Now!”

“The ceiling?!”, A’vi shrieked. “But what of the others? We need to — Let go of me!!”, he protested as Rael tried to drag him out of the tunnel.

“It’s too late now, A’vi. Please!”, the viera pleaded but A’vi struggled and screamed. They almost wouldn’t have made it out in time. Just as the cloud of dust and rubble hit the protective barrier Rael had summoned up to shield them they were catapulted backwards by a burst of magic the last few meters out of the ruins and into the late afternoon sun.

Both of them coughed from the dust and it took a moment until they could see anything again. The entrance to the tunnels had collapsed entirely, lots of small and bigger pieces of stones lay in a huge pile in front of what was barely recognisable as the tunnel entrance anymore.

Shocked A’vi stared at the rubble for a few seconds before he began to scream again. Quickly he jumped up and tried to get the stones out of his way, to find a way back in, but of course it was hopeless. The old broken stones were too many and too heavy for him. They wouldn't give in to his pleading. "No! Please, no..."

As calm and soothing as they could Rael took his hands and spoke to him. “A’vi. Not now. There’s nothing we can do now…”

Slowly he let Rael turn him around. He looked at the viera, his eyes filled with tears, before he wordlessly threw his arms around Rael‘s neck. „I‘m so sorry…“, he whispered after a moment of just silently clinging to them.

Rael shook their head. „Not your fault…“

A’viloh didn’t answer to that. Instead he sullenly looked at Rael for a moment before he dared to ask, „Do you think they are dead?“

Rael sighed and then grimaced. „I’m not going to lie to you, A’vi. I honestly don’t know, but it really doesn’t look good…“

The Miqo’te just nodded weakly, the corner of his mouth twitching for a second. He appreciated the honesty but he had hoped for something a little more reassuring.

Rael carefully squeezed his shoulder. „But maybe they aren’t. We will figure that out, I promise. But first we have to proof that we did NOT kill Nanamo... We should really go now…“

„Thank you. I would be lost without you…“, A’viloh muttered and followed Rael along the railroads leading towards Blackbrush station, defeated and disheartened. Silently he wondered if there was a safe place now for them at all and how they possibly could manage to clear their names…

[makkie-is-screaming]

I should fucking kill myself

[favroitecrime]

like i can’t stop thinking about mockingjay’s ending and i’m curious to see how they translated it to the big screen but my friend and i were talking and as incomplete as it maybe feels i wouldn’t want an unrealistic happy ending. because realistically, this is the happiest either of them is ever gonna get. the tragedy and trauma BOTH katniss and peeta had to endure is incomprehensible and at only 17. what other ending COULD there have been? as many loose ends as you wish were tied up, the reality is this is the best that you’re gonna get. the best to expect because wars aren’t perfect stories and loose ends are never fully tied and i think how coldly it ended (sort of) fully captures some of the key themes and message suzanne wanted to hammer into her audience. this was never a happy story, just a necessary one in a way.

[the-girl-from-another-time]

To preface this I do see and appreciate the homoeroticism of Glinda and Elphaba’s relationship, but that being said, I’m noticing a phenomenon of people who’ve seen the movie but not the full show saying “Glinda and Elphie are obviously gay, and also Fiyero is lame and unnecessary.” For one thing, those opinions on Fiyero will likely change after Part 2 comes out because he is both important and awesome, but also? I really do love Glinda and her bond with Elphaba, but quite frankly I don’t think she deserves Elphie. Glinda’s biggest flaw is her cowardice (and even that isn’t fair, because she’s in a tough situation and her survival mode is to work within the system as best she can), and Act 2 proves she simply won’t take the same risks that Fiyero will for Elphie until it’s too late. Fiyero is brave and devoted to Elphie in ways Glinda isn’t (even when she wants to be). Glinda isn’t the one who sacrifices everything she’s ever known and nearly gets tortured to death to protect Elphaba. Not to mention that Elphaba’s fighting spirit and willingness to speak up are matched in Fiyero. AND the way the theme of finding not just worth but beauty in “unattractive” people comes full circle with Elphie and Fiyero. Just. End me now. They make me INSANE. It isn’t until after Elphaba’s apparent death that Glinda’s bravery really shines. The end of the show is basically Glinda acknowledging she should’ve done better and promising she WILL do better, she will be Glinda “The Good,” all thanks to what she’s learned from Elphaba. It’s kind of the point that Glinda wasn’t perfect for Elphie (and that’s okay, because their relationship was beautiful and profound anyway). I’m so excited to see movie fans experience this ride once Part 2 comes out.

[torubeth]

degradation taken too far (mature content 18+)

context/warnings : it’s smut, so kids shoo! hell of a lot of degradation. they’re so mean i hate them. (swearing, words used : slut and slutty) angst to i have no idea what. pls do lmk if i missed any tws. and as always, its not proofread :p gojo ver.

ryomen sukuna ‘is that all you can do? all your yapping earlier about ridin’ me was just talks? answer me’ his sudden shift in demeanour has you feeling really small. sure he is a rude ass prick but not to you. never to you.

‘no- i can take it. i really can ryo’ tears sting at your eyes as you struggle to take in his full length. his hands giving your waist a small squeeze.

‘yeah and that’s all you’ve been saying for the past goddamn fifteen minutes. either you take it like a good girl or i’ll just have to find someone who will. trust me, i can’ he eyes held no remorse of the words he just spewed and that’s when you break.

correction, you shatter.

somewhere in the back of your head you knew he’ll never leave you but him wording it out makes it seem like it’s bound to happen.

and so tears stroll down your cheeks, your hands and legs giving out on you, your body going limp against his and you whisper the same thing over and over again.

‘don’t leave me ryo. i’m sorry. didn’t mean to upset you. i’m so sorry. don’t leave’

quickly his arms wrap around your body protectively, your face between his shoulder blade and neck, wetting the area with fresh batch of tears.

‘i could never leave you. you’re-’ you’re it for me. ‘you’re always the one that keeps me sane. there’s no way i’ll ever leave you. i’m sorry baby, forgive me. i didn’t mean a word of what i said’ he says.

when he didn’t get a response from you ��look at me’ he whispers. slowly you leave the comfort of his neck and meet his eyes.

‘i didn’t mean it. you could leave me on deathbed and i still wouldn’t mean it’

‘i can’t leave you ryo. i love you way too much’ you sniffle, new tears threatening to spill so you go back to huddle against his neck.

god. he knows you mean it. and that’s what makes him feel like a dickhead.

‘me too, i- i lo-’ he struggles, just as your palm reaches up to cover his mouth.

‘i know ryo, i know’ you whisper, placing your forehead against his, both of you basking in the quietness of the surrounding.

geto suguru ‘fuckin-! ah shit! some insane grip you have on me baby. can’t move if you clench and lock me up like that’ he smirks against your neck.

‘and a bit quiet today ain’t ya? you sure had a lot to say to satoru earlier heh’ he remarks.

‘we were just catching up suguru, nothing-! nothing more’ you whine.

‘catching up you say? does catching up require smiles and touches? do they angel baby?’ he raises his eyebrows.

‘no..’ you avert your eyes away from his.

‘that’s what i thought. so for that, now you pay’ he pulls out suddenly, and pushes all the way back in making you yelp out loud.

‘sugu! ah fuck, i don’t think i can go another round baby. s’too much!’ the pressure was starting to get to you and you were starting to lose stability.

‘hah, i know you can baby, this slutty pussy’s all you’re good for anyway. fuck, doesn’t matter whose it is, as long as you’re filled. am i right?’ his words pierced straight through your heart.

since when did he-?

out of reflex, your hands reach out to touch his face to make sure that this was a dream nightmare. otherwise there’s no way he-

‘don’t touch me with those filthy hands’ he spits but makes no effort to push your hand off.

‘do you really think that’s all i’m good for?’ your voice is soft, filled with pain, and suddenly it’s like he’s broken out of his trance.

what the fuck am i doing, he thought.

slowly he pulls out, all whilst holding your hand against his cheek.

‘absolutely not. no. fuck, did not mean it angel. i promise. i- i don’t know what came over me-! didn’t mean it. please i’m sorry. next time if i ever lose my shit with you, i want you to take the nearest sharp object and plunge it into my chest’ he heaves out a guttural sigh.

‘you were really mean you know..’ you wipe your eyes.

‘i know baby, fuck. i didn’t mean it. i did not mean it. i’ll never do it again princess, ever’ he repeats.

his face lands on your chest, thanking all the gods and the stars out there for giving him another chance.

he’ll never screw up again and that’s a promise.

nanami kento ‘you really couldn’t wait for a few hours? just had to go and think with your cunt, right? have you no- ugh! no shame?’ his thrusts were sloppy as his hands were placed around your hips.

‘kento- slow down baby, i- i don’t think i can last’ you whine, hands clutching at the sheets.

‘no. you asked for this you little slut. so shut. the. fuck. up. and take it!’ each syllable was accompanied by a harsh thrust.

the usually composed, sweet and calm nanami was nowhere to be found. he’s never once called you a ‘slut’ and what caused this? you rubbing him through his pants and riling him up at his office dinner earlier tonight.

he warned you off multiple times but did you listen? no.

‘why are you so quiet now? i thought this is what you wanted’ his voice comes out raspy and cold.

a quiet but audible whimper escaped your lips, making him halt his actions.

slowly he pulled out, gently laying you on your back as your body shook with each sob.

‘sweetheart…? why are you…’

you look up at him, eyes puffy and swolllen ‘i’m sorry kento, it’s just that, you’re never home these days and i missed you so much’ a cry that’s sure to crack his heart leaves your lips.

‘i just wanted you all to myself for tonight but i didn’t mean to be a bother-’

his warm body hovers over yours, ‘you’re never a bother baby. always know that. you will always be at the top of every and any list i make. there’s nothing more i want than coming home to you everyday after work. and i didn’t mean to lash out at you. you didn’t deserve that, i’m sorry’ he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.

‘you will always have me sweetheart, never forget that. now let me make it up to you yeah?’

[liviawildrose]

𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

it’s a hard pill to swallow, but sometimes, you’ve got to step into a role you never signed up for. maybe your mom wasn’t the nurturing, protective figure she was supposed to be. maybe your dad let you down in ways that left scars. maybe your friends only stuck around to take, never to give. the truth? you can’t wait for someone to come and save you. you have to become your own mother.

ask yourself:

if your child was in your shoes—stuck in a bad relationship, getting treated like crap— would you tell them, “stay”? or would you say, “you deserve better than this”?

if your child was chasing their dreams but struggling, would you mock them? no. you’d guide them, push them to be their best. you’d discipline them with love and cheer them on with pride. now, apply that same energy to yourself.

be that mom who says: “get your shit together because you deserve the best life possible.”

but also the mom who says: “it’s okay to rest, i’ve got your back, and i’m proud of you.”

start showing up for yourself the way you needed someone to show up for you. and yes, it’s sad. sad that we even have to do this. but it’s also empowering to realize you can.

personally, here’s my story.

my mom never cared to take my pictures as a kid nor cared if a haircut made me happy or not, it was literally everything up to her convenience. it hurts now because i would’ve loved to look back and see those memories. but i don’t have them. i can count the photos of my childhood—20 pictures in 17 years. insane, right? so, i made a promise to myself: from now on, i will document my life. i won’t delete my photos. i’ll make sure there’s a record of who i was, what i felt, what i achieved. and when i have kids? you bet i’ll take pictures of them. i’ll curate their childhood with care because i know what it feels like to not have that.

but being your own mother isn’t just about the pictures or the memories. it’s about analyzing everything you missed out on and providing it for yourself now. it’s about being selfless enough to let go of bad habits that hold you back. it’s about kicking toxic people out of your life the way a mom would protect her child from bad influences. it’s about prioritizing your healing, even if it’s messy and uncomfortable. you have to heal your inner child. that 5-year-old who was bullied, that 13-year-old who was treated like shit in her first relationship, that 7-year-old who dreamed big but was told she couldn’t they’re all still inside you, waiting for someone to nurture them. and unfortunately, no one else is going to do it for you. no one else is going to come and fix the damage.

i made a pact with myself: when i have kids, i will raise them so well that they won’t ever need to “heal their inner child” at 17 or 18. they’ll be whole. they’ll be loved. they’ll know their worth from the start. but for now, i’m doing that for myself. and you need to do it for yourself too. because at the end of the day, the only way to heal is to become the person you needed all along. become your own mother.

what is the inner child?

the “inner child” is the part of you that holds your early experiences, memories, and emotions. it’s the 5-year-old you who loved to laugh but was scolded for being “too much.” it’s the 10-year-old you who dreamed big but felt dismissed. it’s the teen you who felt heartbreak for the first time but didn’t know how to process it. your inner child carries the wounds, fears, and unmet needs from your past, but also your natural creativity, curiosity, and joy. healing your inner child means reconnecting with this version of yourself, giving it the love and understanding it never received, and releasing the pain it has carried for years.

how do you heal your inner child?

1. journaling: dialogue with your inner child

dedicate a journal specifically to your inner child. write letters to them, like:

“dear [your name at 5/7/13], i remember when you felt [insert memory]. i’m sorry you went through that, but i’m here now, and i’ve got you.”

let your inner child respond. write as if you’re that younger version of yourself—pour out your fears, dreams, and questions. this process can uncover emotions and patterns you didn’t realize were affecting you.

2. therapy: safe exploration with a professional

a therapist (especially one trained in inner child work) can help you identify wounds and patterns from childhood. they’ll guide you in understanding how your upbringing shaped your beliefs about yourself and the world. therapy also gives you tools to reframe those beliefs and meet your emotional needs.

watch “dear zindagi” lol

3. look at old photos and memories

revisit old photos, journals, or artwork from your childhood. don’t just look at them—analyze them. (i wish i could d this but im stuck with 20 photos so… 😭) what do you notice in your younger self’s eyes, body language, or expression?

• ask yourself:

• what was i feeling here?

• did i feel safe? loved? excited? scared?

• what did i need in this moment that i didn’t get?

• use this reflection to understand your inner child’s unmet needs.

4. create new positive memories

your inner child is still alive within you, and they crave fun, love, and freedom. do things your younger self would’ve loved but never got to do: buy yourself a toy you always wanted. go to an amusement park or build a pillow fort. dance around your room like no one’s watching. this isn’t childish it’s healing.

5. practice reparenting

treat yourself as if you were your own child. when you feel sad or scared, don’t ignore it.

ask yourself: what do i need right now? and give it to yourself.

be the loving, supportive, and protective parent your inner child deserved.

6. identify triggers and patterns

notice when you’re acting out of a place of childhood wounds.

for example: do you get overly anxious when someone’s mad at you? do you seek validation in toxic relationships? trace these behaviors back to your childhood.

were you taught that love is conditional? did you have to “earn” attention by being perfect? once you identify the root, you can start rewiring your responses.

7. inner child meditations and visualizations

find a quiet space and imagine your inner child sitting across from you. visualize yourself comforting them, hugging them, and telling them they’re safe. remind them: “you don’t have to be scared anymore. i’m here for you.”

8. nurture yourself daily

make self-care non-negotiable. eat foods you love, sleep well, move your body, and spend time doing things that make you happy. when you treat yourself with care, you show your inner child they’re worth it.

9. forgive

healing isn’t about excusing those who hurt you. it’s about releasing the hold they have over you so you can move forward. write a forgiveness letter—not for them, but for yourself. (they don’t deserve the love i’m sorry)

“i release the pain you caused me so it doesn’t control me anymore.”

10. promise to break the cycle

vow to yourself (and your future children if you want them) just cause your grandma bleed on your mom and then your mom passed it to you does not mean you will make your future kids life miserable too. the generational trauma must break with you. your future child does not deserve it and so your inner child protect you inner child and when you have a child of your own be the best mother possible, i personally would love to make my future kids childhood so memorable and happy that they will feel the need to comeback and relive their childhood that’s the kind of childhood i want to give them

“i will not let this pain define me. i will create a life of love, joy, and freedom.”

healing your inner child isn’t easy, but it’s life-changing.when you reconnect with that innocent, wounded part of yourself, you’ll find that the love and peace you’ve been searching for has always been within you.

11. foster your inner child’s dreams

when you were a child, your dreams weren’t influenced by fear, rejection, or societal pressures. you dreamed with your heart wide open, purely and authentically. reconnecting with those dreams can heal the part of you that felt unheard or invalidated back then.

a. reflect on your childhood aspirations

• sit down and ask yourself:

• what did i want to be when i was 5? 10? 13?

• what made me happiest back then?

• what did i lose interest in because someone told me i wasn’t good enough?

• write down every dream, no matter how “unrealistic” it seems.

hint: those childhood dreams often point to your soul’s calling.

b. start chasing those dreams now

• even if your dreams have evolved, find ways to honor the essence of them.

• wanted to be a singer at 13? start singing lessons or recording yourself.

• wanted to help people? explore careers like psychology, teaching, or coaching.

• don’t hold back.

it’s not about being perfect, it’s about reconnecting with the passion your younger self had.

c. create small wins for your inner child

• maybe 8-year-old you always wanted to paint but never got the supplies. buy yourself a beginner’s set and paint, even if it’s messy.

• maybe 6-year-old you wanted to be a dancer. take a fun dance class and twirl like no one’s watching.

• small wins send the message to your inner child that they are finally being prioritized.

e. validate your inner child’s feelings and failures

• remind yourself:

“it’s okay that 10-year-old me struggled with making friends. i was just a child trying my best.”

• instead of shaming yourself for past actions, honor them.

every mistake was a step toward becoming the incredible person you are now.

f. use your dreams to shape your future

• your childhood passions aren’t just hobbies—they’re roadmaps to your authentic self.

• align your current goals with your inner child’s desires.

• if 7-year-old you dreamed of making people smile, maybe your career or side hustle should reflect that.

• if 12-year-old you loved storytelling, find ways to write, act, or share your voice.

fostering your inner child’s dreams doesn’t just heal the past—it builds a future that feels authentic to you. every time you take a step toward those dreams, you’re telling your inner child: “you were always worthy. your dreams always mattered. and now, i’m making them come true for you.”

[chrisevansonly]

Nap Time

lando norris x wife reader

summary: lando’s favourite time of day is nap time, and he does everything he can to make it home in time

warnings: none, very fluffy!

a/n: i know im so bad with updating now, life is insane for me but i promise ill be trying to get more done, this is bad and short but 🥲🩷

The house was quiet, it was another rainy day in London but the sound was almost enough to lull you to sleep along with little 3 week old Amelia Norris. The absolute apple of both yours and Lando’s eyes, she was the most special gift to your family.

Everyday around four in the afternoon Amelia would go down for another nap, though mostly all she did was eat and sleep, Lando never missed an afternoon nap time with his little angel.

Lando had been gone all day doing press and taking a few meetings with the team, and it was nearing four now, but you weren’t worried.

Lando never missed her afternoon nap.

Amelia was changed into a comfy onesie, her soft sleep pillow nestled in the middle of your king sized mattress. Though you didn’t co-sleep, these naps were an exception, mainly because you stayed awake and let the father daughter duo have their rest.

“I’m here! I made it!” came Lando’s voice softly as he came into the bedroom, a soft smile on his face seeing you just finishing putting her sleeper on.

“Perfect timing baby, as usual..”

Before picking up his little girl he came to you, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, his hand rubbing up and down your back.

“How was today Lan?”

“Long, tiring and boring..just wanted to be here with my girls all day”

Smiling you handed him his sweatpants to change into

“Well now you’re here and can spend the rest of the day loving on us hmm?”

Lando couldn’t agree more, once he’d gotten rid of his dirty clothes from the day he pulled on his sweatpants and picked up the now sleeping Amelia.

“Hi my angel…daddy missed you so much”

Seeing the Brit cuddle her to his chest was enough to make you swoon, he was the best dad to her, so gentle and protective, a daddy’s girl she’d be there was no doubt about it.

Laying her softly down on her sleep pillow he pulled a little quilt over her before getting comfy on his side of the bed, one arm laying over the pillow, careful not to disturb the sleeping baby.

After getting into your own comfortable clothes you joined the two, of them in bed, leaning your back against the head board as you pulled your book from the bedside table. It was almost comical how quickly Lando could fall asleep, but it made you smile.

“Sleep well my loves…” your voice softly filled the space around you.

Lando had never missed a nap time, and he didn’t plan to anytime soon.

[misswynters]

Alone in the rumble, as you died in his arms

short drabble

pure angst / hurt no comfort

requested. by anon

Flames danced in the ruins of Piltover, their light painting the chaos in flickering shades of orange and red. The once pristine city was now a battlefield, torn apart by Ambessa’s Noxian forces. Smoke billowed from the destruction, and the air was thick with ash and the metallic tang of blood. Ekko sprinted through the wreckage, his heart pounding with a fear he hadn’t felt since he lost his family in Zaun.

Every explosion made him flinch, every shadow looked like you. He had sworn to protect you, to keep you safe despite the horrors of this war. You weren’t supposed to be here, not in the thick of the fight, not in the crumbling heart of Piltover. But you had insisted, standing firm in that quiet, determined way of yours.

“Zaun fights against corruption. I won’t stand idly by and do nothing,” you had said, your hand brushing against his.

But now, as he tore through the smoldering streets, his heart filled with dread. Jinx’s globe, her insane, chaotic weapon of destruction, had careened into one of the towering structures nearby. The crash had sent debris flying like deadly shrapnel, and he had lost sight of you in the chaos.

He shouted your name, his voice hoarse from the smoke and desperation. His feet stumbled over rubble, and his eyes scanned every twisted beam and broken wall for a glimpse of you. Your name that once brought warmth now felt like a prayer. The world around him was collapsing, literally. Another blast shook the ground, and a wall buckled under its weight. But all he could think about was finding you.

And then he saw it. A hand peeking out from beneath a pile of rubble, fingers limp and covered in soot. His breath hitched as he ran toward you, adrenaline driving his every step. When he reached the debris, he fell to his knees, his hands trembling as he began pulling away the heavy stones and broken wood. “No, no, no,” he murmured under his breath, the words spilling out like a mantra.

Finally, he uncovered you. Your body was twisted and broken, your beautiful gown torn and stained with blood. Soot clung to your skin, and a deep gash ran along your temple. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

“Firefly…” His voice cracked as he leaned down, cupping your face with shaking hands.

Your eyes fluttered open, unfocused and dim. The spark that always lit them, the one that had drawn him to you in the first place, was barely there. “Ekko…” you whispered, your voice so faint it was almost lost amidst the chaos.

“I’m here,” he said, his tears falling freely now. “I’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay, you hear me? Just hold on for abit.”

You tried to smile, but it was weak and fleeting. “I… I don’t think I can,” you murmured, your words slurred from the pain.

“Don’t you dare say that,” he said, his voice breaking as he pressed his cheek to yours. “You’re strong. Stronger than anyone I know. You’re gonna make it. We’re gonna go home. You just have to stay with me.”

But your body was trembling, and your breathing was shallow. He could feel the life slipping away from you, and he was powerless to stop it.

“Mmhm,” you hummed softly, your voice trembling as tears spilled from your eyes. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” he whispered, his heart shattering. “I know, Firefly. I’m here with you, okay?”

Your hand lifted weakly, brushing against his cheek. “I wanted to stay and see it… the future you talked about,” you said, your voice barely audible. “I wanted to be there with you.”

“You will be,” he said, even as the truth clawed at his throat.

But your eyes were beginning to close, the light in them fading like a dying star. “Promise me…” you whispered.

“I promise,” he choked out, his tears falling onto your face as he held you on his lap. And then, with a shuddering breath, you went still. Your body went limp completely against his, no more strength to hold onto.

“No.” The word left him in a broken whisper. “No, no, no!” He pulled you into his arms, rocking back and forth as the weight of your loss crushed him. The city burned around him, but he didn’t care. The world could end, and it wouldn’t matter. You were gone. The one who had brought light into his life, who had stood by him even when the odds were stacked against them, was gone. And it was his fault. He had promised to protect you, and he had failed.

His tears fell freely now, mingling with the blood and soot that covered your face. He pressed his forehead to yours, his voice a broken whisper. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I love you. I’ll always love you.”

Around him, the war raged on. But in that moment, Ekko was frozen, trapped in a world where the only thing that mattered was the girl he had lost. The flames reflected in his tear-filled eyes, their light a cruel mockery of the fire you had once carried within you. He held you close, his heart breaking with every passing second. And as the sounds of battle echoed around him, one thought consumed him: he would never let your memory fade. He vowed to himself that he would add you onto a mural, the one were the rest of the people he cared about were. The future you had dreamed of, the one you had believed in, it was his now. And he would fight for it, no matter the cost.

a/n. first time doing angst for him…idk if i can even do this to him bro 😞 (literally wrote this while at work so sorry if it doesn’t make sense)!

banner. @anitalenia

[neuvistar]

❝ MISSING YOU. ❞ signed. jiyan . wc . 721.

— featuring ┊jiyan x fem!reader

— warnings / content warnings ┊all consensual! vaginal fingering, mild titplay, he’s so soft it hurts, use of nicknames (love, wife, etc), jiyan n his fingers.. no comment. | 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

— a/n ┊fell in love w jiyan i lowk think i have a type ✊😇 i got so many writings sitting in the booty cracks of my drafts i’m acc so serious :,) i finished most of them tho! i jus need time 2 figure out when i’ll post them! ++ this is one of the times where i DIDNT post at 1am!! (it’s 8am i’m going back 2 sleep after)

“i missed you, my love.”

jiyan’s heart swells with a fierce protectiveness as he holds you close on his lap after your shared shower with him. you sulked and huffed at him, and he knew why. he hadn’t been home for these past few weeks, busy with his usual activities as a general. he wanted to make it up to you, try and be all sweet.. yet the sight of you, so damp and vulnerable in his arms was enough to drive him absolutely insane.

“i’m sorry i wasn’t able to write back, you sent me quite a few letters.” the general’s fingers trace gentle circles against your cunt, a soothing gesture meant to bring comfort, to remind you that you are safe— providing you with as much ease as possible. “you’re safe now that i’m here.” he murmurs, his voice a warm rumble against your head. jiyan’s thumb flicks gently against your clit, the teasing touches a tender balm to your wounded spirit. “i promise i’ll try to visit you more often, no matter how busy i can get,” he promises, his voice thick with emotion. "but for now, let me take care of you. let me be your safe haven." his fingers slip inside you, a slow, sensual invasion meant to calm your nerves. your husband rubs gently, his eyes locked on your pretty face he loved so dear, gauging your reactions—searching for some sign of solace in his touch. "does that feel good?" he whispers, his fingers moving in a languid rhythm designed to soothe the storm raging within you. “jiyan.. n—need you so bad..”

“i know you do baby, i know you do.” your beloved husband’s heart skips a beat at your voice.. the voice he longed to hear, your involuntary response igniting a fire in his loins. he bit his lip, his free hand trailing up your body to cup your breast, his thumb teasing your nipple. "you’ve missed me, haven’t you?" he murmured, his voice husky and thick with desire.. slowly trailing kisses and nibbles against your neck— teeth grazing your sensitive skin. "tell me what you need, and i’ll give it to you.” he promises, his fingers never faltering in their slow, rhythmic dance.

“m—more.. i want more.” your response to his touch is both gratifying and arousing, a surge of desire flickering through his veins. he feels your cunt clenching around his fingers, your body arching into his touch as a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "then let go for me.” your body shuddered in his hold, the tension in your core building— you were close already.. his hot breath ghosting over your ear, “let me hear you, my love. let me hear how much you’ve been missing me," he commands, his voice a low, gravelly purr. the pace of his fingers quicken, the slickness coating his digits a testament to his own arousal. jiyan could feel it.. he could feel his cock straining against his pants, aching for release, but he won't give in to his own desires until he's brought his pretty wife to the brink.

the fast flicks of his fingers were driving you to the edge, “mm.. more, right?" jiyan’s other hand slid up your body, fingers teasing and tweaking your delicate nipples, adding another layer of desire. "anything for you.” he murmurs, every touch, every flick, a promise of pleasure and protection. jiyan knew what you needed in this moment, and he's more than willing to give it to you. he wants to overwhelm you with the intensity of their connection, to drown your worries in the tidal wave of your shared pleasure with him. “you’re going to come for me, right?" he purrs, his pace escalating. jiyan’s fingers curl inside you, the change in sensation designed to push you closer and closer to the edge. "say my name when you come for me." he demanded shyly, his thumb moving faster, more insistent. "i want to hear my name come out of your mouth..” the dark room is thick with the scent of sex and the sound of your whines and whimpers, with a desperate whine—your body tightened around his fingers, the sensation of his fingers sending a surge of joy through you.

damn. his fingers.. have they always felt this good?

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Cheating Heart

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader

Synopsis: Your feeling for John were wrong -- horribly wrong -- but when you see your current boyfriend in bed with another woman, what's to hold you back anymore? (18+)

Word Count: 20.8k

Warnings: Cheating, toxic relationship, angst, fluff, depictions of violence and gore in flashbacks, unhealthy coping mechanisms, smut, breeding kink, praise kink, Protective!Price, vulgar language, porn with an incredible amount of plot

A/N: Literally just supposed to be smut practice and I turned it into a novel lmfao. I should be getting back to requests after this.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You slap a hand onto Soap’s bicep as you slide past the Scot, laughing loudly. The C-17 was still whirring behind you, the engines rumbling and shaking the air over your heads like great waves. Soap had asked you to go out with everyone for drinks at a local bar here in your city, not a moment prior. He was being quite persistent about it.

“Ah, c’mon, Little Lady,” The mohawked man grumbles, jogging to catch up to your fast form. Shit, you really needed a shower – your pores were packed with blood and dirt, “It’s just a few minutes from Base! We’ll all get steamin’ in no time.”

 “Hell,” Your body aches, but there’s a promise of hot water and clean clothes in your Barracks, making your feet move over the tarmac faster. Showering after a tough deployment was better than sex, “I’d love to, man, but you know that Leon makes me homemade meals when I get back home. Sorry, but I hope I make up for it by saying I’d take a bar burger and a drink over his lasagna any day. That thing could kill a horse.” 

Soap chuckles, eyes sparkling, and you send him an inquiring glance, “Price’ll be out with us.”

Your lips thin, the M13 strapped over your back suddenly ten times heavier and digging into your shoulder blades. Inside your chest, your heart sparks to life.

“MacTavish…” You warn, eyes narrowing at the stocky male, “Careful where your words go – I have a boyfriend. Plus, idiot, whatever it is your implying is insanely against workplace policy.”

“Yeah, but that boyfriend of yours treats you like shite.”

“Hey!” Yelling, your eyebrows turn in with a glare, finger pointing at his chest, “That was uncalled for, Asshat.”

Frowning, you watch Soap’s hand go scratch at the back of his head as his optics dart away, grumbling, “I don’t think it was if I’m being honest. Not exactly a prime choice in a partner you’ve got there.” 

The two of you make it to the front doors of the Barracks building, and you huff in annoyance. You were quickly deciding that not even a shower would make you feel better if this conversation continued. It was bordering on too much for your tired brain, sinking needles into your heart and dripping poison. 

Soap wasn’t lying, of course, your boyfriend was a piece of work and everyone knew it. Not only did Leon get pissed when you had to go on deployments – which you didn’t have control over – but he had also made a habit of being a bitch when you came back lately. There was never a chance to relax anymore, and what was worse was that it hadn’t always been like that. Part of you had tried to empathize with him because it was probably hard for someone's significant other to be away most of the time.

Like that gives him an excuse, You think, face heating with resentment as you remember the last argument Leon had dragged you into.

It was the day before your current deployment began nearly four months ago. Leon had gotten angry that you weren’t able to tell him where you were being shipped off to, and, like usual, had made the last day you saw him pure hell. 

“Oh, so It’s my fault that I’m concerned?!” He was screaming at the top of his lungs, his voice bouncing off the ceiling, “I get it – I’m the problem for wanting you home and safe.”

“My job is important, Leon!” Attempting to keep your cool, you take deep breaths. Teeth nash against your bottom lip and rip it to pieces as you use the pain to call away from the tears stuck in the ducts of your eyes, “You’re acting like what I do doesn’t affect the world. I need to go, otherwise, bad people are–”

“Is that what you tell yourself? Fuck me, how goddamn stupid could you be?!”

Leon growls, sending you scathing glances as he begins to pace the living room.

“Now you’re just being rude,” You whisper, whipping at your cheeks and gathering teardrops on your sleeves, “You know I can’t control when John sends me out with him and 141! They’re my team!”

Mentioning your Captain was a mistake and you knew it just as John’s name came out of your mouth. Leon pauses – his body going very still.

“John,” He whispers, eyes lit with burning fire, “Since when have you started calling him by his first name?”

“Leon–” You tried to salvage the situation but it was already too late. Your boyfriend snarls out accusation after accusation.

“I knew it! You’re cheating on me–”

“No, I’m not!” Pleading with someone to listen can only get you so far, “We’re close because we're always together – just like with the rest of the boys!” Leon shakes his head, hands clenched at his sides and vibrating with rage. Loyalty meant so much to you, trying to imagine a world where you would physically go out and cheat on your boyfriend was like seeing a unicorn out on the street. Your feet take you closer to Leon as the tensions rise, “You’re not listening! Listen to me!”

“Why the hell should I listen to a fucking whore!?”

The memory leaves you tense, remembering for a moment the sound of a tossed lamp and the shattering that followed soon after as it hit the floor. It was silly, but that lamp that Leon had thrown in anger was a family heirloom; something immeasurably precious to you. It was the last object you had left from your Grandma. Now, the remains were probably stuffed in a garbage bag somewhere, but you wouldn’t know because you had left with your duffel bag and slept at Base. At the very least you could hope your Leon cut his fingers picking up the pieces of glass.  

You had thought that everyone hadn’t noticed anything wrong, but had been catching concerned glances when you went into the cafeteria with thick bags under your eyes the next day; hair tangled and matted from your fingers.

Price had brought you outside, only pausing slightly before laying a heavy hand on your arm and squeezing. The man had bent slightly to look you in the eyes, head tilting so his hat blocked the sun from your eyes. 

“Love?” His eyes had been warm, creased with concern around the edges – an emotion you never received from Leon. When you just stared at your Captain, he hummed in the back of his throat, “You alright down there?”

Before you could do anything you might regret, you shook off his grip and disappeared back into the cafeteria. You didn’t eat that day and the next you were off on deployment.

“--soon?”

You blink, noticing Soap had begun walking ahead of you, his gear clinking.

“What?” You ask dumbly, “Sorry, I spaced out.”

Soap smirks, looking at you strangely, “I said I’ll see ya soon…hopefully out with the rest of us tonight?” He raises an eyebrow expectantly with a grin and you force out a half-assed huff. Trying to mask the unease in your blood. 

You had been gone four months instead of the intended three with Soap out in Russia on a Black Op, fighting back in a war that no one would ever hear of. Distinctly, you wondered if John was mad at you for how you acted toward him before you left.

“No promises, Suds,” Striding down the hallway you take the turn on the right leading to the women’s barracks, your back turned as Soap continues to subtly plead to you. 

If you took the time to look into it, you would have realized that the man was concerned for you; his thought process was to keep you away from Leon for as long as he could so you might come to your senses.

“I’ll see you at 0900, then! Don’t keep everyone waiting, yeah? Been too long since you’ve been out with the rest of us!” 

His voice falls away as you open the door to the joint female changing room and showers. Only when the hum of the air conditioning overhead blocks out everything else do you speak.

“You’re nothing if not persistent, MacTavish,” Putting your palms into your eyes, you press until you see stars and take a deep breath. 

Filling your lungs you hold the air trapped and begin to count to five, letting the tension in your shoulders leave as you breathe out. The room was empty of anyone else, white-walled, and tiled floors with rows of metal lockers you needed a key to get into. Digging into your vest pocket, you produce the one you would need to enter yours.

It was the one in the middle of the room, with access to the emergency door in the back and a clear view of the front door as well. Some traits stick with you when you join one of the best forces on the planet.

Since you lived around here, everything you would need was already in the locker, including a gray shirt, baggy sweats, fresh undergarments – thank God – and spare boots. Your duffel bag of belongings was still on the C-17 and set to go through inspection before you could get it back.

Groaning and deading the inevitable stack of reports you would have to go through, plus the thoughts of what to do tonight, you sit on the rickety wooden bench and begin to take off strap after strap of your uniform. 

“This is gonna be one hell of a problem, Isn’t it?” You mutter, body slouching with more and more fatigue as the seconds draw on. 

Maybe I should just stay here, You wonder to yourself, Say the hell with it to both of them and have a girl's night in. Watching a sad movie and crying over a bucket of fucking ice cream sounds better than fighting with Leon or trying to ignore John.

Chucking off your combat vest, you clench your jaw in agitation. Why couldn’t things be simple? Why couldn’t you just break it off with your boyfriend and be done? It was obvious the love that was there before was gone…but you had known Leon since high school. You bite your lip. There were so many good memories. 

John, as he usually does, weasels his way into your mind from the gaps. 

You unlock your locker and slam the door open so that the hinges rattle back in anguish. Shucking off your M13 your shaking hands all but toss the attached strap on the hook inside as you try to force the brown-haired Brit from your consciousness. You can’t call it love or lust, but somewhere in the spaces between missions and spent bullets you had grown fond of him in a way you couldn’t describe. John. Your Captain. 

As your knives and pistol are placed in the above cubie you run over hand over your face once more, pausing to breathe deeply before regaining motion. Putting your head on the locker’s cool metal corner, your eyes close tightly. 

The Black Op with Soap had been hard. You had been trying to strangle every emotion down like the ball in your throat when the Scot brought up Price or Leon during muttered conversations. 

“That’s why the Captain likes you so much, then!”

“The boy of yours is a pure dafty – why the hell would he say that to you?!”

“Price’ll have my head if you take another shot for me.”

“The two of you would make a fine looken’ couple, y’know. No missin’ the way he looks at you…Hey, now! I meant it as a compliment! Stop hitten’ me woman!”

You shouldn’t be feeling like this. Why were you feeling like this? Leon was a dick sure, but you both had fond memories together – you’d known him for more than half of your life! When you thought of someone you wanted to spend the rest of your life with it was always…

Your eyes harden as reality sets in. 

John. 

“Fuck!” Reeling backward, you curl your left fist and send it right into the locker beside your own. 

Immediately a sparking of pain ripples down your limb like lighting, firing off nerves and heating the skin as blood rushes to the affected area. Hunching your shoulder’s in, you bite your tongue and tip your head down. 

Your heart is hammering so hard you hear it echo through the room, bouncing off the tall ceiling – Knock-knock. 

Blinking, you look up, staring in confusion into the depths of your locker before you realize that wasn’t your heart at all. 

A distinctly male voice calls your name from behind the barrier, and suddenly you know why they weren’t coming in. Closing your eyes and sighing, you back up and stare at the door silently. The man calls your name again, accent muffled as knuckles rasp.

Someone’s knocking on the door…? Why would they do that? You wondered, It’s unlocked.

“I know you’re in there – the Sergeant told me where I could find you,” You could imagine the person you had just been thinking about nodding as he always does during conversations; dark eyebrows animated, “ We need to have a word before you clean up, yeah?”

“Price?” You ask, face tightening as you recognize the speech pattern before he even finishes talking. Could you really not get a moment's peace around here? Shaking out your hand, which was bleeding by the knuckles and leaves droplets on the floor, you stutter out, “W-what are you doing in the girl’s barracks?”

Your heart was already running faster than it had a moment ago. You didn’t want to talk to him right now.

The Captain sighs behind the door, and under the crack you see a shadow shuffle from one foot to the other. His voice lowers, losing that formal tone for a second. Your body reacts even as you tell it not to, and your breath gets shallow and your pupils are blown wide. “Would you open the door so I can talk to you, please, Love? I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.”

Sucking down a breath your large muscle palpitates heavily behind your ribcage. Did you really have a choice?

John, separated from you but still sensing your hesitation, feels his eyes narrow. He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about your last interaction before you left; the way your eyes were red-rimmed and dull. It had weighed on him more than he liked to admit for those few months, and it wasn’t like he could call to check-in. 

Black Ops meant no contact, and your safety was always his priority before anything else. He waited. So when Soap had knocked on John’s office door, the two of you back at Base unannounced, and had looked at him with creased eyes he had known immediately something was wrong. 

For a moment, his heart had stopped, thinking you were injured. But Johnny’s next words stopped him. 

“The girl’s been acting strange, Price. I can’t find any sense behind it – been that way damn near ever since we shipped out. Little Lady’s worrying me. She’s not right and I don’t know how to fix it.”

Maybe this was a mistake, John thinks, eyes narrowing as he itches at his beard, forcing the heated image in his mind away like it burned him. He didn’t know what he felt about you, but the knowledge that you had a boyfriend didn’t sway his sense of loyalty. Even if being around you made his chest tighten and his thoughts run.

If you were in the right headspace the door would have already been open. But then again you were in the locker room. The Captain’s head jerks back, trying not to imagine you naked just behind a thin barrier as his chest sucks in a sharp breath. 

It wasn’t his place to think of such things. To imagine you beautifully naked, laying under him and gasping out his name was…it was immoral. You deserve better than that. But damn it if the thought didn’t make his pants tighten.

A shadow moves under the door and Price straightens his spine, taking a step back before bringing his attention back to the present. Taking a deep breath, he lets it out slowly. 

Your hand lays on the door knob stiffly, shirt already untucked and boots unlaced. You probably looked a mess, you thought to yourself, sticking your tongue out of the side of your mouth with nerves. Freezing, your heart skips a beat.

Why did you care?

Growling under your breath, you swing the door open and plaster a smile over your bitten-to-hell lips that wouldn’t convince a blind man. 

“Sir,” You say, body coiled as your eyes trail your Captain’s figure.

John Price was the same man you remembered. Tall and fit, wearing an army green long-sleeved athletic shirt and cargo pants tucked into boots mirroring your own. Watching his muscles writhe, he crosses his arms over his chest and tilts his head – where the old bucket hat sits covering his shorter brown locks. 

The hallway lights were doing wonders for his complexion. 

“Do…you need something, Price?” Maybe if you didn’t look at him your head wouldn’t get fuzzy? 

Your eyes shifted up and down the hallways as if you were doing something illegal, listening to his breath and the rattle of his throat as he made a sound. 

If people saw the two of you rumors would start; you could almost hear them now.

“Did you see her talking to Captain Price outside the locker room?!”

“Lord, doesn’t she have a boyfriend here in the city? I feel bad for him...She’ll start one hell of an internal investigation.”

“No loyalty at all. I bet she likes sneaking around. Hey, do you think she’s sleeping with him?! Holy fuck I bet she is!”

“--Love? Hey, hey, Love, look at me, would you?” You blink back to reality, clearing your throat and tensing as a hand levels on your shoulder. 

Staring at John’s chest, you shake your head.

“Sorry, Sir, just tired,” You attempt a chuckle but it sounds like a balloon deflating, “Long mission, you know?”

Your eyes are boring holes in John’s chest, not willing to move anywhere else as your face begins to burn. His hand was so firm, warm, how would it feel when it was digging into the flesh of your thighs? Your waist? Would he be rough like the calluses on his hands would imply? Or would he handle you delicately like his guns, flicking over the safety and caressing the cool metal?

Shut the fuck up!

A moment passes before you notice your Captain hadn’t responded to you. Frowning, you throw him a quick glance and see him intently looking at your clenched, shaking, left hand. His blue eyes are dark, lips frozen in a thin line that has your lungs shriveling and a shiver running down your spine. You try not to follow the tensing of his lower abdominal muscles or the shifting of his large hips as his feet move.

Stop it, You plead with yourself, Please just stop. This isn’t right. What’s wrong with me?

That was the moment you noticed the blood dripping down your fingers, flooding from split knuckles and dotting the floor in red. Widening your eyes, you snap the hand behind your back in panic, clothes rustling.

“Uh,” You fumble, pulse so loud you can hear it in your ear as sweat slicks the back of your neck. Stuttering, you can’t find the words to continue before John speaks.

“Tell me,” He orders, voice so baritone and raspy you feel it rattle in your stomach; at that moment it’s not John you’re speaking to – it’s your Captain. You move out of his hold but he takes a step forward anyways, “Now.”

Freezing, you gape like a fish, mouth moving but no words come out to grace the man’s ears. John’s heart is pounding, snapping from the hidden hand to your eyes that lack the spark they usually had. He hadn’t seen that bit of light in your eyes for a long time and ached to find out why. What had happened? Why were you avoiding him? You usually went straight to his office after you got back from being separated from him – even if you were full of blood and dirt with bags lining your eyes. 

John’s hands clench, jaw following suit. 

You sigh shakily, swallow down saliva, and try not to throw up. 

“I-I…” Moving your head, your fingers shake. How could you explain your situation? Tell your Captain – who you have complicated feelings for – that you wanted to end things with Leon because of him? Fuck, do you tell him how shitty your boyfriend’s been? That wasn’t his business and certainly not his problem. It was better if you held your tongue and suffered, a part of you knew, because the infection of misplaced guilt was wrapped around your heart like thorns.

John would think less of you for staying with Leon for this long; probably put you on leave to figure it out yourself. 

No, You try to tell yourself, He wouldn’t do that – this is John we’re talking about. He’s kind to me and, if anything, he’d be just as pissed as I am about it. 

That you knew was true. John would go to war to make sure you were alright; he had.

The man was silently standing, patient with you even as the telltale sign of concern and muted irritation were painted on his face. John had always been a gentleman – holding doors open for you, letting you sleep in when the nightmares got to you and left you huddled in a corner for hours. He had found your favorite candy on an Op in Italy and bought you some for fucks sake!

But nothing made sense anymore and everything felt like it was at a breaking point. You liked Price – and hated Leon – and that fact nearly sent you spiraling into hysterics. You had been with your boyfriend for so long; he had been everything to you. 

Leon had helped you get through deaths in your family, and before the fighting started, ordered you flowers when you came back from deployments; Leon cooked and cleaned without you having to ask. He knew your life story possibly better than you did, and you knew his.

Your entire life was spent with him. Who were you if all of it suddenly ended? Years of your life thrown away for nothing.

If there was one thing that everyone on Base knew besides that your boyfriend was a bitch, it was that you hated change more than anything. Ironic, considering the profession you were in. 

You just needed silence – space to breathe without getting suffocated. But maybe what you really wanted was for John to fucking hug you. To feel his bear arms wrap around you and squeeze the stubborn tears out of your eyes as you sob. When was the last time you actually cried, anyways? John would make it better; hold you like he cared about you. Like how he had in Madagascar when a bullet got lodged in your side. You swore you saw him cry that day, beautiful blues shiny as your blood pooled out of his heavy, adrenaline-shaking, fingers. The body of the man who jumped you both lay dead and filled with more metal than a construction zone not a few feet away, gurgling. 

That man was supposed to be the target – Hubert Antonin – and you were both supposed to bring him in alive; you never got execute authority. 

But Price had unloaded the clip on him right as you cried out in pain.

“Stay with me, Princess, c’mon. Keep your eyes open for me…Look at me, Love. Hey, I promised I’d get ya’ back safe. Don’t make me lie, now, yeah?”

A weak, velvety, chuckle meets the humid air. It was startling, watching him lose his composure like that.

“It b-burns, John. I…I can’t–”

“I know, Sweetheart, I know. I’ll get you fixed up and good to go soon, Copy? Just like new,” His wild eyes snapped back and forth as your eyesight gets blurry, lids flickering like a candle’s flame, “Where the fucken’ hell is Evac?!... No, no, no…What did I just tell you – Keep those eyes open, Muppet!”

When you were stable in the Med Ward of the local Base, the man had brought you to his chest, letting you feel the rampaging of his heart and the uneven breaths on the top of your head. His hands tightened over you, fingers brushing up and down over your arms. Like he was worshiping you just for living. For being there.

“Attagirl. Just let me hold you for a minute, yeah?” 

As you recovered, he never let you out of his sight. 

If you thought about it too hard, that was perhaps the first instance when you knew something was very wrong with you for liking the feeling of his skin touching yours. His body heat melting into you in such a tight embrace it left you crying into his chest in thankfulness. You had never felt that when hugging Leon – Leon hated hugs to the point you had to beg him to hold you. 

But thinking about that was just another pipedream. Nothing about John Price and yourself would ever come to light as being anything more than partners on the Task Force. 

He was your Captain. You were working under him. 

You had a boyfriend. John had a valuable asset. 

But you really wanted him to be yours. And, never mind how Price felt about you and if it was the same twisted form of disloyalty or lust, you still hated yourself for it. For feeling so deeply.

“No,” You respond blankly to John’s request for an explanation of…everything, but can’t look into his eyes to see the shock that sparks. 

John's shoulders tense, jaw going slack. He gains his senses, but it’s already too late. 

Jerking back into the locker room, you slam it shut behind you and snap the lock in place, feeling the quivering of your lips as the first sob builds. 

Your skin was dirty and layered with grime, hair matted, and gear in need of deep cleaning. But that feeling you carried didn’t change even as you took a shower, wiping away everything down a drain with red-tinged water as a shadow hesitated for a long moment before confidently moving away from the front door.

You still felt disgusting. 

—

Nothing you did made sense to him. 

John was walking away from the locker room with measured steps, head pounding. People passed by and gave him strange looks, but his eyes were dead ahead, glaring at everything and nothing at the same time. This wasn’t like you at all. 

She’s been acting strange for months, why haven’t I bloody checked in sooner? Your actions reminded him of a ghost – walking around the halls at night and steadily dimming. The whole team had seen it; how there was a weight eating at you. Price and the others had tried to get you to talk to no avail. 

I need to do something about this, He tells himself as a thought worms its way into his brain.

Could she be angry at me? Now that he thought about it, every time he was near you trying to engage in a conversation you froze and made some excuse to not speak. And with how you looked at him before you slammed the door in his face…John had stayed shell-shocked behind the barrier with half a mind to rush in and demand you tell him what was wrong. 

But he knew that would only make it worse.  

“She needs time to cool off,” He mutters under his breath, rubbing at his forehead with his fingers and holding his head for a moment, “Get her head on straight.”

But what if you never chose to seek him out after the fact? Could he handle that? 

Why do I want her to come to me when she’s hurting? He wonders with a clenched jaw.

Taking a corner and leaving the Women’s Barracks, John sighs as he walks on. His feelings were getting in the way again – his feelings about you that he had tried to choke down like whisky. Ironic, that it left the same burning sensation in his neck. There was only so much he could do about them, truth be told, because everything about you made the Captain want to disregard every order he’s given. 

It wasn’t right, it was the definition of wrong in both of your lines of work, but this was the one situation he didn’t know how to fix. So he kept silent. 

You had a boyfriend, and that was enough to stay his tongue and keep him watching from a distance.

John made it back to his office quickly and quietly, but would soon find that trying to get reports done was impossible. When his pen would hit the paper his mind would blank, and many times he would have to re-read the contents over and over to retain anything. 

“Fuck,” He breathes out, baring his teeth and leaning back in his chair. 

The most he could do was sit there and wait until tonight; hoping that the bar that Soap was bringing the Task Force to had good Whisky. 

Try as he might, he knows getting drunk would only make him think of you more.

—

The car ride to your house was spent in silence, a sheen of rain making the sky dark. Under you, the fake leather seats are cold, leaving you shivering even as you were wrapped in a thick sweatshirt and your spare cargo pants. Gripping the wheel tighter as the quiet road went on and on ahead of you, the street lamps shine on the old sidewalks corralling you in. 

You had made the tough decision to surprise Leon when you got home. 

Lips thinning, all you can hope is that the stewing anger that had been left behind had calmed and not worsened. But Leon held grudges, and, unfortunately, so did you. Your Grandma’s lamp still made your heart ache if you thought about it too much; left bitter tears and a bare esophagus behind.

He had stepped over a big line – one you weren’t sure you could forgive him for. Sighing and shaking your head, you watch the dark road as the chilled cloud of condensation is expelled from your mouth. It seems you had forgotten to turn the heat on too. 

Taking a turn, you pull the vehicle to a slow stop as its brakes squeal. Months of sitting in the Base’s underground garage would do that to you, but you still grimace at the noise that makes your face tense. Maybe Ghost would fix up your car like last time so you wouldn’t have to fork over a fortune at the dealership downtown. 

You can’t hide the small smile that comes at the idea. Simon pretended to be such a grump all the time, but he had his moments.

Coming to a full stop, you turn the car to park and look outside through the deluge. 

“At least that hasn’t changed,” You utter, breath fogging the window as lashes of rainwater race down the glass, “It still looks as perfect as ever.” 

The house was brightly lit, painted white, and had a large Oak door in the center. In the front, there was a black iron fence with a small gate and a latch. Looking, a prickly sensation enters your body and your fingers twitch over the wheel inexplicably. Your eyes run from one window to the other, all with warm light streaming out from behind the curtains, and furrow. With one hand you go to itch at your nose.

Why were all the lights on anyways? It’s like ten at night…Not the point, I’m stalling.

“Just go and speak to him,” You mutter to yourself, nodding firmly. But your lungs contracted in your ribcage in blatant retaliation. 

You wished playing therapist with yourself was easier.

Turning off the car and stuffing the keys in your pants pocket, you unclipped your seatbelt and turned to grab your small carry bag. Since the Base was so close there was really no need to bring your duffel bag. You’d be back there tomorrow for de-briefings with Price anyways; writing out papers and sighing confidentiality documents until your eyes bled. Would John bring you tea this time to help you stay awake? Or would he give you that look that meant – ‘Go to sleep right now, or do I have to order you to your bed?’

John would give in occasionally, and sit with you as you worked. He would read, or, you would take a break and play trivia with him; sometimes you asked him to tell stories. You really liked his stories. 

On even rarer cases, when the contents of the report brought up bad memories that left your face blank, he would tell you one of his tales unprompted. Usually, after that warm and selfless event, you would wake up back in your bed without the knowledge of ever falling asleep at all. But there would always be a note. Handwritten on your nightstand. 

John Price hand wrote you notes on crappy lined paper with his chicken scratch lettering. You remembered blushing every time you got one and had your favorite memorized word for word. It had meant so much to get one, Leon never wrote letters. 

“Guess my stories are more boring than I knew, Love, you passed out nearly immediately into the first one. Do me a favor, yeah, and sleep in today? Don’t worry about morning drills. I’ve already dismissed you. Sleep tight. 

– John”

Clenching your jaw, you shake your head and close your eyes. Thinking about seeing him tomorrow makes you sick.  

More opportunities to make a fool of myself and cause him to hate me. God, I fucking slammed a door in his face because I couldn’t get a grip. What’s wrong with me? He doesn’t deserve that.

You can’t keep living like this anymore, you try to tell yourself as you dig through your bag. Grabbing your phone, you’re about to shove it in your pocket beside the keys when it lights up, showcasing the wallpaper of you and the boys on a past Op from years ago. 

Everyone had their full gear on, weapons around fronts, and armed to the teeth. Full of blood and other substances. 

It was your favorite picture and you even had it printed out on your nightstand at Base.

John had his arm over your shoulder, staring at you softly with his head covered by his hat – which had burn marks on it – as you pointed a finger into Gaz’s smug, smile-split, face. Soap’s laughing and holding his stomach as Ghost at his side has a hand to his masked face in exasperation. 

You blink in surprise at the text message from your Sergeant as it pops up.

“Soap’s texting me?” Your mind wonders, and you roll your eyes, “I already said I wasn’t going out.” Not looking and turning your phone off, you shove it in your pocket but can’t hide the small sense of annoyance, “I spent four months with the guy in Russia, sorry, but I need a break from him before my brain explodes.”

Opening the car door, you flinch as rain batters your head and stains your clothes, but you just swing your bag over your shoulder and slam it shut behind you. Locking it with the fob, you make your way quickly to the front door, slipping past the metal gate without mishap and jogging over the lawn to the two front steps. Scaling them, you stand under the portico and look behind you, gazing up and down the street. You watch for a moment the family who lives across the street – they were watching a movie in the living room, huddled on the couch. 

Jerking your head back, you take out your house key and insert it into the lock with a grim face. Twisting, your skin shivers once more as a bout of wind shakes your baggy clothes just as you hear the familiar click of the front door unlocking. 

But that damn lamp. Grandma’s lamp. And John’s blue eyes filled with concern for you. His hands. 

When had this place stopped being home for you?

“Just speak to him,” You repeat a second time, gripping the doorknob, “Get it over with like an adult and forgive each other…” 

You clench your jaw and wrench the door open, shaking your head to dispel the water weighing the locks down like a wet dog. Stepping inside with heavy feet, you close the door quietly behind you and lock it. 

“Leon…?” You wonder out loud, slipping your gaze from the empty couch to the blaring TV as you slip off your boots. Muttering under your breath you add, “Where are you?”

“--And in more local news, the grand opening of the downtown café “Four Horseman” has wracked in a whopping profit of–”

Your fingers flicked off the news, the woman’s voice suddenly halting from the speakers. Frowning, your ears twitch. 

What’s that noise?

“Oh, Leon!” Freezing, your legs tense, hands at your sides gradually tightening into fists. Blinking in surprise, your heart begins to pump adrenaline through your veins with the efficiency of a racehorse. You don’t know that voice, “Just like that!”

But you weren’t stupid.

A certain type of dread infects your brain that leaves your mouth opening in shock; eyebrows peeling back to travel up your forehead. Before you tell yourself that it was better just to leave the house now, while your mind is unbroken, you can’t stop your already moving feet. 

You barrel down the hallway to get to the master bedroom, where you shove on the already partially open barrier with a heavy slam. Rage burns in your gut, spreading like a disease into the thin tissue and bleeding out; proliferating with relentless reach.  

Leon was over a random girl in your bed, half-naked and pants already being dragged down his hips by feminine legs. The woman was already bare, perfect skin glowing in the low light of red candles. 

Your rage freezes with a layer of thin ice, and your heart hammers. Sweat gathers in your clenched palms as the stranger’s scream enters the room. Both were already watching you in horror. Leon halts his actions of being knuckle-deep in the girl – the woman had seen you and snapped her hands to the ruined sheets of your bed to try and cover herself with a desperate scream.

“Leon?!” She yells out, face becoming bright as the scent of expensive perfume makes your nose twitch, “Who the fuck is that?!” 

Blankly, you turn your head to look at your boyfriend – former boyfriend. 

“Yeah, Leon,” You’re surprised by the firmness of your voice, the dead tone hurled out with no remorse. It betrays how you really feel. Tears burn the backs of your eyes, and your lungs hurt when you suck in quiet breaths to help your composure, “Do you wanna explain who I am? Or just how you’re fucking another woman on our bed.”

Leon’s eyes are comically wide, mouth agape and fluttering. Cruel satisfaction brews in your heart as your lips flicker into a dark smirk; anger was better than tears, you decided. 

“Our bed?! You said you were single!” The woman gasps, snapping her head to the man still above her, “Get the hell off me!” 

Shoving Leon, you watch the girl scramble to grab her clothes all over the floor as she apologizes to you. 

“I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t know that he had–”

“Just get out, please,” You mutter under your breath, and the lady zips past with her shirt only half on and her bra hooked between her fingers. 

“Baby,” Leon looks like he’s about to cry, getting to his knees on the mattress and you catch a glimpse of his boxers with cows printed on them. 

Before you had found those enduring – maybe even cute in a dorkish sort of way – but now you realized it was just pathetic. He was pathetic.

“Baby, I swear this isn’t what it looks like!” His fingers are glistening, and his pants are stained. 

You blankly stare at the stranger who inhabits your ex’s body and say nothing back; watching as Leon scrambles for an explanation that changes nothing. There was an absence of anything you loved in this house. 

“Hope it was worth it,” Blankly speaking, you turn around and leave, feet slamming into the floor as Leon calls to you pleadingly. 

“Please! I didn’t–” His voice cuts out as a thump echoes over the home, like someone falling out of a bed before a yelp takes its place. Not slowing, you slip your boots on and unlock the front door. 

Just as fast footsteps rush to the foyer you slam the door behind your back and descend the steps, no longer caring about the rain as you walk in a trance-like state. It hadn’t really hit you yet what had happened, but it was starting too. 

Your breath was getting thinner, hands shaking as your shoulders hunched and waterfalls down your face and neck. The bag over your shoulder is now ten times heavier than it was before.

The door slams open just as you exit the black-iron gate and unlock your car.

“Babe, come back inside, let's talk about this!” Leon screams, and his bare feet seem to slap over the drowned lawn, “You just need to sit down and I’ll speak and explain why I’ve been sleeping with Maxine!”

Your hand freezes on the car handle, slick metal stuck under your grip. 

You whirl around with fire in your eyes, lips snarling.

“Sleeping!?” With your face contouring, your loud voice carries over the storm as Leon – who had gotten quite close by now – reels back a step, “As in this has happened before, you goddamn prick?! How long have you been cheating on me while I’ve been risking my fucking life to get back home to you?!”

Leon’s face twists as you look him in the eyes, nose scrunching.

“Oh, don’t stay on your high horse,” He growls, hands animating his words as you try and keep your cool, “We both know you’ve been cheating far longer than I have.”

“Do we?!” It’s past the point of sense now, and the other lights from the once-dark houses begin flickering their outside lights on from all the noise, “I’ve never fucked anyone while I was out, Leon. You can’t say that, can you?!” 

“You don’t need someone to stick their dick in you to cheat. You’re just as bad as me – John Price must be one helluva guy to ruin a relationship that started when we were teenagers.”

Your breath stutters, and after a moment of shocked silence you shake your head in disbelief, “You’re a bastard, Leon…I wish I’d never met you. Wish I’d never wasted my time with a pathetic man like you. Maybe John is one helluva guy, hm? Maybe I’ll have to tell him that myself.”

Leon’s eyes were red, and his lips, just like yours, quivered as he tried to come up with an answer. You turn around before you can sob and reach for the door once more. 

A heavy weight settled on your arm, your Ex’s fingers suddenly squeezing your skin so hard your lips let loose a muted gasp. Trying to rip your arm away, you tilt your head to look back at Leon.

“Let go of me,” You say the words slowly, feeling rainwater travel down the bridge of your nose and splash to your shoulder, “Now.”

Leon’s hand only tightens, and you hiss, feeling blood vessels pop under the pressure.

“You’re coming back inside and you’re going to listen to what I tell you,” Leon leans closer, eyes dark, “I’m not taking ‘no’ for an–”

Your fist connects with his cheek, and a second later you’re nursing your sensitive knuckles, shaking out your hand and grimacing. Whining reminiscent of a wounded duck rips over the night, and, gripping at his face, Leon lays on the ground half-naked and less of a man than he’d ever been – which was an achievement, to say the least. 

You should have broken up with him years ago. John would never treat you like this.

Getting into your car, you sit down and lock the doors behind you as you insert the key, twisting and feeling it jerking to life. With morbid curiosity, you turn to the opposite window and look at the house across the street.

The family was at the window, no longer enraptured by their TV, and the mother had a hand over her mouth. She was in the process of turning her children away from the scene as the other parent stood watching, slack-jawed. 

Blinking, you don’t know if it’s tears or rain that you’re forcing away from your eyes, but the burning tells you which option you should put your money on. Wiping at your face and sucking down shuddering breaths, you press on the pedal and peel away from the white house with a large Oak door. Taking a peak at the mirror, you spy a man trying to get back to his feet but stumbles, falling once more and slamming into a puddle. 

Driving, you only make it to the next street before you park on the side of the road, your whole body shaking and gasping for breath. With the adrenaline dying down, the pain in your arm becomes prominent, making pain spark as you shift it. The area would most likely bruise. 

Your lips twist and a small whimper leaves your mouth. You smack your forehead to the wheel, hands falling like lead to your lap as a sniffle weasels its way out; tears begin to smack your thighs, gradually increasing until you were concerned your car would flood. 

Crying was never your thing. With all the sights you’d seen, tears felt so small compared to every other horror – they meant nothing in the grand scheme of events taking place. All they were good at was making your nose run and your skin get hot. 

John’s seen me cry before, Your thoughts are running so fast it’s a strange circumstance that they stop when your Captain’s name is filtered through. 

Price had found you in the bathroom, covered in dried blood and shaking just as you were in the present. There had been an accident on the recent Op – a kid had gotten caught in the crossfire and had taken a bullet to the stomach. You had held him as he died; seen the light in his eyes leave in one fell swoop as you drowned in his blood trying to stop the bleeding.

That was what led up to you rushing off the Helo, finding the first bathroom on Base, and rushing inside to throw your guts up. John, of course, had followed close at your heels with fast feet.

“Love,” He said from outside the door slowly, “I’m coming in.” 

Shell-shocked, your hands were strained as you gripped the sides of the toilet, not even picking up on the concern leaking from his tone. Wide-eyed, you stare blankly at the vile contents inside the bowl – throat burning with acid as the image of that dying kid plays on repeat. 

The door opens hesitantly as if any major noise would break you, the hinges squeaking. A pair of feet carefully pad over the tile towards your hunched figure. When his hand slides over your back, his shadow comes to encompass you, shrouding you in its comforting darkness. He made it better.

John’s grip slides back and forth over the gear and other objects along your figure. You hadn’t bothered to take anything off, in fact, your gun was still strapped around your chest and weighing you down. It hit against the toilet with a ‘clink’ every time you moved.

“Sweetheart?” John mutters, body curling around yours.

“He wasn’t supposed to be there,” You say the words numbly as you glance at the blood on your hands with muted horror, “I…I…He should have been with the other civilians. He wasn’t…”

“I know,” Price whispers, grunting, watching you as your mind breaks to try and think through this, “I know, Love.”

When he knows your stomach has settled, you feel him carefully grab your shoulders and lean you back against the opposite wall. It was like a ramshackle hug, but the feeling of his body pressing into yours made you fall limp. You were safe here. Protected. His fingers go to your weapon, taking it off of you and setting it on the ground as he knees at your side. Soon after goes the combat vest, John pulling at the velcro with confidence. Your body jerks as he peels it off. 

“Lift your arms for me, yeah?” Doing as he says, the article is set by your gun and pushed aside, “Attagirl, just like that.”

The man keeps a hand on your arm, rubbing his thumb back and forth. He was closer than he needed to be, but that was alright. 

Looking down, your thousand-yard stare locks to the blood staining your skin, getting stuck in the grooves and the beds of your nails. Would water even wash it off? You had wondered in silent panic. What if it never came off? John’s other hand gravitates to your cheek and the increased sound of your breath is accented by a sharp inhale.

Blinking to push back the nothingness of your gaze, tears dribble from your tear ducts as your eyes lock with his. 

John looked so sad. 

His expression was pained, lips downturned and eyes painfully narrowed on your form; his eyebrows were pressed in on his forehead, curing in the center and creating creases over his flesh. The beard – still filled with dirt and grime – moved as his lips did.

“Focus on me, alright?” You nod, shakily, and watch his optics flick from one part of your face to another, “That wasn’t your fault.” 

“John,” You whimper, the dam breaking every moment his fingers move and caress your skin. His grip travels to the back of your neck and brings your face to his shoulder, letting you sag into him on a dirty bathroom floor. 

“It’s okay,” He mutters into your hair, lips moving as your hands snap to dig into his vest. His hat was pressing into your scalp – grounding you in the present just as his heartbeat was. The muscle was strong in his chest, pounding, “It’s all gonna be alright, Kid. I need you to know it wasn’t your fault,” John sighs, trying to draw you closer, “You did the best you could. I’m proud of you.”

“He wasn’t supposed to be there,” You sob, and repeat the sentence once more, like, if you did, whatever God out there would bring the boy back to life. Your lips pull back in pain, wails exiting. 

“I know,” John responded, voice so low your sounds of anguish almost covered it up. His grip tightens, and he lays a kiss on the top of your head. 

You knew, then, that John would give anything to take away your pain. But what he didn’t know was that you would replay his words in your mind to stave off the nightmares – use the image of his face to bring you stability when you woke up mid panic attack. 

It was the only time you didn’t hate crying, because John’s warmth had made it better. Had made it mean something. 

You both spend a long time on that bathroom floor.

When you had spent at least an hour collecting your thoughts in that frigid car, you finally checked your phone. 

Fifty-seven missed calls and thirty-five texts from Leon. Chuckling humorlessly and shaking your head in disbelief, you block him with a quick tap; it was over. You’re about to chuck the phone and go back to Base, but then you pause, eyes locking on a single text notification left on the screen.

Soap: If ya change your mind….’Bottom’s Up Bar’… ;)

He lists the address just below, and your eyes bore into it.

“Fuck it,” Your hoarse voice echoes out in the cool car air, “I need a drink anyways.”

—

Price sits on the bar stool in a black woolen trench coat and a dark beanie, nursing a glass of whisky in his hands that rests against the counter. 

“What’s with the long face, Captain,” Gaz sits at his side, the stools under them uncomfortable and threatening to give out from under them if one happens to take too deep a breath. Soap and Ghost are over playing pool, and the TV behind the counter was showing reruns of some hockey game that was absent of watchers. No one else was there beside them, “Whisky not up to par?” 

“It tastes like piss water,” John mutters but still brings the glass to his lips, taking a slow sip, “But I’ve had worse, Sergeant. You?” 

Gaz smirks, “I’ve had worse…Just tell Soap that I’m never letting him pick the bar ever again. Man’s bloody taste buds must be burned off if he calls this quality.” 

John grunts, tilting his head to the side in an affirmative nod. 

The area lapses into silence, the sound of billiard balls connecting to a cue stick loud as the smell of tobacco and cheap beer perforated the air. There weren’t any civvies left in the old-style building, and outside the rainstorm pounded against the front windows deterring anyone from venturing outside. The group probably should have stayed on Base, but Johnny had been insistent to the point everyone just gave in to the Scot’s demands.

After all, what harm could one drink do? They were all tired.

“Do you think she’ll show?” Gaz asks as the TV erupts with cheers; someone had scored, apparently. The Captain was never one for hockey – Liverpool was his go-to for football teams, and that was about it. In fact, he had a game to catch up on later if he could get the hell out of here in a timely fashion.

Gaz’s question makes the man lightly startle, sliding his gaze to his Sergeant with a sharply raised brow. He brings the glass to his lips once more and takes a swig, missing out on the burn that was found in his own Whisky stash back at his flat in London. It’s not hard to tell who Gaz is talking about. 

“Unlikely,” John speaks through a sigh, going back to mindlessly watching the television as the bartender filters past to clean a table in the far corner. Soap cheers from the pool table, “Her…boyfriend’s making her dinner. Always does when she gets back.”

“Hm,” Gaz chuffs, “Lucky sod,” The Sergeant pauses, and John takes a deep breath at the mischievous tone the man beside him earns. It was too late at night for this bullshit, “I bet you wouldn’t mind having the girl in your home while you make her supper, eh, Cap?”

“Garrick,” Price says the last name slowly, fingers tightening over the cup on the table, “You want to be on sanitation duty for a month – two?”

“...Sir?” Letting out a nervous chuckle, Gaz sends a quick glance to Soap whose ears had quirked at the conversation a few feet away.

“Then I suggest you stop acting like a Muppet and mind your damn business. The girl is her own woman and deserves her privacy,” John sends a narrowed glance with a quirked eyebrow and a warning in his suddenly darker eyes, “Copy?”

“Copy, Sir…Apologies.”

“Don’t let it happen again,” John levels, twirling his glass in his large fingers before tossing back the last remnants inside. Swallowing, he stands and fixes the position of his beanie, feeling his bones creak with fatigue. 

To everyone at the bar, Price looked annoyed that you had been brought up, but those who knew him best could tell that much more was going on. The man had kept the side of his eye on the front door the entire time 141 had been at the bar, shoe tapping against the dark wood floors as hours passed. Even more telling, Gaz had noticed that John had only had one glass of Whisky tonight – even if it tasted horrible the Captain was bound to drink at least three when they all went out. 

It was tradition; everyone knew it. Captain Price of the 141 always had three glasses. Always. You would attest to that, considering that when you tagged along you made fun of him for it. 

“You always have three glasses – I’ve never, for the life of me, figured out why it's always three! Do you never think ‘Oh, gee golly, maybe I’ll bloody have another lad, be a merry good Muppet and pour me another, yeah?’’

Your horrendously exaggerated British accent led to a few snickers that night, and Gaz had seen his Captain’s full body laugh for the first time; watching John sputtering as he coughed down the drink he had been sipping from. 

“Love,” The man had stared at you with a deep smile, eyes crinkling, “Whatever just came out of your mouth, yeah? Never do that in my presence again. Accent’s shaken’ more than your hands when you have to stitch me up.” 

“My stitches aren’t that bad, Asshat! You just move too fucken’ much!”

John scratches his forehead in the present and brushes off his jacket. 

“Alright, Muppets…I think that’s it for the–” 

The bell at the front door jingles. 

Snapping his head over, Price freezes just as he sticks his hands in his jeans pockets, the grumbled words dying on his parted lips. 

A figure was standing at the entrance, soaked to the bone and shivering like a sphinx cat in a snowstorm; water dripped from her nose to the rug. John’s jaw slightly slackens, eyes wide and snapping back and forth. 

You were standing there, eyes gravitating from Soap and Ghost’s pool game – which had halted immediately at your sudden presence – until you blink a raindrop from your eyelashes and lock eyes with John. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Your voice sounds like gravel, Price notes, head slowly tilting to try and understand why His legs had to tense to stop him from rushing over, his training alerting him to the redness of your eyes. You had been crying, why? “Storm’s coming down pretty hard, huh?” Attempting a chuckle, it seems to fall flat.

“Holy shit, Love,” Gaz mutters, snatching a rag from behind the counter of the bar and ignoring the complaints from the worker. He rushes past John, who continues to stare at you and fight his own subconscious, “Did you walk here?”

The Sergeant blinks at you in concern, eyes filtering up and down your body as he stands close and holds aloft the fabric.

“Nah,” Price watched you snatch the towel, going to pat it on your face and neck – running it over your hair and gripping, “Was outside for a little bit, but I came in the car…Oh, speaking of that, Simon,” You turn to the large man who bores his eyes into your face, “The brakes are acting up again – you think you could fix it up back on Base in your free time?”

Ghost taps the cue stick against the ground, lips behind his balaclava shifting as he speaks, “You goin’ to make me fix it up every time you get back? What do I look like, Bird? A mechanic?”

A weak smirk flickers over your lips, but John notices a particular bleakness in your eyes. Soap, who thus far had been strangely quiet, looks at him with flat lips and a small shake of his mohawked head.

Enough is enough, Price decides with a stubble tilt of his forehead, I’ve given her the space she needs – she’s telling me everything. Tonight.

His jaw clenches, and he pulls his hands out of his pockets just to cross them over his chest when you respond to Simon.

“I’ll clean your clothes for a month.” 

“...Two.”

“Deal,” Nodding, you smile at Gaz in thanks and splay the towel over the banister beside you to help it dry, “Thanks, Gaz.”

“What happened to dinner with the Stoter?” Soap finally speaks as you make your way farther into the building. You send him a quick glance as you walk closer to John at the booth. The Scot levels you with a heavy stare, feet shoulder-length apart and jaw clicking, “He do something?” 

A tense silence falls, and all the men send each other looks as you slink to the bar, jumping up on a stool and clearing your throat. You itch at the side of your bicep as you lick your lips in hesitation. 

Why were you not saying anything?

John buries his fingernails into the meat of his arms, taking your lack of answer like a knife to the chest. It was like a switch had flipped as he saw your expression drop for a millisecond, layers cracking like you were barely held together. The veins in the Captain’s arms were flooded with blood, and his hands showed white knuckles. 

There was a terrible reality settling behind his eyelids, and the man wasn’t in his job position because he was anything less than an observer. He was angry, that much was obvious by his tight jaw and dangerous eyes on the side of your face. 

But there was something more important than revenge, and she was sitting right in front of him.

Your clothes are still dripping with water, and without hesitating when he spies you shiver, John shakes off his jacket and spreads it softly over your shoulders. When you jerk back in surprise he feels a part of him break, but steadies you with a thin quirk of his lips and pulls the front of the woolen material farther over your form.

What’s that fucken’ prat done to her? He growls internally, Mark my words…

The Captain’s eyes carefully narrow, orbs sliding over your face. His thumb goes to swipe a tear of water from your hairline and breathes out a sigh when your eyelids flutter.

Looking at your Captain with vulnerable eyes, you answer Soap’s question with a muttered, defeated, tone. It was like you were talking to your superior and not the man at the pool table.

“We...uh, I, broke up with him,” A moment of silence. Two. 

John feels like he’s frozen in time, his body stiff, and his lungs shell-shocked. But in the farthest, most forced-down bits of his consciousness, he thinks there’s a part of him that’s…Christ, is he happy?

He nearly has to turn and leave to take a breather – gain his composure at his own disgusting thoughts – but your eyes hold him captive, unblinking despite the revelation.

You had…broken up with Leon. Your boyfriend.

John’s eyes slowly widen. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

—

“Well, It’s about damn time,” Soap interjects into the moment, gleeful, and you feel your eyes slip away from the cerulean blues of John’s widened sockets, in favor of the table-top, “Erm, no offense, of course, but that’s great news!”

“Shut up!” Gaz hisses, going over to slap at MacTavish’s arm, “Can’t you see she’s bloody gutted about it – idiot!” 

“Hey, now. That excuse for a man was in no way worthy of being with a beauty like her–”

“Johnny,” Ghost utters lowly, the only one able to see your quickly deteriorating state besides the Captain who tries to comfort you, “Shut your trap.”

“C’mon L.t, you had to have seen how he…” Soap stops, finally looking at you, and the chuckle that had been building in his throat dissolved. 

A hand settles on your shoulder, and you blink out of your trance, slowly turning your head to look out of the corner of your eye. John squeezes, and you find that his grip over his gifted jacket is warmer than anything you remember. But you don’t look at his face, instead, you tilt your head down and fold your arms on the counter, slotting your skull in the middle of them. 

John’s hand gravitates to your back and rubs small circles, and above you, he mutters, “Talk to me, Love.”

“He…” You interrupt, hands tightening into fists. Your eyes burned something fierce, but you can just blame the shaking of your body on the wet clothes, “I was going to surprise him. He didn’t know that I was back in town yet, anyways. But, uh, he’s been cheating on me, I guess…Found ‘em in bed.”

Price’s hand stutters over its coarse, but he clears his throat and continues as your stomach tightens, 

“Son of a fucken’ bastard,” Simon’s the first one to speak – which would have surprised you if you’d been paying attention, “That prick did what?” 

Gaz murmurs, “Shit..,” off to the side, but your hidden gaze doesn’t bother to move as Soap lets off a string of curses and insults on Leon’s name. 

The hand over your back is intoxicating, and you feel drunk as you focus on it. John’s fingers dig into his jacket, but just enough for you to feel his nails create a light stimulation through the layers. There was a sense to his actions, you know. He was trying to ground you; he wanted you to focus on his caress. 

You didn’t want to admit how well it was working.

But it was a good thing he did because you have a feeling if he wasn’t there you’d be replaying the events of tonight in your mind one after the other like a fucked up movie.

Leon really did that, You suck in a shaky breath that leaves John moving closer, and you hear muttered conversations from above you, All of those years…Did I really miss something as obvious as him cheating on me? 

It couldn’t be helped.

When you came back from deployments your mind let go of the hyper-focus that was ingrained into you – that Price had ingrained into you – and settled into a haze of sanctity. Home meant food, sleep, and a place of comfort. But when the fighting started you suppose a part of that focus came back to you, blocking out everything that didn’t matter. 

Missing pictures, clothes stuffed where they shouldn’t be, your hair products hidden. They were pointless in the grand scheme of things because you were at battle in your own house. It was small compared to your breaking relationship. 

Maybe that’s when I stopped loving him, You reason, and it’s the first time you admit you didn’t care about Leon in that way anymore, When the fighting started. Did I unconsciously know what he’d done?

You had been more irritable when you were back at the house, some fights even instigated by you.

“But how did I miss it…?” You can’t help but whisper, strained, into the woodgrain of the counter in your cocoon. 

“None of that,” John suddenly says, voice low, and his hand over you halts, “That’s a good way to mess your head up, that is, Love. Just stay here.” 

Shivering, you sniffle, lungs stuttering and with a hot face stained with embarrassment, you whimper out, “I’m such an idiot.” 

The stool beside you screeches as it’s pulled out. 

“You say that again I’m leaving you on desk rotation for a week,” John grunts, and from your hiding place your head shifts, one eye peeking out from over your arm. You find the man glaring at you so heatedly you pause as tears start to leak down your cheeks once more, “I mean it. None of that bullshit – you are not at fault – that,” He pauses, and you see his chest sputter as he tries to collect himself. Price’s eyes flash with rage before it’s gone in an instant, “That’s the bloody bastard’s cross to carry, Love. Understand me?”

You stare at him; at his boiling blue eyes as the sound of a hockey game plays in the background of this shitty bar. The warm lights overhead gather in them to flicker like stars when he blinks, creating constellations for you to memorize when his eyelids once more pull back.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” He levels, head with that black beanie tilting closer, “Copy?”

“Copy,” You croak out, blinking to clear the fuzziness of your eyes. Reaching one of your hands, you pull the jacket closer around your neck. It smells like John, and whether you notice it or not, the tension in your muscles leaks when you inhale smoke, pine trees, and gunpowder. 

Patting you on the back, the man stares into you, optics stuck on the image of your tear-stained cheeks and dripping hair. His trench coat was most likely going to be soaked, but he found he didn’t care. If it brought you comfort, the outrageous price he paid for it would be made back tenfold. Maybe he’d even let you keep it; didn’t matter if it was his favorite, he would give you the shirt off his back if you asked for it. 

Not able to stop the words coming out of his mouth when you meet his gaze with fluttering eyelashes, John speaks once more as he feels the gazes of his teammates around him. But the words came easily.

“You didn’t deserve to come home to that. That boy doesn’t know what he’s just lost, alright?” When he sees your cheeks move in a small, barely-there smile, and the way your eyes lit with embers at his teasing tone, the Captain let a smirk of his own fall. But he still refused to speak Leon’s name aloud – his own anger was held on a thin string that was fraying by the moment. You? Getting cheated on? Who in their right mind would do that?! The Muppet didn’t deserve to have your perfect ears twitch at his name ever again, “At least tell me you ripped him a new pair, Love? If not, I’ll have to review your training exercises. Maybe add in a bracket for hand-to-hand.”

“...I might have sucker-punched him.”

John’s chuckle is velvet as it slips through your eardrums. 

“Attagirl, I’d have paid to see that, I wager. Everyone knows you throw a heavy hand,” Your giggle makes his heart soar; beat violently in his breast.

He’d give everything to hear you make that noise again. 

“Did it down him?” Your head slowly peaks up farther, perfect chin now visible. Your short-lived tears had stopped.

“Twirled like a dancer on a string.”

“Bloody brilliant, my girl. Bloody fucken’ brilliant.” Nodding, John smiles, beard pulling back to show pearl-white teeth, and claps your shoulder.

You love the way he makes you feel, like everything you do is well-thought-out and not just spur of the moment. Creasing your eyelids, you rub at your cheeks to try and wipe away the heat of them, knowing that wouldn’t work but still trying. John made your brain pump with dopamine, giddiness striking you in the chest like a bullet with a simple smile and his hand on your back. 

…Why was his hand still on your back? 

“This place got any good drinks?” You ask, trying not to look so entranced by the man in front of you. 

John’s grip slips away and you hate that you want to snatch at it; feel the calluses burn your skin and dig into sensitive flesh. Breaking up with Leon had given you an adrenaline spike, one that lasted so long you were still riding it – only just now was the raging of your heart beginning to still.

It was a bad thought, you told yourself, a horrible thought to have right now…but damn it if John didn’t look like the solution to all of your problems, that yearning urge to feel good.

Leon was gone.

“Hm,” Your Captain murmurs, and your trailing eyes snap from his tight athletic shirt to his face. John turns himself to the front, grunting and setting his elbows on the counter, he lifts one finger up into the air to the frowning bartender and sends you a glace, “Unfortunately, MacTavish picked a place before I could verify,” The bartender thumps over and the Captain confidently says, “One Old Fashioned for the lady, and a refill for me, yeah?”

The bartender's eyebrows furrow, “Old Fashioned? What the hell is that?”

John’s body stills, and his face blanks as if he’s been personally offended. Laughing, you move back from the counter, hopping off the stool and going to stand near your Captain. Resting a hand on his shoulder, you tilt your head when his full attention whips to you. 

His eyes glance at your hand before they settle; softening around the cold edges as the pupils widen. You nearly lose your breath at the sight…It made you want to snatch that hat off his head and make him chase you down for it; hold you to his chest and squeeze.

Stop it.

“I think I’m gonna head back to Base,” You say aloud, “Hang out in the Rec room and go to bed early. Maybe get a headstart on reports for tomorrow,” Looking back at the boys, you begin taking off Price’s trench coat, small hesitations in your nerves showing how much you wanted to keep it around you. But you needed to leave – clear your head without John’s scent making you hazy, “Don’t stay out too long, boys, I’m not coming to drag you back.” 

“Yes, Ma’am,” Simon utters, knocking a billiard ball and watching the ricochets. He sends you a guarded look, numb eyes running over you, “Drive safe. Weathers looken’ like it's letting up, but don’t trust it.”

“Right,” You nod. You know what he really means.

Gaz is watching you and sending quick glances to Soap with his dark eyes, and you see the Scot clenching his stick with a white-knuckled grip – blue eyes glaring at the table with a clenched jaw and tensing biceps. Like he was itching to lay someone on the ground and wale on them.

Your lips twitch. Soap had been by your side for four months; watching your back just as you had his. That creates a bond of brotherhood that can’t be overlooked. The stocky man was perhaps more upset about this ordeal than you were, now that you thought about it. The Task Force didn’t even know the extent of your fights with Leon – they’d kill him if they did. 

If you even mentioned your Grandma’s lamp, the boys would rip your Ex apart. 

“Suds,” Calling out, you fold John’s jacket over your arm. Soap whips his head to you, blinking back to focus.

“Yeah, Little Lady. You need something?”

“I need you to stop strangling the Cue Stick. You’re gonna break it before Simon can beat you, and that would just be embarrassing,” Soap stares at you, mouth slightly open, before he snaps to his iron grip and unclenches his hand. 

“R-right,” The Scot’s eyes crease, and he itches at his mohawk with his free hand. A pause, “Are you…alright?”

You hesitate, looking to the floor as your feet shuffle before your right yourself, “I will be.” 

Turning to John, you hold out your arm and feel heat on the tips of your ears when he’s already meeting your line of sight.

“Sorry about the water,” Trying not to let out a weak chuckle, you fail, “It looked pretty expensive just to be ruined by me. I’ll pay you for the dry cleaning bill.”

Price grunts, already shaking his head and lightly gripping you by the arm to push the jacket back to you. He stands up and you suck in a quick breath, nose nearly brushing his peck from how close you both were.

“You’ll need it,” Your eyebrows crease, not understanding, as he smirks at you, “What kind of Captain would I be if I let you drive back alone after all this?” John grumbles, shaking his head and pulling out his wallet, “I’m driven’ that’s an order.” 

He tosses a fifty on the table for the bill and nods to the boys over your head, an authoritative tone leaking out. You don’t move away from him, letting his body heat leave you shivering and taking in shallow breaths. Try as you might, your mouth denies to refuse him.

“Be back on Base by 0100 and up for drills at 0500. It’s your fault if you Muppets only get five hours of sleep,” John lays a hand behind your shoulder blades and you let him guide you to the door, “Soap – you’re due for debriefs at 0800 in my office. I expect you to be punctual.”

A quiet grunt carries over the space.

You slip on the jacket, clearly seeing that John wouldn’t let up on this. Maybe…maybe you wouldn’t mind the company of the large-bodied Captain. Already the pain of being cheated on was dull when he was around. But would you be able to focus if he was right by you like this? You doubted it.

Slapping Gaz on the shoulder as you pass him, he sends you a soft look and utters, “Get some sleep, Love, alright? It’ll all be better in the morning. I’ll make sure the boys are back at Base soon so you don’t have to worry about ‘em.”

“Thanks, Garrick. Means a lot. I’ll see you tomorrow?” 

“You bet.”

“Behave, Sergeant,” John makes it to the door, opening it for you and feeling the draft enter, “Ghost,” The manchester man tilts his covered head from where he stands bent over the pool table, “watch these two, yeah?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Hey–!” 

“What in the–!” 

Price lets the door slam shut and whispers past your smile-split face, watching through the window as Soap and Gaz level offended gazes out at the Captain through the racing raindrops on the glass. Simon stands a bit straighter and once again scores on Johnny. 

“They’re going to hold a grudge for weeks, John. Putting Ghost in charge of them when they’re on leave? Really? He’s never going to let the two live it down,” You say above the rain as you lead him to where your car is parked on the street, cheekiness littering your words.

“Let ‘em,” Price scoffs, and you feel his hands go to the jacket, puffing the collar up for you. Blinking away the rain, you smile shyly at the action, “not goin’ to change that they still have to get up tomorrow. After a twenty-mile run, I’m sure they’ll be too knackered to care, eh?”

“Hm,” You affirm, envisioning the future in your head with sadistic pleasure, and reach into your pocket. Tossing your keys into the air, John catches them effortlessly with a fast fist, only a small clink of the metal connecting heard.  

You feel his eyes on you as you walk down the street, steadying you with a hand on your back even if he knew you were capable of walking by yourself. Above all, John was a gentleman – whenever you were with him, he always walked near the road, kept a hand in the small of your back, and watched the street with roaming eyes.

This was the first time you’d felt his gaze completely set on you. Had he always done that? No, you knew, but recalled something from the back of your mind as you side-stepped a puddle, moving closer to John unconsciously. His hand’s weight becomes more prominent, angling you into his hold. 

After Madagascar was when he had started looking at you more often...you had thought it was because of the injury, but was it?

Shaking away the thought, you quickly make it to your car and leave Price’s steady side, hand resting on the handle. The familiar sound of the lock clicking open has you rushing inside to escape the pitter-patter of rain on your skull. Snapping the door shut, John in the driver’s seat does the same.

You both look at each other, and can’t help the chuckles at the disheveled looks you both share.

“Wind-swept hair would look dashing on you, Captain,” You tease, nose crinkling as you shake your head. The beanie on the man’s head was weighed down and John grimaces at the feeling, glaring up at it before peeling it off his head. 

His free hand goes to his hair, ruffling it to dispel some of the water. 

“Bloody rain,” He mutters, sparing you a look only to find you’re watching intently with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

A tension grows, and for the first time, you don’t push the feeling away. Your smirk slowly slips, going slack as you watch water drip from John’s nose. The world outside the car seems to blur, and nothing but the pair of you exist in this state of perpetual stillness. John’s eyes are such a shade of blue you have to wonder if you could ever look at the ocean again and not think of him, or even smell smoke on the street and not search him out. 

You shouldn’t be feeling like this about him, but how could you not?

“You’re staring, Love,” John mutters, and you blink, shocked, but the man makes no move to stop looking right back at you in turn. His beard shifts as his jaw moves, bristles accented by the light of the street lamps.

“Well, so are you,” Teasing, you send a nervous smile before shifting away to clip your seatbelt in place. 

His hand stops you halfway, covering your own with a large grip as his fingers glide over your skin leaving white-hot sparks. Freezing you watch as Price’s hand squeezes yours and helps you lock the seatbelt into the clip. The man’s hand stays there a moment longer as you, wide-eyed, feel your fingers twitch under his; memorizing the feel of them.

“Thank you, John,” You breathe, and your grip moves, turning to capture his own and curl his fingers into yours. He flinches, before loosening and he studies your face, cerulean blue jumping from one spot on your visage to another, “For everything.” 

The man’s body stills and he blinks down at you. His breath is shallow, rattling in his chest. Something was in his eyes you couldn’t name.

“...Anytime, Dear.”

Price’s hand falls from your hold and leaves to gravitate toward the keys in the ignition. He twists them, and immediately the shaking of the car tells you it’ll survive one more day. Settling farther into John’s jacket you nuzzle your head into the fabric, curling your arms around your middle and resting your eyes. You try to calm your raging heart as the car peels out into the road, breathing through the stuffy air that smells so much like the two of you.

The ride to Base is quiet, but not at all like the kind of silence that had suffocated you on the journey back to Leon’s home – this was a comforting silence. Once you might not have understood what that meant. After all, how could a lack of sound leave your eyelids heavy and a floating feeling in your head? 

When the parking garage gate opened, you had blinked awake. 

Did I fall asleep? Rubbing at your eyes, the crick in the back of your neck told you all you needed to know. Groaning, a small chuckle to your side leaves you turning to face John, who carefully drives down the ramp as you swallow down the dryness of your throat. 

“Sleep well?” He raises an eyebrow, observing out ahead of him.

You scoff in retaliation and don’t answer as John picks a free spot and parks.

“Let’s get you to bed, then,” Your ears twitch at his low tone and the rumble like a lullaby in his chest. Was he trying to put you back to sleep?

He gets out of the car and goes to your side as you continue to wake up, opening the door and unclipping your seatbelt. 

“Steady,” John whispers, taking your hand and helping you out as your yawn, “I’ll give your keys back tomorrow afternoon, eh? You’ll lose ‘em like last time if I hand ‘em over to ya’ now.”

“Will not,” You retaliate, stumbling over nothing and causing your face to heat when John smiles, eyes crinkling in a tease.

“Will…You’ll get them back tomorrow. That’s that,” Grumbling, you huff but stay by his side as you both go to the main entrance, sliding past the door and nodding to the guard posted for watch duty. 

“Captain, Ma’am,” The guard greets and a second later you’re both striding down the dimmed hallways with John sending you glances every so often.

“What is it, Captain?” Asking after it becomes too prominent to ignore, you send him a small smile, “I know I look like shit but I can’t be that bad to the point you have to ogle me.” 

John’s face snaps forward and he clears his throat, hands going to slide into his pockets. You pull his jacket closer, eyes turning to silk. 

He’s cute when he’s flustered.

“...Just makin’ sure you’re not going to pass out before you get back to your Barracks,” He blinks, and a blush hidden under his beard makes his ears turn red. You notice with a start that he had left his soggy hat in your car and that his messy hair made him look like he had gotten into a catfight. It was…an attractive look on him, to say the least, “...and you don’t look like shite, Sweetheart. You’re a beauty no matter what happens. Don’t say that about yourself.”

Your breath catches, and in that moment of struggling to breathe, you can only let out a tiny, “Oh, o-okay,” and try to walk straight as butterflies litter your stomach. 

Did…did he call me beautiful? John called me beautiful.

A true, giddy, smile flickers over your lips even as you try to force it down; and just as simple as that, any hurt that Leon had left behind disappears. Everything is replaced by John’s large frame, blue eyes, and grunted words.  

You get to your room and open the door, standing in the opening with dizzy thoughts. Turning around with a content expression, you’re forced to take a deep breath when your nose almost connects with a firm chest. Standing straighter, you snap your head up to find John towering above you, body heat melting into you and causing a reactionary shiver.

“John…?” You ask, head straining to stare at his down-turned face. Something lies hidden behind his eyes, flashing every so often as his gaze narrows. It was the same look as the one in the car, “What are you…?” His lips are thin, and something swirls in your gut when you see how his muscles tense. He’s holding something back.

If you moved any closer your breasts would brush against him, and under your water-heavy sweatshirt, your nipples harden at the idea.

Stop it, You warn yourself, but when he’s looking at you like that – bathed in the hallway light with wrecked hair and widened pupils – you can’t help the way your body reacts to his. Not anymore. 

Leon was gone.

“You mind if I come in, Darling?” Your Captain’s raspy voice sings to your heart, pulse skipping a beat, “Wouldn’t want you to be alone right now, understand me?” 

Taking a shallow breath, your hands at your sides start shaking, subtle actions making it all the more apparent of the growing fire. 

You should say no. Tell him it wasn’t appropriate. But…there was no hiding the attraction you had for Price, not when your boyfriend was out of the picture. You should be mourning the lost relationship of your high school sweetheart, not just hopping into another confusing situation with your fucking superior! 

Frowning, your shoulders hunch. If you said yes – which you really wanted to – that was the final signature on your self-respect and dignity. It would mean a whole stack of paperwork and many late nights. You could lose your job, get John kicked off the Task Force and demoted, the list was endless. 

“Your thoughts are too loud,” Price comments, and he smiles down at you as your eyes widen, tension leaking away as you focus on his words like law, “It’ll be alright. You can say no if you want. You know that. It won’t hurt me.”

But it would, wouldn’t it, because it would hurt you too.

It was more than what was on the surface – the tension in the car that had festered ever since Madagascar told you already what would happen if you let him in. This had been the result of a number of years of pinning building one day after another into a mountain of need and lust. But there had always been a barrier in the way. Leon.

But Leon was gone now; where did that leave you with this stone in your stomach and a want to be with a man you now knew wanted you back?

And John was still giving you an out if you wanted it. A layered warning that this wasn’t the smartest decision for either of you. 

“John,” You breathe, “I shouldn’t.”

“No, you shouldn’t. Neither should I.” 

So that was ultimately why you grabbed his shirt, dragged him into your room, and finally smashed your lips to his. 

John’s arms immediately wrap around your body and peel back his jacket from your form, kicking the door behind him closed so hard the wall rattles. You help, letting him grab the cuff and rip it off as your lips dance in needy kisses that leave your teeth clacking together and air falling from fast breaths. 

His tongue runs over your lip and you open your mouth readily, not caring about how the floor’s going to form a puddle from the soaked jacket or the other water-clogged clothes when they inevitably hit the floor as well. John’s kiss was so intoxicating that when you first felt his hands steady you around your waist you pulled back in surprise, a trail of saliva leaving the two of you connected before it broke. 

“John, we shouldn’t,” You say, breathless as air is sucked back into your red, shiny, lips. It was useless trying to convince yourself that this wasn’t what you wanted since you met him. Maybe Leon was right. Maybe you had been cheating this entire time. A traitorous, cheating, heart.

“No, we shouldn’t,” John growls out, accent far more prominent at that moment than ever before as his eyes darken; boring into your tissue to peel back the layers of your mind until all that remains is him. His lips were so red and shiny you wanted to bite them, “But I couldn’t bloody give a damn.” 

His face once more slammed into yours, and one hand travels to the back of your head, firm. But, if you wished for it, it would leave in a millisecond and you could pull away without a word. All of this could end in a second and John or yourself would never bring it up again; forgetting the unprofessionalism and the way your body reacted to the swipe of his tongue over yours. The sounds you two were making were enough to make you cum right there – the panting, wet kissing. It was improper, dirty, but, beyond all of that…utterly addicting. How high he made you feel needed to be studied, you reasoned, no one could be like this. 

Your hands snapped to his chest and you dig your nails into his shirt, dragging down and feeling his body jolt and squirm. John’s hand on your head tightened as you devoured each other, weaving into your hair as your fingers fall to latch onto his side, feeling the muscle tense and the man groan into your gasping mouth. His pelvis thrusts involuntarily, hitting your thigh.

The way he shutters against you leaves your legs rubbing firmly together as a pounding echoes in your navel. John drags you closer to him.

It seemed you made your decision, but you had a funny feeling you won’t regret it.

Heaving like a wounded animal, John peels back to twist you around, back connecting with the wall as his lips immediately hook onto your neck, saliva dripping down your pulse point in a long, slick, path. A wanton whimper leaves when you feel his beard scrape over your sensitive skin, leaving sparks in its wake that travel directly to your lower body. Using his right foot, the man shoves your legs apart, where you had them previously clenched together and pooling in hot, contained, desire.

“Don’t worry, Love,” He whispers, biting at your ear as your eyes flutter when he slides his thigh in between your splayed legs. You can’t help the loud moan you make when he snaps the thick portion of him up into your core and even through your pants you feel the instinctual, animalistic, urge to roll your pelvis. Fuck, you wanted to ride his thigh, come undone while he watched with those unwavering blues of his, “I’ll take care of you. Make you forget all about that poor bastard. Bloody prick doesn’t even know what he’s lost, but I nearly should thank him for it, yeah?”

“John,” You don’t know what you want, mind a hazy mess as one of your hands snaps to his head just like how he held yours and pulled at the strands tightly. Are you drunk? You feel drunk?

His hand on your thigh forces you to press down into his knee as he grunts in approval of your deteriorating state when you writhe with pleasure at the sensation.

“That idiot just gave me the best damn woman he ever could. Fucken’ fool, he is,” He’s muttering into your ear, head pressed into the wall, as your self-respect flies out the window at his next words, “I’ll fuck you better than he did, Love. C’mon, use me like I’ve wanted you to,” Your hips rut over the substitute for his dick with desperation to stimulate your needy clit, head rocking to the side in a heavy trace of puffing breaths. 

Already the room was heating up, beginning to lose the scent of cinnamon from your old candle and reeking of sweat and carnal urgency.

“Just like that,” John whispers, words slow as the sensation of his tongue licking a stripe over your skin makes you pant and keen. Small jolts of pleasure run from the hard bud hidden behind wet layers, “Steady…Keep your head still.”

He goes back to leaving hickeys on your neck, and through your haze, you know he’s not thinking about how you’ll have to try and hide them tomorrow. John wants people to see the love bites, how they bruise purple and blue all over your throat and under your ear. He lays one on the junction of your shoulder and neck, and your eyes roll at the caress of a hot tongue and immediate sharp teeth digging into flesh a moment later; shuttering.

You hope he leaves some beard burn behind.

That's when you rip his head away by gripping his hair like a vise and then slam it into yours, shoving your tongue so far down his throat you listen to his chest rattle with shock at the action. 

His knee jerks up, and you gasp with nerves that sizzle with lighting and a pool of slick in your core that leaks like a river before a strained plea is said into John’s maw, “Do that again.”

Your Captain doesn’t say anything, but his body shakes with need before doing what you ask. You could feel how hard he was through his pants as the weight digs into your stomach. The knowledge that you would get to feel him inside of you, stretching you open, served to confirm the fact that you would have to throw these panties away tomorrow. 

God, he felt huge, thick, and firm.

John begins to jump his knee up and down, jolting your body as he pulls back to watch with awe at your body’s reaction; setting his forehead against yours. Whining, your back arches, and your shoes brush against the ground every other motion. Every movement sends your nerves alight. It was almost too much – oversensitivity threatening to pull you under with every perfectly angled jumping of your Captain’s knee. 

You slick was staining his pants, completely soaking all layers. 

“Fuck, look at you work, Love,” John was entranced as you got off on him, “Can’t believe that Bastard was getting this when you came back. See how soaked you’ve made me? Shit. Bloody temptress, you are.”

“Need you,” Your lips gasp out, legs shaking violently, “F-fingers. Inside. A-anything! Been wanting you for so long, John.” It was difficult to speak and focus on the pleasure at the same time, but you think he got the point. 

Your pants were too tight, clothes grating to feel on your flesh. You want John’s hands on you. Now. 

“Hm, what’s that?” Price grunts, still watching you move your clothed cunt against him with added fever. 

Annoyance swirls.

“John,” Your mouth snarls, and his face shifts to look back up at you, noses squished together as you breathly sigh at another well-angled jump. Price’s chest rumbles with satisfaction, “Fuck me like how you stroke your cock to the thought of me.”

A moment of shocked silence at your vulgar language.

“Copy.” At once his knee is gone, and you’re squeaking as he grabs you by the waist and the world spins and dances around you. 

John tosses you over his shoulder and the tension in your lower abdomen that had been building turns from a boil to a simmer. You’re about to complain before fingers begin working your shoe laces, tossing the boots off as the man strides to the bed in the corner. 

He lays a heavy slap to your ass that makes you yelp out and hit his back in return. The sparks left behind make your legs clench and your stomach tighten; your hands tear into his back. John chuckles, smoothing over the spot before his grip travels, grabbing onto the waistband of your cargo’s. Ripping them down to your ankles, you moan at the sudden cool air on your cunt and shutter. Anticipation pools to produce a second pulse inside of you, getting louder and more ruthless by the second.

You were so horny it physically hurt to have his grip on you and not inside of you. 

John tosses you to the bed and watches your tits as you bounce on the mattress, looking up at him with black-consumed eyes and a euphoric expression. He wastes no time – the man shucks off his boots and grips his belt with a veiny hand, ripping it from his pants and tossing it to the side. You had the best view of the large tent in his pants, violently straining the fabric in a way your hand can’t stop itself from clenching into the bed sheets. 

“Touch yourself for me, Love, let me see you work that cunt of yours before I eat you out, yeah?” 

Licking your lips, you moan, “Yes, Sir.” 

“Ah, look at my good girl, listens so well to her Captain,” Your fingers aren’t as long or as thick as his are, so they can't do much as you slip them under your underwear and play with your weeping slit as you clench at the comment.

Your fourth and fifth fingers enter you, and your thumb presses into your stiff clit, moving in a tight circle as you stare into John’s eyes. Involuntarily, your lower body rocks in a steady motion as your eyes drink in the man and his heaving lungs... 

You want him naked. 

“Bloody Fucken’ hell,” Price throws off his shirt, and palms at his erection through his pants as his dog tags hit against his scarred and formed chest. 

The sharp ‘V’ of his lower abdomen immediately draws your eyes downwards over the impressive physique, a trail of small dark hairs going lower and lower just to be shielded by the rough material of his pants. John’s skin glistens with sweat, and you want to lick it off of him. If possible, you get even wetter.

You smirk, hips jerking as you send a heavier motion on your nerve bundle; head rolling to the side and mouth opening as you feel yourself tighten around your fingers. That knot was returning, forming as you curl your digits in your slick heat, making your eyelids flutter.  

When you open them again and force them to stay still, you find a heavenly sight beside you. Your eyes widen, and your slit tightens so violently your movements stutter and struggle like a noose had been tightened around your neck. The lungs inside of you gasp.

John’s pants and boxers were gone, leaving nothing on him besides his tags that clink and clatter as he jerks himself off at the sight of you. His sizable dick was red at the tip, lit with fire as precum dribbled out and splatted to the mattress right by your free hand – which clenches the sheets so hard you faintly hear a tear as your ears twitch. But your eyes don’t leave the magnificent sight in front of you watching like a hawk as John’s abdominal muscles tighten with every twisted motion of his hand. 

He was so violent with himself, the exact opposite of how you were playing with your own body. That wasn’t to say the image was anything but fuel to the fire, though.

You whimper and writhe, wrist burning and palm completely soaked with natural lube. 

“Ruining the show, Dear,” The tendon in Price’s neck flares, and a bead of sweat falls down his peck. Inside your sweatshirt, your breasts ache to be squeezed and abused.

Not processing his words for a moment, you pause your fast breaths to let out a high-pitched sound of confusion.

John doesn’t answer, because he moves his free hand and grips your panties, which stretch over your ministrations. He tears them down your thighs, and his touch is like a drug. 

“There we go, Princess. Now I can see that pretty cunt of yours.” Keening at the praise, your back lightly arches from the bed, watching John continue to work himself and matching his pace, imagining him inside of you instead of your fingers, “You like that, yeah? You like when I speak to you like that, dirty girl?”

You bite into your lip, knot so tight you want to grab a pair of scissors and cut it before it tears you up. Fuck, you were so close, the erotic sounds of the both of you fucking yourselves are so wet it increases the pleasure spiking your veins.

A wet hand snaps to your wrist stopping you just seconds away from a release. 

Gasping out in shocked desperation, your mouth releases a strangled plea of, “No, John, please.”

“Answer me when I speak to you,” You stare at your Captain’s bearded face as his hand keeps a heavy weight on your skin. He tears your fingers out of you and keeps them away from your core as you try and ferally move them back. John’s jaw is clenched – he holds you with the hand he was touching himself with not a second before, and you tense at the thought, “I asked you a question, Princess. I expect an answer if you want to cum.”

Tears of desperation form in your ducts. You were so close, but now the sensation was leaving again. 

“Yes!” You yell, voice high, “Yes, John I like it when you tell me how good I am! It gets me wet for you… m-my cunt fucking needs you in it, please! I need you to fucking ruin me, Captain! I want your dick stretching me open like–”

His lips silence your rant, shoving the back of your head into the pillow and moving his body to shadow above yours. The action leaves you moaning so loud at the sensation of his athletic body you forgot the walls were thin and that you were sounding like you were in a pornographic film. 

John smirks above you and replaces your fingers with his own, making your legs shake and twitch at the sensation of his callouses against your walls and his large digits burning as they enter you. He thrusts quickly, sopping wetness quickly making it easy, and the pleasure increases.

“Just had to say yes, Love,” His cock jumps and you feel it brush your lower abdomen, so painfully close but not quite. The man’s dog tags connect right above your face, swinging back and forth as he moves.

You gasp when his fingers curl, squelching echoes over the breathy chants of his name that you release. 

“Look at how fucken’ wet you are,” John praises you, and your walls flutter, as he watches his fingers move in and out of you, “Gotta’ get a taste of that, Love…Take off your top for me so I can see those pretty tits bounce.” 

Fuck you were on fire.

Your shaking limbs don't hesitate, hands snapping to throw the sweatshirt and your bra from you without a coherent thought in your brain. Completely bare before him, John’s expression darkens and swirls with lust. His fingers leave you and he moves down the mattress, leaving back on his knees and grabbing your thighs. Your chest heaves with adrenaline and bare need. This was better than any gunbattle – more thrilling than a training session, and far better than anything Leon had done to you. 

John was focused on you. Entirely. The man was forsaking his own painfully erect cock just to go down on you; to taste your wetness like it was nectar. 

Price hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, and your ankle digs into his back to bring him closer to your cunt. 

“Easy there, Princess. I’ll give you what you need,” His breath spreads over your slit, and your hips jerk before his hand splays over your navel, thumb just brushing your throbbing clit. You try to buck again, whining, “Steady.”

He stares at your face as his tongue goes down to kitten licks your pussy, beard bristles poking your skin and leaving the flesh lit like a glowing ember.

“John!” You moan, and one of your hands snaps to your breast, squeezing as John explores your body, groaning deeply as he collects your slick on his tongue. 

The man’s thumb goes to run circles around your nerve bundle, stimulating you as your body tries to move under his tight grip. But he has you under a tight rope, and the pleasure of it was nearly like being electrocuted over and over again. Your leg over his shoulder traps him there – eating you out like a man starved as his own hips begin to careen into the mattress. The pleasure of seeing you reduced to a blubbering mess that can only chant his name did primitive things to John’s mind. 

And the way you were playing with your breasts…? Fuck, he was addicted to you; the way your body was perfect enough to devour.

John moans into your cunt, the vibrations biting every corner as the tension begins to shatter inside of you when his fingers go to assist his tongue. Your back arches as the muscle and digits work in tandem, pace increasing as the Captain curls over that perfect, spongy, spot that leaves tears falling down the side of your face.

“Fuck, just like that!” You wail, fingers flickering over your hardened nipple, “J-John just like that!”

The words were slurred, coming off as drunk as his beard leaves skin red and scraped on the inside of your thighs. Your cunt tightens, walls closing in around John’s tireless lapping and fingering. His thumb on your clit moves faster, and he lets your hips careen into his face over and over again as his large nose bumps against that same spot. 

Tension builds and builds like an infection, and your free hand snaps to grip your Captain's hair, jerking his face farther into you and ruthlessly twisting the locks.

John whimpers into your slit, cock stuttering in its harsh rutting into the mattress, and your eyes erupt into stars, white light blowing up as your release makes time stand still. 

Gutturally moaning into the hot air, you pant as you come down just to feel a tongue cleaning up your thighs, slurping up cum, and playing around with your sensitive flesh. Fingers still pump inside of you, helping you ride out anything that’s left.

You can’t speak beyond small whimpers and gasps at the movement, but when you look down you’re met with John’s ruined face.

His entire beard was stained, dripping cum down onto your navel as he licks at your clit once. Your hips jerk and you cry in protest at the oversensitivity of the abused area, eyes fluttering.

“Just as I thought,” John’s voice is velvet, dripping just like his beard and nose do as he licks his lips with a demented sucking noise “Boody perfect, doll. Could eat that cunt for hours, just to see you squirm when I’m fucken’ you with my tongue. Better than Whisky.” 

You swallow as his hands caress your thighs, the grip traveling as his body slides up yours. His cock is heavy and leaking as it slides over your drenched slit. Thrusting up into it, the both of you gasp out. John lays drenched kisses all over your sweat-drowned body, leaving a trail of saliva and cum behind him as his own slots over you perfectly. 

“Speak to me,” He groans, and your fingers still in his locks lightly pull as he pushes your still hand over your breast away with his nose. His hot mouth latches onto your nipple and sucks before laying a deep bite around it. 

Writhing, he continues his expiration as a bead of sweat falls down your neck to pool at your bitten collarbone. John licks it up and continues like it’s nothing.

“F-feels good,” Is all you can say, not used to this type of treatment, “R-really good, Captain.”

“Yeah?” He sounds cheeky as his head pulls up to be above yours, hands pressing into the pillow beside your head, “Hm, think my Bird can take a cock? Want me opening that lovely cunt of yours up?”

Your heart pounds, hairs standing on end. The words were so vulgar, but you feel your arousal increase. 

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Y-yes, Captain.”

John lays a gentle kiss on your bruised lips, and you taste your own release as he sighs into your mouth; connecting your foreheads together when he pulls away. 

“I want your eyes on me the whole time, yeah?” He grunts, one hand going to grab at himself as he shivers above you. Chest bursting with anticipation, your free hand goes to intertwine its fingers with John’s beside your head – the other still gripping his hair, “I wanna see the way you lose yourself on me.”

You can’t answer before he’s filling you up.

Your eyes widen at the stretch, embers of pain bordering on the ledge of pleasure as the man pauses at your expression, going to play with your clit. On your face, your nose scrunches, hesitance floating in your orbs as you let out tight breaths even as his finger does wonders.

“S’alright,” John whispers to you, squeezing your hand and feeling the mewls your lips let out at the sensation of deep callouses, “I’ll be careful, Love. You can take me. Breathe.” Muttering paise as his cerulean blues bore into you, he resumes moving. 

How could you even fit him all inside of you? The tip already burned to take so far into your womb.

But you were plenty wet, the squelching sound resumed, and John tilted his head down to see the way he disappeared inside your cunt like magic. Your thighs have to move farther up his own to help, one locking around his waist as a ring of milky liquid forms over the joining.

The man’s eyes widen when he spies the bulge forming in your lower body, the indent popping out like a hole that’s been repacked with too much dirt. For the final last push, the man forces himself to look away and back up at you – he wants to see how you react. But at the last seconds, John’s eyes roll back into his head when he finally hits the base, a throaty groan mixing with your high-pitched moan as he bottoms out. Your chest flutters against his, and both of your hearts are going so fast they can be seen through your flesh.

You were so full, stretching around him so wide it was a miracle you hadn’t torn something. Both of your stay there for a moment, feeling your walls spasm around him and panting. Sweat falls from Price’s chin, splashing to your skin as your eyelids threaten to close at the stranger inhabiting your most sensitive area. It felt so good.

Your mind completely blanks, eyes glazing over with rapture at the feeling of John’s cock curving so far into you that you know he’ll push into your cervix when he moves. Every minute movement – even the deep breath John takes to steady himself – leaves you needing stimulation as the veins of his dick press into your soft walls.

“M-move, please,” Your numb lips flutter, and John’s eyes open from above you, jaw clenched and one orb more squinted than the other. 

“Yes, Ma’am,” He whispers, expression soft as your hand in his hair tightens to ground yourself. 

John begins slowly, letting you get used to him and the burning that he brings to your insides when he retracts and re-enters. His thrusts are measured, at first.

“Such a good girl,” He says above you, and your eyes refocus, body loosening as your form gradually adapts. But you were right, he’s hitting every corner of you as easily as he breathes. So thick it's like nothing you've ever felt. Your hips are canting up to meet his shallowly, but John does most of the work. He wants to. He wants to please you like Leon never could, to treat you right, “Taken’ me so well. See you grippin’ me, Dear…t-that’s it,'' Your pussy throbs, and you feel him move a little faster, “You’re gettn’ it down, eh? There’s that pretty little face of yours – all screwed up ‘cause of me. Hm, don’t go cock-drunk on me yet, Lovely.” 

“John,” Is what you chant as he begins to fuck you in earnest, pelvis slamming into you as you feel him brush your cervix, “Oh, John.”

“That’s it,” He pants and angles his thrusts up. The action makes you yowl, head tossing back as Price goes to bite into your neck again, dog tags cold against your skin, “There’s that sweet spot, yeah?”

He hits it every single time, marksmanship training telling him to keep attacking the most important part; tears blur your wide sight, back arching as his hand at your clit goes to hike your leg farther up his waist, the limb uselessly flying out behind his back. The deep press of his blunt nails into the flesh adds to the overstimulation, and you can’t keep up if you tried. Too pleasure drunk, you let him do what he wants, as long as you can feel his veiny cock hitting that spongy spot again. His dick thrusts into you with such devotion, ringing out pleasure like how one does to a rag.

“Fuck…” He muttered into your neck, “Won’t last long with you squeezing me like that. You’re so bloody tight.”

The snake was coiling in your gut, tail rattling as John throbs inside of your heat, moving over your skin like he was water over a rock. Loosening your hand from his hair, your nails go to dig into the fletch of his back, raking down his spine as he growls under you; sending a sharp thrust up that has you seeing sparks in your vision. It was building so quickly you couldn’t properly speak, only moan and wail and wine.

You were sure your nails were biting into his skin, leaving long red scratches behind as some sick form of proof. Maybe they were even drawing blood. A sadistic part of you wanted them too. 

“C-close,” Your gasp enters the thick air as your legs shake. John bites your earlobe, lifting his head from your skin to look at you from the side of his blown eyes. 

“W-where do you want it, Love?” He gasps, his beard scraping your skin until it’s raw. You hoped you had lotion in the bathroom for tomorrow, “C’mon gotta tell me before I lose myself.”

“Inside!” You yell, not even knowing what you’re saying anymore. If you did a part of you would have died from embarrassment. The man’s eyes snap fully to yours, widening; you feel his body shaking above you, hands clenching too tightly around your thigh and embrace as the flesh turns a different shade, “Please, Captain, fill me up. I wanna feel you dripping out of me for days! Please, I need your cum! Please, please…”

Price only sputters for a second before he begins to move like a man possessed. He pistons into you with heated movements and you gasp out in response, not sure how much more you could take but please don’t stop it feels so good. So, so, good when you move like that. Fill me with your seed.

“Made for me, you were,” John growls, ferally kissing you as you try to do the same back as he relentlessly pounds away, “I said it before, bloody fucken’ perfect. Don’t worry, I’ll give you what you need. Make you so full of me you’ll be leaking all over the damned sheets.” 

The coil snaps and you clench around Price’s cock so hard he moans into your mouth as you do the same. 

“Fuck..!” His hips jerk one more time before he spills into you, hot spurts of his seed coating your walls and leaking out of the ring you two had made. 

Shaking, John lets you ride it out as he continues to shakily thrust into you, but it isn’t long before he has to stop and his dick softens inside of you. After a moment of violent deep breaths, he has to shift, exiting from your reddened and leaking hole. Shuttering at the feeling of his ridges once more leaving, the foreign emptiness finally settles into your bones, you feel his cum pooling from you to collect on the mattress; your lower skin feels wet to the touch as the liquid follows the lines of your body and sticks to every part available. 

Lungs desperate for air, your body heaves and shivers; your eyes stay locked onto the ceiling above you, where you wished the metal was the same shade of blue as John’s eyes. You didn’t even notice the man himself had gone into your bathroom to receive a damp rag to clean you up until the rough material was leaving you flinching away from it. 

“Careful now,” John speaks lowly, and you hear his dog tags below you as he swipes at your folds. Your eyelashes flutter, legs tensing, “Need to clean you up.” 

He lays a kiss on your knee and continues for a few minutes, muttering compliments and kind words that you miss as your ears ring; he cleans your combined fluids from your spent cunt delicately, completely different from how he was abusing it a short while ago.

John leaves, and when he returns a second time, he slips into the bed in front of you, taking the wrecked covers and arranging you carefully so you were covered by them.

A moment of hot pressing bodies passes, and your head is pressed into the man’s raging chest, drawn back to consciousness by his heart when he shifts, “...Didn’t hurt you, did I, Love?”

“Hm,” You groan, and moving your legs results in needles digging into the fine tissue, “No. But you’re going to be carrying me tomorrow.” 

Your Captain has the audacity to laugh, his hand going to rest on your ass, rubbing the skin as he draws you closer.

“Wanted to do that for a long time, Y’know,” He whispers, laying kisses to your hair, “Long time.”

“Me too,” You admit, sighing as your eyes flutter shut, “Since Madagascar, I think.” 

John lightly flinches, “Madagascar?” It’s a question, but he already knows the answer, “What about…”

He trails.

“Leon?” You ask and Price grunts, knocking his nose down into your scalp as he draws circles into your skin. He didn’t like you saying that man’s name, “I think I wanted to break up with him…finding him with someone else just gave me an easy out, I guess,” You think over the event. Had you been relieved slightly? Perhaps, but it was easier to tell now than earlier, “It was just…”

Stopping you hum, and turn your head to lay a kiss on a scar on John’s chest in your vicinity.

“Easier.” 

It’s not a question your Captain poses, it's a statement.

“Less complicated, yeah.” He breathes a sigh into your hair and fatigue leaves your lids falling quickly.

“We’ll talk more in the morning,” John mutters, “Copy?”

You don’t answer, because you’ve already fallen to sleep, body bruised and yet feeling far better than you had in years. John wanted to be with you, Leon was out of the picture – it was all turning up. But there was still that part of you that ached with betrayal, that bled when you poked at it with a finger; a wounded heart would do that. It bleeds for a bit.

Though, you knew John would be there with a bandage, to put pressure on the wound and catch the spills. Maybe that was selfish, but maybe you had a right to be for a little while. Your Captain certainly didn’t seem to mind. 

John fell asleep quickly after, content for possibly the first time in years. He gets to hold you in his arms and wake up with you right by his side, even if the paperwork was going to be atrocious.

There was no doubt people had heard them, but it wasn’t like the Captain cared. 

—

“Little Lady?” The knock wasn’t what woke you, John did. Looking up at him, he holds a finger to his lips and has a pleading look on his face. You raise a brow, about to go back to sleep before Soap’s voice makes you freeze, “I know you’re in there – you wouldn’t happn’ to have a clue where Price is, would you? Man missed the debriefing.” 

Your wide eyes stay locked with Johns, Maybe If I don’t answer he’ll go a–

“That’s it, I'm coming in!” 

“Wait!” 

But the door was already opening – John hadn’t locked it, too caught up in the stupor of finally getting you into his arms and wetting his dick. 

“...Steamn’ bloody Jesus!” Screaming and a quick rustling can be heard echoing out into the hallway, “...Well, well, well, Cap finally got the girl, did he? Bout’ time, I’d say! Tell me, now, how good was he in bed for an old man?” 

“Stop lookn’ at her, you Muppet! I’ll hang you by the fucke–” 

“How can’t I – her fucken’ tits are out and you’re about a bawhair away from her! Where else am I supposed to look, man?” 

“Out!” 

Soap rushes out, smiling wider than anything with gleaming eyes before stumbling and nearly careening into the wall as John Price rushes after, face red and snarling. The Captain had nothing more than a wrinkled, thin, standard white bed sheet around his tapered waist with dog tags fastened around his neck. 

John’s clenched hand connects with the door frame and the rageful man leans out down the hall and yells, “When I find you, MacTavish, It’s your fucken’ neck under a goddamned rope! You hear me, Sergeant?! Your fucken’ neck!”

Vibrating laughter can be heard from the figure already disappearing down the corner of the woman’s Barracks.

“Wait till the boys hear about this!”

The door closes so loudly behind John that the wide-eyed bystanders in the hallway miss the lock being clicked into place with savage fingers. But the loud, chest-tightening, feminine laughter that forms moments later is none the clearer.  

Well, secret’s out. 

[star-girl69]

In A Good Way

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader

—-

sypnosis: basically episode two but if clarisse had a gf (so what should have been canon pretty much)

a/n: sorry dior is so fine i had to get the thoughts out this is kinda shitty also but anyways i hope you all enjoy!!

In A Good Way - Faye Webster

warnings: some violence, swearing, soft and ooc clarisse but only bc i wholeheartedly believe she is soft only for her gf and i love soft clarisse, also protective!clarisse my weakness, i’m insane, cringe, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

You watch Clarisse bump into the poor boy.

You’re sitting with your siblings, Tyla and Jackie, but your eyes were drawn to her even across the courtyard. Your eyes are always drawn to her.

She shoulders him hard, then immediately turns around and pushes him straight to the ground. Tyla gasps next to you as he crashes sharply into the dirt.

“Your girlfriend is a literal menace, Y/N,” Jackie scoffs.

“How do you think I feel having to deal with her?”

You really do feel bad for the boy, Percy, you think. Regardless of whether or not he really killed the Minotaur (Clar spent the entire night talking your ear off about how it simply can’t be true) it’s his first day at camp. He’s helpless, to say the least.

Feeling less than your whole life and then finally coming to a place where everyone else is like you, finally getting answers- it’s a shock.

You always feel bad for every new camper. Especially the young and tiny ones like him. Besides, you like his cute blonde hair.

“Oh, haha,” Jackie rolls her eyes. “You love her.”

You start to get up, faking a dramatic sigh, “I do.”

Tyla giggles as you walk away and come into earshot.

“Hey. Knock it off, Clarisse. It’s like his first day, come on.” Luke seems as unimpressed as he always does, slightly apathetic, as another Hermes cabin member tugs Percy up.

“Wait, so, this is the kid who killed the Minotaur. Is that right?” she takes a step forward, a misleading smile on her face.

“Yeah,” Percy says, awkwardly looking around.

“I’ll bet,” she smiles, her eyes lighting up in prospect of someone new to torture. “Look, you want attention around here, dummy? You better be ready for it when it comes.”

Her eyes meet yours.

“Clarisse!” you say in a sing-song voice, walking up to her and placing your hand on her shoulder. “He’s, like, twelve.”

“Oh, but he’s strong enough to kill a Minotaur?”

Your eyes lock, her hand brushes your hip, and you get those same cliche butterflies in your stomach you always do when you look at her.

You smile.

You see her eyes soften.

She turns back to Percy after a moment, faking forward, and he flinches so hard he almost falls back.

Her and her Ares siblings laugh, you roll your eyes, and push her away. She walks away, her siblings in tow, and you turn back to Luke.

On Luke, Thalia, and Annabeth’s last stretch to camp, they came across you. Your satyr protector had been killed by a monster protecting you, and Luke had held your hand and promised that all of you were going to make it to camp.

You’ll always have that bond with Luke, even though Clar hates his guts and his best swordsman in camp title.

You place your arm on his shoulder, he slings a loose arm around your waist.

Luke is pretty much the only person who can get away with touching you like this, or else they’ll receive a nice message from Clarisse in the form of a dagger barely missing their face.

“Ares kids,” Luke explains to Percy. “They come by it honestly. You got lucky today. If Y/N hadn’t come around, you probably would have gotten knocked over again.”

“Hi,” you say, sticking out your hand. “I’m Y/N.” Percy shakes your hand, smiling awkwardly.

“She’s Clarisse’s girlfriend and the only thing that stands between the camp and total destruction.”

“Oh,” Percy says, not quite able to hide his surprise and slight disgust. “She seems… nice.”

“Well, if you look like me, she’ll love you. But… I don’t think that’ll happen.”

Percy chuckles a bit.

“Why don’t they bother you?” he asks Luke.

“Ah, they know better,” he says, squeezing you closer to him.

“Yeah, Luke’s the best swordsman in camp,” one of Luke’s siblings says. You can see something in Percy’s eyes, a light that reminds you a bit of Clar.

“So, they stay away from you because, glory? So, if I get glory, Clarisse wouldn’t mess with me either?”

“Exactly,” Luke affirms. You look at him out of the corner of your eye. What the Hades is he teaching him?

“And people think I’m a big deal?”

“Well, sorta-”

“And my dad’s got no choice but to claim me.”

Oh. Your heart squeezes for him.

“You… you can’t force the Gods to do anything,” Luke says, trying not to hurt Percy too much.

“Well, yeah, but… it would make it a lot harder for him to pretend I don’t exist, right?”

“Maybe,” Luke concedes.

“Great. Where do we start?”

You laugh. “Ooh, I like the way you think.” You slip away from Luke, smiling at Percy. “Come find me if you wanna try your hand at some Aphrodite skills.”

—-

You find Clarisse sitting outside her cabin at a picnic table, polishing her spear, her favorite activity.

You sit down next to her.

“Hey, baby,” she murmurs, a bit too entranced with the gift from her father.

“I only have a few minutes before I go to archery, but… I think you’ll enjoy this.” She looks over at you for a second, then right back to the spear. “Don’t make me charmspeak you, La Rue.”

“Okay. Okay, sorry, what?” she sets the spear down in her lap, staring up at you with a smile as if she hadn’t been ignoring you a second ago.

“Percy Jackson wants to find glory so you’ll stop bothering him,” she snorts, “and so his father will have to claim him.”

She hums.

“Well, I like him. I think he’s cute.”

She shoots you a bored look.

“Don’t say horrible things like that.”

You play with a curl hanging over her shoulder. “We both know I’ll say whatever I want.”

“Oh, I know.”

—-

“What happened to you?”

You turn to look at Clarisse’s smirking face.

“What?”

She rolls her eyes. “C’mere,”

You lean forward, across the space between the Aphrodite cabin and the Ares cabin tables. Clarisse puts her hand to your face, thumb tracing along your cheekbone. She pulls back, and you stare at her dirt covered thumb.

“You’re covered in dirt, gorgeous.”

You hurriedly raise your hand up to your face, groaning when your palm does in fact come away covered in dirt.

“Percy is definitely not a child of Apollo,” you mutter.

“What d’you mean?” Clarisse asks, handing you a few extra napkins as you begin to wipe off your face, a spot on your shirt you had noticed.

“Luke’s taking him around, trying to figure out what he’s got a talent for. It was funny, actually, he shot the arrow over all of us on the side and we all went crashing into the ground.”

She doesn’t seem to find it as funny as you do.

“It was an accident, Clar!” you say, all sing-song again.

“Oh, I’m sure it was. Exactly why I don’t believe he killed that Minotaur.”

“Adrenaline makes even mortals do crazy things.”

“You don’t kill a Minotaur with adrenaline,” she hisses.

—-

Capture the Flag is held the next day. Clarisse and two of her siblings have been particularly pissed off all morning, and no matter how much you bug her, she only says “you’ll see” in this horribly nerve-wracking tone.

You have the same job you do every game. Sit in front of the flag, and charmspeak anyone who tries to come near it.

You’re decent with a bow, okay with a sword, but this is one area where you really shine, where you can really help.

After the first game, the blue team has learned to wear ear plugs when they come near you. But you’re like a siren, you come around and take out their ear plugs anyways. They’re scared to touch you, because one of the Ares kids will run right off to Clarisse, and she tells you all the time that she’d rather lose dessert privileges for a month then see you with one scratch.

Chiron stands imposingly on the large rock at the start of the small river that divides the two halves of the woods.

“The first team to retrieve the opposing flag and return it across the river shall be the victor.”

You know these rules by heart.

Ever since your first Game, the day you met Clarisse, you’ve loved them. You’re not the most violent person, nothing near Clar and her insatiable thirst for competition, but there’s just something about the game.

She walks forward through the sea of red-marked armor, digging her spear into the ground and glaring at what you can only assume to be Percy Jackson.

“Any magical items you may possess are permitted as well. Every camper who is not injured has to play. Prisoners may be disarmed, but may not be bound or gagged.”

You suppress a laugh at that rule. That one was only implemented a few games ago, right after the one where you had been taken prisoner and tied with vines to a tree. When Clar had heard, she actually almost murdered a few kids and maimed some more.

Although it made keeping prisoners a little awkward, Chiron had proclaimed it was in everyone’s best interests.

“Let the games begin!” he shouts, the conch blows, and the entire team screams in a terrifying war cry.

The blue team bangs their shields and weapons together, and now you have 20 minutes before game on.

Clarisse is the captain of your team, of course. She marches around barking orders to everyone, as if their positions aren’t already drilled into their heads.

“Hey Clar,” you say. You’re surrounded by a few Ares kids, a few other good fighters, ready to protect the flag and by extension you- with their lives.

Capture the flag games are taken seriously.

She looks at the red flag in your hands, smiling in that smug way she always does. She doesn’t smile this way when it’s just you and her, but you can still see the softness in her eyes even now. With Clarisse, her emotions are all about the eyes.

“You all know what you’re doing?” she asks. All the kids behind you nod. “Good,” she smirks, starting to walk away.

“Are you hunting in your usual woods today?” you ask, heading in the same direction as her.

She smiles, a full toothy grin.

“Oh, baby, I have something even better planned.”

Clarisse is not one to change the strategy.

You can’t get it out of your head what she’s been saying about Percy.

“If you kill someone, I’m killing you.”

She just smiles.

—-

One of the kids holds the flag from up on a rock, acting like a lookout. You lean against that rock, your armor digging into your thighs at the awkward angle, waiting for someone to come. Everyone else surrounds you in the flag, in battle stances.

The conch blew about 20 minutes ago, and you should be seeing someone soon.

“I think Luke’s coming,” Corey, the Apollo kid lookout says.

“Of course he is,” you mutter. He’s always in charge of getting the flag, because he’s not afraid to touch you. Clarisse knows he’s just your friend, or else he probably would have been dead by now. They emerge from the woods, not bothering to try for stealth, all in defensive positions.

Everyone lets you take the lead. You understand why Clarisse loves power. It’s addicting, it’s like lightening in your veins.

“Hi, Luke,” you smile.

He can’t hear you, but he returns the smile.

“You’re all going to turn around and walk 300 feet in the other direction.”

Luke sighs as one of the kids actually turns and walks away, heeding your command. Everyone else has their earplugs in tight, but it always gets one or two of them.

You roll your eyes. “You always make this so difficult, Luke.”

You walk towards him, maybe you can surprise him and rip the ear plugs out of your ear, but he suddenly springs his leg out so you trip, slamming into the ground and getting a face full of dirt.

“Bitch,” you mumble, ready to get up. Suddenly, a Hermes girl throws herself on top of you, slapping a hand over your mouth.

As soon as you hit the ground, the fight erupts around you.

“You can’t do this, Luke, it’s against the rules!” you screech, but it’s muffled through the girls thick leather gloves.

Matty, one of Clar’s siblings sighs heavily. “Fuckin’ hate this dude,” he mumbles. “Marjorie, go get Clarisse.”

The girl runs off, and Matty adjusts his helmet.

“Don’t know why you do this to yourself, man.”

Luke kneels down in front of you while you scream obscenities next to his name. He makes a big show of taking out his earplugs before ruffling your hair.

“Thanks, Y/N.”

He whips around and his sword immediately clashes with Matty’s, and they’re locked in a flurry of metal clashing and glinting in the sunlight. Matty is really good, probably bested only by Clarisse, but Luke is still the best swordsman in camp.

He puts up a valiant fight, but Luke disarms him.

Your back is really, really starting to hurt like this.

It’s whirlwind, but there were more blue team then red team, and sometimes sheer number beats out even the best of the Ares cabin.

They grab the flag and run for the beach.

The girl waits for another moment until one of the Ares kids points his sword at her.

“You’re really gonna want to let her go,” Matty says. She stands up and books it, following her team.

“Eat dirt!” you scream as she runs away, but she still has her earplugs in.

Matty helps you up.

“Clarisse’s gonna kill us all.”

“I hate Luke Castellan. I hate him, I hate him, I wish him nothing but pain and suffering.”

Matty claps your shoulder.

“Hey, at least we all get to watch Clarisse beat up the Hermes cabin at sword practice tomorrow.”

And you do like seeing Clar fight, the way she’s so focused and truly in her element, sweat making her skin glisten in the sunlight…

“That will be fun,” you concede. Matty laughs, and you all make your way down to the beach.

—-

The scream scares you.

All the kids around you jump up with their swords, thinking a monster had somehow made its way near camp, but you recognize that voice.

“Clarisse,” you mumble, feeling frozen.

“What?” Matty asks, his eyes scanning the forest. “What’d you say?”

“Clarisse,” you repeat, breaking off into a run towards the sound of it, towards the beach.

“Clar- wait, Y/N!”

But you’re already long gone.

—-

You make it to the beach a minute after the conch sounded, the blue team having won, making it just in time to see the blue trident appear over Percy’s head. You can barely even register the fact that he’s a forbidden child, your eyes immediately finding Clar’s siblings, the ones she was supposed to be hunting with today.

“Hey, hey,” you breathe out, almost slamming into one of them. “W-where’s Clarisse? I heard her scream-”

You love her so much it’s like your heart will break if you even think about her being hurt. It always seems like Clar is the one who loves you more, only because of her proud and overprotective nature, but really you love her just as much.

You just never have the opportunity to threaten to kill someone like she does for you. She does that all on her own.

“Oh, uh, she went that way,” he points in the direction of a barely there path, heading into the woods and back to camp.

“Great, thanks!” you shout, already running after her.

You catch up with her after a minute, your gaze landing on her practically stomping through the woods. She’s angry. She’s angry, why?

“Clar!” you shout, and she whips around, standing still while you sprint over to her. “Clarisse, Clarisse, are you hurt? I-I heard you scream-”

You run your hands up and down her arms, and after a tense second of her staring at the ground, she puts her hands on your hips.

“I’m not hurt, I’m fine.”

She looks like she’s about to cry. But you know she won’t ever let herself cry, won’t ever let herself be perceived as weak.

You wrap your arms and let her put her face in your neck. She’s almost shaking with how angry she is, her fingers digging into your hips, and she stops herself and lets go before she can hurt you.

“Oh, baby,” you murmur. You’re not sure what happened. But she screamed like that, not like she was scared, but like she had just lost something. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” She says into your neck, simple, and you respect it.

“Okay, well, let’s go back to your cabin. You’re not gonna believe the day I had. Will it make you happy to know I give you permission to beat up Luke?”

She looks up at you with skeptical eyes. You both ignore the tears staining her cheeks. “Really?” she asks, slightly hopeful, even through all her anger and sadness.

“Come on,” you smile, letting go of her and sliding you hand into hers. She meets your pace and wraps her arm around your waist. She doesn’t tell you she loves you, but you know.

—-

You flop down onto Clar’s bed. As the head counselor, she gets the best bunk. On the second floor loft, where there’s only enough space for single beds, meaning she doesn’t have to deal with bunk beds, all the way in the corner for a little privacy.

She stands in front of you, slipping off her shoes, and your reach forward to work at the knots of her breastplate.

She stares at you until the armor is lose around her, and she lifts it up over her head and leaves it haphazardly on the ground.

You lay flat, stretching your aching back, and Clar leans over you to help you take off your armor. You probably don’t even need armor, but Clarisse is overprotective by nature, by blood. It makes her feel better, and it really doesn’t bother you much. She lifts it over your head, letting the metal crash into the floor before laying down next to you.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “I’m supposed to be here for you but I’m so tired, and my back hurts so bad…”

She laughs. You smile, and it falls into comfortable silence.

“Can I really beat up Luke?” she says after a second.

You open your eyes and she’s laying on her side, propped up her arm and staring at you.

“Oh, you can.”

“Why?” she asks, still not quite believing you.

“Okay, so, Luke comes over, right. And you know, I try to charmspeak them but only one of them goes. I walk over to Luke and he fucking trips me! It was so embarrassing, baby, I literally ate shit.”

She smiles and puts her arm around your waist, tugging you closer to her.

“Then, some girl tackles me before I can get up, and puts her hand over my mouth so I can’t do anything. Which first of all, is completely against the rules, and second of all, it really hurt my back! Then, then, Luke has the audacity to say ‘Oh, thanks Y/N!’ and ruffles my hair, like? I swear to Gods, I just want him to… well, I don’t know. Suffer.”

“Don’t worry, gorgeous,” she mutters into the top of your head. “I’ll make sure he’s unrecognizable.”

You smile. “I don’t know what I would do without you, Clarisse. Who would defend my honor and fight my battles?”

She seems sort of placid, tired, like she’s just a still lake reacting to your body wading in deeper. It’s almost like she’s gonna fall asleep, and she’s always tired after capture the flag, so it’s not unusual.

“I’d be there,” she mutters, her eyes closed.

You’re both silent for a few more minutes, just the two of you together, her strong arm around you, the way it’s always meant to be.

“He’s a son of Poseidon. Did you see?”

“Yes,” you whisper. “I saw.”

“It’s not fair,” she says, like the child she never got to be. “I spend so much time, so much time trying to make him proud- it took months for him to claim me and he gets claimed on, what, his third day?”

Her head lands on your chest, your hands smoothing down her hair.

She touches the necklace she gave you months ago, bringing it out from under your shirt, the simple chain with the pretty charm that looks like a spear. More so an arrow, but it’s supposed to be her spear.

“He broke it,” she whispers.

“Broke what?”

She sits up a little higher, her hands reaching behind you and undoing the clasp on your necklace. You haven’t even taken it off since she put it on you, so of course she would be the one to take it off.

“He broke my spear.”

“Oh, Clarisse…” she stares at the necklace before folding it up tightly in her palm. She breathes out as she lays back down on your chest, her legs entwining with yours, your hand back in her curls.

“The Hephaestus kids can fix it, but it won’t be electrical anymore.”

You don’t say anything. Most people would say “it’s better than nothing” but you’re demigods with absent divine parents.

Clarisse didn’t tell you it was better than nothing to at least be claimed by Aphrodite when one of your siblings got a magic item from her. She didn’t try and tell you “maybe someday” when you cried in her arms.

Because more often then not, you’ll die before your godly parent even claims you. More kids die on their way to Camp Half-Blood then Chiron would like to admit.

And what would the Gods do? Nothing. They would do nothing about it, because they don’t care.

Clarisse doesn’t cry, but you know she wants to, and you let her know that she can cry if she wants to. She can, if she has to. You’d never turn her away.

If she hasn’t realized already, you’re in this for the long run.

—-

Clarisse fell asleep in your arms, then pulled you back when you tried to go back to your own cabin, and you figured Chiron wouldn’t mind this once.

She finally let you go after you screamed that she couldn’t kiss you before you brushed your teeth, mumbling about how you’re depriving her.

When you meet up with her again, she has her sword in hand and her armor strapped tight to her body.

It was just a great big coincidence that the Hermes, Aphrodite, Ares and Demeter cabins all had sword practice at the same times. Clarisse looked all too happy at being able to get out some anger from yesterday, because sparring is the only way Clar has to work out the intense feelings she inherited from her father.

“So, who should I metaphorically kill?”

“Ooh, big word,” you tease. She grabs your chin, making you look at her, but she’s smiling too much for it to be a threat.

“C’mon, baby, who?”

“Luke. And…” you point, “That’s the girl who tackled me. Oh, and that’s the boy who fought Corey and got the flag. I don’t know his name.”

“‘Cause he’s irrelevant,” she says. You hum. “You just wait right here, gorgeous, enjoy the show.” She winks before sauntering off in the girls direction, smiling in that misleading way, asking her if she wants to spar.

You beckon Jackie and Tyla over to you, who both seem unimpressed.

“Please don’t tell me you put Clarisse up to attacking the Hermes cabin,” Tyla sighs.

“I didn’t put her up to anything. She did it all on her own.”

“Oh, sure she did,” Jackie rolls her eyes.

“Don’t act like you all aren’t gonna enjoy it.”

Tyla meets your eyes, then Jackie’s.

“Sorry, Jacks, it’s, like, really entertaining!”

You all laugh as Clar leads the girl into the circle, laughing even harder when she disarms her after a minute. The boy who took the flag barely lasts 45 seconds.

When Luke walks up to her, she throws her sword down and tackles him. You give her a minute before you pull her off.

—-

clarisse, about to beat up percy

y/n: oh no no no no you don’t

clarisse: ok i won’t kill him rn ��😍😍😍

—-

y/n: yeah like idk what i would do without you who would protect me and fight my battles

clarisse “i would be there” la rue: bitch our love transcends the laws of physics I WOULD BE THERE

—-

y/n giggling and kicking her feet watching clarisse beat up luke

—-

[trivia-yandere]

tape

before leaving for college jungkook doesn't know when he'll see you again after this week and wants something to remember you by… @mother2monsters @darkuni63 @sweetempathprunetree @momnomnom @yoongiwantsme @chimmisbae @whipwhoops @prettyxxxplease

word count: 1.969

warning: car sex, pseudo incest, oral sex, smut, dirty talking, protected/unprotected sex, coercion, handjob, manipulation, creampie, video taping, dub-con,

series masterlist | part one | part three

“You don’t have to record everything.” you say, panting. Your eyes, glossy and full of tears, glance up at Jungkook who’s heaving. “You have enough content.”

Jungkook blinks his eyes a bit to look at you - cheeks puffy, eyes glossy and lips wet with saliva. Your hand softly strokes his cock as you await your answer. 

“Of course I do.” Jungkook responds. He places his hand on top of your head, glancing up at the camera shining directly at the two of you. “Who knows when we’ll be doing this next.”

Jungkook loved taking pictures of you - he made it a routine. It was easier, of course, because you were his (step) sister. He took pictures of you randomly around the house, sometimes some of you and him together. At school when the two of you were together, he’d snap some pictures and it was never considered weird because you were his sister.

Some pictures were just for Jungkook’s eyes only - the ones where he would sneak up on you in the shower or the pictures he would capture while you were beneath him. You allowed him to take pictures of your naked body because he promised it was just for him to see - and it was kept privately hidden deep in his phone that only he had the access to.

Jungkook wanted something to remember you by - something that he could look back on. It wasn’t like you had an illness that was so incurable that you’d die - or that he was going off to war to never see you again. You and he were both going to college; separate ones. 

And as months went by and graduation had come and gone, he knew he only had a limited amount of time with you.

Jungkook wanted more and more pictures and videos of you - whatever he could get. He took every chance he got to shine his camera in your face especially while you were so fucked out and moaning his name desperately. 

Tonight was no different. This was going to be your last night with Jungkook and then you’d be on your way off to prepare for your college move-in day and soon, he’d do the same. 

You snicker. “We won’t be doing this again.” you say, feeling his lips kiss on your neck. “I’m going to college and so are you.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.” Jungkook murmurs. He’s glad that you’ve already discarded your shorts long ago - all he had to do was push your panties aside or rip them off (whichever was easier). “You’re only a three hour drive away.”

“Driving three hours away for pussy is insane.” you respond, feeling Jungkook’s hands slide down your back to cup your ass. Your tongue swirls on the tip of his cock, eyebrows raising.

“Allowing me to fuck you in my car in the middle of an empty parking lot is also insane.” Jungkook retorts with a sudden chuckle. He licks his lips as he watches you. “Allowing me to fuck you at all is insane…yet we do it.”

You roll your eyes but even you could agree with Jungkook. You had allowed him to get away with a lot - taking your virginity months prior was one of them; allowing him to continue to fuck you was another. 

But you told yourself that this was just something you were going to do for now and take to your grave - as would Jungkook. 

You don’t respond and instead decide it was better to continue your sucking. You take Jungkook back fully into your mouth.

You recall the first time you’ve done this and how horribly it was. But that didn’t make you stop - you were determined to know how to do so before college and Jungkook was the perfect candidate. “Add a little pressure to it…” Jungkook had said, wrapping his own hand around yours to guide you. He then begins to guide your closed fist up and down onto his cock. “You don’t have to go too fast, but anything slower than this is a bore…” he instructs, eyelids watching you as you get the hang of how exactly he wanted you to jack him.

Jungkook adored having to teach you how to pleasure him - you were such a curious person and naturally, like him, always strived to be better. It was a matter of time until you knew exactly what to do with your hands and mouth to get his toes curling and his legs shaking.

You bring Jungkook out of your mouth to pump him a bit - your touch was his favorite. Your hands are always soft and gentle, even when you wrap them firmly around his cock. Your tongue circles the tip of his cock, eyes watching his every reaction. You run your tongue over the swollen head, passing his slit with each lick. You enjoyed watching Jungkook become the submissive one who depended on you for pleasure - thighs shaking, mouth agape and releasing such filthy moans. 

There’s a salty taste on your tongue and you know it’s precum instantly. 

“You’re teasing me.” Jungkook grumbles, gripping your hair slightly. 

“We have all night.” you say, muffled. “What’s the rush?”

“I want to fuck you now.” Jungkook responds, voice deep and pleading. “We have to be home in an hour anyways. You know how dad is.”

You release the tip and watch his cock spring back, pre-cum and saliva dripping from it. “Fine.” you tell Jungkook, already lifting from your position to sit in his lap. “Where’s the condom?”

Jungkook always came prepared, going through his pockets to remove the small, golden square package. He hastily rips it open and discards the package lazily beside him. You’re hovering above him, waiting for him to put the condom on.

“Okay.” Jungkook places his hands upon your hips, guiding you down towards his cock. 

You release a low sigh when Jungkook enters you fully, your walls automatically clenching around him. Even with the amount of times the two of you had fucked, you could never become accustomed to him inside of you.

Jungkook, however, is inpatient. He wastes no time in placing his hand beneath your thighs and thrusting upwards. He assures you’re in line of vision with the camera - he needed good material masturbation while you were away.

Jungkook is a greedy person, he wants all of you. As he continues his thrusting inside of you, your breast bounces in his face, the tank top not being able to hold them any longer. As your breast spills out, Jungkook takes the opportunity to pop a nipple into his mouth.

“You’re so deep…” you moan, your nails digging into Jungkook’s shoulders for support. His breathing increases, his tongue suckling on your nipples needily and his hands go to grip your ass.

Jungkook pushes you away slightly, you now lean between the passenger and driver seats. Jungkook groans as he watches you - so fucked out and full of lust. He begins to thrust, his hand against your stomach for support.

“Your pussy’s so wet, Y/N.” Jungkook scoffs, eyes glancing at how good you were milking him; it’s almost a shame he wore a condom. He couldn’t imagine how heavenly you felt bare. “It’s because you love me that it’s like this.”

Jungkook loves touching your bare skin and his hands never settle on anything for long. He grips your breast as he fucks into you, he holds your neck, your waist - whatever. Now, his hands trails down slowly, thumb pressing firmly against your clit. 

Jungkook hisses, “So, so, wet.” he twirls his thumb against your clit, only fucking into you deeper. “Aren’t you going to miss me, Y/N? You’ll be going to college and sex would never be the same with anyone else.”

Maybe Jungkook was selfish, he’s admitting to it. But he could never fathom anyone else having you in these positions - no other man getting to have their face between your legs or getting to touch the soft, gentle skin of your body. Another guy didn’t deserve to feel how wet and tight you were, or hear your soft, sweet moans.

You yelp when you feel a hand around your neck - and it causes you to clench even tighter around Jungkook. He was angered now at just the thought of you leaving him and allowing someone else to do what he could do to you with such love and care. 

“You’re such a whore, Y/N.” Jungkook grunts, pounding into you angrily. Your moans increase, along with the squelching of your pussy. “How many guys are you planning on fucking?”

Jungkook’s grip on your neck grows tighter at your response. “However many I feel like.”

You loved teasing Jungkook ever since the pair of you were children. He rarely gave you a reaction until now and you were going to milk it. 

“So does anyone get to feel your pussy?” Jungkook snarls, releasing your neck to hoist you back up. Your arms are holding the passenger seat for support. “I always knew you’d grow up to be a bitch.”

Jungkook’s insult don’t faze you, maybe because he was fucking you entirely too well. You have no control whatsoever and Jungkook has it all. He thrusts roughly inside of you, dark eyes shining in lust and anger; jealousy. His hands roam your body, gripping your breast and suckling your nipples. He bites along your neck and shoulders, hands gripping and slapping your skin.

There’s a kiss pressed firmly against your lips; deep and full of greed. Even now, Jungkook cannot fathom to think about someone else kissing your lips and it angers him to know that it’s something you’re going to allow.

“I want to cum inside of you.” Jungkook releases your lips and pushes you off of him. 

You stumble in the backseat, eyes widening at his request. 

“You can’t-”

“Why not?” Jungkook is already pulling the condom off of him. “It’s not fair you wouldn’t let me. I love you.”

Jungkook discards the condom out of the car carelessly. “Don’t you love me?” Jungkook asks with a tilt of his head. “If you’re going to have sex in college, I should at least be the first one to feel you bare.”

Jungkook hovers above you, wrapping you in an embrace. Your back is towards him and his hand dips between your legs to rub along your clit. Your mind is hazy and you don’t realize that Jungkook is already inching inside of you.

“Your pussy feels so good, Y/N. You love me, right? You’d let me…” Jungkook trails off, entering deeper inside of you. His body shudders at the new feeling that the condom wasn’t allowing him to endure. 

Jungkook begins to thrust, his twirling of your clit never ceasing. Your walls tighten around him heavenly that he never wants this to end. If he could fuck into you like this - raw - the entire night, he would. It’s something he deserved - he was the only person who would ever truly love you.

“Doesn’t it feel good, Y/N?” Jungkook murmurs against your ear.

You nod your head hastily. The feeling is new; better. You never felt Jungkook’s bare skin inside of you and now with direct skin to skin, the euphoric sensation increases tremendously. 

Jungkook isn’t going to last long - not when there’s mountains of senses going through him. “Come,” he murmurs against your ear.

You turn your head to face Jungkook and instantly, he presses his lips against yours. His thrusts are sloppy and he’s determined to make you cum alongside him, rubbing along your clit hastily until he feels you trembling beneath him.

Jungkook never came so hard in his life. He’s twitching inside of you, cum reaching deep and even then, the pair of you never cease from kissing.

series masterlist

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Eighteen: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, panty/scent kink, mask kink(Ghostface), gaslighting/manipulation, public/semi-public, spitting, cumplay, nude vids/pics, masturbation, oral, PIV, dick piercing, forced orgasm, bondage/blindfolds, biting/slapping/ spanking/cutting, rape kink, NONCON/DUBCON/CNC, Somno, blood, knife, GEN. SMUT, period sex, brief mention of cannibalism/maggots[All possible tags listed, all may not apply] warning: suicidal ideation

Info: Anakinnnn your misogyny is showing, he’s insanely manipulative like so much more than normal[diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread.MDNI 18+

September 16th 4:00ish am

Anakin returned from the shower quickly, his dark hair being ruffled up with his towel as he walked into the bedroom where you waited for him, tucked in on your side of the bed with the tv still playing softly in the background.

“Ready to talk?” Anakin gave you a lopsided smile, crawling up on the bed and joining you under the covers. He leaned back against the headboard and pulled you close, up under his arm.

“Ready.” You nodded quietly, unsure of where this conversation was headed and if you even wanted to find out.

“You look a little green around the gills sweetheart, you okay?” He asked, petting your cheek with the back of his hand.

“I’m okay Ani, I’m just… anxious I guess.” You said softly, trying to reassure him with a small smile but only making him worry more by your reaction.

“Hey, don’t stress.” He said, kissing the top of your head, nuzzling into your hair. “It’s nothing scary.”

“Look, I know I should’ve told you this a long time ago.” He whispered, holding your hand and running his thumb over your knuckles. “I love you and I promise I’ll understand if you get upset after hearing this. You’ve every right to punch me in the face.”

“I’m not gonna punch you in the face.” You breathed a little laugh.

“That’s yet to be decided.” He sighed, squeezing you against his chest with his free arm. “So, you remember how my mom was all odd about stuff when you met her?”

“I wouldn’t say she was ‘odd’ about stuff.” You shook your head and opened your mouth to speak again, but you were interrupted.

“She was much more odd when she called me over for a side bar.” He chuckled, using his forefinger and thumb to tilt your face up by your chin. “She was pissed off that I hadn’t told you that I take a few daily meds.

“Anakin! What if something had happened and I didn’t know, you could-“

“I’m not a closet diabetic or anything, it’s nothing too serious, I won’t die without it.” He stopped you by rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip. “Cute that you thought of that though.”

“It’s cute that I worried my boyfriend could’ve died?” You huffed.

“From my point of view yeah.” He smiled, his dimple making an appearance.

“Back to the seriousness though, princess.” He said softly. “I take a mood stabilizer, I ran out and I have to go see my doctor to get the prescription refilled. I’ll have to start seeing them every month again.” He sighed, almost wincing in preparation for your response.

“That’s it?” You asked with eyebrows in a low confused swoop. “That’s what you’re worried I’d punch you in the face for? Anakin that’s not even worth a flick to the forehead.” You snorted.

“You’re not mad?” He asked, surprised.

“I’m annoyed, irritated.” You admitted, pulling your lips into a sideways frown. “You could’ve just told me. I wouldn’t have judged you for it. That’s silly.”

“You’re not mad, like at all?” He repeated himself as though he expected this to be an argument.

“No I’m not mad.” You shook your head. “Disappointed that you didn’t think you could tell me… yes.”

“Oh sweetheart it’s not that I-“ he groaned, pressing his hands over his eyes. “I wish I would’ve told you to begin with. It’s just that I’ve had some negative reactions before and I guess I wanted to make sure you were in it for the long haul… you know?”

“I just didn’t expect that I’d be having to tell you because I’ve been a fucking asshole.” He said apologetically. “I think that’s why I’m so surprised. Baby, I’ve not been myself but I promise I’ll be right back to where I should be after my appointment okay?”

“Do you want me to come with you?” You asked, trying to offer him support.

“What? Why would you want to-“

“Because you’re my boyfriend and I care about you?” You said a bit more sharply than intended, your hand on his chest.

“I… well,” he swallowed as though he were more nervous now than he was to begin with. “It’s just that I’ll have to you know; talk about stuff with my doctor.”

“Mhm, yeah that’s what you do at a doctors appointment.” You nodded with a smirk.

“Smartass.” He huffed. “Anyway, I suppose you’re owed at least that aren’t you? After not having known about it.”

“Anakin that’s ridiculous you don’t ‘owe’ me anything because of this.” You laughed tiredly. “If you don’t want me to go I won’t, I just wanted to offer support.

“You’re an Angel you know that?” He grinned, pulling you into his chest and wiggling around until he was laying on his back with your head tucked under his chin. “You can come with me. If you don’t mind sitting in the waiting room.”

“Are you kidding? I love waiting rooms, seven year old magazines, weird little old lady asleep in the corner, secretary who plays solitaire instead of working…” You grinned.

“Man you’re making me wanna trade places.” He clicked his tongue with a chuckle.

“So, what’s your diagnosis?” You asked after a silent moment, changing the subject back to the serious side of the topic.

“What?” He stiffened, shifting to look over at you, his chin tucked against his shoulder.

“Well you’re on a mood stabilizer, what’s your diagnosis? It’s not a big deal, my sister’s husband has bipolar.” You shrugged, noticing the way his energy grew colder.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your b-“ he started, stopping to breathe through his nose. “Sorry.”

“I just hate labeling stuff like that you know? There’s such a stigma around mental health. It’s a chemical imbalance in my brain, not a fucking mind controlling parasite or something scary like that.” He grumbled, lips in a thin line while he clenched his teeth.

“I didn’t mean to make you upset or-“

“I’m not upset!” He snapped and let out a burst of air from his nostrils. “I’m not- not upset. I just don’t want this to be a thing you know?”

“A thing?” You questioned.

“Yeah. A thing, an issue, a problem.” He clarified, rolling his eyes. “It’s always been something that everyone blames shit on. I wake up grumpy ‘Anakin did you take your medicine?’. I complain about standing in a line at the fucking coffee shop ‘Ani, sweetie, are you doing okay?’. I don’t answer the phone on the first ring ‘Ani! I was so worried. Do you need me to come visit? Take care of things?’. It’s just all a matter of time before-“

“Oh no sir.” You stopped him, a scowl on your face. “Absolutely not. Don’t you dare tell me I’m gonna start nagging you like I’m your mother.”

“That’s not what-“

“No, that’s stupid okay? Listen I know it sucks to be questioned like that but she’s only doing it cause she cares about you.” You said, propping yourself up on your elbow. “Now that I know… I trust you’ll tell me if there’s anything going on I should know about.”

“You don’t answer to your mother anymore and if she or anyone else has questions they can talk to me.” You said sternly. Anakin stared at you, lips parted slightly. Even in the dark you could see his pupils dilate a little more.

“That was hot.” He said, smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “When did you get so bossy?”

“You are the company you keep.” You shrugged, a light smile on your face.

“Callin’ me bossy? Rude.” He chuckled.

“Maybe, maybe not.” You huffed out a little laugh.

”You know…” He whispered, breath warm as it fanned across your cheek, “I could be really bossy if you want.” His voice deep and rumbling in his chest, the vibrations resounding in your own, pressed against his.

”You did so good for me earlier, let me pay you back babydoll.” His husky words stoking the flame in your womb. He shifted, pressing his cock against your hip and grinding, one hand trailing down your back, over your ass and gripping the back of your thigh to pull over him, manhandling you until you perched over his throbbing member. You could feel the heat emanating from it even through your clothes, making your mouth water.

”Ani, it’s so late.” You whispered, nibbling the skin on your lower lip as you prepared to turn him down… again. “I can suck you off if you want.” You offered as an alternative.

“Are you fucking serious? ‘If i want’? You make it sound like a chore.” He groaned frustratedly, gently shoving you off his lap. “You know what? Never mind.”

”I’ll just do it my damn self, like I have been since you came back.” He snapped at you, getting up from the bed and slamming the bedroom door shut as he left the room.

He was much angrier about the denial than you expected, so angry that he was feeling spiteful. Stomping over to the couch he sat himself down and fumed for a moment before deciding a course of action. Looking down at his phone, the album of your many homemade pornos calling his name. He wanted to screen mirror it to the TV, curious if you’d recognize your own moans and sloshing pussy and come running.

He licked his top row of teeth, The devious thought now at the forefront of his mind and there was no stopping him. He grabbed the remote and screen mirrored his phone to the TV, something he’d done a shameful nuimber of times to these very videos without your knowledge. He turned up the sound enough that you could hear it, but the poor neighbors sharing his living room wall would be spared.

He selected one of his favorites and exited the album to prepare the rest of his plan before steeping into action. Anakin tugged at his boxers and spit in the palm of his hand, slicking up his painfully neglected dick, shivering at the feeling of the well deserved friction that you had denied him. Hitting play he watched as Ghost shoved you to your knees on your bedroom floor, wasting no time at all in shoving his cock down your pretty throat and brutalizing your delicate mouth.

He loved the view, being able to see himself doing such things to you. It was as close to an out of body experience he’d ever gotten. He firmly gripped his shaft, spreading his precum over his cockhead with his thumb. Groaning at the feeling of the calloused skin on such a soft, silky, sensitive part of himself. The beautiful noises you made, choking and gagging as you tried to breathe through your nose, it was like he was transported right back to that moment, seeing it in real time all over again.

This part was for him, just a warm up, just enough to get himself more needy than he already was. He wanted to look as pitiful as he felt when you came barreling out of the bedroom to confront him. He edged himself until he was sick of it, until he was so sensitive that his tip leaked, his balls tightened with every few strokes and he felt as though if he didn’t cum he might throw up.

He flicked over to the next video, another favorite, one he watched so often that if it were on DVD the damn thing wouldn’t play anymore. The one time Ghost stripped himself naked for you, let you feel the warmth of his skin against yours. It was dirty, sensual, dare he even say… romantic? He could feel the connection you shared through the screen each and every time he saw it. Imagining what was going on in that stupid little brain of yours when he hears the first gasp, your realization he was baring himself to you. He wondered if you were nervous, if the idea of it scared you, if it made it all the more real for you like it did for him. That barrier of fabric removed, nothing restricting your soft skin from touching his, he wondered if that’s the moment it set in for you that Ghost was more than a fantasy. He was flesh and blood just like you.

——————————————————————————

You sat in bed where Anakin had left you, unable to comprehend his reaction. You stared at the door, expecting him to come back in a moment after he’d cooled off. He’d apologize, you’d forgive him, everything would be fine. After all, you understood the awful mood swings now. This wasn’t entirely your fault. You were just that catalyst.

Though he didn’t come back. You checked your phone in hopes you’d see a message that maybe he was on the fireescape smoking and he’d be right back after his cigarette, ready to hold you as you fell asleep. That’s all you wanted, some comfort. On top of everything else that had happened this past week, you’d started your period. It was no wonder you’d been extra emotional, overly worried and over thinking every minuscule aspect of the goings on in your life. The hands of fate had decided you needed one more punch to the face in the form of blood and pain.

Poetic justice for the blood you’d spilt? Not likely, but it was in close enough in probability for it to have made you laugh the day before yesterday when you’d spotted in your favorite pair of panties.

You had almost calmed yourself from the stress of you current situation when you heard low grunting from the living room, paired with a lewd gagging noise. Porn. He was watching porn rather than taking you up on your offer of oral pleasure. Not only was it a slap to the face, it was a backhanded one at that, realizing it was too loud to be played on his phone. He was replacing you with a pornstar on the hi-def flatscreen in the living room, a perfect picture of a perfect girl that could never be you.

You had half a mind to go in there and ask him what the hell he was thinking, how could he be so cruel… but you stopped yourself. He was fully in his right to watch porn whenever he wanted. Who were you to tell him he couldn’t satisfy himself? That would be insane, it’d be a breach of privacy and a horrible misuse of trust. How awful would you be to tell him to stop when you’ve been fucking around behind his back for the entirety of your relationship?

So you sat and stewed, torturing yourself with images of him touching himself. His large hands, the ripple of muscle in his arm when he stroked his shaft, the noises he made, the way his pretty blue eyes would flutter shut as his head fell back, plump lips being bitten to keep quiet. It was all you could do not to burst into tears. Your couldn’t imagine someone else giving him that kind of pleasure. It made you sick. Even if it was only a woman on screen it felt like betrayal, even more so because he chose her over you.

“You’re a horrible, awful human being” You whispered to yourself, sucking in a breath as the crushing weight of all your transgressions impacted your fragile mind state.

The thought of him feeling this way was more than enough to break your heart. You had no right to cry, not after everything you’ve done. These weren’t your tears threatening to spill. These were Anakin’s. This awful stomach churning, head busting, throat closing pain; was Anakin’s, not yours. This is what he’d feel if he ever discovered what you’d been doing.

He would see the same images you did, only his torturous slideshow would be starring you. Your face scrunching up in pleasure, your mewls and whines as another man fills the sweet pussy he thought belonged only to him. He’d see the flushed face and embarrassed giggle you make when he stares so deeply into your eyes he feels his head swim… then it would be ruined by the thought of someone else doing the very same. Someone else making you cry out for more, someone else making you shake, someone else kissing away the salty tears he so loved to see stain your cheeks after he’d made a mess of you. Tainted, irreparably destroyed and desecrated in a way that could never be forgiven.

He wouldn’t be able to see anything else but your betrayal when he set his eyes on you.

Just as you were coming to terms with that fact, another hit you hard in the gut. Bile rising up in your throat and burning yout nostrils as you forced yourself to swallow it back down. What about Ghost? Is this how he has felt throughout it all? The room spun with the idea that you could’ve been causing him such agonizing pain for so long. He’d seen it all. He had been looking after you long before Anakin entered the picture. He had to watch from the shadows as you fell in love with someone else. He was subjected to the very things you’d just played through in your mind.

He had been watching another man touch the woman he loved. The woman he loved so much that he was willing to do anything and everything on earth to see you, keep you, hold you. The woman he treated like royalty in his own way, unconventional to most but… when he called you a goddess you felt like one. How else would you have been lucky enough to be loved by a man like him and to be loved by a man like Anakin at the same time? How horribly fitting.

A perfect example of the tragedies of old. Hubris of the gods always causing chaos for the weaker beings on the earth below. You’d been watching from a chaise in the clouds, peering down at the two heroes fighting for your affections. Only one having knowledge of the competition, a champion as they’re often called; a fighter who has the favor of a deity. A mortal with no knowledge of the battle they’re in… will most certainly befall a gruesome death at the hands of the devine’s champion.

You held your head in your hands, taking calming breaths. This is exactly the kind of thing you were reprimanding yourself for earlier. Overthinking. Over analyzing. Putting yourself and others in it, in a scrutinizing environment that would only lead to a downward spiral.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. Nothing is going to happen. Everything always works out in the end.” You promised yourself.

You shook yourself from the self inflicted suffering, thinking maybe a drink of cool water and possibly a retch over the toilet might help stop the icepick hacking away at your brain, pressure building behind your eyes to from the world’s worst headache. As you stood, you slowly became aware of the change in sound coming from the living room. It had went quiet a few minutes ago, but now it seemed…

”Are you fuckin-“ Anakin was watching another video. You’d wrongfully assumed the break in sex noises meant that he was finished and would come back to bed, though it seemed he had plans to stay busy for the next little bit.

You huffed, reminding yourself that its fine, everything is fine. Just take a deep breath, put one foot in front of the other, and-

“What the hell was that?” You thought, ears tuning into something intimately familiar as your hand hovered over the door knob.

There is no way. No possible way that Anakin could’ve gotten his hands on that footage of his own accord… right? This was it, this was the end of it all, the beginning of the fall of the greatest era of your life. Ghost had done it, he’d sent him the videos. How stupid could you have been to believe he didn’t have cameras here too? Did you really believe he wasn’t going to monitor the other man in your life?

He’d heard the argument. He’d seen Anakin storm off, watched as he… touched himself. Then used your own actions against you; this wasn’t a coincidence that the very night you searched for Ghostface porn, research purposes or not, that an explicit video of you with not your boyfriend ends up on the tv where said boyfriend is jacking off.

Surely you’re imagining it right? You’ve just worked yourself up into a tizzy and now you’re hearing things because of your overwhelming guilt. Yes, that’s it. It’s all in your head. You’ve heard Ghost speak so many times that it’d be silly of you not to be able to conjure up an exact replica of his voice and exact words you’d heard from behind his mask before. You know what your own moans sound like, of course you do. Doesn’t everyone?

You grab the door knob and twist it open, pushing open with more force than necessary and bracing yourself for the possibility that Anakin may be on the other side of it ready to kick you out and never let you come back. But the sounds you heard on the other side of the door didn’t sound like you and Ghost. It didn’t sound like porn of any kind. It sounded like… Dale Gribble?

”Ani?” You asked quietly, poking your head around the corner, your eyes adjusting to the different lighting to reveal him curled up in the corner of the sofa, wrapped in a blanket.

“Huh?” He sniffled. He’d been crying?

You’d imagined it. He hadn’t done anything at all. He’s been sitting in here, alone, sobbing over his bong and an empty beer bottle while watching Comedy Central. The poor boy had tried to take his mind off the subject of his weirdly behaving girlfriend by watching King of the Hill. You’d never seen someone close to rock bottom before, but Anakin looked like he had just booked an express ticket for the earliest train.

”Sorry, I uh… what are you doing?” You asked cautiously approaching him, your gaze flickering to the TV suspiciously.

”I’m just… moping.” He cleared his throat, hiding his burning hot face in the crook of his arm. “I’m sorry doll, I feel stupid getting so upset over this. It’s not fair to you.”

“Anakin, are you okay?” You asked as you sat down next to him, your hand on his chest to feel his rapid heartbeat and heaving lungs.

“Sweetheart, is there something you’re not telling me?” Anakin asked and your heart bounced out of your chest.

”What? I don-“

”It’s just… I can’t help but feel a bit insecure.” His voice soft and hurt. “You won’t give me a straight answer as to why you won’t let me touch you. I miss you baby.”

”Ani it’s got nothing to do with you I promise.” You whispered, wanting him to lay his eyes on you, but he kept them downturned.

”But its… It’s been since before your trip, I just worry. Are you sure I didn’t do something?” He asked, finally looking over at you with big watery eyes, the salty tears spilling over into a stream down his hot cheeks.

“Anakin, let’s not rehash this again.” You pleaded, taking his trembling hand in yours. “Yes I was upset when I came back from my trip, that made me less inclined to want to be… intimate.”

“So, so what’s wrong n-now?” He sniffled, swiping the heel of his palm over his cheeks.

“I’m not upset Ani, I just… I’m on my period and I just don’t fe-“ He sat up slightly and cupped your cheek.

”Babydoll, Why didn’t you just say so?” Anakin asked in a pained tone, like he was deeply perturbed you kept that detail to yourself. “I’ve been beating myself up thinking I’d done something to upset you or-or make me less attractive to you.”

”Oh, no don’t say that, no. You’re so handsome, hottest guy I’ve ever laid eyes on.” You gave him a small, reassuring smile. “I will never not be attracted to you.”

”I’ve just been so emotional and I’ve been cramping and everything hurts, I’m tired and period sex is so messy Ani.” You said as nicely as possible so you wouldn’t set him off again.

”Darlin’ you know I don’t mind a little blood,” he chuckled, sucking in a breath through his nose. “I’ve helped you with your cramps before, let me help now.” He said softly, rubbing your cheek bone with his thumb.

”Feel me sweetheart… it hurts me.” He whined, taking your hand to place it over his cock.

So hot, throbbing and covered in precum that you could feel the sticky wet patch where his cockhead rested against the fabric of his boxers. He felt so stiff that you knew immediately he hadn’t cum, maybe he hadn’t even attempted to take care of the issue hisself like you assumed.

“Anakin, I thought you… you know?” You asked quietly, eyebrows pinched in concern.

“I tried.” He sniffed, looking away with an air of embarrassment surrounding him. “Couldn’t do it.”

“Why not?” Your voice soft and warm, an attempt to soothe him.

“C-cause you were right there n’ all I could th-think about was y-you not wantin’ me.” He whimpered, his bottom lip in a pout as he frowned, taking in a choppy breath.

“Aw Ani, I’m sorry.” You whispered, reaching over to touch his face. “Let me see, let me help you.”

“It’s okay babydoll, I-I’ll just wait for it to go down.” He bit his lip, taking a throw pillow from the couch beside him to put over his lap, hiding his raging erection.

“No,” You shook your head, feeling awful for how you’d denied him for such silly reasons, you should’ve known better. “I want to. Please let me?”

“Y-you really do?” He asked with a pitifully hopeful tone that nearly knotted your stomach.

“Of course I do.” You said softly, nodding your head for his reassurance. “Just uh, I gotta go to the bathroom real quick to take out my tampon.” You said, almost bashfully.

“You’re gonna let me?” He asked with knitted eyebrows, his face twisted in a sense of surprise and maybe disbelief. “You’re gonna let me make love to you?”

“If that’s what you want.” You nodded, folding your lips behind your teeth before letting them roll back out.

“Please.” He nodded, nearly falling over as he scooped you up and took you to the bedroom. “Thank you baby, thank you.” He whispered repeatedly as if he couldn’t express his gratitude enough.

“Wait I gotta-“ You let out a little giggle at his eagerness despite being the cause of it.

“Don’t care. I’ll get it.” His voice came out low and raspy as he lay you down with your legs hanging over the end of the bed. You tried scooting yourself upright and he stopped you, a gentle hand placed on your stomach to keep you were he wanted.

“Ani, please, let me go to the bathroom.” You whined, unsure about how you’d handle being so vulnerable with him. It’s one thing to be intimate while on your period but an entirely different matter when it comes to another person, even one you trust, to remove your tampon.

“I’ll be careful.” He whispered, tugging off your shorts and panties in one go, reaching behind him to pull over his small bedroom trash can that he kept near the closet.

Gently, carefully he very slowly parted your folds, giving him full access to your most intimate place. He licked his thumb, running it back and forth over your clit with his other hand poised to take action.

“Ready? I promise I’ll be so careful.” His tone made it seem less of a question and more of a finality. He was going to remove it regardless of your answer. He confirmed that prediction by tugging carefully on the string at your opening.

“So fuckin’ sexy.” He whispered into the plushness of your inner thigh as he placed soft kisses there to soothe you while removing it carefully as promised.

With it tossed in the trash, Anakin jumped into one of his very favorite things to do; feast on your pussy. His tongue snaked it’s way from your weeping hole all the way up to your clit. Letting out a low, wanton moan he buried his tongue as deeply as possible into your cunt, slurping and teasing your entrance before plunging back inside, repeating the process over and over again until he had you squirming.

“Pussy’s so sweet.” He mumbled, humming contentedly like he was prepared to do that for the rest of all time and throughly enjoy every sinful second.

His hands found your hips, elbows bent to keep your legs open for him. His thumbs gently pressing down in massaging circles meant to help relieve your muscles from cramps. You can’t deny that it does help, you’ve almost forgotten the real reason you’d been fending off his advances, almost angry at Ghost- yourself for being the reason you had denied yourself this pain relief.

“Relax pretty girl, you’re so tense.” He whispered pulling back to look up at you, “gotta enjoy this while you can… I can wait much longer.” He smiled apologetically, he hated not being able to take his time, but you understood.

“It’s okay Ani,” you panted, lacing your fingers through his hair to draw him back to where you needed him most. “y-you can-“

“Really? Thanks sweetheart.” He chirped, hopping up from his kneeling position and pulling you toward him as he stood at the foot of his bed.

He didn’t wait for you to finish speaking, he didn’t listen to your nonverbal cue, he simply ripped off his shirt and boxers; revealing his horribly red and irritated cock. The tip covered in precum, shiny and dripping a fresh bead that glistened in the lamp light. He really wasn’t kidding when he said it hurt, you almost felt a sympathy pain for him at the sight of it.

“Oh Anakin, oh I’m so sorry.” You whispered, propping yourself up on your elbows to take off your shirt that he’d left on in his rush. “I didn’t realize…”

“Shh, shh.” He hushed you, cleaning the bloody slick from his chin, running his palm across his skin to smear it on his chest. “S’okay. S’fine.” He shook his head.

Running the heated tip through your dampness, nudging your clit before pushing inside slowly as he shivered. The simple act of being enveloped by your warm, welcoming walls had him biting down on his whitened knuckles to keep himself from bursting then and there.

“So good.” He whined, rutting into you with shallow thrusts, bringing the crook of your knees to rest over his shoulders. “So damn good, wet n’ sloppy for me. S-so pretty, such a pretty red.” He whimpered, pulling out completely to stroke himself just once, gathering up the bloody mixture to lick from his hand with a disgusting fervidity.

“Ani.” You chided, a slight grimace on your face. You didn’t necessarily find it gross, but it was definitely embarrassing.

“I love you, every part of you.” He said, his voice needy and squeaky. “Even this.”

“Don’t stop me from doing what I love.” He said, gripping your thighs against his chest, leaning forward slightly to speed up his pace.

Anakin’s breathing was shallow and choppy, like he was having trouble remembering to breathe, as if the only thing his brain was capable of was keeping up with how hard and fast he was pounding into you.

“Ah-s-slow please.” You hiccuped, being jostled up and down from the roughness, bracing yourself by gripping the edge of the bed.

“Can’t.” He shook his head frantically, his bottom lip quivering as he bit down to hide it from you.

“You okay Ani?” You asked with concern through halted speech.

“Mhm.” He nodded, his face growing pink as he squeezed his eyes shut. Anakin was trying so hard not to cry. Cry from the overwhelming need to cum, the overstimulation he’d forced on himself, and from how his thousandth declaration of love seemed to fail at chipping away your defenses once again.

He wasn’t trying to please you in this moment, this was completely for his benefit. The release he so desperately needed was just within his reach and nothing and no one could stop him from claiming it. He’d waited too long, been uncomfortably suffering since he stormed out of the bedroom and now that he was back, he didn’t think you’d mind being a little… used.

“S-sorry doll, sorry.” He hiccuped, hearing you mewl and feeling your nails dig into his shoulders as you took the beat he so lovingly doled out. “Can’t help it, m’sorry.”

He dropped your legs to hang at his sides, sliding both his arms beneath you to press you against himself in a tight squeeze, one hand on your shoulder and the other on your hip, both gripped firmly in his strong hands, fully securing you in his arms.

“I wanna be close to you.” He whispered, nuzzling into your neck as his cock slid smoothly in and all the way out of your soaked pussy, just to repeat the movement again at an inhumane speed and depth. The tip not just kissing your cervix, but most certainly bruising it from the bullying motion. “Need to be close to you, s’not enough.”

“Can’t get any closer than this Ani.” You breathed out a light laugh after taking in a sharp gasp.

“Wish I could.” He sniffled, his hips stuttering as his stomach tightened and he was no longer able to hold his tears at bay.

“I love you.” He whispered, hot tears streaming down his cheeks and dropping in small puddles across your shoulder and collar bone. He tried to silence himself by kissing your neck, nipping lovingly but he was so shaky it was no use in trying to conceal his emotions so he let himself sob.

“I love you, I just want you to love me.” Anakin sobbed, loud and exhausted, his chest heaving against yours, sticky with sweat from his efforts. “I want you to love me, why don’t you love me?”

His pleas were pitiful, so raw and vulnerable. He was once again baring his soul to you and you had no idea how to respond. The first instinct is to say it back, say it and soothe him, help him reign in his tears. But you hesitate, knowing it wasn’t exactly right; even if it is true.

“Please.” Whimpering softly, audibly sniffing back snot after letting his heart bleed through his lips. “Please just love me, let yourself love me like I love you.”

“C-can’t.” He whined, hips snapping against yours as he reached between you to put pressure on your clit, the simple touch fogging your brain. “I can’t cum.” He hiccuped.

It was awful, seeing him so close, so wild and frenzied to climb to a summit he just couldn’t get to, the poor boy had been so frustrated for so long and now that he finally had you again it was practically torture to be within those satiny walls he would kill to live in.

“Anakin.” You said softly, shifting and wriggling in his tight embrace to gain use of one arm to gently push his chin up, making him look at you. He looked as piteous as he sounded, red faced and splotchy, luscious eyelashes heavy with salty tears.

“Anakin I do… I do love you I-“

“Goddamnit.” He choked out, his movements completely stilling save for the twitching of his cock and the rapid beat of his heart, he even stopped breathing. The halted air eeking out in a groaning squeak while he pumped you so full of cum that you could feel it overflow, leaking out without him even moving.

“I do love you Ani. I just wasn’t ready to say it and I was scared.” You said quietly, letting him collapse into a quietly weeping heap atop you, his hips rolling against you ever so slowly.

“Say it again.” He asked, so sorrowfully that you could deny it if you tried.

“I love you.” Your hand finding his head, holding him against your damp chest as you gently scratched his scalp. It was bittersweet to say it aloud. You’d kept it bottled up for months and it was a relief to finally admit it, but it also twisted that proverbial knife in your gut. You can’t truly love a man while another has a piece of your heart as well.

“Let me kiss my princess.” He whispered, leaning back to wipe at his mess of a face before coming back to meet your lips with his own. “I love you baby, I love you.” His voice soft and sweet, a light lilt that made your heart feel just a bit lighter.

Anakin started to thrust slow and deep, reaching every part of you with equal intensity. With one hand he pushed your right leg back against the bed, his other coming to run across your abdomen, caressing the skin until he reached the beautiful valley and hills of your breasts. He was taking his time now, but you knew it wouldn’t be long until you unraveled.

“I love you too.” You said, swallowing down the lump in your throat and giving him a soft, warm smile, blinking quickly to bat away the tears forming. You weren’t entirely sure why your eyes got watery but you knew for certain it wasn’t solely because of your confession.

Enveloping one of your nipples into his mouth twisting and pinching the other between his saliva covered fingers, Anakin stayed true to his promise that he’d make love to you. Everything he did now was focused entirely on you and your needs. He watched every twitch, every breath, every heart beat to stay intuitive to what you desired of him.

“Like that.” You nodded quickly as he angled his hips upward to put extra pressure on your sweet spot -only he could reach.-

“You like it sweetheart?” He rasped, looking down at you with lust blown pupils.

“Love it.” Mewling as you arched into his hand that snuck between your thighs.

“That’s what I wanna hear babydoll.” Anakin licked his bottom lip, carefully working you up to orgasm with his skillful touch and perfectly fitted cock.

“Gods… what a pretty pink.” He mumbled, looking down where your bodies met with a hunger that seemed insatiable.

Anakin didn’t want to stop his consistent and steady pace he’d set with his thumb. But, he just could not resist the temptation to taste the creamy pink blend of your slick, his cum and your sweet, sweet blood. Gathering up a dollop, he brought it to his mouth, sucking his finger clean with a ferocity you’d never expected. His knees buckled and his cock twitched; suddenly he was cumming again, powering through his unsteady thrusts to attempt to keep his pace for you.

“Fuckin’ hell doe-oll, doll, my babydoll.” He corrected himself, hoping you wouldn’t think anything of it.

You didn’t. You couldn’t think at all. You could hardly hear a single syllable from his plump lips, focusing all your attention and energy on reminding yourself to breathe as you clenched around his thickness. The sudden and unexpected sensation of him coating your gummy walls, simply from such a disgustingly delicious taste was enough to send you into an equally spontaneous orgasm. Your legs shook, a high-pitched whine escaped your chest and you squirmed beneath him while gripping the blanket beneath you so tightly you felt sure that you’d ripped a bit of the stitching.

“There’s my girl, my sweet girl.” He muttered, seeing your eyes fluttering back open as though you were regaining consciousness. In a way, you were.

“Mmhmm.” You nodded tiredly, your arms wrapping around his neck as he nuzzled against your throat, peppering kisses across your flushed skin. “Your girl.”

“I know.” He chuckled, tilting your head back to capture you in a gentle, sensually slow kiss. His tongue barely grazing your lip, just enough to leave you breathless before he pulled back and flashed you a smile you hadn’t seen for a few days. A real one.

Diary Entry: September 17th

I should be ashamed of myself, I’m aware. I just can’t be bothered to conjure up that emotion.

I’m taking this and fucking sprinting with it, I’ll hit Mach 10 before NASA does. You told me you loved me. Me. Anakin.

Yeah it might’ve been… coerced. Just a tiny little bit of course, you said it if your own accord. I simply pushed you in the right direction. Now. Don’t go thinking those tears were a sham. I swear they weren’t.

That embarrassing display was entirely real and justified in my opinion, though that doesn’t make it any easier to acknowledge that this was not the first time and won’t be the last time that I cry while balls deep in your heavenly body.

Insane isn’t it? I’ve said it before and I’ll say it every single opportunity that arises: it’s just further proof that you truly are a goddess. How else would it be possible to cause a grown man to fucking cry like that?

Date: September 16th 12:38

You stretched, yawning and groaning as your body adjusted to being awake. You’d slept late, as late as you possibly could because of how long you’d stayed up last night. You were still tired, not nearly as exhausted as expected but still sleepy enough that if you were to close your eyes for too long they’d stay shut for another few hours.

You sniffed and rubbed the sleep from your eyes, rolling over to your phone and seeing Anakin had texted you not too long ago. He was out getting groceries for the two of you and he’d promised to bring home your favorite icecream, knowing you’d gnawed through the very last of it and you desperately needed more. After sending a quick message to let him know you were finally awake, you rolled over again and stretched out like I starfish, enjoying the cooler temperature of the sheets on Anakin’s side of the bed.

Even going so far as to scooch yourself over and snuggle up to his pillow to breathe in his scent. A cold, hard object touched your cheek and startled you, the item making a slightly metallic sound in the dark room. You grabbed your phone and held the screen over the pillow, nearly choking on air when you recognized the offending object. You grabbed it, turning it over in your hands with a most confused expression on your face.

Ghost. He’s brought your hair pin over here, placed it on Anakin’s pillow for you to find. But why? He never did things without a purpose, so what on earth could he have aimed to do by leaving you this? Bolting upright you went straight to the light switch and flicked it on, blinking and shielding your eyes from the sudden brightness as you frantically looked around the room in search of anything out of place.

Once you were certain the bedroom was safe, you searched the rest of Anakin’s apartment and found that all was well in each corner of his home. So it must mean Ghost has left something for you at your own home. Or maybe he’s just trying to fuck with you? He’s been so confusing and it’s been so awful… maybe he’s just hoping to upset you. Even so, you found yourself walking across the threshold of your apartment just moments later.

Ghost has been here. He’s been here while you were away at Anakin’s and you’re not entirely sure what the point of his visit was. The cat food bowl was full, your floor had been vacuumed and your bedroom door was open.

Half expecting to find him in there, you walked in and surveyed the room. Disappointment flooding you when you realized he wasn’t there like you’d hoped. Though remnants of him were. Spread neatly across the top of your dresser were all the little things that you’d kept in your jewelry box. Trinkets and notes, along with a few other things. The tiny cameras. He’d taken them all down and laid them in a row for you to see.

He wasn’t kidding when he’d said he didn’t need them anymore. He was finished watching you, instead of relief you felt a painful sense of loss, like you were missing something intangible but feeling it physically. Anakin’s ring. The bullet. They were both lying there at the end of the dresser, the bullet laid inside the metal centipede. Odd. Odd enough to note it for further reflection if needed, but not odd enough to capture your full attention.

No. Your sights were set on a cardboard box lying atop your bed. You rushed to rip the lid off, seeing something unexpected inside. Underwear. A whole handful of panties, your panties. Pairs you’d long since assumed had been eaten by the shitty laundromat washers. Beneath them were a set of identical sheets to the ones on your bed at that very moment, you even lifted the edge of the comforter to confirm it.

The items only continued to grow stranger. Some things you didn’t even recognize until closer inspection, like reciepts, bookmarks, random odds and ends of things you’d lost or thrown out… things you didn’t understand why he would’ve wanted to keep. That was until you stumbled across one slip of paper tucked away inside the large ziploc bag of other crinkled papers. A phone number.

The yoga instructor. His phone number, all this time you’d believed you’d simply lost it. The truth dawned on you slowly as you spread out all those little scraps of your life, realizing some of them were yours and some were his. Theater tickets, restaurant coasters, stupid little things that held no meaning for you until now. He’d followed you far and wide, that much you already knew. You just didn’t realize how closely he was following.

He’d attended movies with you, he could’ve sat directly behind you and watched you instead of the screen and you wouldn’t have ever known. Your favorite coffee place, there were some of your receipts along with a slew of what must be his, considering you never ordered smoothies from there. Time stamped minutes before or after your reciepts were. You’d drank coffee, stood in line… never noticing him.

You wracked each corner of your mind in hopes of finding a familiar face sticking out in the recesses. Willing yourself to dig deep and fish out a common denominator. Was there a man who could possibly fit his physique amongst the crowds in your memories? Try as you might, there weren’t any faces coming up on your register that seemed suspicious or even slightly familiar.

Pictures. Close to a hundred pictures of you from all moments of life. Shopping at the grocery store, getting into your car, browsing the shelves of the library, chatting with your friends, or simply of you inside your home from outside your livingroom window. Even more unsettling were the photos without you in them. Photos of Luke’s apartment, your sister’s house, The Bluebird diner, your car.

Then at the very bottom was your copy of The Silmarillion, the one you’d been so horribly disappointed to lose. Not that it made you feel any better to have it back, not now. Not after everything. You opened it up and saw a sticky note inside with Ghost’s handwriting adorning it.

‘Sent with all my love, Ghost.’

That’s it? That’s all he had to say after dropping this bombshell off on you? You were so simply exasperated by the entire situation that you shoved everything back down into the box, then making a big sweep of your arm across your dresser to knock all the other pieces of Ghost into the box and shove it angrily under your bed. What is it exactly that he was trying to do?

Diary Entry: September 21st

I’m assuming you were unhappy with Ghost’s display. Was it not clear that I was trying to physically show you everything I’ve done for you? Was it not obvious that I love you more than life itself?

Or are you just terrified by that very fact I was trying to get across? Now that you’ve told me you love me, are you leaving Ghost? I suppose I should be respectful of the fact you’ve begun to ignore me. It seems you’ve made up your mind.

I thought you’d be happy with the lengthened leash I’d put you on. No more cameras to watch your every move, I have your phone to listen in when I feel the need to, that’s enough for me now that I’m graced with your beautiful face as often as I’d like to be. I get to see you through my own eyes, no longer forced only to see you through filtered lenses of my mask. Why bother with looking through the lens of a camera anymore either? It’s no where near as satisfying as being able to reach out and touch the flesh I’d yearned to feel for so long.

Diary Entry: September 22nd

There’s not many things I’m scared of, but this appointment is rightfully terrifying. I simply can’t imagine how you’d react if you happened to overhear any of the sensitive information I’ll be forced to share. I know that patient confidentiality and HIPPA are extremely important and very much required, but what if the walls are not thick enough? Will they have a white noise machine outside the door?

September 25th

You had been standing on the platform outside Luke’s apartment for almost ten minutes when his neighbor stepped outside onto the concrete platform, sitting himself down in a faded green lawn chair with a cigarillo pinched between his teeth. He regarded you with a slow nod and an uncomfortable head to toe scan, are middle aged men so completely unaware of themselves that they don’t grasp that they’re being creepy? Or do they just not care?

You gave him the obligatory ‘smile so you don’t ask me to’ half-assed toothless smile.

‘Ur creep neighbors out here again.’ You shot off the text to Luke, the fourth message you’d sent him in between loud knocking and shouting.

Luke was never late. He was always the earliest person to any gathering, he was always the most prepared, so unlike you. You’d gotten here three minutes past the time you’d promised to be at his door. You fully expected him to be waiting, tapping his foot with that disapproving frown he loves to grace you with.

“He’s not home.” A gritty, decades-long smoker’s voice crawled into your ear from behind.

“D-do you know when he left?” You asked awkwardly.

“Yeah.” He nodded, taking a long drag from his cigarillo that made him sputter and hack up smoker’s sludge that he spat over the railing. You hoped no one was unlucky enough to be walking past at that time in the parking lot below.

“Do you think you could tell me?” You huffed impatiently.

“Got yer knickers in a twist?” He snorted at your brusque tone.

“Y’know what. Nevermind.” You scoffed, turning away and making a quick exit for the concrete steps and onto the sidewalk below.

With a cautionary glance over your shoulder, you picked up the pace to reach your car. There’s no chance that man could catch up to you, but you wouldn’t put it past him to try his hand at it. You heard a sharp, song-like whistle from behind you and felt your stomach churn.

A familiar, clean voice rang out through the parking lot, shouting out your name. Snapping your head around, your body took a second to follow. It was Luke, finally. Finally he was here and although you were relieved to see him, it also enraged you.

“Where the hell were you? You need to answer your fucking phone!” You shouted, quick walking over to him to shove his shoulder.

“Jesus I’m sorry!” He squeaked, shaking his head in bewilderment at your frantic speech. “I was at the overpass and I saw-“

“Your disgusting neighbor was… he was being disgusting.” You whisper shouted, following Luke up the steps and hoping the guy was back inside.

“Mhm, yes that is usually what he does.” Luke nodded in agreement although sarcastically.

“Where were you?” You repeated yourself as Luke unlocked the door.

“Well I was trying to tell you.” He scoffed. “But you talked over me. You know I hate it when you do that it-“

“I’m sorry! Just-“ you paused, raising your eyebrows as Luke scowled at you. “Right. Interrupting.” You cleared your throat and kicked off your shoes while he locked the door behind you both.

“As I was saying, I was on the overpass and I saw the tiniest little kitten up there.” He said, holding one hand over the other to replicate the size of the kitten. “I felt bad so I got out and scooped him up.”

“You parked your car and got out on the overpass?” You said in a shocked tone. It was always horribly busy and crowded, entirely too terrifying for you to have done that… maybe you might be persuaded by a situation like this.

“I didn’t want the little guy to get squashed.” Luke retorted.

“I don’t want you to get squashed.” You laughed, surprised.

“I’m fine and so is my new buddy.” Luke said proudly.

“You’re keeping him? Oh my god Luke did you leave him in the car?” You gasped, looking down at his empty hands before turning to walk to the door.

“No! No you idiot.” He huffed, smacking your shoulder. “I’m not that oblivious. I dropped him off at the vet’s office. You remember Jalen?” He asked.

“Sure, why?” You asked, pulling a face. Jalen was Luke’s shortest and worst crush from his player stint.

“He works there at the clinic now!” He explained, going to the sink to wash his hands, then trudging off to his room to change clothes. “I told him I was in a rush so he emailed me the registration papers and went ahead and put the kitten in one of those wall cages.”

“Wall cages?” You asked, standing in his doorway, facing the opposite direction so he could have a bit of privacy.

“Yeah, you know, the little kennel things.” He said quickly. “Anyway, I figured I’d fill it out once I got home so give me a minute or two and then we’ll chat m’kay?”

“Does Han know you’re bringing home a baby?” You asked teasingly.

“Yes of course. He’s practically my husband of course he knows.” He scoffed, tapping your shoulder to make you move. He plopped himself down on the couch and patted the spot next to him for you to do the same.

Luke mumbled to himself as he filled out the online registration, it was quick considering he had zero prior information about the little kitty. “Hey, would it be stupid to put ‘pitiful and abandoned’ in the Reason For Visit section?”

“Was he pitiful?” You asked.

“Yes.” Luke nodded, pursing his lips. “Before you ask, yes he was also abandoned. You’re so right. Perfect. Mm, also crusty goopy eyes.”

“Yeah, I’d probably put crusty, goopy eyes first.” You said, crossing your feet at the ankles and resting them on the coffee table.

“Too late.” He shrugged, hitting send and almost immediately getting a confirmation email from Jalen.

“Did you mention that you are in a very committed relationship?” You asked, finding the quick response a tad odd.

“No. Why would I do that? It was quicker and my new friend got into the safety of the little cage before the ugly old scrungly pug that came in right before us did.” He snorted. “I have pretty privilege, Han will understand.”

“You’re awful.” You laughed, covering your mouth as you snorted loudly. “What if you made that scrungly pug late for his very important appointment?”

“Appointment for what? Cremation?” Luke clicked his tongue, hiding a smirk and holding in a giggle at his own joke.

“Shut up.” You snickered, taking a deep breath as you dropped your hands into your lap. “Anyway. I needed to t-“

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m naming it?” He cut you off, looking offended.

You sighed, rolling your eyes and clasping your hands. “Luke. What are you naming your kitten?” You chirped.

“Art the second.” He said with a small smile.

“Nuh-uh.” You grinned, remembering the old scruffy cat he’d begged his parents to let him keep.

The poor old elderly tomcat had wound up on their front porch during a rainstorm and he was almost mistaken for a lump of wet newspaper. Once he got dry, he looked ten pounds heavier from all the fuzz and knots. He lived out the rest of his years being pampered better than the Queen of England.

“I miss Art.” You sighed, smiling fondly at the memory. He was a grumpy old boy but he was the first cat you’d met that you actually meshed well with. You’d joked that you wanted split custody in the event y+ou and Luke ever had a falling out.

“I miss Art too.” He nodded, laying down on the couch and shuffling until he’d laid his head on your thigh. “But Art the Second will live a long happy life. The life Art the First should’ve had.”

“Don’t get sappy please. You know how I feel about that stupid cat.” You huffed, letting out the air with puffed cheeks. It was the first pet death you and Luke had experienced, you thought you may never recover. Obviously it was still a touchy subject.

“Fine, I’ll cry about it later.” He sighed, waving it off before tucking his hands beneath his arms. “Alright, what did you desperately need to talk to me about?” He asked.

“Okay, please promise you won’t yell at me.” You whispered, petting his hair comfortingly while you pulled out your phone and turned it off. This conversation absolutely could not be monitored by Ghost. Your new paranoia making you survey the area to see if he’d somehow placed cameras in Luke’s house as well.

“Wow, I love it when you start a conversation so ominously. I can’t wait to yell at you.” Luke quipped, snorting softly as you glared down at him.

”I’m serious!” You huffed exhaustedly, already tired just from thinking of how too begin your story without revealing too much. “So you remember when uh, someone followed me home from-“

”Please don’t.” Luke sighed, reaching up to squeeze your upper arm. “Babe, I thought you moved past that.”

”Would you shut up and just listen to me?” You grumbled a bit louder than intended, though it seemed to startle Luke into obeying. “Someone did follow me home. I promise. I swear I’m not crazy.” You said almost pleadingly.

”It’s not… not as bad as it sounds okay? Just hear me out.” You looked down and saw Luke was obviously conflicted. Part of him wanted to stop you right there and call Anakin to come get you and the other really wanted to trust you on this.

”I’m listening.” He agreed begrudgingly, nodding for you to continue your tale.

“I lied.” You whispered, hoping, praying, that this lie would come to as naturally as all the others you’d told since then. “I lied and I’ve been lying ever since.”

”So there wasn’t someone following you?” Luke asked confusedly, his eyebrows furrowed and lips parted.

”There was but I… I knew him.” You said, looking away but reminding yourself that Luke of all people would know if you were lying simply by watching your mannerisms. “I lied cause I knew him and things were going- are going so well with Anakin.”

”I told Anakin I loved him.” You said in a softer but no less anxious.

”What? Oh my god that’s great news! Oh god I owe Lauren so much money.” Luke’s words started off strong but ended in a bit of an astonished dissatisfaction.

”Please would you stop betting on my love life?!” You scoffed smacking his shoulder before grabbing it and holding him in place. “I’m serious okay? But you shouldn’t be so happy. Not until you hear everything.” You sighed, rubbing your face.

”I need you to hep me Lukey. Please?” You asked, leaning forward to implore him. “I’ve messed up so bad.”

”You’ve been cheating on Anakin? Haven’t you?” He asked, standing up abruptly to putting one hand on his hip and the other in a fist on his forehead. “ What the hell is wrong with you?” He asked quietly.

”A lot.” You whispered, ‘if only you knew.’ You thought.

”S-so what do you need my help with, huh? Covering for you?” Luke asked in exhaustion, looking at you with an expression you’d never seen before. You’d seen him angry, you’d seen him disappointed, but this was much different.

”No, no not at all.” You whispered, swallowing and looking away from his glaring eyes. “No, I’d never ask you to do something like that I was-“

”Good. Because I like Anakin. He’s good to you, he makes you happy. He loves you. This is the only boyfriend you’ve ever had that I have thought highly of and I will not lie to him.” Luke said sternly, his tone so sharp and serious that it caused you to jump in surprise, readjusting your seated position.

”So you need my help telling him about your adulterous behavior then?” He continued, his lips pursed as he looked down his nose at you.

”No. I need you to tell me how to get rid of the other guy. Just… delicately, he’s very uh, touchy?” You said in an unsure manner, unable to convert the meaning you wanted to without using much stronger, more terrifying descriptor.

“Oh really?” Luke huffed. “He’s touchy? What about Anakin, huh?”

”I-I know Luke! I know that!” You stood up and started pacing nervously.

“You think he won’t fucking kill this guy over you? Cause he will. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.” Luke said in a low tone, walking over to you with a purpose. “Drop this other guy. Obviously he’s so unimportant that I have never even heard of him until you needed my help for damage control!”

“Luke, no it’s…” You whispered, shaking out your hands anxiously. Luke had never ever yelled at you like this and he was surprisingly intimidating. “It’s complicated and I… I’m so sorry.”

”You’re sorry? You’re saying sorry to me?” Luke laughed in contempt. “I’m not the one you should be saying sorry to.”

”Lukey I’m trying okay? I’m trying to fix this.” You said, nearly in tears. You hadn’t expected this kind of reaction at all. It was not at all as easy to take this side of the conversation as it was to dole it out during Luke’s fuckboy days.

”I love you. I care about you, I want the best for you and the very first time you’re close to making the right decisions… you’ve fucked it up.” Luke scoffed, shaking his head.

”I came to you because you are my best friend and I trust you.” You yelled back. “I’ve been there for you when you were in my position-“

”Don’t remind me okay?” Luke said, his voice falling flat. “I understand, of course I do. But I found Han and I am never going back to that because he is my person. Isn’t Anakin meant to be your person?”

”Yes.” You nodded sadly, feeling a sense of shame that ran so deeply within your soul that it was nearly suffocating.

”So do what you’re supposed to do.” Luke said sharply, pointing you toward the door. “Don’t come back until you have proof you’ve driven this asshat off the bridge.”

September 28th

Anakin nervously paced the waiting room for what felt like the hundredth time since you’d arrived; he’d sit, stand, stretch, walk, repeat. You wondered if he was like this at every appointment or if it was because you were present at such a sensitive one, even if you were only going to wait outside.

”Ani, please come sit.” You sighed, patting the stiff and uncomfortable chair beside yours.

”I’m sorry, I’m just nervous.” He said, refusing to sit but at least returning to your side to stand in front of you, holding both your hands and rocking from the ball of his feet to his heel.

”It’s alright, just take a breath. You already know your doctor, so it shouldn’t be much different from all the other times, right?” You said, trying to reassure him.

”I know, I know.” He nodded, finally deciding to plop himself down beside you, sinking low in his chair to slump and lean his head back against the wall with his hands folded on his stomach.

“Skywalker?” A feminine voice rang out through the waiting room, a younger woman had appeared in the doorway that lead back to the various offices of the therapists and psychiatrists.

”You’re not my doctor.” Anakin said, standing up and shooting you a panicked look.

”No, I’m here to do your intake.” She gave a polite smile and waved him forward. “You’ll be back with Dr. Richardson for your next appointment. It’s policy to go through an intake when a client has taken a hiatus from treatment.”

”You’re a psychiatrist?” Anakin looked her over suspiciously, giving you another worried uptick of his eyebrows after he’d assessed her. “I don’t- I don’t want a lady doctor.” He said quietly to you.

“It’s just for one appointment Ani, it’ll be alright.” You said as you gave him a light squeeze to his hand. “I’m sure she’s great.”

”No, you don’t understand I-“ Anakin was cut off by the woman calling for him again, looking at him with a bit of confusion as she tried to determine why he was acting so oddly.

”Is there a problem?” She asked when Anakin finally complied and began following her down the hallway, leaving you with once last look over his shoulder as the door shut behind him.

”Isn’t there anyone else to do my intake?” He asked, fiddling with the chunky rings on his fingers.

”No, it’s just me.” She responded, pushing open her office door and letting Anakin walk through first. “I’m Dr. Amidala, but you can call me Padmé If you prefer.”

Anakin scoffed, taking in the scenery of her office. She was very clearly the type of woman who thought highly of herself, exactly why Anakin did not trust her in the slightest to provide him with proper care for his condition, perhaps not even just to take the notes she’d be taking to hand over to Dr. Richardson. She had a picture of herself in front of her college framed in a shadow box along with her diploma, the room was decorated in ugly neutral colors, the occasional splash of green from a potted plant, and an essential oil diffuser that Anakin knew would leave him with a headache by the end of the session.

”How long have you been practicing?” Anakin asked, sitting down in the large squishy leather chair designated for clients while she took her place behind her desk and computer.

“Two years.” She responded, presumably pulling up Anakin’s previous medical history, which Anakin believed to be a bit unprofessional. She should’ve already read up on him before the appointment.

”Great.” He sighed, new psychiatrists always seemed so intimidated by him and his diagnosis and it was already uncomfortable enough for him considering this pretentious lady wasn’t his doctor.

“Feeling anxious?” SHe asked him, looking away from her computer screen for a moment. “I understand that, it can be int-“

”I’m not intimidated by you. I’m irritated because no one thought to mention this little change in policy.” Anakin cut her off and it seemed to startle the woman slightly, due to the abrasive nature of his tone.

”Right, well I appreciate your honesty.” She said, raising an eyebrow. “Let me tell you a bit about myself, perhaps it’ll make you a bit more comfortable.” She offered.

”I’m only seeing you once, right?” Anakin asked, crossing his arms and sinking down into his seat.

”Yes that’s correct.” She nodded, typing on her keyboard as she spoke.

”Then I don’t need to know anything about you.” Anakin said plainly, receiving a curious ‘hmm’ in response.

”Well lets jump right into the meat of it then,” She sai, spinning in her chair and taking the keyboard with her to type while being able to glance up at Anakin when she needed to. “Why did you decide to stop attending your appointments with Dr. Richardson?”

”Because I didn’t feel like I needed to keep going. I don’t need therapy, I just need my medicine.” He sighed.

”Well, that brings me to my next question then.” She stated, opening her mouth to speak again.

”I didn’t pick up my meds because I was out of town at the time and I had forgotten to call ahead.” He interrupted as he anticipated her next inquiry. “CVS put my meds back up because I didn’t get there to pick it up in time and then I kind of just decided maybe I’d be fine without it, but I’m not.”

”What makes you think that?” She asked, eyebrows furrowed.

”I’ve been quick to irritation and anger, having arguments with my girlfriends over stupid shit. Not her fault though, mine.” He said, shrugging his shoulders. “I just need my pills and I’ll be back to my normal self.” He added.

”WHy did you wait so long before calling for an appointment when you know it’s legally mandated for you to keep up with these treatments?” She asked, typing rapidly.

”My girl didn’t know I took any meds, she didn’t know I saw a shrink.” He said, quickly speaking again before Padmé had the opportunity to pose a follow up question. “She didn’t know because it’s not something she should be concerned about, my diagnosis has never affected our relationship up till now so it didn’t seem like I needed to mention it until I was ready to.”

”Your girlfriend, is she in the waiting room?” She asked, getting a simple nod in response. “Why didn’t she come back with us?”

“Because it’s private information and not anything she needs to hear.” He snapped, obviously feeling defensive of where this lady doctor was going with this line of questioning. “She’s sensitive and I don’t believe my past is appropriate for us to discuss.”

“Is that why you were hesitant to speak with-“

”With you? Yes, I don’t think women should be in this field of work.” He said firmly, sitting up a bit straighter in his seat. “Other patients with my kind of history can be volatile. It’s not safe.”

”You say ‘your kind of history’ and ‘other patients’. What do you mean by that?” She asked, quickly typing as Anakin spoke over her.

”My kind of history as in criminal history.” He said, rolling his eyes. “Did you not read my file? There’s a reason this shit is court mandated. I might be reformed but that doesn’t mean that everyone who keeps up with their treatments are.”

”I see, so you are ‘reformed’? In your opinion?” SHe asked skeptically.

”You really didn’t read up on me did you?” He scoffed. “I am reformed. I’m a productive member of society, I have a stable job, I have a stable relationship with a woman I love, I have a friend group, I have my own place, I’m in control of my finances. I’m doing better than most regular people.”

“Not to mention I haven’t had a single run in with police or law enforcement of any kind since before my time at the state school.” He added proudly.

”No run-ins? Does that mean you’ve still been committing petty crimes, just not-“

”No absolutely not. Don’t twist my words.” He snipped at her, cutting her off before she could finish the offending question.

”I’d appreciate if you’d allow me to finish speaking from now on.” She said politely even though she was off-put by his behavior and agrees I’ve speech.

”I’d appreciate if you’d not judge me based on other’s behavior. Like I said, I’ve been reformed. I just need my prescription.” He sighed, trying to reign in his attitude. He’d noticed the way she was furiously typing and it worried him.

”Then lets finish this quickly, yes?” She said plainly. “I assume you’re well versed in the mandatory questions.”

”Yes.” Anakin nodded, clasping his hands in his lap. “My sleep schedule remains unchanged, I’m a bartender so I get to bed late but I get plenty of sleep. Little to no anxiety when I’m regularly taking my pills, no suicidal thoughts so long as I’m taking my meds either.” He continued listing off his memorized answers to the same damn monotonous questions he’d come to expect and when he finished, he stood as though ready to leave her office.

”I’m sorry, just a few more things Anakin.” She said, not looking up from her typing. “It’s concerning to me that’s you’ve failed to share your past to it’s full extent with your partner. Don’t you think it could cause future problems if you continue to hid this from her?”

”I don’t think that’s any of your business. If I decide to tell her anything, it’ll be on my own time, not because some bi-“ He took a deep breath and stopped himself before saying something he couldn’t retract. “I will share it with her when I’m ready. She will handle it well I’m sure, considering she’s taken this with grace so far.”

”How long have you been in this stable relationship and is this your first serious commitment?” SHe asked, still typing before she switched over to her mouse and scrolled. “I’m not seeing any mention of former partners.”

”Unoffically we’ve been together almost a year.” He said with a slight hint of a smile, “But officially its just been close to six months or something.” He said before adding: “Yes she is my first real girlfriend, I’m fully committed. I plan on marrying her.”

“Well congrats then.” She said with a small smile, happy to see that at least one thing seemed to consistently bring him joy. Even if it was slightly concerning. “I assume you live together?”

”No, but basically. I’m her neighbor. We live in the same apartment complex, I’m right across the hall from her. That’s how we met.” He nodded, his mood lifting considerably and she made a point to note that.

”Have you put any thought into why this is your first committed relationship?” She asked.

”I was waiting for the right person and I found her.” He said simply with a firm nod and smile.

“If in the event this relationship doesn’t pan out the way you believe it will, what would you do?” She asked, fingers poised to type.

”That’s not going to happen.” Anakin said sharply, gripping the arms of his chair tightly. “This isn’t a therapy appointment, you’re meant to focus on my life currently and my medicine management. You’re not my doctor and you’re certainly not entitled to ask these types of questions.”

”I understand, perhaps I should’ve explained. I’m asking simply because it’s important to see how you react to inavasive questions while you’re unmedicated. Dr. Richardson mentioned you seem very defensive and-“

”And what? You couldn’t have asked me that question directly?” Anakin asked, annoyedly.

”Well in most other cases I would, but it’s been noted that you are a chronic liar.” She stated plainly, turning her computer screen toward him and highlighting the note previously made by Dr. Richardson.

”I want a copy of my full medical history.” Anakin said with clear irritation at the fact he’d been called out so efficiently. “Notes, previous prescriptions, all of it.”

”You’ll have to sign a release of information form.” She said, pulling out a stapled packet from a filling cabinet and handing it over to him with a pen and clipboard. He quickly signed and slapped the clipboard back onto her desk before she handed him another one. “I assume you meant full history as in your records from your time in the state school as well, That requires a serperate form if you’d like for us to collect those files for you as well.”

”Fine, whatever.” He huffed, scribbling in the designated spots that had been pre-highlighted. He tossed the pen down when he was finished and was relieved to see the doctor stand and collect the freshly signed paperwork.

”Follow me please, I’ll drop these off with the receptionist.” She said, ushering him through the door and back down the hallway to the waiting room. She stopped, handing over the paperwork and watching as it was faxed and filed as it should be. “Your patient file for your treatment here will be ready by the end of the day, I’ll send in the script for your meds immediately, the pharmacy should call within a few hours. Dr. Richardson will contact you with the information for your next appointment.”

She skirted around Anakin and approached you with her hand out, standing up, you met her halfway and shook her hand, introducing yourself.

”I always like to get in a few questions with the family if I’m able, would you be willing to come back to my office with me?” SHe asked, her voice friendly and sweet.

”Oh I don’t mind it’s just-“ You started but Anakin stepped in, putting a gentle hand on the small of your back.

”You don’t have to, it’s not mandatory right?” He asked.

”No of course not, it’s just beneficial to get opinions from all involved.” She smiled reassuringly. “It’s common practice in the mental health field.”

”I’m not comfortable with her going back to your office alone, if you’ve got questions for her, I want to be there.” Anakin said firmly, looking down at you in hopes you’d agree with him.

”I usually like to take family back alone for privacy reasons.” She said apologetically.

”Well, if Anakin’s uncomfortable and its not mandatory then I-I’d rather not, if that’s alright.” You said, giving Anakin a small smile to show you were on his side. It was his appointment after all.

”Of course, it’s no problem.” She smiled, bidding you both goodbye before she turned on her heel and click-clacked her way back to her office.

”What was that all about?” You whispered as Anakin opened the door and led you out into the parking lot.

”Hell if I know. I didn’t like the bitch and I’m glad I’ll never have to see her again. Fuckin’ ridiculous.” He huffed, helping you into your side of his car and shutting the door for you. “I sent in a records request for all my notes n’ shit. I didn’t like the way she was looking at me when she was talking and typing. Dr. Richardson never typed that much during our appointments.” He muttered, starting up the car and backing out.

”You wanna get some lunch? Before we go shopping?” You asked, trying to take his mind off what was clearly a stressful appointment for him.

“Absolutely princess, I’m fucking starved.” He said, reaching over to squeeze the back of your neck gently while he kept his other hand on the wheel.

Diary Entry: September 28th

I’ve been livid and trying my very best to suppress it. That fucking bitch and what she wrote about me was ridiculous. I don’t give a flying fuck if she thinks any of it is true.

Dr. Richardson is a truthworthy guy. I’ve seen him for years and I’m pissed off he’s went and ruined my day by letting this idiot do my intake. Why the hell would I need to do an intake anyway considering I’ve been a patient of his since I graduated? What new information could he have possibly needed? Stupid. It’s fucking stupid.

After we left she continued with her notes, even knowing I would be reading them very, very soon because you bet your ass I went and picked that shit up the moment I got the call it was waiting for me. The audacity she had was staggering. Calling me controlling and aggressive? I’m sorry? In what way was I controlling? Where’d she get the gall to say that about me? I don’t control you.

She’s just not used to a man telling her what to do and how things are gonna be. She’s not like you. She’s exactly the type of woman that needs someone to knock her down a few notches.

I just can’t imagine how she’s kept her job this long, or how she even fucking graduated. I even looked up her college and through the class list for her major and it’s honestly shocking someone so stupid could keep a high enough GPA to graduate. She had to have been fucking several of her professors.

No wonder she was so unprofessional, she doesn’t even have a fucking profession. She’s got a useless piece of paper and a shit attitude that she thinks makes her better than me. This is exactly why I hate seeing women as a doctor. All of them. Mental health or the fucking dentist, I don’t care.

I mean, I’d prefer you not work at all. But at least you have a job meant for ladies. You’re a waitress, that’s perfect for you. Your sweetness, the pretty smile, the cute caretaker instincts you’ve got.

This girl though? Someone ought to shove her behind the desk to replace the receptionist. She’s in no way capable of doing her job accurately. She was too busy thinking about shit that didn’t even matter. I just needed my fucking medicine. I didn’t need her to tell me I’m a chronic liar. How dare she? So what if it’s true? Or at least used to be. I don’t technically lie very much anymore I just omit the truth. No harm done.

If I wasn’t so opposed to killing women I might just find her house and snap her neck. But that would be unfair, I’m stronger, bigger. She’d have no chance. At least with men I’m sometimes, rarely, occasionally: equally matched. If they’re not as fit as me it’s not my problem, it’s theirs for not being able to perform a basic masculine task.

So I’ll just visualize it over and over again until I get tired of hearing that imaginary crunch and squeak.

October 4th

After the intital miffed attitude from his upset at the doctors office, he had slowly calmed after getting some much needed food in his belly. Almost like a cranky toddler, sometimes he just needed a yummy snack and a smooch to get him back on track or at least back to his ‘normal’ unregulated behavior. Though you skipped your trip to the mall for your shopping trip, rescheduling for later in the week after he had time to readjust. Halloween was a month away after all, costumes could wait.

His records were printed much quicker than you expected, especially after seeing the size of the stack. You knew he saw a therapist as a child so you assumed it was his complete history, including regular doctors as well, not just mental health files. It had to have been almost two inches thick and held together by three large binder clips. Atop the stack was a blank sheet of paper, save for his name, presumably for privacy reasons. Unfortunately for you that meant you couldn’t even catch a glimpse of it before he shoved it into the dash of his car and locked it away.

It seems the doctor was good for getting his prescription filled in an expedited manner, considering it only took two hours when you expected it would be late afternoon before the pharmacy called. You couldn’t help but wonder about what had happened behind those doors, what he’d said, what she had said; to make him so agitated. You assumed whatever was said had caused her to put a rush on his prescription refill.

The very moment he was handed the bag through the drive through window he shoved it into his door pocket to avoid you seeing the medicine’s names and doses. It made you feel like he might not trust you fully, considering how oddly he was acting about it. What kind of pill did he take that he’d assume you didn’t need to know about? It was all very frustrating though you tried your best to support him through the ordeal in the hopes that he’d share more when he was back on his medication.

He hadn’t yet, despite the quick turnaround. It’s been a week and his mood has finally stabilized and he’s back to his doting, loving, caring and helpful self. You didn’t realize how much he’d truly changed during the short period of time he was unmedicated, but after witnessing his improvement it was quite clear. You though often over those days about the conversation you’d had with his mother all that time ago. The look she’d given you, thinking it was so strange of her to have acted that way when thinking back on Anakin’s childhood… but now you began to understand he must’ve been more than a handful during his younger years. Piling on the stress of growing up, school, friends, it must’ve been nerve wracking to raise him.

His teasing comments and sly looks had returned with fervor, his touchy, wandering hands felt you as often as they could, his lips met yours during every lull in conversation, every quiet moment and tender embrace. Your boyfriend had returned to you and you wanted to make sure he never, ever went away again. Not for your benefit, but for his. Yes of course you’d prefer him to be this way, but seeing him suffer like he had been was just awful. Pulling on your heartstrings in the worst way, even as he was getting used to the medication again. He’d complain of headaches and being tired, needing extra comfort and love that you happily handed over without a qualm at all.

Now you sat in a heap on his lap, his hands in your hair and his lips gracing your bare shoulder with soft occasional kisses, resting his cheek there in between them. He’d been glued to you for hours now, like he had been touch starved or perhaps finally realizing just how distant the two of you had been recently. It was a wonderful feeling to be back in the swing of things, back to your normal, happy time together.

“What do you wanna watch next?” He asked quietly, twisting a lock of your hair between his forefinger and thumb, brushing the end across your cheek to grab your attention. “Movie’s almost over.”

“How do you know?” You asked, turning to look at him and scoot more comfortably to nestle yourself between his legs that were propped up on the footrest of the couch, a pillow behind your back to cushion you against the armrest.

“I’ve watched this movie a billion times.” He grinned, sighing as he moved to rub his arm and pull up his short short sleeve to point out a tattoo that you’d seen so many times but never really thought much about. “It’s from the movie.” He chuckled, watching you trace the words ‘Run Rabbit’ in his ink. “You didn’t notice?”

“No I guess I didn’t really connect the dots.” You admitted with a small, bashful smile at your lack of awareness. “You really like this movie that much?” You laughed.

“Hell yeah I do. Love Rob Zombie, I wish he’d make some more movies honestly.” He said with a nod, pointing to the screen and hushing you playfully. “Watch.” He grinned.

You did just that, turning your attention to the screen as Baby repeatedly stabbed one of the poor girls in the movie, over and over again until she finally sputtered and fell silent. As if it couldn’t get gross enough, Baby licked the knife clean.

“Oh nasty.” You laughed, making a gagging noise even as you remembered doing the very same for Ghost, it wasn’t gross then, certainly not gross now… it made you- no. He’s not speaking to you. You don’t miss him.

“You know, that’s his wife in real life.” Anakin said matter of factly as he gestured to the character.

“Who’s wife? Rob Zombie?” You asked to clarify.

“Yep, Baby’s his wife.” Anakin nodded, reaching over to grab the neck of his beer bottle and chug the remain few gulps before sitting it back down with a clunk. “I suppose you could say she’s his muse.” He added, for a moment you thought you saw his lip curve up.

“That’s… kind of sweet I guess.” You said with a slight laugh, grabbing a few chips but returning them to the bag as you caught a glimpse of a half eaten body on screen.

“Squeamish?” He teased, nipping your neck and poking you in the ribs to make you giggle.

“I’m sorry, I can’t munch on my salty snack while watching a man being devoured.” You snorted.

“Well I can, hand ‘em over.” He laughed, making grabby-hands toward the chip bag just out of his reach. He crunched them loudly on purpose just to try and annoy you, but it honestly wasn’t so bad considering the horrid stench you imagined would be suffocating the girl on screen as she waded through maggot infested sludge.

“You never answered my question sweetheart.” He reminded you, feeding you a chip.

“I don’t care, you pick.” You said with a shrug, chewing with your hand covering your mouth.

“Paranormal, slasher, thriller, monsters… what? At least give me that.” He chuckled wiping his hands off on a paper towel he’d stashed on the side table.

“Slasher.” You said without much thought, taking the chip bag back and rolling it up to set it aside.

“Let’s go with a classic.” He hummed, grabbing the remote as the credits rolled. “Been a while since I’ve seen Scream.”

Part Nineteen

Tag-List:

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THE TAGS LIST IS FULL! But if you want to be tagged I will comment ur username for you. Love you all so many.

[prythianpages]

Strange Love | Azriel

Azriel x Green Witch | Summary: In which your daughter, Alora, nearly sends Azriel into a mini crisis when she tells you she has a boyfriend.

warnings: fluff, Az stressing out over his baby girl

word count: 2,700

a/n: This can be read as a stand alone Dad Az fic! Here we have another fic inspired by a Bob's Burgers episode lol. I also wanted to show more of older Mel since we only got a glimpse of her so far.

The house is peaceful and quiet, save for the comforting rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock. A glance at it and Azriel knows the quiet won’t last much longer. Or the peace.

He leans back into the armchair, savoring the warmth of the steaming cup of tea in his hands—a special brew you created just for him many years ago. "A one-of-a-kind brew for a one-of-a-kind male," you had said. You sit beside him on the love seat, legs criss-crossed, with a spell book hovering in front of you, green magic surrounding you. Though it doesn’t look like it, the spells in your ancient book are endless, and judging by the darkened look in your eyes, he senses you must be reading about a new one.

His attention is once more drawn away from the book in his hands as his eyes land on the portrait that hangs over the grand fireplace. It is a family portrait you had commissioned from Feyre years ago. His lips tug up into a fond smile as he remembers the day you all gathered to pose for Feyre. It was hectic and chaotic and full of promises to your daughters to get them to stay still long enough for Feyre to complete her sketch.

It was all worth it, even if it resulted in you giving in to Mel's request and brewing a laughing potion. That she then slipped into Cassian's twins's drinks during your weekly dinners, driving everyone insane...

 You sat on a shorter stool than Azriel, perfectly situated between his legs. His gaze lingers on you, admiring the way Feyre captured your beauty. Your familiar, Binx, was on your lap while your pet spider, Pearl, rested on one of your shoulders. 

Unfortunately, Pearl passed shortly after the portrait was completed. You preserved her web with your own magic, allowing it to stand magnificently in the corner of your living room. Melaina, your firstborn, crocheted a replica of Pearl that now rests in that web, a touching tribute to the beloved spider that had spent so many years with you. Pearl herself was laid to rest in the forest, a serene place you visit often.

A young Melaina stood on his right, holding her pet scorpion as if it were a mere pup—the only reason she smiled for the portrait. Now a teenager, it’s a miracle if she smiles that brightly, preferring to don a cool mask instead. She’s just like her father in many ways.

Alora, your second born, had just turned three at the time. She was happy to clutch onto her father’s left arm, leaning into him, with the widest of toothy grins. Both of his wings were curled protectively around his favorite girls, a genuine smile of his own gracing his face.

It is a beautiful portrait, one that captures the magic and love in his little family well.

Azriel’s shadows begin to sing excitedly, the black cat curled up by his feet, lifting its head toward the door.

The door slams open, like it does every weekday at this hour. Mel walks in first, giving both him and you a nod in greeting. There’s a spark of mischief in those hazel eyes of hers but before either of you could question it, her shadows are wrapping around her and hiding her away from view as she runs to her room, still not having mastered winnowing. 

Teenagers.

Lor walks in next, hazel eyes bright and full of dreams. She’s mumbling and giggling to herself, making Azriel’s ears and shadows perk, straining to discern her words. She looks at Azriel first, then at you. “Mommy, Daddy,” she says in greeting, closing the door softly behind her and resting against it. She lets out a deep sigh.

“I’m in love.”

And there it was. That destruction of peace and quiet.

Azriel spits out his tea, choking on the curse he wanted to say but thought better against. His shadows are quick to run down his back in a soothing manner and you shoot him a look. The spellbook lands gently onto your coffee table, your full attention now on your daughter.

“That’s lovely, my pretty.” You tell her. “Who’s the lucky soul?”

“Lovely?” Azriel sputters, a small glare settling onto his features. He reluctantly accepted losing Mel to teenagehood, but Lor? Lor was eleven. She still had a year or two left. The mere thought of losing her too made his wings shudder.

“She’s just a girl!”

“She’s just a girl,” you repeat, tilting your head at him in further warning, that if Azriel wasn’t so worked up, he’d laugh at.

“I think he’s my boyfriend now. I invited him over for dinner!”

“Splendid!”

“No,” Azriel shakes his head. “Uninvite him.”

“Az, my love—“

The look he sends you has your words cutting off. You bring your hand to your mouth, covering up your grin, no doubt. There’s pure amusement dancing in your eyes. This moment was no different than the time Mel had her first crush.

Lor, oblivious or choosing to be oblivious to her father’s burning stare, runs to you with a squeal. She curls into your side and you smile fondly at her.  “I’ll make your favorite tonight, my pretty,” you say, running a hand through her long hair. “Tell me all about him.”

And though Lor’s favorite was his favorite, Azriel was suddenly dreading dinner.

He lets out a huff, standing from his seat. His shadows swarmed around him, mirroring his inner turmoil. He shoots you one last look– a look of utter betrayal–before leaving the room, unable to sit there and listen to his daughter talk about how someone else was vying for his little girl’s attention. 

Yet, a single shadow lingered in the living room...

**

Azriel knew this day would come, but that day was not going to be today.

It was similar to the way he felt when Mel first brought a boy home for dinner. But also different. Mel was strong-minded and had a well guarded heart. She had also been a couple of years older. Lor was naive and wore her heart on her sleeve. It was merely a week ago that she had come home crying from school because her classmate looked at her a certain way.

Love, crushes, heartbreak—they were all parts of growing up. Something you reminded Azriel as he helped you with dinner. He knew he had to let her experience them but boyfriends? Not now.

Lor was still too young. If it were up to him, there’d be a strict no boyfriend policy until both his daughters were in their second century.

Tonight, he would meet this boy, this intruder into his daughter's heart. He would be civil, for Lor's sake. Or at least try. He’d be watching the boy's every move, ready to step in at the slightest sign of trouble.

Azriel’s thoughts swirled as he chopped vegetables, his hands moving automatically while his mind wrestled with the reality of the situation. The protective father in him balked at the idea of her being hurt, her innocent heart broken by some boy who couldn’t possibly appreciate her.

A kiss on his cheek pulled him out of his thoughts, the knife in his hand coming to a stop. “You’re sulking, my love,” you said with slight humor in your tone, setting the knife down for him. You cupped his face in your hands, thumbs smoothing out the furrows of his brows. “Don’t worry, Az. She’s only eleven. I doubt this crush is anything serious.”

“But–”

“And if it is, we’ll simply have a talk with her.” You add as an afterthought, reassuring him that you were on his side.

“I love you, you know.”

You grin at him. “Well, that’s a relief. We have been mates for many years.”

**

Azriel watches with a slight frown as Lor literally buzzes with excitement, peeking through the windows of the dining room that face the street. Binx is seated on the window sill, his tail moving and reflecting his curiosity. You take the seat beside Azriel, saving the one beside Lor for your much-anticipated guest.

Mel is crouched on the floor, sprinkling a couple of crickets to feed her pet scorpion, Sprinkles. Her shadows still, wings tensing for a brief moment. She lifts her head, turning toward Lor. “He’s here,” she announces before excusing herself to wash her hands in the kitchen.

Azriel’s own shadows slither toward the door, following after Lor. He hadn’t heard the knock Mel did but he’s shifting in his seat nonetheless. Despite today being his day off, he chose to wear his fighting leathers for dinner, wanting to look every bit the menacing Spymaster he could be.

All seven of his cobalt siphons gleam proudly.

But then Lor walks into the dining room. Alone.

“Dad, Mom,” Azriel’s lips purse at the change of title, not liking the two letter drop from either of yours. She points to her side. “This is Jace.”

Azriel blinks. Once. Twice. His shadows flutter toward the spot Lor is gesturing at only to return to him with nothing. He looks at you. But you’re just as dumbfounded.

“Oh!” Lor giggles, eyes widening in realization. “I forgot to mention he’s a ghost.”

Even more confusion clouds Azriel’s features but that confusion slowly morphs into relief. He lets out a long breath—a chuckle almost. You place your hand onto his thigh, squeezing it in warning. “Just roll with it,” you murmur quietly to him, not wanting to upset Lor. The smile that forms on your face next is strained.

“Hi Jace. Have a seat please.”

Azriel says nothing, gaze narrowing at Lor. 'Jace' might be imaginary but it did little to ease his protective instincts. It was now the idea of his youngest daughter having a boyfriend that didn’t sit well with him. He has no intentions on being friendly to Jace, especially when Lor pulls back his seat for Jace to sit at.

The tension at the dining table was palpable. You were grateful when Mel returned, her presence breaking the uncomfortable silence.

But not in the way you hoped it would.

“Oh hey, Jace.” She greets casually, turning her toward his direction. There’s a gleam in her eye, as if she’s taking in the presence beside her younger sister.  “Nice shirt.”

Azriel feels another squeeze on his thigh but it’s different this time and followed by an awkward clearing throat sound from you. It had him tensing underneath your touch.

Azriel’s shadows could pick up on things others couldn’t but Mel? Mel could not only do the same with her shadows but she could also see things others couldn’t. Her first friend had been a ghost–the ghost of Rhysand’s little sister.

And now, it seemed that Lor’s first boyfriend was a ghost.

**

"That's it. She's breaking up with him now," Azriel murmured, shaking his head with a resolute finality.

The two of you had excused yourselves to the kitchen shortly after finishing dinner. A dinner that barely lasted half an hour, yet felt like an eternity with Azriel burning a hole into the chair beside Lor’s with his piercing gaze. She giggled at whatever Jace supposedly said and did most of the talking for him, with Mel chiming in occasionally.

 Azriel’s only comfort at the moment was that Mel remained in the dining room with Lor and Jace, knowing that if the ghost tried anything, Mel would happily take care of it. He looks at you, ready for you to disagree or offer a different solution. But you merely shake your head in agreement.

“Okay,” you breathe. “I’ll have Mel help me with a séance.”

“And I’ll talk to Lor.”

The plan was set then, the two of you walking back into the dining room. A stoic expression on Azriel’s face but a coy one on yours. 

Azriel clears his throat and you give his hand a squeeze in encouragement. “Lor, can we talk?”

“But–”

“Don’t worry, sweets. Mel and I will keep Jace company.”

Lor’s hazel eyes flickered between you and Azriel. She gave a soft sigh of defeat, mumbling something to Jace as she reluctantly followed Azriel into his study a couple of doors away. You waited until they were both out of view before turning your attention to Jace.

The chair he sat in slid backwards under your scrutiny.

Something hadn’t felt right about this entire situation. You didn’t have the same gift as Mel, but years of experience had left you with keen intuition and the ability to pick up on energies. When Mel started seeing Rhysand’s little sister, you had sensed that child-like energy.

But tonight, you felt nothing of the sort.

Your eyes landed on Mel, who remained seated at the dining table. Sprinkles was on her lap, and she ran a finger down the scorpion’s spine as she looked back at you. You raised an eyebrow at her and she did the same.

When you gave her that same scrutinizing gaze you had given the so called ghost, Mel caved in.

It was then that you saw it–a single shadow revealing itself as it crept up the arm of the chair Jace was ‘sitting’ in. It tugged the chair backwards again. The corner of Mel’s lips lifted into the faintest of smirks, a small chuckle slipping from her throat.

“You made up Jace, didn’t you?”

“Maybe.” Mel replies with a shrug of her shoulders. “Maybe, I like messing with dad. Maybe, I like messing with Lor…though, Jace did make Lor the coolest girl in school today…”

**

Meanwhile, Azriel led Lor into his study, his demeanor more composed than he felt. As his shadows closed the behind them, he took a moment to gather his thoughts, trying to find the right words...

“Daddy,” Lor began hesitantly, her voice soft but curious, “how did you know you were in love with Mommy?”

Azriel was taken aback by the question, his chest tightening at the return of his usual title. He hadn’t expected such a direct inquiry, but he welcomed it. He took a deep breath, his mind drifting back to the early days with you.

By the Mother, he had been such a fool in the beginning and he probably wasn’t the best at this. Something he would tell Lor once she was older–the same way he had told Mel when she had come to him for advice on similar matters.

“Well, it wasn’t something that happened overnight. I knew your mother was someone special to me the moment I met her. But it wasn’t until I got to know her better that I fell in love. It grew from the little moments we shared and the way she understood me.”

Lor tilted her head, absorbing his words. “She told me once that you were so brave you took an arrow for her.”

Azriel chuckled, surprised that you had shared that story. He wondered how much of your story you had told her already. “I did. I’d take many more for her.”

“Wow,” Lor whispered, her hazel eyes widening with the kind of wonder and admiration he adored seeing on her.

“I’d do the same for you too.” Azriel continued, shadows sweeping over her fondly. She giggled, squirming in her seat. “I’d do anything for my girls because I love you all."

"You see, love is a deep emotion. It’s difficult to explain as everyone can experience it differently. Sometimes, it can be overwhelming and complicated. But what I can tell you is that love is not just about excitement or attraction. It’s about truly caring for someone.”

Lor listened intently and Azriel could see her processing his words, the wheels turning as she considered her own feelings. After a moment of silence, she let out a sigh. “I don’t think I’m in love then. I mean, I like Jace, but I think I like him as a friend more.”

A wave of relief washed over Azriel and he felt a weight lift from his shoulders. “You’re still growing and learning about yourself. Love will come in time, but for now, you’re too young to have a boyfriend.”

Lor nods in understanding, surprising Azriel with just how easy this conversation had been. She sunk back into the velvet armchair, a hint of concern still etched onto her face. “But I’ll find love someday, right? Like you did with mommy?”

“Someday,” Azriel smiled at Lor, reaching out to ruffle the top of her hair. “Maybe when you’re two-hundred and fifty.”

Lor gasped incredulously. “Two hundred and fifty??”

“Hey, consider yourself lucky. I was five-hundred and thirty nine when I started dating your mother.”

Lor’s jaw dropped in astonishment. A shadow gently nudged it closed. She blinked up at him, her eyes still wide.

“Jiminy crickets, you’re old!”

Azriel’s smile dropped quicker than a potion bubbling over.

a/n: I could not for the live of me come up with a better simile for that ending lol so sorry it's kind of lame. I hope I was able to convey Azriel's inner turmoil well and that you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed the idea of it.

Mel is 6 years older than Lor. I honestly don't know how aging works for fae, like what's considered age appropriate but considering Az was messing around and underwent the bloodrite in his 20s, 17 is an okay age for Mel to have, had a boyfriend? Even if Az hated that too.

series tag list:@fxckmiup, @aria-chikage

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human, @mrsjna

[qwimblenorrisstan]

(im back, christmas break is here!!)

tw: mentions of abuse, violence, sexism (but secondary gender), omegaverse dynamics, crying, heavy angst no aftercare (again)

The uncomfortable tension in the room was palpable as they all sat in their usual debriefing room. Usually, the nest was a place for such a personal and volatile topic such as this, but none of them felt worthy of being there now. Not with how they’d treated you.

Soap was tapping his foot against the floor, the pattern uneven and sporadic, until Gaz snapped at him.

“Could you quit it, mate?” It had come out harsher than he’d meant. Soap huffed through his nose but obliged. They were all tense and on edge, their usually oh-so-controlled scents now sour and bitter with unease and anxiety.

In the field, they had their skills and weapons to fix problems, to take out the enemy. But here, back home? They had absolutely nothing in this fight. No amount of backup or fights could win this for them. In this fight, they were the enemy, and the only way to win this was by fixing the sacred little strand keeping you together that they had so carelessly unwound until it had snapped.

Ghost looked to Price. His hand was in his beard, thoughtfully running through the hair, stressed as Ghost has ever seen him. A sour pang of guilt shot through him. If he hadn’t tried forcing you to his scent gland, then you wouldn’t be in this position, and he wouldn’t have messed everything up, again—

“Y’re thinking too much.”

Price muttered, Simon’s feelings clear through the thick scent that somehow seemed to overpower everyone else’s in the air. He swallowed thickly. They needed a plan of action, some way to fix this, and the only way Price saw things being mended was by a lot of time and effort.

Gaz let the silence simmer for a moment, before speaking up.

“Cane Baker Syndrome, I looked it up yesterday night, it’s just like the med’ said. PTSD. Do you think…?”

An alpha being abused wasn’t as commonplace as it had used to be. Only 50 years ago, if you’d stepped into the common era, you’d see alpha’s being forced to work for a family they’d been forced into providing, their protective instincts abused. Among the more insane practices had been scratching out an alpha’s scent gland, so they couldn’t scent or get attached to their offspring, meaning the omega got the child all to themselves.

Awful things such as that had been outlawed years ago, but still happened in little forgotten corners of the world where loopholes existed.

“We can’t know for sure, but based on their reaction, I’d say we have a safe assumption. When they’re in a better….state of mind, we can ask a few questions.”

Price answered, voice heavy with an edge of guilt that seemed to grow richer by the second. Soap’s incessant tapping started up again, anxiety clearly chewing away at him. He couldn’t defuse you or the situation they’d created so easily like any other bomb he might during a mission.

“Could we get a background check on them?”

He asked, a hint of desperation in his tone. All he wanted was for you to be better again, for things to go back to normal, for a second chance.

But as they all split up, and he went to the nest, usually all so warm and comfortable and smelling of their sweet, rich scents combined, all he found was isolation among his team, sour scents mingling with rotten ones, a few sniffles and the salty scent of tears, he knew one thing.

They’d made their bed. Now they had to lie in it.

(sorry for the short part I’ve been playing cod bo6 multiplayer a lot and I’m kinda addicted + depressive episode, but there’ll be more soon I promise!!)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3