#i’m glad this part wasn’t voice acted i hate when he gives me commands over linkpearl (<-gay)< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[lem-argentum]

eueuueue. rucred stealth missions return

[weirdestbooks]

The Shot Heard Around the World Chapter 13

Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death (Wattpad | Ao3)

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The speech has been copied from the transcript I have. I know there is apparently some debate over whether or not this happened but uh…gestures to main characters

March 23, 1775

“No man thinks more highly than I do of the patriotism, as well as abilities, of the very worthy gentlemen who have just addressed the House. But different men often see the same subject in different lights; and, therefore, I hope it will not be thought disrespectful to those gentlemen if, entertaining as I do, opinions of a character very opposite to theirs, I shall speak forth my sentiments freely, and without reserve.” Patrick Henry began. 

When her Father had arrived in Richmond, Virginia saw through his eyes that Patrick Henry was giving a speech. Virginian remembered the speech he had given in Congress and wanted to hear what he had to say now, and luckily, her father had nothing planned so Virginia took control of their body, despite Masschusettes, New York, and Rhode Island snickering about it. 

Virginia hoped the speech wasn’t long, as she hated being in her father’s body. Everything was wrong. It was nice being able to feel, but being a women in a man’s body was terrible. Being in the back was fine, btu being in control was awful.

‘You don’t have to be at the reigns. Someone else can be in charge and you can watch from the back.’ South Carolina chimed in, his voice…mournful almost.

Virginia shook her head slightly, just enough to send a message to her siblings, before he returned her focus to Patrick Henry, trying to take her mind off the wrongness of the body.

 “This is no time for ceremony. The question before the House is one of awful moment for this country. For my own part, I consider it as nothing less than a question of freedom or slavery, and in proportion to the magnitude of the subject ought to be the freedom of the debate. It is only in this way that we can hope to arrive at truth and fulfill the great responsibility which we hold to God and our country. Should I keep back my opinions at such a time, through fear of giving offense, I should consider myself as guilty of treason towards my country and of an act of disloyalty toward the majesty of heaven, which I revere above all earthly kings.”

‘I’m glad we have an inability to shut up.’ Massachusetts said, and Virginia could hear his grin.

‘Well, if we aren’t going to speak up for ourselves, who will?’ Connecticut added

Virginia was glad that their people were speaking up. It would do them no good to be quiet, and as she had seen in Congress, Patrick Henry had a way with words. 

While they waited for their grandfather’s response, they needed to continue preparing for the worst. They had militias, weapon stockpiles, and everything we would need if the worst came to worse and they had to fight their grandfather’s army.

‘In a way, we already have, which has not ended well for us.’ Pennsylvania remarked.

‘We were unprepared then. We need to be prepared now.’ New York said, his voice commanding.

Virginia hoped they won’t have to, and she hope that her grandfather’s people will not order his troops on them. But after everything that had happened, she wasn’t sure if she could trust her grandfather  anymore. Everything was just a mess.

“Mr. President, it is natural for man to indulge in the illusions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful truth and listen to the song of that siren till she transforms us into beasts. Is this the part of wise men engaged in a great and arduous struggle for liberty? Are we disposed to be of the number of those who, having eyes, see not, and, having ears, hear not, the things which so nearly concern their temporal salvation? For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth, to know the worst, and to provide for it.”

“I have but one lamp by which my feet are guided, and that is the lamp of experience. I know of no way of judging of the future but by the past. And judging by the past, I wish to know what there has been in the conduct of the British ministry for the last ten years to justify those hopes with which gentlemen have been pleased to solace themselves and the House?”

Patrick Henry is right on that. Virginia thought, Examining the past is the only way you can figure out the future.

‘That doesn’t paint a pretty picture for us.’ Delaware muttered

Their past is full of a lot of hardships. Virginia would gladly never speak about many of these hardships again. But even if she tried to ignore how much they affected her, she couldn’t. 

“Is it that insidious smile with which our petition has been lately received? Trust it not, sir; it will prove a snare to your feet. Suffer not yourselves to be betrayed with a kiss. Ask yourselves how this gracious reception of our petition comports with these war-like preparations which cover our waters and darken our land. Are fleets and armies necessary to a work of love and reconciliation? Have we shown ourselves so unwilling to be reconciled that force must be called in to win back our love? Let us not deceive ourselves, sir. These are the implements of war and subjugation, the last arguments to which kings resort.”

Virginia scowled at this but knew Patrick Henry was right. As much as she wanted peace, her grandfather did seem to be preparing for war. 

‘We’re doing the same.’ Massashusetts pointed out

But they did it because their grandfather seemed to be preparing to wage war against them. Instead of hoping for peace, their granfather seemed ready to send his people to crush theirs. Virginia didn’t want to fight a war against her grandfather.

‘Why shouldn’t we? We can’t ignore the problem and hope it will disappear!’ New Jersey chimed in.

If her people were to fight against her grandfather, Virginia would want to as well as well. Such is the sad nature of her existence.

Immorality and a purpose in exchange for a life that will forever be scarred by betrayal and war.

It made it hard to have attachments most of the time. Still, Virginia never would have thought her grandfather would do any of this, send his soldiers, and pass acts that harmed her and her people. 

“I ask, gentlemen, sir, what means this martial array if its purpose be not to force us to submission? Can gentlemen assign any other possible motive for it? Has Great Britain any enemy in this quarter of the world to call for all this accumulation of navies and armies? No, sir, she has none. They are meant for us; they can be meant for no other. They are sent over to bind and rivet upon us those chains which the British ministry have been so long forging. And what have we to oppose to them? Shall we try argument? Sir, we have been trying that for the last ten years. Have we anything new to offer upon the subject? Nothing.”

That was another thing she didn’t like: the fact that peace seemed to be failing. It seemed that violence would be the only solution. Virginia didn’t want it to be the only solution. 

‘Well, what other choice do we have?’ Rhode Island protested.

‘If the British will not listen to us, we will have to resort to violence.’ New York added

‘That’s if the British don't resort to violence first.’ Massachusetts added.

Virginia sighed. Her brothers were, unfortunately, right. Their grandfather didn’t need to bring so many troops here. Couldn't he see it was making things worse? All they were doing was making tensions worse! And Boston…well, it seemed like that city was under military occupation. 

It seemed like one wrong move would lead to chaos and war. To an irreversible split between the Thirteen Colonies and their grandfather. They had all heard faint whispers that some thought they should be independent. 

She hoped not. Virginia liked being a British subject, but if his grandfather kept ignoring them, something would happen whether he liked it or not. Whether Virginia liked it or not.

Something big would come out of everything that has happened. Virginia just hoped they were ready for it.

“We have held the subject up in every light of which it is capable, but it has been all in vain. Shall we resort to entreaty and humble supplication? What terms shall we find which have not been already exhausted? Let us not, I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves. Sir, we have done everything that could be done, to avert the storm which is now coming on. We have petitioned; we have remonstrated; we have supplicated; we have prostrated ourselves before the throne and have implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of the ministry and Parliament.”

Virginia sighed. It seemed like they had done everything they possibly could to prevent more violence and disagreement with their grandfather. Now, it was up to him to decide where they go from here.

Virginia hope he wanted peace just as much as they did. They had militias, but they cannot stand up to the might of their grandfather’s army for long. They didn't have leaders, supplies, or training. Hell, Virginia did't even know if her people would side with them or her grandfather! They had next to nothing that would give them an advantage.

‘Aside from knowing the land.’ Georgia added.

‘I’m so glad we know the land that’ll be really helpful when thirty cannons are pointed at us.’ New Hampshire snarked.

“Our petitions have been slighted; our remonstrances have produced additional violence and insult; our supplications have been disregarded; and we have been spurned, with contempt, from the foot of the throne.”

That was a familiar story. It wasn’t just Parliament ignoring their people, but Virginia’s grandfather ignoring her father. Her grandfather ignored what her father said and was convinced he knew what was best.

But they were her father’s people. Her father would always know what they wanted more than her grandfather could ever hope to.

He knew that.

He still didn’t listen.

‘Probably because his head is stuck so far up his ass that-’ Massachusetts said, being cut off by someone else, probably Northern Carolina

Virginia sighed Now wasn’t the time to get angry with their grandfather. They had provoked him enough in recent years. 

“In vain, after these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and reconciliation. There is no longer any room for hope.”

Virginia still want to believe that peace can be found. She still wants reconciliation. She want to be prepared if she is forced to fight, but she wants peace.

‘But does the Britain want peace?’ Pennsylvania asked, her voice soft.

‘If violence, and, god forbid, war happens, I hope the British start that fight. We should not fight unless we are given no other choice. Not when we are outmatched as we are.’ South Carolina said.

Patrick Henry may think it is an unrealistic goal at this point, but Virginia will still hold out hope that they can have peace and reconciliation. Virginia will have that hope until they have tried and failed to pursue peace in every way possible.

“If we wish to be free, if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges for which we have been so long contending, if we mean not basely to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained, we must fight! I repeat it, sir, we must fight! An appeal to arms and to the God of Hosts is all that is left us!”

Virginia sighed. It seemed the hotheaded ones were always so willing to fight. Then again, they were young. They did not see how quickly fighting can destroy everything, even if it seems like the correct answer.

‘If we fight….’ Massachusetts began.

If they fight and lose, the punishment that will befall them and all their people will be worse than anything the Parliament and the soldiers have done so far. If fighting remains the only option, Virginia will do it gladly. She will never abandon he people.

‘But if we can solve things without violence, we must.’ Georgia said.

‘If violence must come, it must be the British who start it.’ North Carolina added.

“They tell us, sir, that we are weak, unable to cope with so formidable an adversary. But when shall we be stronger? Will it be the next week or the next year? Will it be when we are totally disarmed and when a British guard shall be stationed in every house? Shall we gather strength by irresolution and inaction? Shall we acquire the means of effectual resistance by lying supinely on our backs and hugging the delusive phantom of hope until our enemies shall have bound us hand and foot?”

‘He has a point.’ Delaware said, voice neutral.

They will never be stronger than their grandafther. Not while they’re still under his rule. But if they’re–no.

Virginia pushed those treasonous thoughts away. They were not stronger than their grandfather. A fight against him is a hopelessly outmatched one. They will fight him if they must, but it will not be easy or successful. 

And yet…

“Sir, we are not weak if we make a proper use of those means which the God of nature hath placed in our power. Three millions of people, armed in the holy cause of liberty and in such a country as that which we possess, are invincible by any force which our enemy can send against us.”

But would all three million of their people fight the British? The thought was laughable. Too many were loyal, regardless of what the British did. Too many were children, women, and slaves. Too many would not fight.

Numbers sound nice. But realistically, three million people would not fight the British. Getting even 2000 to do so seems impossible. Unless the British can significantly anger their people enough, or something other than the promise of liberty can convince them to fight, not enough people will fight.

“Besides, sir, we shall not fight our battles alone. There is a just God who presides over the destinies of nations and who will raise up friends to fight our battles for us. The battle, sir, is not to the strong alone; it is to the vigilant, the active, the brave. Besides, sir, we have no election. If we were base enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. There is no retreat but in submission and slavery! Our chains are forged! Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Boston! The war is inevitable, and let it come! I repeat it, sir, let it come.”

Many people seemed so sure war was coming. 

‘Are they wrong?’ New Hampshire asked.

‘It doesn’t seem like the British want peace.’ Rhode Island added.

Virginia wanted there to be peace so, so badly. She didn’t want war. She wanted her people to be safe.

“It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentlemen may cry, Peace, Peace, but there is no peace. The war is actually begun! The next gale that sweeps from the north will bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms! Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle? What is it that gentlemen wish? What would they have? Is life so dear, or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and slavery? Forbid it, Almighty God! I know not what course others may take, but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!” Patrick Henry finished with that last line that sending chills down her spine.

‘And some people think the South isn’t as intense as New England.’ Connecticut said, his tone mocking.

‘New England has more intensity, though.’ Georgia argued

‘That’s because New England is full of condensed rage.’ North Carolina snorted out.

Liberty or death—a bold claim and an ominous prediction of what could come. Virginia was hopeful that no actual violence would break out between the militias they had created and their grandfather’s soldiers. She stood up from her seat and walked over to Patrick Henry.

“You’re quite a speaker, Mr. Henry.” Virginia said, approaching him, “I don’t think anyone will be forgetting those final words.”

“Thank you, Thirteen Colonies. I must say I am surprised to see you here.” Patrick Henry said.

“I was in Georgia, trying to talk to people there about the benefits of joining the next session of Congress. I was returning to Boston when I was told about the speech you would be giving and decided to hear it myself.” Virginia explained, rolling with the fact that Patrick Henry thought she was her father..

“You seem to spend a lot of time in Boston nowadays.” Patrick Henry said.

‘That’s because everything happens in Boston nowadays.’ Massachusetts said smugly.

‘Not this speech.’ Maryland pointed out.

‘Or Congress.’ Pennsylvania added.

“Everything seems to be happening in that city, and I don’t want to miss a moment. Everything occurring now is important to my future and the fate of my people. I’d rather not miss anything important. Although I will confess, I am not excited for England to watch me.” Virginia said. Patrick Henry frowned.

“I’d imagine that would get annoying.” He said. Virginia nodded.

‘Treating any country or colony like they are a child is annoying. Even if we have the appearance of such, we are much older than we appear. And we are never children. We aren’t allowed a childhood. We are countries and colonies, not humans.’ Massachusetts said, his voice sad.

“Father likes to think of me as a child, even though I am not much younger than him. It can get annoying, as he wishes to protect me and, in the process, prevent me from doing things to help my people. That and everything that has happened has strained our relationship greatly. I hope we can work things out for the good of you and the rest of my people.” Virginia said, drawing on all the experience she had watching and listening to her Father’s frustrations to give a believable answer.

Patrick Henry nodded.

‘Hoping for peace seems so…out of reach somedays.’ Maryland said.

“I hope so, too.”

Give them all liberty, or give them all death.

Virginia hoped everything wouldn’t lead to more deaths.

[birdsinmywalls]

This has been SUCH a pleasure to read. The drama made sense and was written well and the smut was detailed and a little sweet? Even though he’s a gruff guy. I loved the way you tied up the ending. So glad I stumbled across this fic and I’m excited to dive into whatever else you have written! Because if this is the standard you write in, everyone should feel lucky that you aren’t charging because it’s THAT good!

“If anything, he gives them more attention than he gives you, delivering his deadpan jokes and exchanging quips during training.” Seems to me like he’s in a good mood because he got laid but I don’t know him as well as reader lol

“It feels silly to admit that maybe you had hoped that Ghost wouldn’t be content with just being your first, that maybe he’d want to be your second, your third.” It’s not silly to want things!

“Ghost had so confidently taken a seat next to you on the same fucking squishy little couch that you had shared last week.” Ghost is a man of few words lol this seems like a promising move from him!

“you wish he would give you some indication of where you stand,” girlie maybe just pull him to the side and ask? I think a direct rejection would be better than this middle ground you guys are on

“Over the last week, you’ve tried very hard not to be a stereotype.” Ugh it sucks when the pressures and stereotypes get to us and make us feel crazy

“After all, he had taken your virginity and then proceeded to act as though nothing at all had changed between you for the rest of the week, and now he’s sat next to you with his gaze that heated? What the fuck?” LOL

“He’s sort of cute. A charming smile, at least. When he sees you looking back, he only smiles wider and steps closer.” Sort of cute? Bestie let’s not even play games. If you are telling yourself he’s sort of cute he’s not worth it

“ It makes you jolt, startled, recognising Ghost by touch alone. It feels as though it sears straight through your clothes, and your eyes widen.” Uh oh looks like someone is jealous!

“Mm.” Ghost grunts. “What were you doing?” Love that he’s bothered

“Oh god, the Captain is watching you get hauled off — how mortifying.” Yikes yeah I don’t know what to say about that. Everyone is gunna know now

“And then as soon as another guy speaks to me, you’re over to me like a light. I mean, what the fuck?” And then, remembering the chain of command, you add a very sullen, “Sir.” LOL I love it

“His name is Davidson.” He says, and his voice is missing the somewhat dangerous edge it had only moments earlier. “And that wasn’t what I was talking about.” Yikes that wasn’t the guys name?? Cringe!

“Besides,” He cuts clean across you, but so gently, so much so that it surprises you. “I think we long surpassed professionalism when you asked if you could use my cock like a dildo.” Let’s be accountable Ghost! YOU were the one that said “let me try” last chapter and ate her out for an hour. The line was crossed by you first technically

““I was trying to give you space, doll.” He murmurs. “It was your first– I didn’t want to overwhelm you. Wanted you to make your own choices.” I have to say I almost always hate a miscommunication trope but this one is done so well in a way that makes sense for the situation and I am loving it

“There’s a long moment of silence during which Ghost just stares at you. It’s borderline uncomfortable, and you find it difficult to maintain eye contact with him. Even with the mask acting as a barrier, he’s still so intense” to have a character like ghost who barely speaks and wears a mask that hides expression you do a very good job of showing his micro expressions and twitches to show what he’s thinking

“Promising start.” He says, and you want to smack him.” LOL Snarky Ghost is Top tier

“Shh,” You admonish him, glancing up with a frown. “Let me do it myself.” Ok girl!

“Knew you’d be good at this. Look at you, messy little thing. Fuckin’ gorgeous.” Love how many compliments he gives her. He was sweet to her in the first part too

“He’s built like a fucking god; thick muscles, soft tummy, and cushiony pecs. It might just be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life.” Swoons

“It’s not teasing, lovie.” He says, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your jawline. “You’ve been avoiding me for a week straight. I’m just reacquainting myself.” A gentleman

“Your jaw clenches in determination. “I need to be on top.” Woo! Get it girl!

“The guy at the bar.” Ghost clarifies, his voice deep and a little irritated. “The one who was all over you. Would you have gone back with him?” Oh yeah ghost? I thought earlier you said “that’s not what I was talking about” looks like you WERE jealous

“To see him glowing with sweat, his mouth lolled open under his rumpled balaclava as he snarls and grunts and fucks into you like an animal feels like a drug so heady you know you’re already addicted.” Same!

“As long as you’ll have me.” He says, low in the quiet of the room. His tone is thick with significance,” love it! He’s such a sweetheart when he actually communicates lol

ミi hear you like magic? i've got a wand and a rabbit!

part one | part two

🍓 pairing: simon "ghost" riley x fem reader

🍓 tags: nsfw, size kink, inexperienced!reader, first time blow jobs, vaginal sex, rough(?) sex, riding, jealous ghost, some communication issues!

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

The problem with sleeping with a man like Ghost, you’re coming to realise, is that now that you’ve experienced the reality of sex (and good sex) you can’t stop thinking about it.

In the week following the night you’d spent together, you swear you can feel his phantom touch on your hips, your thighs, your back. It feels like he’s carved a space for himself inside of you, something you’ll never get back – not that you want it back in the first place. 

Realistically, you know that the whole ‘loss of virginity’ thing doesn’t have as much to do with how you’re feeling as the fact that it was Ghost who had taken it. You had long bullied your hymen out of the way with your collection of silly dildos, but nothing could have prepared you for the scorching hot heat of Ghost’s massive cock splitting you open, or his clever tongue licking at you, or his thick calloused fingers rubbing torturous circles into your clit and fraying your nerves apart.

The worst part is, you don’t know if anything is ever going to live up to the way he made you feel again. You’ve tried to replicate his touches, his rhythm, the way he had split you open, but your fingers are too small and none of your dildos can imitate the way he had worked you stupid. To your immense dissatisfaction, you don’t even come close to coming again.

It feels like something inside of you has cracked open, and you don’t know how to stop all of this new yearning, how to stuff it all back inside and pretend that nothing has changed.

The problem is that while you feel as though you’ve been changed from the inside out, you don’t think Ghost feels the same way. Maybe the most infuriating thing is that Ghost seems entirely unaffected. Other than a couple of lingering glances and knowing stares, there’s no indication that he had done anything more intimate with you than grappling at training. 

All you can do is attempt to follow his lead, to be as casual as possible.

It’s harder than it sounds.

You find your whole body straining towards him when he’s close to you, though you try to keep cool. You fail miserably. You can’t even look in Ghost’s direction without thinking of his big fingers hooked inside you, rubbing at your clit, squeezing at your tits. You can hardly look him in the eye without thinking of the way he looked when he was squeezed between your thighs with his mouth on your cunt, the way those big brown eyes watched as you writhed on his tongue.

And yet, you can hardly tear your eyes away from him. You look at him in a completely different light now. He’s the first man to take you, the first one to touch you so intimately, the first one to make you come. He’s still your lieutenant, but it’s like all of a sudden your eyes have been opened to a new aspect of him. He’s no longer just your untouchable superior, the man who’s always so cold and distant behind that death mask – now he’s the man who was gentle with you, the man who kissed you sweetly when he took your virginity, the man who gave you the first, second, third orgasm of your life.

But despite the way you had been offered that new little glimpse into Ghost, he still remains an enigma to you. 

You can feel his eyes on you throughout the week, though it’s never at the same time as when you’re looking at him. And maybe you’re imagining it, but it seems as though he’s gotten freer with his touches, too. A big palm on the small of your back as he steps past you, a quick squeeze to the shoulder. It’s subtle, and you can’t be sure that he’s actually touching you anymore than usual.

But other than the subtle glances and the light touches, Ghost doesn’t make any genuine effort to approach you again. He still treats you like just another member of the squad, no different to Soap or Gaz. 

If anything, he gives them more attention than he gives you, delivering his deadpan jokes and exchanging quips during training. You end up standing to the side, sending infrequent glances their way in the hopes that he’ll give you something.

You’ve never been the fittest or the strongest, but your level of distraction in those few days following your night with Ghost is absolutely mortifying. You’re slow, you’re clumsy, you mess up everything. 

You don’t think you can be blamed when you’re working in the same space as Ghost. You can hardly bring yourself to look his way when he’s lifting weights, unable to handle looking at the flex and curl of his muscles under his long-sleeve black workout shirt. It clings to him, letting you see every little shift of muscle and tendon beneath that stupid top as he works, and your mind very unhelpfully provides a slideshow of memories of him between your spread thighs. 

You know it’s obvious. You glance at him, then glance away, then back again. Your eyes linger, bright and too interested, before you’re able to hide it. You wonder sometimes if your yearning is obvious on your face; you hope not.

But if Ghost sees it – any of it – he gives no indication. 

If you have to be honest with yourself, you’ll admit that you’re disappointed. You had hoped that– well. You’re not sure you can bear to admit what you’d hoped, even just to yourself. It feels silly to admit that maybe you had hoped that Ghost wouldn’t be content with just being your first, that maybe he’d want to be your second, your third. Silly. Almost blasphemous.

You don’t technically have to show up to training, so after only two days of your awkward and uncertain pining in the gym, you stop showing up. The role you fulfil as part of the 141 is a non-combat one, so you know you won’t be missed in their ongoing training. You’ve mostly been working in communications; maintaining secure communication channels and ensuring that information is transmitted accurately and securely. The boys rely on you in the field, and you feel like you owe them a certain level of physical fitness just in case things go frighteningly wrong when you’re out there with them. 

There’s just something so mortifying about the whole situation. It feels as though Ghost had peeled back the layers of you and taken a peek at your soft unprotected insides. You’d been vulnerable in front of him in a way you’d never been in front of anyone before, in a way that you can hardly stand. You had thought that you’d been okay with it being a one time thing, but you weren’t exactly doing a whole lot of thinking at the time.

So yeah, every time he glances away from you, or when he doesn’t even bother to look in your direction at all, it feels like you’re being rejected anew. It’s…. It’s not ideal. But you’re a big girl, and you’ve dealt with repressed desire and stifled yearning for years now. At least now you have a real experience to add to your reserve of imagination the next time you try to get yourself off.

It’s fine. You convince yourself that you were being ridiculous in the first place. He’s Ghost, after all. You feel a little foolish for even having the brief hope that something more might happen between the two of you. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ

You manage to keep to yourself for most of the week, and the rest of the squad is kind enough not to say anything about it. But when Thursday comes around, you realise it’s not going to be possible to avoid Soap and his persistent insistence that you join them all in the moderately-sized cantina for drinks that night.

Truthfully, it doesn’t take too much persuading to convince you to go. Avoiding training with the squad had resulted in a week of isolation that had left you lonely and wishing for some social interaction. Besides, you’ve never quite been able to say no to Soap, and so you’re dragged to the little cantina for the second Thursday in a row.

To your absolute bewilderment, you find yourself in the exact same position as you had been in the last time you shared drinks with the squad, exactly one week ago. 

Despite hardly speaking to you all week, Ghost had so confidently taken a seat next to you on the same fucking squishy little couch that you had shared last week. You end up partially squashed into the arm of the sofa, with Ghost’s massive hulking body brushing against you with every slight movement. 

It’s galling to admit it, but you feel like you’re on fire. He doesn’t say much other than a soft murmur of a greeting when he first settles down beside you, but then he throws his arm around the back of the couch in a move that’s unexpectedly intimate. 

You try not to read too much into it. While Ghost may be fairly aloof and menacing to those that don’t know him well, to you and the squad he’s always been subtly territorial. His eyes flick around the room semi-regularly, never at ease even in the middle of base. When Gaz goes to get drinks, Ghost’s eyes follow him until he gets back as though he’s expecting something to happen in the few minutes and couple of feet that he’s gone. He does the same when Price steps out for a smoke, and when Soap steps out to the toilet.

So the arm behind you (technically resting on the back of the couch rather than your shoulders) doesn’t actually mean anything. The curious look that Soap sends you doesn’t mean anything either, and you studiously ignore it as you force yourself to relax at Ghost’s side.

You drink the vodka soda Gaz hands you a little quicker than you mean to – maybe it’s because your nerves are already set on edge, but the alcohol goes to your head. Quickly. 

It’s a pleasant floaty feeling, and it eases some of the anxiety that’s been bubbling thanks to the heat that sinks into your skin from his side pressed up against you. By the time you drain your glass, you’re leaning against his side. He doesn’t react, for better or worse; you wish he would give you some indication of where you stand, whether he likes you bundled up by his side or if he’s just tolerating it.

When Ghost’s eyes finally slide over to you from behind the dark pits of his mask, you nearly jolt. His gaze is lazy and half-lidded, but he reaches out to take the glass from you. His gloved fingers brush over yours, and you can’t stifle the embarrassing little judder that runs down your spine.

“Slow down.” He murmurs, setting the glass aside. “It’s still early.”

You had been hoping all damn evening that he would just look at you, but now that you finally have his eyes on you it feels as though you’re pinned down by them. You try not to squirm, once again remembering the way those dark eyes had watched you so darkly as he had hunched over you, rutting into you until the tears were streaming down your cheeks.

Your mind goes blank under his attention and his closeness, the ambient noise of glasses clinking and loud voices laughing and joking and muffled old eighties tunes fading to nothing until the sound of Soap’s loud voice brings you back to yourself.

“Let the lass drink, LT.” He crows, grinning, and you realise that he already has another couple of drinks in his hands. You hadn’t even noticed him leaving for the bar. “She deserves to have fun tonight. Don’t you, bonnie?”

“Sure.” You agree easily, relieved by the distraction and already reaching for the new drink. You’re still all fidgety and distracted, eager to drown yourself in it. “I deserve fun.”

It feels as though Ghost’s gaze is burning right into the side of your head, but you fixedly ignore him. He’s so intense, you’re pretty sure that you look like a dazed idiot under the weight of his attention. It’s the most he’s looked at you all week, and you attempt to hide your face behind your glass as you take a sip of your fresh drink.

He’s drinking too, though he’s foregone his usual whiskey in favour of a dark lager that he’s barely touched. The glass is sweating with condensation, and he swipes a thick gloved thumb over the fog on it absent-mindedly as he watches you.

You watch Gaz and Soap as they joke with each other, trading jibes and jabs and stories that you hardly even hear. It feels a little as though your ears have been filled with cotton wool, as though everything around you is just distinctly muffled. You feel like you’re on another planet, awareness tethered only by the hot, hard line of Ghost’s muscular body pressed against your side. 

Over the last week, you’ve tried very hard not to be a stereotype.

You’ve heard men laughing about girls they’ve slept with who’ve become too clingy, who’ve wanted too much, and wasted their time searching for something that those guys aren’t willing to give. Maybe it’s because you’re so conscious that Ghost has taken several of your firsts, but you’re so determined to not be that person. 

Ghost isn’t exactly a big talker anyway, unless it’s the odd sarcastic comment or ribbing with Soap, so it’s not like you’ve talked about the situation. You had just awoken the morning after with a deep ache in your core and a sore back, though the pain was soothed by the warm embrace you were all wrapped up in. You had been nervous, but you needn’t have been. Ghost had given you nothing. He just rubbed your back with one shovel-sized hand and pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder (through the mask, so you don’t know what to make of that) before he rolled out of your bed to pull his trousers back on, grunting that he’d see you later.

So, you don’t talk about it. Not with him, and not with anybody. It feels like so much has changed, yet everything stays the same. The deja vu you’re experiencing from sitting on the couch drinking with him like this is overwhelming, and experiencing him staring at you like this after a full week of distance is making you feel hot and fuzzy and stupid.

While Soap is in the midst of a loud and enthusiastic retelling of a story from his basic training days, you build up the courage to glance up at Ghost. He’s already looking at you, as though anticipating your attention. 

“You’re staring at me.” You mumble, your fingers clenching compulsively around your chilled glass.

Ghost shifts, and you feel the thick muscle of his bicep roll behind your head. He grunts in quiet agreement. 

“Yeah.”

He doesn’t say anything else, uninterested in justifying or explaining himself. It’s like he thinks that he doesn’t need to; he just keeps watching you, his light blond eyelashes drawing low over his eyes as his head tilts.

Self-conscious under his intensity, you glance away again. Soap is still talking, but you can’t focus. Despite the fact that Ghost is big and warm and so frustratingly attractive beside you, it’s hard to ignore the subtle prickle of irritation that’s growing under your skin. 

After all, he had taken your virginity and then proceeded to act as though nothing at all had changed between you for the rest of the week, and now he’s sat next to you with his gaze that heated? What the fuck?

The second drink goes down even easier than the first thanks to your awkwardness. You’re not sure what to make of his attention – you’ve spent the whole week keeping a sense of distance, determined to stay cool and casual. The last thing you want to do is freak him out by seeming like an over-eager idiot that’s gone and fallen in too deep with him, unwilling to lose whatever meagre respect Ghost has developed for you since you started working with the 141.

“I’ll get the next round.” You blurt suddenly, pushing yourself up off the couch.

It’s too abrupt to be casual, and you pointedly don’t look at the half-full glasses in your squad mates’ hands as you hurry away. You probably could have played that off better, but you need a moment to collect yourself away from Ghost’s relentless stare.

You take the opportunity to breathe at the bar, rubbing at your eyes and sighing. The bartender is busy, so you just stand there for a long moment, mentally chastising yourself.

God, this is just embarrassing. You’re a grown fucking woman, and here you are getting so ridiculously flustered over your lieutenant. You never thought that you’d be the type to turn into a silly little mess over the first man you ever sleep with, but maybe it was inevitable. The little embers of that crush you had been harbouring on Ghost since you joined the team have been fanned into a full on flame and you hardly know how to handle yourself.

It takes a significant effort to keep your attention away from the table; you can’t help but want to look, to see if Ghost is still looking your way, but you keep your eyes to yourself. 

When another body appears at your side, you jolt in surprise. You hadn’t expected to be followed, and your first thought is that it must be Soap. But when you glance to your side, you find a stranger standing closer to you than you expected.

Well, he’s not a total stranger. You know him to see around the base, sandy-haired with a too wide smile. You think he might be a second lieutenant, but you’ve never actually had any dealings with him and you can’t think of a name… Daniels, maybe?

“Hello there,” He says, and even with those two words his intentions are unmistakable. His tone is suggestive, as is the way his eyes scan over your body. “How you doing?”

It’s far from the first time you’ve been hit on by men; it comes with the territory of being a woman in a male-dominated environment. They look at you like they want to eat you sometimes, in a way that sets your teeth on edge. You’ve always danced around the subject of intimacy, embarrassed about your lack of experience and too anxious to actually seek out anyone to change that. What happened with Ghost was unexpected, and just about changed your entire outlook on sex and physical pleasure for life. 

Your first reaction, as always, is to shut him down or ignore him. But something makes you pause, and glance back at him. 

He’s sort of cute. A charming smile, at least. When he sees you looking back, he only smiles wider and steps closer.

“Let me get this next one for you,” He says, gesturing at the bartender to catch his attention. “What’re you having?”

“Uh..” You hesitate a moment, biting your lip. “Vodka soda.”

He orders, then leans against the bar and turns to face you fully. His gaze is appreciative, and for once you don’t shy away from it. You so rarely return male attention that you hardly know what to do, but you manage to muster up an awkward smile.

When the bartender returns with your drink, you feel a momentary pang of guilt. You had almost forgotten that you were meant to order drinks for the table, and you send a swift glance over your shoulder. 

The boys are still engrossed in their conversation, hardly even noticing your absence. All but Ghost.

The lieutenant has half-turned, his arm still slung over the couch where you had been sitting as he stares. The realisation that his eyes are still on you has your spine straightening, self-conscious now about your posture and your body language. 

You look away swiftly, and try not to feel guilty. You’re not doing anything wrong, after all. He hasn’t spoken to you all week despite the fact that he’d nearly done your back in fucking you.

Your experience with Ghost may have been a one-time thing, no matter what you might have been hoping for, but there’s no reason that it has to be a one-time thing for you with anyone else. Even with your stupid vibrators and dildos, you haven’t been able to come close to coming in the week following your night with your lieutenant. You’re starting to wonder if maybe you’re not capable of coming without someone else’s hands on you.

“I’ve seen you around, been meaning to talk to you,” Daniels is saying, and in your distraction you almost miss it. “But it’s, uh… it’s a little difficult to catch you alone.”

You almost scoff, but you manage to swallow it back down. You know exactly what he means; the 141 sticks together and looks out for each other, but it also sometimes feels like you have a couple of overprotective guard dogs. They take watching you seriously, probably due to your non-combat role on the team, and you’ve never discouraged it because you like the way they make you feel safe. 

“Yeah, the guys can be a little protective.” You laugh a little weakly. “But don’t mind them.”

Even now, you can feel Ghost’s dark eyes burning into you from across the room. You wonder how on earth Daniels remains so unaware of it.

“Mm,” Daniels leans in, his white teeth glinting. “Can’t blame them, I suppose. Why don’t you come and join me and some of the lads at our table for a bit? Spend some time with some new people.”

You shift on the balls of your feet, thinking. Admittedly, you’ve never been big on socialising when on base, other than the usual minor exchange of pleasantries. You hardly even know what to do in the face of a man’s interest in you now.

“Oh, I’m not sure.” You demur, reaching up to scratch absently behind your ear. “I don’t think the boys would appreciate me abandoning them for the night.”

Daniels’ smile widens, and you feel your cheeks heat. You feel clumsy with your socialising, as though you’re stretching muscles you’re not used to using. Since you had joined the 141, you hadn’t done too much mingling outside of the squad; they’ve been your only friends and confidantes, ribbing and supporting you in equal measure. In the face of a stranger in the on-base cantina, you find yourself floundering.

“I think they get enough of your time,” He murmurs, leaning against the bar in such a way that his body is angled towards you. “C’mon, I’ll buy you another few drinks and we can get to know each other, huh?”

Maybe the vodka was a bad idea. It’s lowering your inhibitions, making you actually consider his offer. You’re pent up from a week of unsuccessful touching yourself, and you crave physical intimacy. 

If you can’t get a repeat performance from Ghost, then maybe it wouldn’t be so terrible if you looked elsewhere, with someone who might be interested in more than a one time thing.

You glance down at Daniel’s hands where they’re wrapped around his beer glass. They’re big, with strong slender fingers and calloused knuckles. Nice hands, you think, but you can’t help but compare to the enormous thick paws of your lieutenant. Still, you think they’d do the job.

“Well–” You start to say, your tone wavering and uncertain as you consider his officer.

But you don’t get to give him an answer before a massive hand settles on your shoulder. It makes you jolt, startled, recognising Ghost by touch alone. It feels as though it sears straight through your clothes, and your eyes widen.

For a moment, Ghost says nothing at all. He just stands at your shoulder, so close that you feel the muscle of his chest and stomach brush against your back, and stares at Daniels from over the top of your head. The glare isn’t even directed your way, and yet you find yourself wilting from it.

“On your way, Sergeant.” Ghost drawls, lifting his chin and gesturing at him dismissively.

Despite Ghost’s obvious intimidation factor, Daniels doesn’t immediately do as he’s told. He huffs out a short breathless laugh instead, as though he can hardly believe what he’s hearing.

“We’re only talking, Lieutenant–”

Ghost doesn’t even respond. His glower just intensifies, until Daniels trails off and his mouth snaps shut. You get the impression that if anyone else tried to intimidate him just by staring and posturing, Daniels might actually square up and fight. He seems like the type to make poor decisions while drinking – maybe you were going to be one of them. 

But as it is, Ghost has an intimidation factor unmatched by anyone else you’ve ever known. It goes beyond his giant hulking physique and skull mask and low gravelly voice that can sound like a clap of thunder when he’s angry. It’s like he has an aura, something that radiates off him in dark waves saying ‘Don’t fuck with me’. Any sensible person would back the fuck off when faced with his full, unwelcoming attention.

And sure enough, Daniels is no exception. He raises his arms to his shoulders and gives Ghost a mocking sort of smile before retreating backwards. To your mortification, he doesn’t so much as glance your way even as he turns his back on you.

Irritation settles over you like a blanket. It makes your skin itch and your teeth grind, and you turn to scowl at Ghost.

“What the hell was that?” You demand, and your voice comes out sharper than you had technically intended.

Ghost’s head tilts, and those sharp dark eyes find you from behind the mask. The eyeblack is beginning to fade in patches around the inner corners of his eyes – bizarrely, it serves as a reminder that Ghost is just a man, not just a massive wall of muscle with a terrifying glower.

“What was what?” He says. His voice has dropped a notch, deep and rumbling into you even as you step away and turn so that you’re facing him head on.

“You– I was just–” You flounder for a moment, searching for words as you gesture uselessly with your hands. 

You’re indignant over his interruption, and your frustration grows as you find yourself unable to articulate yourself. Where the hell does he get off interrupting you talking to another man? He hadn’t spoken to you all week, and now he feels confident enough to cockblock you?

“Mm.” Ghost grunts. “What were you doing?”

Your jaw clenches. “I was talking. Is that a crime now?”

Jesus, you sound like a brat. You don’t even know where this insubordination is coming from; he’s your lieutenant, regardless of that one night you had spent with him. You’re being too bold talking like this, but it’s like you just can’t help yourself.

His eyes darken, lashes blocking out his irises as his gaze narrows at you. You force yourself to maintain eye contact, to keep your spine straight and shoulders back despite your impulse to crumble.

“Watch that mouth, doll.” He warns, his voice low, and you feel your stomach tighten at both his words and his tone. 

But your self-preservation instincts are still missing.

“You can’t ignore me all week and then get annoyed at me when I–”

He cuts you off as though he’s not even listening to you. “Not here. Come on.”

And with that, he wraps one big hand around your upper arm and begins leading you out of the cantina. He’s not harsh, and he doesn’t drag you or anything, but judging by the tense set of his shoulders arguing with him would be a really bad idea right now. 

You’ve pissed him off, and you don’t want to make his mood worse so you allow your feet to move automatically as he leads you out of the room.

You can feel eyes on your back as you leave, and you feel yourself grow squirmy with embarrassment. No doubt the rest of the squad is watching you get hauled off by Ghost right now. 

Oh god, the Captain is watching you get hauled off — how mortifying. You pray they didn’t catch your little exchange with Ghost at the bar, but you have a feeling that hope is in vain. The 141 are close-knit and protective over each other, but they’re also terrible gossips.

“Let me– Sir, let me go–” You start to complain, testing his grip. His hold on you is iron-clad, and yet still somehow gentle enough to avoid bruising.

When you realise where he’s leading you to, you stop complaining very quickly. You had figured that he was just going to drag you into the corridor outside and give you a talking to, but he doesn’t stop there. He keeps going, until you realise that he’s leading you all the way back to your own damn room

“What are you doing?” You demand in a hiss. You’re so incensed that you swear your hair is standing on end. 

After all that, is Ghost seriously hauling you back to your room like you’re a bold child? Is he angry because of your insubordination at the bar? 

A cold trickle of anxiety enters your stomach, and you steal a worried glance at his face. The hard-shell mask he uses on missions has been traded for the softer black woven balaclava that he usually wears when he’s not in the field, but it doesn’t make him any easier to read.

He doesn’t answer until the two of you have crossed the threshold of your room, the door shutting behind you with a firm click.

Now that it’s the two of you, alone once again in your tiny shitty room, you find your indignant confidence waning rapidly. He’s just so big, the huge masculine frame of him making you feel more ridiculous than ever for your momentary flash of brattiness. Even worse, having him in your space like this is only making your brain go into overdrive, as though your body remembers what happened the last time he was here like this.

You decide that the best defence mechanism to prevent yourself from looking like a fool is to cling onto those last little dregs of anger.

“You’re unbelievable.” You snap, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes. “You’ve been avoiding me all week! And then as soon as another guy speaks to me, you’re over to me like a light. I mean, what the fuck?” And then, remembering the chain of command, you add a very sullen, “Sir.” 

Throughout your mini little rant, Ghost has just watched you. There’s something in his eyes that you don’t know how to read, unable to get a feel for what he’s thinking through that inscrutable mask.

“‘S not true.” He grunts after a moment, and you realise that his eyes have creased in a way that suggests he’s frowning.

You feel like you’re going to explode. “Yes, it is! Daniels was barely speaking to me for two minutes before you scared him off–”

Bizarrely, your words make Ghost snort. You hadn’t even realised how tense his shoulders were until he relaxes, and you stare at him in confusion as he steps past you towards your bed. Your anger fizzles out, leaving behind self-conscious confusion as you watch your lieutenant settle down so that he’s sitting at the edge of your bed with his legs spread wide. 

“His name is Davidson.” He says, and his voice is missing the somewhat dangerous edge it had only moments earlier. “And that wasn’t what I was talking about.”

Embarrassment flares, though you try to stifle it. So you didn’t know the guy’s name – whatever. You would have learned it by the end of the night, you’re certain. You open your mouth, defensive and prickly, but Ghost speaks again before you get the chance to.

“I haven’t been ignoring you.” He says, watching you like he’s trying to figure you out. When you just blink at him, he sighs. “Jesus, sweetheart, just sit down for a second. Tell me what I did wrong, yeah?”

You’re left feeling a little wrong-footed, hesitating in the middle of the room. You had expected him to be a little angrier than this, to chide you for your behaviour. Or maybe you had expected him to be cold, or dismissive.

Slowly, you take a few steps towards the bed. He watches you approach, those dark eyes watchful and sharp, but says nothing as you nervously perch on the bed beside him. 

Despite the fact that this is your room, you’re stiff when you sit next to him. Your brain is in overdrive, providing you with very unhelpful memories of the last time Ghost was on your bed and flooding your body with mortifying heat.

“You’ve barely spoken to me since we–” You can’t bring yourself to finish the sentence, averting your gaze and staring at some point past his shoulder. “Since last week. If you wanted to keep it professional, that’s– that’s fine–”

Ghost’s spine straightens, but he doesn’t speak yet. He just watches you, and lets you flounder awkwardly as you struggle to articulate yourself.

“I don’t want to make things awkward, I just–” You’re tripping over your words, wincing when they come out all clumsy. “I’ve never done this before, so I’ll follow your lead, but I don’t understand the point of sending Dan– Davidson, whatever, away like that if you’re clearly trying to keep things between us professional–”

Finally, Ghost speaks, though it seems like he’s suddenly developed incredibly selective hearing.

“He’s a wanker. Chases around any woman that stands still for too long in that damn cantina every time we’re in there.” His voice is a low earnest rumble, but you’re too agitated to properly hear him. “He didn’t have anything to offer that you’d be interested in.”

“That’s not–”

“Besides,” He cuts clean across you, but so gently, so much so that it surprises you. “I think we long surpassed professionalism when you asked if you could use my cock like a dildo.”

Blood rushes to your head so fast you feel a little light-headed. Right, so he’s decided to cut straight to the chase then. You swallow, and your dry throat clicks audibly.

“Right.” You say. “Yeah, that– um… that’s made things awkward, I suppose.” A brief pause, and then you sheepishly add, “Sorry, LT.”

Ghost just watches you, his brown eyes inscrutable beneath the fan of his pale eyelashes. Under the dark fabric of the mask you see his jaw flex, as though he’s considering his next words carefully.

“C’mere.” He says.

You had been expecting him to say more, and you hesitate a moment before reluctantly shuffling over a few inches. Though he had invited you to move closer to him, you’re suddenly so conscious of crossing any possible boundaries. 

You had never slept with anyone before, and you don’t understand what’s expected of you now. How are you supposed to act, now that you’ve had a one-night stand with your lieutenant? 

“Haven’t been ignoring you,” Ghost says, and he reaches out to place a hand on your knee. The touch makes your eyes widen, gaze darting down to stare at his thick fingers where they wrap around the underside of your knee. “You jokin’? Been watching you all week. Thinkin’ about you all the time.”

That’s a bold enough statement that all you can do is stare at him in disbelief. You can’t deny that he’s been watching you – you had felt his eyes on you regularly, but always from a distance. But… 

“You never–” You start to say, before swallowing again so you don’t say something stupid. “You haven’t spoken to me.”

“Spoke to you during training, before you stopped showing up.”

That’s a little galling, and all you can do is scowl. 

“Stop that. You know what I mean.” You snap defensively. 

Maybe you’re imagining it, but you think Ghost might be confused behind that stupid mask. His head has tilted just slightly to the side in the same way as it usually does when he’s trying to figure something out.

“I was trying to give you space, doll.” He murmurs. “It was your first– I didn’t want to overwhelm you. Wanted you to make your own choices.”

The uncertainty in his voice is unexpectedly endearing, but you’re not ready to let go of your irritation with him just yet. Admittedly you’re losing steam, but you struggle to straighten your back and affect a scowl nonetheless.

“I didn’t want space.” You say, and it comes out a little more childish than you had intended it to. You try not to cringe at yourself. “You just– we never talked about anything, you just woke up the next morning and left and then all week you hardly spoke to me.”

You curse your inexperience even as you speak, feeling like a total idiot. You just wish you knew what was expected of you, what Ghost wants. Was he put off by the fact that he had to guide you, fumbling and clumsy, through an experience that was absolutely mind-blowing for you but probably sub-standard for him?

And oh, that thought makes dread curl in your belly. What if Ghost wasn’t impressed with your… performance? You had no idea what you were doing, only that the way Ghost had touched you felt so good, so much better than you’ve ever managed to make yourself feel with your fingers or toys. And when he had brought you to orgasm, you had lost yourself completely. You hadn’t made any attempt to return his attention, too lost in all the new pleasure you were experiencing.

There’s a pause, the silence between you stretching taut. Ghost doesn’t rush to reply, instead apparently thinking hard before he speaks. 

“I go for a run in the mornings.” He says at last, his voice low and rumbly. 

It takes you a moment to process that. 

“You– what?”

Ghost shifts, and the cheap standard issue mattress beneath the two of you squeaks. “That morning, I… went for a run.”

He must realise how that sounds – maybe the expression on your face tips him off – because he hurries to add on to it. “Creature of habit, love. I didn’t– I don’t do this often either. I stayed the night, we cuddled. I thought–”

He stops rather abruptly, and doesn’t finish so you don’t quite know what he thought. Your confusion has gotten the best of you, and you’re staring at him in agitated confusion. God, he’s bad at communicating.

“Should have stayed.” He says gruffly, and if you’re not mistaken he sounds a little chagrined. “Thought we were fine, until you started avoiding me. And then I thought you just needed time to yourself.” He gives a jerky shrug, clearly out of his comfort zone. “‘Cause it was your first time. Dunno.”

Oh. Well.

Now you’re the one blinking at him. That’s… not what you had been expecting. 

While you thought Ghost had been giving you the cold shoulder, he had thought that he was being considerate. Jesus. You’re not sure how to even begin processing that.

“I didn’t need time to myself.” You say, and you sound pathetic.

There’s a beat of silence during which you feel thoroughly examined. Ghost hardly even blinks as he watches you, his scrutiny making you sweat.

“No,” He rumbles after a moment. “Apparently you didn’t.”

You roll your eyes, honestly a little irritated with him. Even after it’s been made clear that your miscommunication has caused issues this whole week, he’s still so hesitant to just fucking talk to you. 

“Right, well–” You start to say, a little sharp. 

He grabs at you before you can retreat, his enormous hand comically large around your wrist. He’s not holding you harshly, his grip just loose enough that you could break out of it if you tried. But instead of pulling away, you allow him to tug you closer. His free hand reaches for your hip, and quicker than your tired mind is able to follow he’s tugged you up into his lap.

“Jesus–” You blurt, grabbing at his shoulders for balance.

Ghost is built like a brick house, all thick and sturdy with all that solid muscle. He’s broad too, and your legs are forced wide as he encourages you to settle in his lap. You try not to let your reaction show on your face, but Ghost is watching you so carefully that you’re certain he can read every micro-twitch anyway.

“Last week wasn’t enough?” He asks, and if you’re not mistaken he sounds hungry. Maybe you could even delude yourself into thinking there’s an undertone of hope, too.

But maybe that’s a step too far. This is the Ghost, after all. He’s veritably a human weapon, every inch of him battle-scarred and solid beneath the heavy clothes and thick mask. You’re pretty sure that any kind of yearning you hear has been prescribed by your own imagination. But you can’t help yourself.

You shake your head, your breath catching in your chest. No, last week wasn’t enough.

“Then why bother with that idiot at the bar?” Ghost asks, his big hands folding around your hips. “If you wanted to be fucked, you could have just asked me.”

You swallow thickly, your throat clicking audibly. For some reason, you hadn’t expected him to speak so bluntly, but it’s typical of Ghost to get straight to the point without beating around the bush. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d want to do that with me again.” You say, your voice edged with insecurity. 

There’s a long moment of silence during which Ghost just stares at you. It’s borderline uncomfortable, and you find it difficult to maintain eye contact with him. Even with the mask acting as a barrier, he’s still so intense.

“What made you think that?” He asks, his voice low.

You find yourself quite abruptly aware of the position you’re in. You’re sitting perched in your lieutenant’s lap with your legs spread wide, after a week of pining after him like an embarrassing little puppy. You’ve been craving physical contact, yearning desperately for that same kind of pleasure he had introduced to you ever since your night together. 

“You’re difficult to read.” You whisper awkwardly, shifting. You’re hyper-aware of your weight in his lap; even though you know he’s strong, the thought of being too heavy for him is a little mortifying.

But his hands tighten around your hips, keeping you securely in place across his thighs.

“You think so?” His voice is low, a little rough, and the gravel of it causes a little frisson of heat to trickle down your spine. “You been trying to read me? Can’t have been doin’ a very good job, darling, since you’ve been avoiding me all fuckin’ week.”

Your breath comes out tremulously, and you pray he can’t hear the shake in your voice when you speak. Judging by his darkening gaze, he hears it loud and clear. 

“I just– Didn’t know if you would want me again.” You whisper, feeling foolish and inexperienced and clumsy.

Ghost watches you, his dark eyes flickering over your face, before he finally hums. Then his grip tightens around your hips and he pulls you so that your clothed crotch grinds against him. You gasp, your eyes widening when you feel the thick ridge of his cock in his tac trousers, unmistakably hard as your clothed cunt slides over him.

“Feel that?” He asks, his voice dropping into that deep, hungry register that you’ve been hearing in your dreams all fucking week.

“Yeah.” You choke, fighting the urge to grind on him like a fucking slut. If your hips twitch, just a little, you think you could be excused.

You are already intimately familiar with his cock, considering how eagerly he had fucked you open on it a week ago (several times, too), but the way it fills his trousers makes it seem ridiculously big and you wonder, a little wildly, how the fuck it ever fit in you in the first place. It presses against the seam of his trousers, right between your legs, and then Ghost grinds up into you and you swear your vision sparks out for a moment.

“Oh!” You blurt out in a wavering whisper, clutching at his shoulders. “Oh, god.”

“Still think I don’t want you?” He grunts. His hands are like fucking shovels, and he takes a grip of your ass and squeezes until you squeak.

Your head is swimming. Your trousers are too tight, the crotch of them pressing into your clit, and you feel like you can't get enough air in your lungs. 

“I don’t know.” You say stupidly. 

It’s like your cunt knows that Ghost is near, because you’re fucking drenched. You can feel your underwear stick uncomfortably to you beneath your clothes, slick and wet as you feel the shape of Ghost’s cock press into you.

He sighs beneath you, his big palm stroking over your ass affectionately. 

“You think too much, doll.” He mutters, his finder squeezing into the plush flesh of your ass like it’s a stress toy. “Way too fuckin’ much.”

He’s probably right. God, you want to stop thinking. Want to return to that stupid, dazed, fucked-out state of mind he had sent you to when he had stuffed you full.

Hesitantly, you grind yourself down onto the thick bulge beneath you. It feels good, that familiar pleasant little spark jolting up your spine as you hump yourself against him.

“Yeah,” Ghost grunts, his voice thick with unmistakable want. “That’s it. You’ve been wanting this, havent’cha?”

“Yeah.” You admit, so quietly that it’s almost inaudible. “Yeah, I want it.”

But Ghost hears. Of course he does. He lets out a low sound that has your thighs squishing closed around his hips, overwhelmed and running far too hot. 

He has you on your back so quickly that your head spins, and you end up staring at the ceiling for a moment in bewilderment, trying to figure out how you’d gotten there. Ghost is already leaning over you, his dark eyes intent on your face as he settles between your thighs.

You think you should probably be embarrassed about the ease with which you spread your legs, eager to feel his bulky body between your thighs. But you’re already running hot, your chest tightening with want, and you find yourself mercifully relieved that he’s here. The miscommunication between the two of you is going to be solved, Ghost wants you, and you’re about to get what you’ve been craving all week.

He pulls your own pants off effortlessly, leaving you in the underwear that you’ve fucking ruined. You try to shut your legs, face burning hot with embarrassment as you try to hide the sight, but Ghost doesn’t have any intention of letting you hide yourself.

He pushes your legs back open, then presses his masked face to the inside of your thigh. You’re not sure what he’s doing; you remember, with a little thrill, the feeling of his red hot mouth against your pussy, but you don’t think that’s what’s happening here because he’s still got his stupid fucking balaclava on.

“Did she miss me?” He asks, his words muffled by both the mask and the pudge of your thigh.

“What?” You ask breathlessly, thinking for a moment that Ghost is talking about you in the third person.

But then he nuzzles his masked face against the sodden seat of your knickers, and you realise that he’s talking about your fucking pussy.

“Oh my god, you weirdo–” You choke out, but you don’t get any further than that before Ghost is tugging impatiently at your underwear, trying to reveal your cunt. 

He hushes you, almost absent-mindedly, and you hear him take a breath when he finally manages to get your knickers off. He tosses them aside, his dark eyes focused intently on your bare cunt now that it’s been revealed. It’s embarrassing, but you can’t bring yourself to try and hide again. He’s touching you so reverently and looking at you so hungrily that you’re not brave enough to try to deprive him of the sight.

“My fussy girl,” He mutters, low enough that you almost don’t hear him. “Have you been touching yourself? Using your toys this week?”

You shiver, a little embarrassed. You have been using your stupid toys, but they haven’t been working. No matter what you do, you can’t replicate the feelings that Ghost had managed to elicit in you with such ease, and you have a sinking feeling that he knows that.

But the mention of your toys reminds you of something else, too. A recurring thought that’s been practically haunting you, that’s had you imagining Ghost up above you and around you as you’d sucked experimentally on your dildo, sliding it into your mouth just to see how much of it you could take.

“Wait–” You say, and though your voice wavers, Ghost sits back immediately, eyes on your face. It’s like he’s just waiting for your word, an order, a direction. Something in your belly warms, and you take a breath.

“I want to try something.” You tell him before you can lose your nerve. “Sit back down.”

He sits at the edge of your bed, his bulky frame moving far more gracefully than you’d expect for his size if you hadn’t already seen him in action. He’s almost patient, until you catch the way the fingers of his right hand drum against his thigh as he waits for you to do something.

Since you’re already stripped from the waist down, you see no point in remaining clothed on top too. When you pull your top and bra off, Ghost makes a low appreciative rumble deep in his chest that you swear you can feel run down your spine. 

“Promising start.” He says, and you want to smack him.

You shoot him a little scowl, before deciding to just ignore him. You’ve fancied him for an embarrassingly long time, probably since the very first time you had laid eyes on him upon joining the task force, and now he’s sitting on your bed, willing and hard and admitting that he wants you. It takes your breath away a little, especially the way that he doesn’t seem put off by your inexperience at all.

Slowly, you sink to your knees in front of him and watch his eyes widen beneath the balaclava. It’s somewhat gratifying to see his surprise; like you’ve finally got one over on your big bad lieutenant. 

“Very promising start.” He says, and this time he sounds a little husky. “D’you know what you’re doing, sweetheart?”

The answer is, very obviously, no. You have no idea what you’re doing, you’re learning as you go along. But Ghost hasn’t judged you yet for your clumsy fumbling exploration, so you can only hope that he’s willing to put up with this too.

“Sort of.” You say evasively. “I’ve seen it in porn, and I’ve… I’ve been practicing.”

Ghost’s groan sounds like it’s been punched out of him, and it’s rough enough to have you glancing up in surprise from where you’re trying to get his stupid trousers unbuttoned. Your hands are unsteady and unsure, and it’s slow-going.

“Yeah?” He asks, sounding a little out of breath himself. “Which one?” “What?” You’re a little distracted, not paying full attention to his question as you tug at his trousers. You’ve finally got them unbuttoned, and you pull impatiently in an effort to get them off. Ghost lifts his hips to help, though your eager impatience seems to amuse him.

“Which one of your toys’ve you been practicing on?” He asks, the barest undertone of a groan in his voice. “The pretty little pink one?”

You feel embarrassed heat prickle in your face because yes, it had in fact been that one you had been practising with. You’re not quite sure what to make of the fact that you’re apparently so predictable that Ghost can guess which dildo you’ve been sucking at, imagining it was him.

“Maybe.” You mutter evasively.

Ghost lets out a low chuckle right as you manage to wrangle his cock out of his briefs, and then you have to pause for a moment because oh. You had known, of course, that he was big. You had felt him for days after that first time, like a fucking internal bruise that ached at you every time you moved. He was bigger than any toy that you owned, you know that, you’ve felt it, and yet now that it’s in front of your face it seems so much bigger than you remember.

You’ve watched porn with so-called ‘monster cocks’ and it isn’t like that. It’s just… bigger. Than average, that is. At least, as far as you can tell, because it’s not like you have enough experience with dicks in real life to have any idea of what average really is.

Ghost must recognise the momentary flash of panic that crosses your face, because he reaches out and strokes a gloved thumb over your cheek. The fabric is rough against your skin, but you relax at the feeling anyway.

“You don’t have to.” He says quietly.

“I want to.” You insist, swallowing that swell of nerves. 

Now that his cock is bobbing in front of your face, you have to fight the sinking feeling that you’re in over your head. But you’re not willing to back down; not when you’ve been thinking about this all damn week, and especially not when you’ve got the man that stars in all of your fantasies sitting on your bed with his legs spread.

You shuffle forward a little, and try not to feel intimidated at the fact that Ghost’s thick thighs twitch when you reach to take hold of his cock. He’s so big that it feels like he’s dwarfing you beneath him, his bulky form enveloping you in shadow when he leans forward to make sure he has a good view of what you’re doing.

You stroke experimentally over his cock, your fist a little clumsy. Despite your frenzied and very pleasurable tumble with him before, you had never actually gotten the chance to touch him in return. You had been too overwhelmed by the sheer onslaught of sensation he had delivered upon you to even think about returning any favours, and the fact that you’re getting the opportunity now to reciprocate and explore fills your tummy with butterflies.

“Grip it harder, love.” He grunts, shifting his hips so that he can fuck his cock into your fist. “It ain’t gonna break.”

“Shh,” You admonish him, glancing up with a frown. “Let me do it myself.”

Ghost snorts quietly, probably finding your determination silly, but he still his hips and lets you go at your own pace. His dick is big, and you stare at it with some level of wonder as you stroke your fist over him. You can’t help but compare the feel of him to your dildos, only because they’re your only real point of reference; his skin is velvety soft and hot to the touch, yielding despite how hard he is, and you admire the slide of his foreskin pulling down over the crown. 

It’s not the size that really catches your attention though. No, what you really notice is how fucking perfect it is. Pretty and pink, flushed more red towards the tip, the head shiny with just a hint of smeared pre-come. It curves, slightly, to the left, and it feels nice in your hand. You feel a little light headed as your eyes dart over the pale blond downy hair that covers his thighs and the base of his cock. 

You gather your courage, then lean in and lick tentatively at the rosy pink crown of his cock. You had been a little worried about the taste, having no idea what to expect, but you needn’t have been. He‘s a little salty, but nothing inoffensive; he just tastes like skin, and you relax a little in relief.

He groans, his head tilting back to stare at the ceiling. You pause, hoping for some sort of direction, and as the moment stretches out he looks back to you and tilts his head.

“Thought you wanted to do it yourself?”

Bastard, you grumble in your head, before steeling yourself. You know that your grip on him is clumsy, that your stroking is unpracticed, and you can only pray that he doesn’t mind.

You take his cock into your mouth, jaw hinged wide as you try to avoid using your teeth, and attempt to suck with no finesse. You go too fast, try to take too much too quickly, because all of a sudden the head is tickling the back of your throat and you’re coughing, choking, and sputtering. 

You pull back, blinking rapidly as your eyes sting with tears and drool drips unattractively down your chin. You go to wipe your face, but Ghost catches your wrist before you can.

“Slow down,” He murmurs, pulling your hands away from your face so he can look at you. “You in a rush?”

“No.” You grumble, and your voice comes out a little hoarse from the choking. “I just… I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Even though you’re quite certain that Ghost already knows that, it’s a little humiliating to admit.

Ghost just hums, his eyes tracking over your petulant expression and the stringy spit that’s trickling down your chin, falling in thick globs above your tits.

“Don’t matter, love.” He rumbles, reaching out to thumb at your chin. You think for a moment that he’s wiping you clean, but then he just ends up smearing your spit all around your mouth. “Play with it as much as you want to. Don’t think too much.”

You swallow, the sound a little too loud in the quiet of your room, before nodding. This is what you wanted – the chance to touch him, to explore his mouth with your hands and mouth just like he had done with you before.

You readjust your grip on his cock; it looks so stupidly big in your hand. You can tell that he notices too, because he lets out a gruff sort of groan before he reaches out, one hand winding around the back of your neck to cup at the base of your skull.

“Yeah, that’s it.” He breathes, his eyes locked onto you.

His eyes are dark, almost completely blacked out by the thickness of his pupil, and he stares down at you with an air of such anticipation that you couldn't dream of keeping him waiting. Gripping him in your hand, you give an exploratory sort of stroke — the skin is velvety soft and smooth, and he lets out a short groan of appreciation when your fingers caress the head of his cock.

You start moving your hand again, adjusting your grip and stroking him off. You wish you were better at it, or at least more confident, but Ghost doesn’t seem to have any complaints. He just grunts quietly, flexing his hips once before apparently remembering what you had said and going still.

It takes a moment before you work up the confidence to bring it anywhere near your mouth again, but finally you lean forward and press a gentle little kiss to the head of his cock. You’re rewarded with a quiet puff of laughter, and his thumb strokes a soothing circle into the back of your neck.

Encouraged, you dip your head and lick the tip of him properly. He tastes salty on your tongue as you take him carefully into your mouth. This time you just suckle at the head, not wanting to push yourself too fast. His taste isn’t nearly as strong as you had been expecting; you hardly notice, really, enjoying the weight of his cock on your tongue and the feeling of being encircled by his big thighs.

It sounds stupid and maybe a little paradoxical, but you feel safe like this; Ghost towers over you even sitting down, and when you’re on your knees for him like this with his thick thighs bracketing you and his clean musky smell in your nose, you swear you never want to leave this moment.

You let out the most pathetic little whisper ever when you suckle at his cock, your tongue licking insistently at the underside of his glans. Ghost is always fairly stoic beneath that mask (other than his occasional bursts of humour and arrogance), so managing to pull out the soft but heavy breaths from his mouth when you suck at him makes pride swell in your chest, warm and syrupy sweet. It also makes something else twist in your belly, tight and hot enough to have your thighs squeezing tight together.

You used to have so many stupid, virginal plans for what you’d do the day you got your hands on some real, non-plastic cock, but everything you’ve ever heard about dicks and oral sex immediately flies right out of your head. You have no technique, and all you do is suck, gracelessly, trying to get as much of Ghost in your mouth as you can. You’re making loud, embarrassing slurping noises, and you’re certain that you’re drooling.

Judging by the grunts above you, Ghost has got no complaints about your technique (or lack thereof). One of his big hands reaches down to cup your face, fingers probing, testing at your jawline as it works.

“Fuck,” He snarls, tilting your chin up so he can see the way your lips are wrapped around the tip of his massive cock, “Knew you’d be good at this. Look at you, messy little thing. Fuckin’ gorgeous.”

That makes you shiver, an electric jolt that shoots right to your clit. You’re not sure what feels better; whether it’s his fat cock in your mouth or the hot wanting intensity in his eyes or the low filthy praises he’s growling.

God, you want to be good at this. You’re definitely no natural, but you fight so hard to push past your uncertainty to make this feel good for Ghost. 

You’re pretty sure he’s lying about you looking gorgeous, though. You’ve never felt less sexy than you do in this moment. Your eyes are streaming over-stimulated tears, your brow is scrunched in concentration, you’re gripping onto Ghost’s thick thighs for both balance and emotional support, and it’s taking everything you have not to choke on him again.

Who the fuck gave him the right to have a cock like this? Complaining about it feels borderline blasphemous, especially when you have first hand experience of just how good he is at using it. You’re making a mess of yourself, slobbering all over him in a way that’s definitely a little gross, but you’re surprised by just how much you’re enjoying this. 

You get a little too eager, because you take him a little too far down your throat and gag. You pull off quickly, choking lightly and still gasping for breath. Maybe your brain is a little oxygen-deprived, because you feel stupidly hazy. 

You take a moment to recover, nuzzling dazedly into the curls of his pubic hair. Blond, of course. God, that shouldn’t be cute but it is.

The thick length of his dick might be intimidating (as proven by the ache in your throat right now), but the velvety balls nestled below seem almost paradoxically vulnerable. You’re fascinated by the sight of them; you might have been amateurishly familiar with cocks from your dildos alone, but his balls are entirely new to you.

You spend some time lavishing them with tiny licks and kisses. Ghost hums in surprised pleasure, the sound swelling to a rumbling purr when you start caressing his thighs and hips with a tender, shy touch. 

Encouraged by his reaction, you return to his cock. It’s jutting proudly up, flushed a lovely pink colour, as though it’s just waiting for your attention once more. It’s already covered in a lather of foamy spit from your attention before, and when you sink your mouth down on him once again you do so with a bit more confidence.

“Like a pro, baby.” Ghost grunts appreciatively. A calloused thumb rolls over your cheek, under the fan of your lashes, and wipes away the moisture that’s gathered there. 

You most certainly are not sucking his cock like a pro, but you appreciate the encouragement all the same. It’s nice to know that you’re not doing a horrific job, at least.

You spare a glance up, half-expecting Ghost’s eyes to be closed. Instead his gaze is avid, sharp, practically electric through that thin window of his balaclava. He’s watching you closely, taking in every detail like it all might be snatched away from him. It’s too intense, and you look back down, focusing on his dick again.

An outraged, possessive noise escapes you when Ghost forcibly tugs your head back, pulling his cock out of your mouth. It twitches a little once it’s been removed from the wet heat of your mouth, all shiny wet and pink, and you lick your lips. God, you want to get back on that, and you don’t understand why he’s taken it away from you.

Ghost lets out a low, breathy chuckle, reaching out to thumb at your spit-slick lower lip before reaching for your elbows and bodily hauling you back up onto the bed.

You practically bounce, falling back on the mattress and squirming to try and get your bearings again.

“No,” You say, and to your bewilderment it comes out on a sob. “I wanted you to come on my face–”

You can tell that Ghost’s expression does something strange beneath his mask because his eye twitches and he takes a deep breath. But he doesn’t put his cock back in your mouth. Instead he reaches back and pulls his shirt off, and you take a broken little inhale because last time he had fucked you, he’d hardly gotten undressed at all. But now you’re being blessed with the sight of scarred pale skin pulled taut over the thick swell of muscles that turn to a softer belly, that pale trail of curls starting just below his belly button. 

“Next time.” He says, and it comes out on the ghost of a groan. “Fuck, love, next time.”

He’s quick to hook his hands under your thighs and haul them apart. You just about have time to spread your legs before he’s muscling his way between them. He tugs impatiently at his balaclava, tugging it askew to reveal his mouth, then he presses his nose into your humiliatingly slick pussy and starts sucking at your clit like it’s a hard candy.

You shriek, your thighs clamping shut around his ears as you writhe, but he clearly has no intention of stopping. The muffled moans he lets out into your cushiony cunt vibrate in the best way, and he’s so brazen about it that it just about takes your breath away. You don’t even know if he can see anything, considering his mask is completely lopsided and his eyes aren’t lined up with the holes anymore, but he’s working with such enthusiasm that it doesn’t even matter.

And honestly, his enthusiastic pussy-eating combined with the sheer visual stimulation he’s providing is really doing it for you. 

You’re probably going to get a crick in your neck from the way you’re craning your head just to watch him hunch over you, that tongue of his peeking out from beneath the edge of his mask just to lick you. He’s built like a fucking god; thick muscles, soft tummy, and cushiony pecs. It might just be the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Oh god, fuck–!” You choke out, your cunt clenching down hard as Ghost slides a finger into you.

Of course, Ghost’s fingers are also thicker than average. A single one of them feels like what would have been two of your own and you gasp a bit at the sudden stretch. You open up easily, your body welcoming him greedily and bearing down hard around his digits. Maybe it’s because you’re used to controlling the depth, speed and angle of penetration completely when you’re playing with your toys, but relying on Ghost for pleasure feels so damn exotic and exciting. Now you can only tilt your hips and go with Ghost’s pattern of movement; a bit harder, a bit deeper than what you would have done on your own.

He pushes another finger inside and it’s snug in your cunt, two fingers squished together nicely by your pulsing walls, hot and wet. It makes a sticky sound when he pushes them knuckle-deep, and then he sucks at your clit again, hard.

You’re honestly taken aback when your stomach tightens up and a wave of white-hot pleasure washes over you. Your back bows off the bed, you cover your mouth with a balled-up fist, your chest heaves. 

It’s exactly as good as you remember it being the first time, maybe even better, and the noises you make are broken and pathetic as you whine and cry.

Ghost licks you through it, big long laves of his tongue punctuated by sweet little suckles on your clit that feel almost fond. All you can do is lay there and take it, your head spinning a little as you catch your breath and try to figure out how the fuck he managed to make you come so damn quickly when you’ve been failing so spectacularly for a week.

You’ve barely finished coming, still shaking with the aftershocks, when he climbs up your body. At some point he’s shucked his trousers off, and the fact that he’s naked sends a little zing of excitement through your tired body. Or at least, as naked as Ghost tends to get. He’s still got the damn mask on.

He’s breathing heavily; his mouth is slightly ajar, mask tucked up around his crooked nose as he settles on his haunches between your thighs. He’s still staring hard at your cunt, his eyes glued to the way your clit is still twitching. He’s still so damn quiet, and you have no idea what he’s thinking.

When he reaches out to thumb at your clit again you whine. You’re sensitive, and his thumb is calloused and rough. You wiggle, lift up your leg and press your foot to his broad chest to stop him. You may as well be pushing against a brick wall for all the good it did.

Ghost just exhales a quiet laugh, capturing your ankle in his massive fist. He turns his head and kisses your ankle; the gesture is unexpectedly tender, and makes something in your chest tremble dangerously.

He uses his hold on your ankle as leverage to raise your leg, spreading your thighs out wide until your hips ache. You feel so exposed, the lips of your cunt parted ever so slightly, and he’s quick to press his cock against your still-twitching clit.

“Oh, look at her,” He breathes, low enough that you have to strain to hear. “Shite, she missed me, didn’t she?”

His hand is steady as he strokes his cock, dragging it through your sticky folds. The pretty pink head catches on your clit each time, and you let out a quiet whimper. Ghost doesn’t even notice; his eyes are zeroed in on your spread pussy, watching how you flutter around nothing.

“Fuck, she’s been waitin’ for me all week,” He coos, his cock notching at the entrance of your cunt and pressing in just enough for you to feel the stretch as his thumb rolls against your clit. “I know, baby, been waitin’ for you too.”

Jesus, you feel like you’re gonna die. You’re taking all these big deep shivering breaths, still trembling a little from your orgasm and eager for him to just fuck you already, but his filthy talk in your ear is sending you spiralling. You’re so wet it feels like you’ve sprung a leak; you can feel moisture running down your ass and under your thighs, and you burn with both mortification and desire.

Ghost presses his cock in a little further, and your back arches as you groan. Despite the orgasm and the fingering and the fact that you are so fucking aroused right now, the stretch is intense.

“Yeah, she’s beggin’ for me.” Ghost is still talking – at this point you think his words are meant just for himself, because they’re low and a little slurred, his eyes glassy as he stares at the way his cock spears through the slick folds of you. “Listen; it’s like she’s talking to me.”

For a second, you have no goddamn idea what he’s talking about. But then, in the silence, you hear the squelch of your drippy cunt as he squishes his cock against it in shallow little thrusts, barely even pressing the tip inside.

“Oh god,” You whine, high and needy. “Just– stop teasing.”

The bastard laughs, all low and gritty and a little breathless.

“It’s not teasing, lovie.” He says, leaning down and pressing a kiss to your jawline. “You’ve been avoiding me for a week straight. I’m just reacquainting myself.”

Then he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth in a move so sweet that it honestly takes you aback. Every complaint in your head flies out the window, and you turn eagerly in an attempt to deepen the kiss. His mouth is so hot, his lips plush and hungry and a little salty. It occurs to you that you’re tasting yourself in his mouth, and your body draws up tight and tense in response. 

“Simon,” You breathe, intending to tell him to get a move on and just fuck you already, but you don’t even get as far as finishing the order.

He groans as though the sound of his given name is a signal, and before you know it you’ve got a huge wall of muscle hunched over you and around you as Ghost holds himself up by his elbows on either side of your head. You feel his cock prodding at the entrance of your cunt and your legs fall even further open, until your hip joints ache.

When he starts to push in, the stretch burns in a way that makes your mouth fall open as you choke on the air in your lungs. You’re wet and pliable and eager, your pussy sucking hungrily at Ghost’s dick in an effort to take him deep quickly, but you had almost forgotten what this felt like. You can’t stop the way your cunt tightens eagerly as he rocks in an inch.

He laughs lowly in your ear, has to swallow back a groan when you clench tight around him, “C’mon, stop pushing me out, darling.”

“Wait,” You gasp, reaching down to place your hand over his belly. “Wait, oh my god, you’re too big–”

His stomach muscles are tensed with the effort he's putting in to keep from rocking into you all in one go, and you spare a moment to admire his patience and his sheer resolve to make things good for you. But even though he’s obediently paused to let you catch your breath, he chuckles quietly at your reaction.

“It’s only the tip, baby.” He murmurs, cooing softly to you like you’re something easily spooked. “You’ve taken it before. This pretty little cunt of yours is so hungry, gotta let her have it.”

You nod, hesitantly. He’s right; he may be big, but you’d taken him before. Only last week. And you had been a virgin then. Well, technically. Not physically, maybe, since you’d long stretched out your hymen on your dildos, but mentally. Though at least last week you had stretched yourself out on your vibrator, and then Ghost had spent so long opening you up with his mouth and fingers.

Ghost rocks forward another inch, and the stretch makes you squeal like a fucking stuck pig. It’s mortifying. How the hell did he ever manage to fit that fat cock inside you?

You slap at his belly hard, writhing away. 

“No, nope, not gonna fit.” You wheeze.

Ghost pulls back, and you can read the disappointed slant of his mouth and he reaches down to grip the base of his cock. Now that you get another look at it, you take a deep breath. It’s still well-lubed with your spit and the pink cockhead is shiny with your slick. 

It’s big, but you know you can take it. You just… you need better leverage.

Your jaw clenches in determination. “I need to be on top.”

There’s a moment of silence as those words settle between you, as though Ghost’s brain is buffering. Then his lips start curving up into that semi-familiar smug smile, and he rolls the two of you over so that he’s laying on his back in your bed with you perched clumsily atop his thighs.

His cock juts up proudly, practically bobbing as it leaks prespend down his length. He settles back, folding his arms behind his head as he watches you – the position makes his biceps bulge in a way that is very appealing and also most likely unintentional.

“Go on.” He encourages, as hungry and wanting as you’ve ever heard him. “All yours, gorgeous.”

All yours, your brain repeats, the words echoing around your skull until you’re certain that your head is empty but for that. You want him so much it makes you feel dizzy.

You shuffle forward until your pussy is hovering over the blood-flushed head of his cock. The cute pink blush has started to darken into a red that looks painful, and you take a little breath at the idea of helping him out with his little problem.

You lower yourself down so that the tip of Ghost’s cock is lined up with your entrance and begins pressing in, stretching you wide and slipping in inch by inch. You gasp desperately as you’re speared open inexorably slowly, tears pricking your eyes as your mouth drops open.

Though you’re the one controlling the pace, it still seems overwhelming, all-encompassing. You can feel your cunt stretching wide and taut around the width of him, fluttering as Ghost groans in dazed appreciation.

You glance up at him, to see that his eyes are a little unfocused, missing the intensity that they’ve had all night. His gaze is flickering from the way your cunt is sliding down on his cock to your breasts to your face, so fast as if he’s trying to take it all in before it disappears.

His oversized hands come to rest on your hips, and you half expect him to pull you down impatiently on his cock. But he doesn’t, they just rest there as though he needs to ground himself. His stomach is tensed so tight you know that his abs will be sore in the morning, and to your delight you can see a lovely pink flush climbing across his lightly-haired chest.

You keep your eyes on his half-masked face as you slowly rock your way down onto the length of him, your breath occasionally hitching. Though he doesn’t rush you, you can feel the way his fingers twitch on your hips and the way his jaw grinds, and all those little tells only increase your excitement.

You’re so full you feel like you’re about to break in half, and Ghost’s gaze on you feels like a physical weight, but you don’t stop. You wiggle clumsily, trying to take him deeper and unintentionally pulling gruff groans out of him every time your body tightens.

Then, finally, you take him to the hilt. He groans, his eyes half-lidded as he watches the way your body sits perched on his lap, little tremors rocking through you as you adjust to his size inside. 

“That’s my girl.” Ghost says, and the praise comes out on the edge of a growl. “Fuck, it’s like you were made for me.”

Tingling heat is growing alarmingly quickly in your lower belly and at the apex of your thighs, and you tremble over him as you use your grip on his shoulders for leverage. The soft sounds of pleasure that are pulled out of his throat every time you roll yourself against him send sparks through your entire nervous system – you’ve never heard Ghost sound so soft and wanting.

One of his hands reaches between you, one big thumb settling right over your swollen clit. You squeal, but your noises are half-moans as you try to rock your hips against his hand even as you try to ease the feeling of his girth inside you.

“Would you have gone back to his quarters?” He asks, and the seemingly non-sequitur is too much for your dazed, cock-stupid mind to keep with.

“Huh?” You breathe, tentatively rocking your hips and moaning softly as his cock hits just right inside.

“The guy at the bar.” Ghost clarifies, his voice deep and a little irritated. “The one who was all over you. Would you have gone back with him?”

Oh, you think a little wryly. You should have known that he’d be a big possessive bastard.

“I don’t know.” You say, but you’re barely paying attention. You’ve started to rock for real now, and it feels good. Your rhythm is barely more than a slow grind – you think, distantly, that you should be lifting yourself up and down and fucking yourself properly, but grinding so that he hits deep and your clit rubs up against his pubic bone just feels so fucking intense.

“Waste of your time.” He grunts, his grip tight on your hips as he watches you hump lazily. “Jesus, look at the way you’re sucking me in. Cunt’s so fussy, she was just waiting for me.”

The worst part is, you think he might be right. You had been touching yourself every night this week, trying and failing to recreate the high he had brought you to. The touch just wasn’t the same, and no matter how close you got you just couldn’t fall over that damn ledge.

“Yeah,” You whine, hardly even aware of what you’re agreeing to. The sweet ache of the stretch has almost disappeared now, and you hump back onto his cock with abandon. Your chest is heaving as you pant, and you can feel your own body trying to suck him in further but there’s nowhere else to go because he’s filling you up so completely. 

You tip forward, grabbing clumsily at his shoulders for balance as your face smushes against the cushiony softness of his pecs. God, he’s so strong, it’s like your body weight is nothing to him – he just accepts your whole body leaning into him, humming in satisfaction.

Tentatively, you lift yourself up a few inches so you can ease back down. You repeat the movement a few more times, and then you’ve established a steady pace of fucking yourself on his cock. 

“Simon,” You gasp, and it comes out in a whimper that’s far more pathetic than you had intended. “Am I– am I doing good?”

He’s gritting his teeth – you can see the tense line of his jaw as he tilts his head back, watching your face as you bounce stumblingly on his cock.

“Like I said, lovie, you’re a natural.” He says, exhaling harshly through his nose. “Gimme a kiss.”

When you lean forward to kiss him, the angle shifts and all of a sudden he's hitting the spot that makes your knees go weak. Your thighs are already burning from the exertion of riding him, but you whine desperately.

“There.” You moan into Ghost’s mouth, the two of you sharing air as you pant against each other’s lips. “Oh god, please–”

The muscles in his thighs ripple as he lifts his hips to meet yours as you bounce down, and then all of a sudden he’s fucking into you from below. The strength in his hips almost bodily lifts you every time he fucks up, though you almost thwart his every thrust as you try to grind on him again, trying to get his cock to hit just right again.

Fuck, your legs are tired and your knees are aching, but you can feel that glorious build up in your tummy again. Ghost has taken over most of the heavy lifting now too; instead of relying on you to bounce up and down, he’s drilling into that one spot inside you that sends liquid heat shooting up your spine.

Your mouth is hanging open and you’re pretty sure that you’re drooling all over his lovely, soft chest, but it just feels so good. You don’t understand how he does this, how he makes it feel so good for you. You think, a little wildly, that maybe your cunt was made for him.

“Fuckin’ Christ, you’re so tight,” Ghost grunts, and his chest rumbles beneath your smushed cheek. “Gonna come again for me, sweetheart? Go on, cream on me.”

You didn’t actually think you were that close to another orgasm, despite how good it feels, but maybe Ghost knows you and your pussy better than you know yourself because you feel yourself go tight and gushy, nonsensical gasping and babbling spilling from your lips. The soft squelching noises your pussy makes as his cock fucks up into you is obscene, enough to make your nipples go tight and tingly.

Then his thumb rolls hard against the swollen bud of your clit and you’re gone. You think you might actually scream, but it’s muffled against the now drool-covered expanse of his thick, bulging pecs. 

You let out a choked out wail as your orgasm rips through you like an electric shock, leaving you trembling madly in its wake. You swear you come apart completely, unravelling at the edges as you writhe in his lap, grinding wildly even as he continues to fuck you through it. 

You don’t get even a moment of reprieve, because Ghost keeps going through the waves of your orgasm. He pulls you up to kiss you, sloppy and dirty, and then starts thrusting for all he’s worth. You’re put in mind of bull-riding, and your thighs clench hard as you try to stay seated as he bucks against you.

It's the most unravelled you’ve ever seen him. Ghost is always cool and in control, always meeting everything with smug, arrogant confidence. To see him glowing with sweat, his mouth lolled open under his rumpled balaclava as he snarls and grunts and fucks into you like an animal feels like a drug so heady you know you’re already addicted.

This is not the lazy rhythm of before; he’s uncoordinated and frantic, kissing you hard and messy as he shoves his cock up into you so hard that you’re sure it’s going to leave a permanent impression inside you. Maybe that’s what he’s aiming for. You take it easily, split open and pliant and soft and wet.

You’re oversensitive and shivery, breathing hard and whimpering on every other thrust, but you don’t complain. It only takes a handful of thrusts before Ghost finishes with a bitten off snarl, his jaw clenching and head tipping back as he pulls you off him just in time for his cock to spurt several thick ropes of creamy cum between you. Most of it lands on your belly, dripping down onto your pussy like icing on a cake, but some of it spurts onto Ghost’s own soft belly too.

It makes a mess, but you don’t care. You feel so dreamy-floaty happy right now, your limbs floppy and rubbery as you slump down onto his chest. He catches you easily, and lays you down gently onto the bed. 

You grumble when he moves, but you remember this part from last time. You don’t bother opening your eyes; you know he’ll come back.

Sure enough, he returns within moments, and you feel a warm, wet cloth wiping at your belly and inner thighs. You part your legs, pleased with the feeling of being looked after. When you blink your eyes open again, you see that he’s pulled the mask back down to cover his lovely, talented mouth. You try not to be too disappointed over that. His eyeblack is smeared too; it gives the impression of total debauchery. 

“You alright, love?” He asks, and you realise that you’ve just been staring blankly at him.

“Yeah.” You mumble, stretching your body out like a cat. Now that you’ve been given a moment, you can feel all those little aches flare to life between your legs, around your hips, and up the base of your spine. You wince, but don’t complain.

To your delight, Ghost climbs back into bed with you. He’s a little too big for the standard issue frame, but you’re more than happy to roll on top of him and cuddle close to conserve space. He seems similarly happy to have you all laid out on his chest, because he presses his masked face to the top of your head and inhales slowly.

“Are you staying, this time?” You ask quietly. You think you know the answer after your conversation earlier, but you can’t quite help the little pulse of insecurity.

“As long as you’ll have me.” He says, low in the quiet of the room. His tone is thick with significance, like he’s talking about more than just staying the night, and his fingers are sure and steady as he traces absent-minded little patterns down the length of your spine.

You swallow, heart racing, and rest your cheek against his chest. The steady thump, thump, thump of his own heart soothes you, and you bite your lip. He’s so solid, reliable. You’d trust him with your life, with anything. 

You glance down, your eyes curiously seeking out his now softening cock. It’s laying in a bed of his blond curls at his crotch, and it looks so unthreatening when it’s flaccid. You admire the shape of it absently, feeling a little thrill of excitement at the sight of it. You can’t lie to yourself and say you don’t feel a little possessive, either.

“Are we dating now?” You ask quietly. You’re not able to look him in the eye when you ask it, so you keep your face turned down. You don’t think you could handle seeing his expression if his answer is no.

There’s a pause. His hand halts the sweet patterns he’d been drawing on your back.

“Was that a question for me, or my cock?” He asks. He seems to be aiming for his usual sort of dry humour, but his tone comes out a little guarded, as though he’s actually not sure.

You raise your head, stifling your insecurity, and make eye contact with him. Those pretty brown eyes, so warm when they’re looking at you like this.

“You,” You say.

There’s another pause, and then his hand starts tracing its way over your bare back again.

“Yeah,” Ghost says, and the corners of eyes crinkle. “Stuck with me now, lovie.”

[wondersofdreaming]

Keepsake

Characters: Captain Syverson x female reader (3rd person)

Word count: 1.827

Warnings: Death, loss, hopelessness, light cursing, sadness, melancholy, grief, heartache, mourning.

Author’s note: This story was inspired by the song 'Everglow' by Coldplay.

Do me a favour and listen to the song, while reading this, I'll link to the different versions, depending on your mood.

Everglow (original) by Coldplay

Everglow (acoustic) by Coldplay

Everglow (instrumental) by Alexandre Pachabezian

The links are for Spotify, if they don't work try this link for YouTube

I do not own any characters in this short story, except the wife, son and Elijah Reed, who are figments of my imagination.

A massive, MASSIVE, thank you to my beloved angel, @radaofrivia, for giving me the idea from just a few thoughts, for sitting through with me while I wrote this, for giving me advice and for just being there.

Please check out her stories right here: RADA'S MASTERLIST

MY MASTERLIST

Feedback is appreciated.

(Young Syverson, picture credit to @killjoy-assbutt-1112 - find it here)

Oh, they say people come Say people go This particular diamond was extra special And though you might be gone And the world may not know Still I see you, celestial

Lyrics are from Everglow by Coldplay.

The looming grey clouds were moving closer towards him. He could hear the distant sounds of the rumbling thunder. Before long it started to rain and lightning lit up the entire house. The dirt road was flooded in no time, giving the crops the liquid nourishment they needed.

The former army captain was restless. It was on days like these he missed him, more than anything else in the world. He couldn’t sit still and had planned on working on the house, but the coming storm was putting a stop to that. Instead, he sat on the porch swing he built with Elijah when Lucas bought the house.

The Syversons had moved to their farm when Lucas was 4. A few days into the move, their neighbours had stopped by with some casserole, and to welcome them to their community. Mr and Mrs Reed also had a son who was a few months younger than Luc. Elijah had hidden behind his mother’s leg, a little shy, but with some encouragement he greeted Lucas.

“I’m Lucas, but my baby sister can’t say it yet, she keeps babbling Luc, so if it’s easier, you can call me Luc too.”

“I’m Elijah.”

Sy remembered he was trying so hard to pronounce his new friend’s name. He smiled at the memory, the name had been permanent in Lucas’ mind, only using Elijah, when he was mad at him or thinking he was about to do something stupid, which he did often.

“Lija, wanna play?” Lucas asked awkwardly.

“What?” Elijah looked profoundly confused. “I… don’t know.”

“Go on, son. It’s okay,” Mr Reed tried to encourage him.

“Come with me, Lija. I wanna show ya somethin’.”

Lucas had shown Elijah his new toy tractor that his parents had given him for his birthday. The two young boys had played together, and before long were inseparable.

A round yellow object in the palm of his hand. He was fiddling with it. The coin was always in his pocket, so he could keep his best friend close to him at all times. It was an old arcade coin that you could plot into any machine and play one game.

The two best friends had each gotten a dollar’s worth of coins, but the man at the ticket booth had miscounted, so Sy had gotten an extra coin, which the two friends had fought over during their time in the arcade. Lucas being the protector he was, lost to Elijah on purpose, so his friend won the coin.

“I’ll savour it, it’s going to be my lucky coin!” Elijah has announced.

Syverson swung the porch swing with his booted foot. He stared at the coin, wondering why he had been the lucky one. Luc shook his head faintly, his face full of pain and sorrow.

The coin became a thing that decided their fate. When the boys couldn’t agree on something, they would flip the coin. The picture side was heads and the text ‘No cash value’ side was tails. It might have been worth nothing, but it was a priceless item to the two friends.

“Heads: I ask her on a date, tails: you ask her,” Elijah flipped the yellow coin and covered the back of his hand as it landed. The two teenagers looked over at the brunette cheerleader, who was laughing with her friends. Prom was upon them and they both wanted to ask her. Elijah lifted his hand, it was heads.

The dumb coin was always on Elijah’s side. Lucas let out a soft laughter of the memory. Elijah’s face had been priceless, Sy wished he had taken a picture of it. It had been Elijah’s first kiss that night.

When Lucas decided to enlist, Elijah followed him, even with a lot of arguing against it from Sy’s side. He didn’t want his best friend anywhere near a warzone but in the end, he was glad that Lija was there with him through every hardship during training, when they lost people on their team, when they had to carry the dead back to base, it was better to have a friend by your side and share the pain with.

It didn’t take Syverson long to rank up and become captain. He ended up leading a large group of soldiers in a village in Iraq, with Elijah as his lieutenant, he felt like he could conquer the world.

During one of their trips home, Sy had bought a house he wanted to renovate, maybe start a family in. Elijah had spent every moment he could, helping Lucas with the house. It had made them closer as friends, and they had heartfelt talks about their future. Elijah wanted to come home and help his ailing parents with the farm, maybe get into breeding horses, preferably racehorses. Sy hadn’t thought of his future in that sense by then. He just wanted to relax, drink beer and ride his motorcycle.

There was hardly a moment in Lucas’ life where Elijah wasn’t a part of it. Elijah was his best friend, and if he had to be a little girly, they were BFFs. His best friend’s presence had made every moment special, made them better. It was the hardest part, to not have Elijah by his side anymore. He missed Elijah’s silly, huge and sometimes irritating grin, which somehow made the world seem a bit brighter during the dark times. Elijah made his life easier… he just made it better to have a friend to share everything with.

His heart had broken in a million pieces when the building collapsed on top of his best mate.

“Captain, we need a scouting team. I’m taking three soldiers towards those buildings and see if there are enemies up ahead,” Elijah had suggested.

“Lieutenant, I make the orders here. I’m going,” Lucas commanded.

“Heads or tails, Luc,” Elijah picked out the coin from his breast pocket.

“This is no time for such thing, Lija,” the captain grumbled.

“This is the perfect time, Luc. We promised that whenever we couldn’t agree on something, we would use the coin. So, heads or tails, captain Syverson.”

“Heads.”

The coin had landed on the tails side. Lucas had cursed the coin, fuck, shit, crap, dammit!

“It’s my turn to protect you, Luc. I’m not the scrawny little kid anymore, let me show you!”

Elijah had gathered three soldiers and run between two concrete buildings with a big smile on his face. Sy would never forget the smile. It was a grin of pride and determination. And it was the last time Lucas would ever see his best friend.

Moments later a huge explosion shook the ground they were standing on. Sy watched with horror as the buildings collapsed, trapping Elijah and his team. What they didn’t know then was that the impact with the concrete walls had killed him instantly.

The rest of the soldiers watched as their captain went on his knees. Utter despair and anguish plastered on his face, tears about to escape the corners of his eyes. The usual strict army captain, the man with the muscles, the tough guy who could break you with a stare, was breaking down.

“Lija…” he whispered into the dust-filled space, his voice breathless like somebody knocked the air out of his lungs.

At night he had screamed in pain of the loss of his most beloved friend. His days were filled with hopelessness as he prepared to fly home with Elijah’s corpse in a coffin. The nights only brought nightmares, so he started writing a letter to his best friend and thinking of how to tell Elijah’s parents.

“Dear Lija. I can’t believe you’re… Shit, I can’t even write the word. Just a four-letter word, and yet I can’t fucking write it down on a piece of paper. I wish I could have taken your place, man. It should have been me. I hate you for forcing me to pick a side on that stupid coin. I hate you for being so brave. I hate you for wanting to protect me. Fuck you for dying. Fuck you for leaving me. Here. All alone. What about your parents? How am I going to tell them that you’re… how am I going to face them? You are and will always be my best friend. I wish you could go back to your parent’s farm on your own two legs, not in a fucking box. I miss you, Lija. You’re the closest thing to a brother I will ever get. So rest in peace and keep the seat next to you warm, I’ll see you on the other side. - Luc.”

Lucas had sneaked the letter into Elijah’s breast pocket of his uniform before they had shut the coffin. The coin that Elijah had on him, had been put in a plastic bag with the rest of his belongings, prepped to be given to his next of kin, his parents. But Lucas took the yellow token. He needed a memento to remember his best friend by, something that he could keep with him always. A keepsake.

It had taken every ounce of courage for Lucas to step up to the front door of the Reed’s farmhouse. A house he was so familiar with and had so many adventurous sleepovers in Elijah’s space-themed bedroom. He could smell Mrs Reed’s famous peanut brittle, making it harder for him to knock, but he did it anyway. Standing there in his military uniform, he told the two people, who had acted as a second set of parents to him, that their only son had died heroically in battle. Lucas stood frozen, watching them mourn the loss of their son. He was about to step away to give them space, but Mrs Reed grabbed his wrist and brought him into the hug.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect him,” he pleaded, his voice breaking slightly.

“Was he in pain?” Mrs Reed asked, breaking Lucas’ heart all over again.

“No, ma’am. It happened really fast.”

Sy fiddled with the arcade coin. Having zoned out the thunder, not noticing the storm had come and gone. The sun was slowly setting on the horizon. It was a peaceful ending to an emotional day.

A loud wailing came from inside the house. The front door opened and out came his beautiful wife with their young son in her arms. His face was stained in tears. The tiny boy reached towards his father the minute he saw him. In his father’s arms was the only place the boy was happy and content. Sy’s face broke into a happy grin at the sight of his son. His tiny fingers trying to grab the coin in the former captain’s hand.

“This,” Sy showed it to his son, “will be yours when you’re old enough not to eat it.”

He chuckled at the frustrated look on the boy’s face. Sy kissed the top of his son’s head.

“I love you, Elijah.”

[babymetaldoll]

Act one (Spencer Reid/ Reader)

Requested: Yes. Hello hello @meowiemari​ 

Summary: Spencer's girlfriend is a sweetheart, but he discovers a new side of her when she gets the lead on a play, and she portraits an unsub.

Category: Hardcore fluff 💜 (you know that's how we roll here)

Warnings: Maybe a little cursing here and there, but that's it.

Word count: 3,7K

Masterlist

************************************************************

Spencer's girlfriend was a sweetheart. (Y/N) was the kind of girl who you thought might actually be a Disney princess in a different universe. She was adorable. Garcia was crazy for her, Morgan adored her, JJ thought of her as a little sister, and Prentiss always tried (and failed) to make (Y/N) curse once each time she saw her. They loved her.

And, of course, Spencer loved his girlfriend. He couldn't deny it. He didn't even try to do it. He knew he was young. He was just 25, after all. But he already knew she was the love of her life. Derek would always tease him about it, joking about how he was ready to propose to her, even after just six months of dating.

Spencer would laugh, but deep down, he knew Derek was right. (Y/N) was just perfect for him. She was the sweetest girl everywhere she went. That's why everybody was in shock when over dinner in Penelope's, she announced to the team she might play a serial killer in a play she was putting on with her drama group.

- "Oh, honey"- Penelope smiled and caressed her hand on the table- "There's no way you can actually pull that off."

- "What? Why?"- (Y/N) asked, confused, as the whole team nodded in agreement with Garcia's words.

- "You are too sweet to portray a killer nurse!"- Prentiss added

- "Well, I am not going actually to do it. I have to learn my lines and all, but I'm the substitute for the part."

- "Substitute?"- Spencer frowned, in shock- "What do you mean? You are amazing!"

- "Yeah, well, apparently not as amazing as Rachel Cooper. She got the lead role, again."- (Y/N) smiled and took a sip of her wine- "But, anyway, if anything happens, it's on, and I'll play a mass murderer nurse."

- "You are too sweet for that role, baby face"- Derek smiled at his friend and shook his head- "But you'd make an amazing job."

- "Thank you, Morgan. It's a little upsetting, 'cos I know I could do great. But well, I guess Rachel Cooper is gonna do an amazing job, and everybody's gonna be happy. It's really a team effort after all, and we are all there to have fun."

- "See?"- Penelope pointed at her- "You are too sweet to portrait a serial killer."

Spencer held (Y/N)'s hand on their walk back to her place and kissed it several times. She blushed and smiled at him as they talked of anything and everything.

- "Please don't hate me, but I'm kind of glad you didn't get the part."- Spencer confessed when they were about to reach (Y/N)'s door.

- "Why?"- she didn't get what he was talking about, especially considering she was dying to get that role in that play.

- "Because the guys are right, you are too sweet to play a mass murderer."

- "That's the idea of acting, Spencer, portraying someone you are not, and making your best to fit the role and convince the audience."

(Y/N) whispered and sighed as they walked the last couple of steps in silence.

Reid felt he had ruined it.

- "I'm sorry, buttercup. I know you'd do a great job. I was just trying to cheer you up."

- "I know, honey. It's ok."- (Y/N) whispered and cut him a small smile. She knew he was sincere.

- "I'll call you tomorrow."- Spencer said as they said their goodbyes on her apartment's door.

- "I had a great time tonight."- she answered and felt his lips on her for a second. She sighed and leaned over to kiss him again as soon as Spencer moved from her. (Y/N) wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him for a moment.

- "I'm sorry you didn't get the part, (Y/N)."- Spencer murmured and looked into her eyes in adoration.

- "It's ok, Spencer."

- "You'd make an adorable killer nurse."- and she giggled as she felt his lips against hers. It was his favorite sound in the world, and it made Spencer feel butterflies in his whole body each time she laughed like that. So sweetly and bubbly.

- "You are just saying that 'cos you love me,"- she whispered and kissed him again. Spencer chuckled and thought he could love her even if she actually were a murderer.

During the next couple of weeks, (Y/N) divided her time after work between Spencer and rehearsals with her drama club. And each time she was at the theater, she was happy. She had a fantastic group of friends to have fun with. Except for Rachel Cooper. She was the exception of the whole gang. Actually, no one really liked her much. She had a nasty attitude toward everybody in the club. She acted like life was still the same as it was in high school. She thought she was one of the popular girls, and no one could mess with her.

No one but karma, apparently.

- "(Y/N)!! (Y/N)!! Where the hell are you?!"- everybody in the place could hear Rachel yelling backstage, looking for (Y/N).

- "I'm here! What is it?"- the girl waved and continued painting part of the background of the play.

- "I need you to sew my dress!"- Rachel commanded and literally threw her outfit on (Y/N)'s face.

- "You were supposed to have it done already! The premier is tomorrow!"

(Y/N) sighed and smiled at Rachel. Of all the people in the club, (Y/N) was the only one who didn't hate her. If anything, (Y/N) was the only one who was still somehow friendly with her. Why? 'Cos she couldn't' help it. She was just too nice for her own good.

- "Give me ten minutes, Rachel. You'll have it ready for the rehearsal"- (Y/N) answered and smiled- "Just let me wash my hands. I don't want this to be all covered with paint."

- "You better don't!"- Rachel mumbled and walked away.

- "How on earth can you be so nice with that bitch?!"- Tina turned to (Y/N) and raised an eyebrow- "Each time I hear her talk, I have to make a major effort not to break her fake nose against a wall"

- "Come on!"- (Y/N) frowned and shook her head- "She is just nervous. She is the lead. You know that can get to you when you are performing."

- "She was born being the lead. The lead witch of the meanest coven I've ever seen"- Tina added and shook her head- "Honey, you are too sweet with her, and people like her eat nice girls like you for breakfast.·

- "I'm not gonna change who I am just 'cos she is mean. And she hasn't done anything to me."

- "(Y/N)!"- Rachel yelled- "That dress is not going to sew itself!"- Tina looked at (Y/N) right into the eyes, and the girl just smiled.

- "She is just nervous. Don't be mean."

But Rachel wasn't friendly. Not with (Y/N), and not with anyone in the whole club. For twenty-two years old, she could be very juvenile. (Y/N) could understand her, though. She didn't know why, but she couldn't be mad at Rachel. If anything, she felt sorry for her. (Y/N) was sure it had to be a burden to be like that, and she bet Rachel didn't know better.

- "Hello?"- (Y/N) walked into Rachel's dressing room and picked up the phone, excited to read Spencer's name on the screen.

- "Hello princess, how are you?"

- "Hello honey, I miss you so much."- (Y/N) replied and nearly sighed just by hearing Spencer's voice at the other side of the line.

- "I miss you too, Bunny. I'm calling from the airport with good news, though. We are on our way back home."

- "Really? You caught the bad guy?!"- the way (Y/N) asked about the case made her sound younger and more naive than she was. Spencer smiled and blushed, imagining her shiny eyes and her excited face. Rachel cleared the throat and handed (Y/N) the dress and the sewing kit.

- "Yes, we'll be back home tonight, so do you wanna grab a late dinner with me?"

- "Of course! I'm in rehearsal right now, wanna meet at my place? I'll ask for some take-out from your favorite Korean place."

- "Sounds like a plan. See you later, princess."

- "I love you, Spencer."

- "I love you too."- Rachel rolled her eyes as (Y/N) placed her phone back in her pocket and started sewing her dress.

- "So, you have a boyfriend?"- the way Rachel asked that question made it sound like it was something shocking and improbable to happen.

- "Yes, Spencer and I have been dating for over half a year already,"- (Y/N) answered proudly

- "Spencer, uh?"- Rachel repeated his name and looked at (Y/N), raising an eyebrow- "And what does he do?"

- "He works at the FBI"- the girl answered with a big proud smile- "He is a profiler at the BAU."

- "What does that mean? Does he makes good money?"

(Y/N) chuckled and shook her head. She didn't even know if Spencer made good money or not at his job. But she knew the most important thing about it: that he loved what he did for a living and that he was happy going to work every day, 'cos he had the chance to save people's lives.

- "He analyzes the behavior of mass murderers and catches serial killers."- (Y/N) explained with pride in her voice- "He has been out of town for two weeks, and he just called to tell me he is coming back home."

- "Does he travel often?"- Rachel asked and raised an eyebrow staring at (Y/N), who smiled and nodded, sewing her dress.

- "Yes, he and the team have to work across the country."

- "So, how do you deal with all the cheating?"

- "What?"- (Y/N) frowned and looked at Rachel for a moment, confused and shocked by her words.

- "Oh, come ok, honey. If he travels so much, it's only obvious he must have some flings now and then. After all, he is a man."

- "You don't know Spencer. He is not like that"- (Y/N) answered and returned to her job. Rachel stood up and sighed.

- "Oh honey, I know men, and they are all the same. They can't keep it in their pants."

And after those poisonous words, Rachel chuckled and walked out of the room.

(Y/N) tried not to think about what she had just heard. Instead, she continued sewing and repeated to herself Rachel had no idea what she was talking about. It was clear someone had broken her heart, and now Rachel couldn't trust anyone. Maybe she didn't want anyone to trust anyone anymore. Whatever was the reason, (Y/N) felt it didn't mean Rachel was a bad person, only someone who had gone through some bad situation that had gotten the best of her.

(Y/N) made a mental note to invite her for ice cream or some tea after the play and talk. Maybe what Rachel needed was a friend.

- "Help!! Help me!"- someone yelling took (Y/N) from her thoughts and made her jump from her spot and run outside.

- "Help me! Please!!"

- "What happened?"- (Y/N) and the rest of the drama club found Rachel on the floor, crying in pain.

- "I was trying on the shoes for the play, and I think I sprained my ankle!"- Rachel yelled and hit the floor- "Call a fucking medic!"

- "Fucking call a medic yourself!"- Tina answered and turned around- "You have a fucking cellphone in your hand. Probably you fell 'cos you were too busy taking selfies to look where you were going."

- "I'll help you. Just stay still."- (Y/N) whispered and kneeled next to Rachel- "Let me get you some ice."

- "Hurry up!!"- Rachel grunted, crying. Tina rolled her eyes and turned around to go back to what she was doing.

- "That bitch doesn't deserve your help."

- "I need your help!"- (Y/N) nearly tackled Spencer as soon as he showed up at her door later that night.

- "Hello to you too, princess"- he answered and kissed her lips, chuckling.

- "Sorry, hi, how are you? How was your flight?"- she asked all the questions at once as she held his hand and crawled him into her apartment.

- "I'm so happy to see you!"- he said and smiled, keeping his eyes on her. (Y/N) walked around, searching for something.

- "Here!"- and when she found it, she handed it to Spencer and smiled- "I need your help!"

- "What is it, bunny?"

- "Remember the play I'm in? That I'm the substitute for the lead role?"

- "Yes, I remember."

- "The play is tomorrow, and two hours ago, Rachel Cooper sprained her ankle doing wardrobe fitting. And now I am going to be the mass murdered nurse killing it in the play!"- (Y/N) smiled and hugged Spencer.

- "Oh! But I feel so bad Rachel is hurt. I sent her chocolates and flowers. I hope that cheer her up a little bit."

- "Wait, wait, wait! Are you telling me my girlfriend is going to be the lead in the play?"- Spencer asked her, surprised. (Y/N) just nodded frenetically, and he hugged her again.

- "Buttercup! This is great!"

- "But I need your help with my lines! Please help me, Obi-Wan."

- "I'm guessing those are not your line."- Spencer joked, and (Y/N) giggled.

- " I only had one whole rehearsal today, and that's it. I need to work on my lines with someone for tomorrow."

Spencer stared at her excited and happy smile, and it didn't matter that he was exhausted from the travel and the last two weeks of work. He couldn't say no to that smile.

- "Of course I'll help you!"- (Y/N) clapped and jumped on her stop.

- "Thank you so much!"

- "But please tell me you got me tickets for tomorrow."

- "For you and the rest of the team, if they want to go."- (Y/N) replied and kissed her boyfriend's lips- "Thank you, Spencer. You are the best."

The next evening, Spencer dragged the whole team along with him to see (Y/N)'s play. He had never been more excited about going to the theater before. He had bought (Y/N) flowers, and he made sure to have the best seats in the whole place.

- "Ok, pretty boy,"- Morgan chuckled as he noticed Spencer kept fidgeting his fingers nonstop- "Why are you so nervous? It's just a play for fun."

- "I don't know. I just want (Y/N) to enjoy her time and be proud of what she does."

- "I'm sure she will"- Penelope smiled at Reid and tapped on his arm- "I'm just scared she is too sweet to portrait an unsub."

- "Yeah, me too!"- JJ whispered and shook her head.

- "But the kid is a good actress, and she is going to be great,"- Derek added and turned to Spencer- "You've seen her acting before. Is she good?"

- "Yes, very."

- "You are not a reliable source"- Prentiss argued and opened a bag of jelly beans- "You are having sex with her. You are not objective."

Spencer wanted to argue with Emily, but he couldn't even make a sound. He felt so embarrassed and mortified with Prentiss's comment, and he couldn't even talk about the subject.

The lights went out, and the audience started clapping. Spencer's stomach tightened as he held his breath. He was more nervous than (Y/N) was, and she was the one walking into the stage that very same second.

An hour had passed, and Spencer Walter Reid couldn't move. He was glued to his seat, and his eyes could barely even blink. He was hypnotized by the beauty of the woman on that stage. A woman who looked so much like his girlfriend but acted entirely differently.

Was it wrong to feel so attracted by someone who was portraying a mass murderer? Was it considered cheating being drawn in such a profound way to someone who was nothing like his girlfriend, even when it was actually his girlfriend?

Spencer couldn't move. He could barely register what was going on around him and how Penelope giggled when she noticed (Y/N) hypnotized Reid in a way that only a man under a spell could be.

And that spell was lust.

When the play was over, Spencer stood up and clapped until his hands hurt. (Y/N) looked at him and smiled sweetly, thinking she couldn't believe what had just happened. She was the lead role on a play, and she nailed it. She had killed it. Literally, 'cos she had killed pretty much the whole cast during the show. She had been someone completely different than she was in real life, and she loved it. It had been fun, and she felt proud of her job.

- "Munchkin!!"- Penelope yelled as soon as she saw (Y/N) walking to them backstage- "You were amazing!!"

- "Thank you so much, Penelope!!"- (Y/N) chuckled and hugged her friend- "I'm so happy you are all here!"

- "You are the only unsub we are looking for tonight, pretty girl!"- Derek hugged her too, and his words made her laugh

- "You are definitely some actress! I couldn't believe that was really you!"

(Y/N) knew she was blushing as Emily complimented her acting. The girl nodded and hugged JJ, to then look behind her friend to find one shy Spencer Reid staring at her in deep love and adoration.

- "Hi. I think I saw you clapping in the audience,"- (Y/N) joked and walked over to Spencer. He opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came from his lips, 'cos his eyes were on (Y/N)'s clothing.

She was still wearing the nurse outfit from the play. And though it wasn't necessarily sexy (not in the sexy nurse costume you usually see), it did things to him. Things Spencer had to suppress to act like a human being of his friends were there too.

- "You were incredible"- that was all Reid could mumble as he hugged his girlfriend and gave her the flowers he had gotten for her.

- "Thank you, honey"- (Y/N) hugged him and noticed how his arms held her tighter and closer. She knew Spencer wasn't very comfortable being physical with her around his friends, especially around Derek, 'cos he would tease them until Garcia smacked him.

But that night, Spencer didn't really care. In fact, he couldn't help it. He needed to feel her, to touch her, to kiss her. And so he did. He kissed (Y/N) slowly at first, his lips recognizing hers and enjoying her softness. But within seconds, his kiss got hungrier and more passionate. It was a kiss that he had been imagining for the last hour and a half, watching her acting. And he didn't know how to control that passion anymore.

- "Woo, kid! Slow down!"- Derek chuckled and started joking, but Spencer didn't even pay attention to him. His hands held (Y/N) closer, cupping her face against him, making her moan softly.

- "Ok, ok, please stop! This is disturbing!!"- Garcia complained, but they didn't break the kiss either- "Ok, we'll wait outside, come on, Derek!"

- "Kid, what's..."- But Morgan couldn't continue making fun of Spencer, 'cos Penelope literally dragged him outside, along with Emily and JJ, who were laughing.

(Y/N) giggled, but Spencer didn't break the kiss. His tongue played between her lips slowly, and his hands moved slowly down her back until they reached her waist.

- "I have the feeling you really like me on this play,"- (Y/N) whispered, as her lips rubbed her boyfriend's as she spoke. He chuckled and nodded, deepening the kiss again.

- "Very much."

- "Is it the outfit?"- (Y/N) asked and rested her forehead against Spencer's. He sighed and looked at her for a second.

- "If I have to be honest, I think it was the whole thing,"- he confessed, blushing. For someone who had shamelessly made out with his girlfriend in the middle of a room filled with strangers, he was suddenly timid.

- "You were so different, and... please don't get me wrong. I love you, and I love who you are. But the way you acted... how you played the role of a mean girl..."

- "Did that turn you on?"- (Y/N) whispered, feeling her cheeks turning all shades of pink. Spencer chuckled and bit his lips. He couldn't even speak, so he just nodded and looked at his girlfriend.

- "Do you wanna know something that might make you happy?"

- "What?"- even when they were incredibly close, and no one could hear what they were talking about, (Y/N) leaned in and whispered in his ear.

- "Rachel Cooper's outfit didn't fit me, so I had to buy this one. Which means, I'm gonna take this nurse back home with me, in case you wanna play with her later"- Spencer wide opened his eyes and looked at her, gulping.

- "Really?"

- "Yes, Doctor Reid. Now I suggest you be good and behave in front of your friends. We'll talk about this when we are back in my place. Ok?"- Spencer's words got caught in his throat when he heard (Y/N) giving him commands. All he managed to do was to nod, and her lips sealed the deal with a hot sloppy kiss.

Who could have imagined two nice kids were going to find out they were both pretty dirty at the very same time?

*****************************

Taglist: 

@all-tings-diego​ @calm-and-doctor​

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding XVII

Part I - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Part XIV - - - - Part XV - - - - Part XVI

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Anakin scarcely had time to relax into the confirmation that Obi-Wan still loved him when his Master drew back.

“Anakin- you have no idea how much I simply want to stay like this, but we don’t have much time before I have to talk to the council, and there’s some matters I really feel we must discuss privately before that happens.”

“Ok.” Anakin wiped his face with the sleeve of his robe and sat at the foot of his Master’s bed, vibrating with intensity. 

“First of all.” Obi-Wan took a deep breath. “I know this sounds insane, but I need you to believe me- I’m from four years in the future. Or I had an incredibly detailed, four year long vision. Either way- I know things. I know where the war is leading us.”

“Alright.” Anakin nodded in relief. Looks like Bant was right. Thank fuck- I hated her theory the least. “So when you-” He vaguely mimed a stabbing motion “-You were trying to ‘wake up’ - from a memory? 

“Yes! Exactly!” Obi-Wan replied, relieved at the ease of the explanation. 

Anakin smiled reassuringly, then lunged to grab a pillow to whack his Master over the head. “You- fucking- kara- blast- idiot.” Anakin grit out, thwacking his master repeatedly with gentle rage. “Do. You. Have. Any. Idea. How! Fucked! Up! That! WAS! FOR!-”

Obi-Wan snatched the pillow, “Yes! Yes! I didn’t intend to hurt you, but I did, and I’m sorry, and you are perfectly entitled to your anger, alright!”

“I- oh.” Anakin paused, sitting back on his heels, not really sure how to go respond.

“Anakin- I know the identity of the Sith Master. I know who’s behind everything.” Obi-Wan stared intently into Anakin’s eyes. 

“Obi-Wan- that’s great!” Anakin said excitedly. If Obi-Wan knew who was responsible for all their suffering then, “That could end the war, right?”

Obi-Wan continued to gaze searchingly at his dearest friend and brother’s face, gently opening himself up to their bond, trying to find any hint of duplicity.

Anakin faltered under the scrutiny. “Right?”

Obi-Wan took another deep breath. He didn’t know. This was Anakin, before Palpatine- did something to him. It wasn’t too late.

“Anakin...it’s...someone we trust. Someone you trust. He- Darth Sidious- he’s been running both sides of the war.”

Anakin paled, eyes darting to the door, voice dropping to a low, urgent whisper, “He’s on the Council? Fuck that’s bad. Obi-Wan, what do you need me to do? I don’t have my lightsaber right now, but-” 

“No!” Obi-Wan replied quickly. “No! I mean, yes, it’s bad. But he’s not on the council. It’s- Anakin. I’m so, so sorry. But I saw a security hologram of him giving the final order to- to wipe out the Jedi and the Separatist leadership.” Anakin watched in alarm as Obi-Wan shuddered viscerally.

“I saw his speeches declaring victory over us, over everything. He personally killed half the council when we finally, finally found him out, far too late. Yoda barely survived- we were- the two of us were all that was left. I spent the last few years listening to his decrees as ‘Emperor’ - declaring the scarce remaining Jedi traitors to be hunted down. Making non-humans second class citizens. Enslaving worlds.”

Obi-Wan grabbed the front of Anakin’s tunic. “Please Anakin. He- he’s evil. He doesn’t want peace, or freedom, or justice, or security. He’s just been manipulating us all for his own ends. All of us. This whole time.” 

“It’s going to be ok, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said earnestly, grasping his Master’s hands. “I believe you. If the force gave you this clear a warning- or this incredible a second chance, then obviously we have to listen! I won’t let it happen how you saw, I swear. I’ll do whatever it takes to stop him.”

Obi-Wan felt like he was teetering over the edge of a precipice. He sucked in another breath- why was it so hard to breathe- 

“Anakin- It’s Palpatine. Chancellor Palpatine is the Sith Lord.”

Anakin froze. “That’s- not funny.”

Obi-Wan barked out a single hysterical laugh. “No, no it is not. But it’s true. I told you- I saw it and- it makes a twisted sense, even only looking at the informational available at this point in time! How the Separatists  always stayed one step ahead despite our advantages. How the clones and the GAR came to exist in the first place. The constant increase in war time powers- Dooku karking told us the Senate was under the control of a Sith-” 

“We’re listening to Dooku now?” Anakin asked, getting angry for lack of a better response.

“Anakin...” 

“I mean of course that’s what the Sith would want you to believe! He’s the chancellor! Turning the Jedi against the leader of the republic is such a Sith move.”

“Anakin...”

“And- and- MIND CONTROL! What if it was it was mind control! You even said you thought that you thought Cody was mind-controlled, right?”

Obi-Wan drew back, alarmed and suspicious, “How do you know that?” he rasped hoarsely.

Anakin rolled his eyes. “You told Cody, remember? That first night? In the hovercar?”

“Ah. Right. Sorry. That first night is still a little fuzzy.” Obi-Wan wrinkled his nose. “I still can’t believe I time-traveled while high on one end and drunk on the other. It’s so- undignified.” 

Anakin snorted. “You must have taken a lot of spice, huh?” he joked.

Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably.

“I- oh for Krong’s sake,” Anakin groaned, slapping himself in the forehead. “Obi-Wan- were you actually trying to kill yourself?”

“No!” Obi-Wan replied quickly to the loaded question. “I was just looking for a- temporary escape. I did mention that a Sith Empire ruled the galaxy and Yoda and I were all that was left of the Jedi order, right? He didn’t seem totally sane the last time I saw him, either! Not to mention, I spent most of the last three years alone in a desert.”

“Oh.” Anakin grew somber. “Master, that-”

“And that still doesn’t explain how you knew what I said to Cody.”

“Well, the day after I came back to our quarters to find you in the process of stabbing yourself in the heart you woke up, declared Master Che both dead and a Sith trick, then sunk into a self-induced coma.” Anakin snapped. “The healers, I think understandably, set aside privacy and called everyone in to try and figure out what the fuck was going on”

Obi-Wan cringed. “That...makes sense. Sorry again.” He cleared his throat. “Look, we’ve got seconds left before council interrupts- I just- didn’t want you to be blindsided by the Palpatine reveal.”

“But you admit there was mind control involved,” Anakin insisted. “Cody wouldn’t have turned on you without it, and neither would the Chancellor.”

“Anakin- I know we never liked to talk about it, but the Vod had a lot more opportunity to be compromised en mass. They were designed for a purpose we never fully understood and their entire childhood consisted of indoctrination; we already knew Dooku was involved with their ‘commissioning- we just ignored it.’”

Anakin bit the inside of his mouth, tasting blood as he restrained himself from screaming. He didn’t want to think about Kamino and he had to make Obi-Wan see past the nightmare he witnessed, before he convinced the council of an innocent man’s guilt.

“There wasn’t anyone else who might have been mind-controlled, who turned on you, or the Jedi? You said everyone died- there had to be someone besides some of the clones and one old man doing the killing,” he said desperately.

Obi-Wan’s sputtered, “That’s- that’s different- it was so obviously Palpatine’s influence.”

“But there was someone else you think might have been acting against his will.” Anakin pressed, sensing a weak point.

Obi-Wan looked gutted. “I don’t know- I want to believe you would never do such terrible things but you did and it all happened so fast...”

“So you admit-” Anakin stopped as his brain caught up with his mouth. “Wait- me?”

Obi-Wan’s face twisted in anguish but he didn’t break eye contact as he nodded.

Anakin swallowed hard. “Obi-Wan... what did I-” he cut himself off as the door opened.

Master Windu entered and squinted suspiciously at the two of them. 

"Mace!” Anakin said nervously. “We were just- crying. You know. Being attached and, and all that.”

Obi-Wan's jaw dropped open as he stared bug-eyed at his Padawan. “Mace?” he repeated, dumbfounded.

Mace Windu inhaled slowly through his nose. “Your friends had plenty of time to bond while we were trying to make sense of your more... disastrous traits.” He waved vaguely.

“You just gestured at all me,” Obi-Wan replied, offended. 

“Well, you’ll have the opportunity to help clear up our misconceptions. Master Aerdo is preparing a meeting room in the Halls so you can explain everything, just like you wanted.”

“Oh, fuck.” Anakin whispered softly. 

“It’s a different room, Anakin, I made sure of it.” Mace reassured him.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan parroted in delight.

“Well, I’m glad you know everyone’s names, at least.” Windu muttered. “Master Che will be by to check you over one more time, she should have some proper robes for you. Should we contact Commander Cody? He’s at a pre-departure briefing with Master Tiin not too far away.” 

“No.” Obi-Wan responded sadly. “We can’t alert anyone outside the halls about even the existence of this meeting. Maintaining secrecy right now is too important. We’re going to need to take a significant amount of extremely careful action on a lot of fronts if we want to unravel the Sith’s plots- and I hate to say it but stopping the actual war is unfortunately going to need to wait for last. We’ll still end things sooner than they would otherwise, but if we meddle too much right now... Whatever story you were using to explain my- absence the past few days, please simply double down on that.” 

The Master of the Jedi Order nodded slowly, holding off on questions with well-practiced restraint.

“Alright Windu, Skywalker, get out.” Che ordered, brusquely pushing her way in with a hovercart. 

“Yes, Master Che.” Anakin acknowledged, jumping up. He gave Obi-Wan a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before he departed. “We’re going to get through this.” he said valiantly, trying to project confidence.

Obi-Wan smiled weakly, “I’ll see you two soon.”

“That’s up to me, actually.” Master Che said cheerfully, snapping her gloves.

Part XVIII

[littlesimps]

AYO ITS ME I FIGURED IT OUT AND I FIGURED THE ANONYMOUS THING OUT TOO LMAOOOOOO

So, first of all foolish but like obviously you need some backstory SO maybe the reader and foolish could be friends yaknow and like they do friend things and they could yaknow have a moment

BRUahHsjjjdjsjz

Your wish is my command. (:

<Warning> A little Angst

>Oneshot<

FoolishG x Fem! Reader

“Scared to lose you”

Third POV

As usual, war goes on, betrayals happen, and people simply minding their own business and trying to step down or just joining in on it all.

(Y/n) didn’t pick any sides, the one thing she last thing she wanted to deal with is death and it’s blaming. She knew if she ever got caught up in the middle of it, she’ll get strikes hard with pain. Mentally or Physically. Now, (Y/n) may seem alone if she doesn’t join into the war and such. But, she does have a certain friend she always visits every now and then. Which is Foolish himself, a person who’s a Totem of Undying. Being friends with the god for the past few years, before they both even joined the Dream Smp lands.

Walking down to the desert Foolish lived in, she started pondering in her thoughts.

'Wonder how he’s been doing..' (Y/n) stares at the ground ahead of her, thoughts wondering from one thing to another. He’s been a bit annoyed lately, due to Bad and his so called “Eggpire” coming after Foolish about some egg. She’s glad that Foolish was alright and she, herself avoided Bad after hearing about him acting odd for some time. Something about red vines spreading and the egg. It worried her a little, but she shrugged it off and wandered her thought to another thought. 'He’s been acting upset lately after what Bad said something to him..' (Y/n) recalled back to Foolish explaining what happened after she came to visit Foolish when Bad and his group left. She knew Foolish was gonna have to talk to her about it instead of just not talking about it.

Snapping back into reality, (Y/n) spots the familiar god on one of his knees, rummaging through his chest.

He wore his usual white shirt, and white pants tied with a rope to keep his pants up. His golden skin shining a little in the sun as it was littered with dark spots from him also being part shark. Foolish cheeks were littered with more dark spots to over the bride of his nose. His brown hair hidden under a shark hood (Y/n) made for him, giving it as a gift for being given a stack of enderpearls she needed by him one time.

(Y/n) soon stops admiring him once Foolish turns his head towards her, standing up and walking over to her in his smaller form.

“(Y/n)! It’s great to see you again.” Foolish smiled, but the joy that was coming from his mouth never reached his eyes. (Y/n) frowned for a split second before grinning up at the man.

“I’d say the same thing to you too, Foolish.” (Y/n) chuckled, putting her hands on both her hips.

“So, what brings you here?” Foolish questioned, tilting his head a little to the side. The corner of (Y/n) mouth twitched upwards a bit more before it stopped once she remember what she was gonna talk to him about. Not wanting to ruin the mood so quick, she offers him for a walk, in which he accepts without hesitation.

Both of the two walk around, passing old buildings and new buildings that were created by their friends. Few were destroyed big or small, others were rebuilt much better or just the same.

The duo fell into a calm silence, walking on the prime path.

(Y/n) couldn’t help their thoughts wonder, their (e/c), eye’s lowering to where it was pointed to the ground.

She was enjoy this, yet, confusion stirred in her.

She kept noticing Foolish eyes staring down at her for a few times, brushing his hand against hers, and that his large shark tail swayed a bit more faster than usual since the start of the walk.

“(Y/n)?” Foolish voice comes into her ears, waking her up from her confused little thoughts running around her head.

She hums, looking up at Foolish.

He halts, sitting down under the bride and near the water. (Y/n) complies when Foolish pats the ground next to him, sitting down and crossing her legs.

“I know you want to talk to something with me, (Y/n)..” Foolish grin falls down, a small frown taking over his golden face as he looks at (Y/n). (Y/n) stayed silent for a bit, sighing after a minute or two.

She knew that she wasn’t good at hiding certain things from Foolish.

“I’ve noticed that you’ve been upset lately, after what happened between you and Bad.” (Y/n) answers, fiddling with her fingers as she gazes at the water before her. Foolish noted that she always did this whenever she was nervous.

Foolish scooted a little closer to her, watching her relax a little.

“I wanted to ask..” (Y/n) trailed off into a mumble, making Foolish frown dampen a little more. “Wanted to ask what?” He asked, raising a brow just a tad bit as he tilts his head at the woman sat next to him. A sigh draws from (Y/n) mouth before she fully repeats. “I wanted to ask what did Bad also say that made you upset lately?” (Y/n) turns her head to Foolish, making eye contact with his emerald, colored, eyes.

Foolish goes stiff, remembering back to what Bad said to him.

“I..” He tries to utter out his explanation, except Foolish throat felt like a lump was stuck in it as he started to feel emotional. Foolish breaks away from (Y/n) gaze, his eyes being planted to the ground beneath the two of you.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” Foolish let’s it out quick, changing on what he was gonna say.

Standing up, he starts walking away without a goodbye. Although, (Y/n) wasn’t gonna let him off that easily. Quickly getting rising from the ground, she jogs over to Foolish and stops in front of him, keeping him from walking any further away. “(Y/n)—” He was instantly cut off by the said person. “Foolish. I understand that you don’t wanna talk about it, but it’s gonna get harder if you don’t tell me.” (Y/n) brows knit together, knowing this could’ve happened sense it was normal for him to sometimes try to shrug it off and avoid talking about things he’s upset about. “(Y/n)..you don’t need to know what Bad said. It’s none of your concern.” Foolish glares down at (Y/n), getting annoyed each second that pasts.

“It is my concern. I care about you, Foolish. You mean so much to me and I hate having to see you upset about something for a bit. So please..just let it out to me.” (Y/n) opens her arms to him, awaiting for the golden man to step into her arms and allow her to caress him, afraid to hurt him.

And so did Foolish did, taking a few steps forward and falling into (Y/n) arms. Trying to keep the tears in that pricked his eyes.

Foolish knew he couldn’t keep all his sadness away from her, she saw right through him like how he saw right through her. That’s what he loved about (Y/n). Foolish loves everything about her. He would do anything for her, no matter what. Heck, he would even die for her.

It made him happy that she was here for him.

“Bad..he—he said he was gonna hurt you...if I don’t join them. A-And I got scared, angered, and so many more at the thought of that.” Foolish voice cracked, giving up on keeping the salty tears in and allowing them to roll down his cheeks and onto (Y/n) shoulder.

“I’m scared to lose you...”

She rubbed his back, tangling her other hand in his brunette hair.

He sniffs, his arms tightening a little more around her waist. Wanting to feel closer to her than he already is. His thoughts now walking off to thoughts of her. Thoughts of (Y/n). The woman who’s been friends with him for years, the one he’s started loving for the past few months. The woman who’s always comforting him when he needs it.

Before he knew it, his mouth let out the words he’s always wanted to say to her ever since then.

“I love you, (Y/n)..”

(Y/n) hands stop moving, her body going tense. Foolish immediately realizes his mistake, hastily removing his head from her shoulder. “I-I didn’t—I’m so sorry—I don’t what I was thinking-” Foolish was cut short by a hand gently caressing his tear stained cheek. Slowly, he moves his emerald eyes over to (Y/n).

His body relaxes once he sees soft eyes staring at him, unreadable to know what (Y/n) eyes were showing besides them looking so kind and comforting.

Subconsciously, he leans his head into her hand. His hand leaving his side to caress (Y/n) hand.

“Foolish, don’t be sorry. It’s alright. Everything will be okay..and I love you, too.” (Y/n) beams up at Foolish, making him melt on the inside. He felt his cheeks heat up, he rubs his face into (Y/n) hand. Giving a small peck into her palm. Moving his head out of her hand after a moment of silence, he brings his other hand out, only using it to hold (Y/n) cheek. Foolish leans to her face, pausing to ask for permission. A small chuckle occurs from (Y/n), earning a nod as his only answer. He smiles before making his lips come in contact with hers.

A god being a mortals friend, to having a crush on her, and lastly..to becoming the person she’ll love always.

Hhhhhh man was it a little confusing to try and imagine how this should go, but this went pretty good then I expected tbh. Hope you enjoyed this by the way, dear friend!

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

After All

Character: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Just because Bucky pushed her away doesn’t mean he knows how to let go.

Word Count: 2,100 - One Shot

She looked beautiful. Too beautiful. Bucky didn’t know why she put in such an effort for this schmuck. She didn’t need to put in any effort at all to be beautiful. And if some guy didn’t know that, then he didn’t deserve her. 

The bar had giant windows with no curtains or treatments to hide its patrons from outside observation. They did it on purpose, to hypnotize the people walking by and pull them into the romantic and dark lighting…and overpriced cocktails. 

But Bucky didn’t just notice how beautiful Y/N looked. He could also see how bored she was. Her smile was forced. He could almost hear exactly what her voice sounded like as she talked to him. Bucky would tease her about it, always knowing when she was being polite but wanted to find an out from a conversation as soon as possible. She called it her “customer service voice.”

She was probably smarter than him, Bucky thought. She was smarter than most people – maybe not Stark or Shuri, but she had her own genius that neither of those two possessed.

The only thing that could possibly make the people on the street notice Bucky’s lingering was the white vapor that appeared from his mouth every time he sighed. Which he seemed to be doing every time he noticed another piece of body language from Y/N that further proved her disinterest in this man.

It was cold, making everyone hurry to their destination, not paying him any mind. But Bucky didn’t feel the weather’s coldness anymore. Once you spend a lifetime frozen, nothing really compares.

Bucky stood up straighter when the two started making their way out of the fancy bar.

Y/N shifted her weight, not sure what the man’s next move was going to be.

He awkwardly went in for a hug.

She gave another one of her fake smiles, said her goodbyes, and started walking away.

“Not even gonna get her a cab or walk her home, you bastard?” Bucky breathed with irritation.

Men these days. Him and Steve still didn’t get it.

But he figured Y/N was glad to be done with him.

Bucky walked in the shadows of night as he kept his distance behind her. They were only a few avenues away from her apartment.

But he swore she was walking slower than usual. Like she was trying to make the journey home longer.

When they finally reached the stoop of her building, she took the steps slowly. But instead of putting her keys into the lock, she just stared at the door for a moment.

What was she thinking about? Bucky wondered.

Then Y/N quickly turned around and skipped down the stairs. She hurried across the street and made her way into the park that was directly across from her building.

She walked with more purpose now. Which made Bucky realize what was happening.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

He took in a deep breath before he followed her into the park.

Y/N sat on a bench in almost total darkness, waiting. If it weren’t for Bucky’s super-soldier sight, she would be practically invisible to him.

Bucky rubbed his face and watched her for a few moments before he made his way over.

Without any warning, he slowly sat down on the other side of the bench.

She didn’t react, didn’t even act like someone had invaded her space.

She had been waiting for him.

“What did I tell you about going to parks at night?” Bucky finally asked.

She scoffed, but didn’t look at him. “Yeah…Well, putting myself into danger is always the quickest way to get you out of hiding.”

She wasn’t wrong.

“He seemed nice.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Oh, fuck off, James.”

She’d stopped calling him Bucky once he broke her heart.

“Is this the part where you try to lie and tell me you liked him?” Bucky challenged with a smirk, even though there was absolutely nothing funny about the situation.

Y/N finally turned and looked at him for the first time. “What exactly are you mad about, James? That I went on a date with him or that I just went on any date at all?”

He was silent for a second. “He’s not good enough for you.”

“You’d say that about every man,” she challenged.

“Yeah, and I’d be damn right.”

Y/N shot up from the bench and turned to face him. “I’m trying!” She snapped.

Then she paused, trying to get her emotions in control. But she wasn’t successful since her eyes glazed over with tears. She managed to hold them in. “I’m really trying.”

Bucky then stood up from the bench. His body always went into a panic when Y/N cried. He felt sick to the stomach when he was the reason for it. But these days, he was always the reason..

But he couldn’t comfort her like he used to. He wasn’t allowed to touch her anymore.

Y/N sniffed, trying to play it off as if it was due to the cold instead of her unshed tears.

“You have to stop following me,” she told him as sternly as she could.

Bucky shifted his weight, but stayed quiet.

“James, I’m gonna call Steve if you keep doing this.”

And he knew she would. What he didn’t know is what Steve would do to make sure Y/N’s commands were followed through.

And it wasn’t just Steve who sided with her after the breakup, the whole team did. Any of them would love a chance to return to Y/N’s life in some way and give Bucky a piece of their mind on her behalf.

Breakup. Is that even what it should be called?

They didn’t stop loving each other. Even though Y/N hid that with the hate she now held for Bucky.

He didn’t think it was possible for someone to hate a person as much as they loved them, but Y/N seemed to do it effortlessly with him.

“We can’t do this anymore, Y/N. I have to stay away from you.” 

The words still haunted Bucky’s nightmares. All it took was one stupid article. Her full name, where she was from, what she did for work – all accompanied by a photo of them together. If it had been paparazzi, Bucky would’ve clocked the camera. His training would’ve sensed it, noticed the signs. But it had just been some asshole and their iPhone.

“How did you figure out I was tailing you?” He asked, ignoring the threat of Steve.

“Following,” she corrected. “You look like the fucking unabomber, James. You’re trying so hard to hide that you stick out even more.” She looked him up and down, taking in his black leather jacket over his black hoodie that was pulled over his black, nondescript baseball hat.

But in reality, she knew that if Bucky wanted to be completely untraceable, he would be. Which meant that he wanted her to notice him.

He didn’t realize he was doing that.

Y/N stared at the ground, scared to look into his eyes now. “I always think that I feel you watching me.” Then she glanced up at him. “But then I realized that was just me missing you.” She shook her head, embarrassed to be admitting that to him. “It wasn’t that I could feel you watching over me, it was me hoping you’d come around the next corner.”

“I miss you, too.” He admitted without hesitation.

Y/N closed her eyes and winced. “Don’t say that to me.”

“But it is true.”

Her eyes remained closed, but not even that could stop the tears from falling this time.

“Why do you have to make this so hard, Bucky?” She whispered.

The use of that name knocked the air out of his lungs.

He took a step toward her.

But she immediately took a step back. “Don’t. Please don’t, Bucky.”

“Y/N…I’m…I’m so sorry,” he muttered.

“How does this make anything better for us?” She breathed.

“I just…I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Well, I’m not!” She bawled. “Is that what you want to hear? That I’m miserable without you? That during all of these dates, I’m just comparing them to you? Is that what you want to hear? Is it?”

“No! For Christ – no, Y/N.”

“Then what do you want me to say?” She demanded.

“Nothing. You don’t owe me anything, Y/N. I know that.”

He stepped forward, it was a risk and he knew it. But she didn’t cower from him this time. Bucky slowly reached forward and wiped the tears from her cheek gently.

“I’ll never stop worrying about you. I get anxious, thinking about what could happen.”

“Well, I stopped being your responsibility when you broke up with me.” She knew that was her broken heart speaking, but she had to give it at least one round.

Bucky nodded, knowing he deserved that.

Y/N looked around her. “It’s been almost a year, Bucky. We can’t keep doing this.”

“I know,” he mumbled as he shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at the ground.

“We need to move on…if that’s even possible. We have to try either way.”

“I know,” Bucky repeated.

But he also knew he could never replace her. However, she deserved to fill the bleeding hole he left after he broke her heart.

“Goodnight, James.” She told him coldly.

He just nodded.

But she hadn’t moved yet.

Before she could change her mind, she stepped into him and Bucky immediately opened his arms to her. She buried her face into his shoulder. Her senses took him in, memorizing every detail. His cologne. The feel of his leather jacket that he’d broken in to perfectly mold around his body. His inhuman body heat.

Bucky did the same.

When Y/N pulled away, her eyes locked to his like those blue irises were magnets.

“You should get home now, doll,” he whispered as his gaze flickered to her lips. His hands were caressing her face now.

She just nodded, feeling the new tension.

Bucky leaned forward and placed a kiss on her forehead.

It took every ounce of strength she had to walk away. She wouldn’t let herself turn around and look back once she started walking. But she felt his eyes on her, watching to make sure she made it to her front door safely.

She knew he wouldn’t leave until he saw the light turn on in her bedroom.

Y/N counted to 1,000 before she allowed her crying to start again.

-----

Bucky turned the light on in the kitchen.

“Bucky…”

He had been dreading this. “What? What do you want, Steve?”

The other super soldier leaned in the doorway with his arms crossed. He was giving Bucky the look that no one wanted to get from Captain America. It was the look of disappointment.

“Y/N called.”

That was all Steve needed to say.

Bucky ignored him and poured himself a drink – vodka on the rocks. It was Nat’s hidden stash. But he’d deal with that tomorrow.

“You can’t push her away and then shove yourself back into her life whenever you feel like it. That’s not fair to her and you know it,” Steve warned.

Bucky threw the vodka back before he countered with, “You said you understood why I did it.”

“Yes, I understood it. I didn’t agree with it. And I definitely don’t agree with you continuing to torture Y/N and yourself.”

Bucky tried to pour himself another glass of vodka, but Steve ripped the bottle from his grasp.

“Are you even listening to me?” Steve growled.

“I stand by what I did!” Bucky shouted. “I did what had to be done! And I did it so she could be safe, so she could have a fucking life!”

He caught his breath and his hand rubbed across his face. “I know I shouldn’t go see her. I know that. But…But I’m only human, Steve. I can’t help it.”

Steve sighed, his sympathy now outweighing his anger.

He gripped Bucky’s shoulder. “I know, Buck.”

“I’ll stop. I promise. I owe her that at least.” Bucky bowed his head in shame.

“I’ll check on her. We all will.” They would do it so Bucky didn’t have to.

“Thank you, Steve.”

“Just get some sleep. OK, Buck?”

He nodded, even though he stopped really sleeping when she was no longer in his bed.

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

I wrote this about a month ago and obviously didn’t want to share it with how much everyone sucks on here. 

Figured I’d give this site a chance to redeem itself, but not getting my hopes up. 

I’m still on “hiatus” or whatever, and not really interacting with people on here. 

If you really miss me that much... One Shot – Masterlist

(Also, friendly reminder that just because a fic is old, doesn’t mean you can’t comment on it anymore.)

[binniedeactivated]

hi binnie i wanted to request a fem!reader x dom!yeonjun when she comes home late at night smelling like someone else’s cologne and he punishes her. (sorry this is very descriptive aha im no good at english ) :3

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | 𝐝𝐨𝐦!𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 | 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐬

𝐖/𝐂 | 2.5k

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐬𝐞𝐱

“hyung, go to sleep”. soobin encourages over the video monitor.

“no we need to finish these lyrics”. yeonjun refuses. he was currently working from home in his home studio. it was more urgent to him than anyone else probably because of the real studio time he’s missed due to paternity leave. 

“hyung we can finish them tomorrow alright?”. soobin assures softly. he hated seeing the older stressing himself out. “how’s jayce? has he been sleeping okay?”. soobin asks.

yeonjun huffs and combs his hair back with his fingers in stress. he hasn’t been getting the sleep he wanted due to the six month old infant. especially since your boss needed you urgently, cutting your maternity leave and giving you later hours than usual. hence the reason why yeonjun has been practically banging his head over work. he palms his forehead in the video camera. soobin could see the weariness in his eyes.

“yeah I guess. I just put him down an hour ago. I hope he stays asleep”.

“good. you should use this time to get some sleep hyung”.

yeonjun huffs again, parting his lips to say something else before he heard the front door open and close softly. it was you trying to hurry and sneak in. maybe change your clothes and shower before yeonjun could suspect anything.

“fine I guess. I’ll get some sleep”.

“good. I’ll talk to you tomorrow hyung”.

“bye soobin”.

he waves before ending the call. he checks his watch. it was almost an hour later than when you normally came home. “babe is that you?”. he spoke.

you swiftly took your jacket off hanging it on the coat rack. you cursed under breath hating the fact that he even heard you arrive. “yes babe”. you call out from near the door.

“you know you’re like an hour late coming home. jayce was a handful today”.

you slip off your shoes. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m here now”. you tried to sound as sincere as possible. almost as if you weren’t fucking one of your best friends an hour prior.

yeonjun turns off his monitors and shuts off the equipment in his studio. he decided to check on the baby one last time before entering your shared bedroom. thank god he was still asleep.

“I’m not trying to be an asshole but baby I really need you here. why is your boss keeping you so late?”. yeonjun questions while you were digging into your closet. you were kind of glad he couldn’t see the guilty look on your face. but he definitely smelled the cologne each time you moved.

“I’m sorry it’s been really hectic at the company. I’ll talk to her to see if we can make some arrangements. why are you so upset junnie?”. you soft talked, hoping to butter him up. he sighs at the nickname, sneaking behind you to wrap his arms around your waist to smell you again on purpose.

you reeked of versace cologne. and yeonjun knew he never wore that kind.

“I’m not upset baby. I just miss you and jayce is always eating and crying”.

his lips sit at the coast of your collarbone. he peppers fluttering kisses until he reaches your neck. you breathed.

“isn’t that what you do too? eat and whine about things?” you accuse. yeonjun chuckles. “yes maybe”.

you wanted to shrug yeonjun off because honestly words couldn’t explain how fucked out you were. but you didn’t want him to think anything was up so you let his lips continue up your neck and finally to your jawline.

yeonjun could hear your breathing pattern shift due to his lips. but more than anything he saw how much you were trying to act like you wanted him, but really you wanted to tell him not tonight. that you didn’t feel like having sex because you already got your fix from someone else. and yeonjun knew it.

he pushes his bulge against your backside inching his lips to the corner of yours. you could feel him harden. “baby”. he hums. “baby please have sex with me”.

your heart raced at his words. you’ve never heard yeonjun beg in need before. you didn’t know how you were going to find the energy to oblige to his request. but he grips your waist tighter and you knew there was no letting go. he traces the outline of your breasts with his fingers, keeping note of the fact that your bra wasn’t on.

‘stupid’, yeonjun wanted to say. he knows you left the house with one on. yeonjun was furious.

“please? don’t you miss me?”. he whines again, sneaking a kiss to your lips. he glares into your eyes after he pulls away and you nod your head in counterfeit desperation. he grins into another kiss while his hand searched for the back of your thighs. while hoisting you up the both of you exchange sloppy kisses until you were being laid back onto the sheets.

he allows his tongue to roam your mouth once more before he pulls away with admiration glimmering in his eyes.

“I love you”.

you swallowed, the sheer happiness that overwhelmed him was enough to make you feel guilty about what you done. nevertheless you pout your lips and rub his cheek. “aw junnie. I love you too”.

he smiles and leans down to layer an abundance of kisses over your lips again. he  pins your wrists down gradually with his hands. “I know I haven’t been the best husband lately”. he complains in between kisses. “but I’ve been so tired and moody with the baby and you haven’t been here”. he raises your dress and pushes his bulge against the wetness of your panties. 

you pant feeling your breathing becoming shaky. “I’m sorry junnie. you’ve been the perfect husband okay? I don’t know what I was thinking working-- l-late like that”.

he tongue kisses your neck sliding your panties down your thighs in one quick movement. “you’re so pretty. I’ve been missing you”. slowly but surely he clutches your thighs and rocks down into your warmth. you wrap your arms around his neck with your gaspy moans driving straight into his ear.  your eyes roll up to the ceiling.

“godd---go a little softer junnie please”. you plead. and he follows your command slowly swaying his hips into you with care. he kisses your cheeks. “is this better baby?”. he pants into the small space between the both of your lips, satisfied with the way he was sheathed in your warmth. it felt so good and he hasn’t had it in so long.

“yes it’s perfect”. you mumble, grinding your hips against him at the same speed. it felt amazing. sex was always amazing with yeonjun. he leans down and plants another kiss on your lips. “so needy? what’s making my baby so needy? you missed me that much?”.

between your muffled cries you nodded. he was stretching you each time he inched deeper. he knew how much you loved him buried inside of you. enough to forget where you end and where he begins. “god yeonjun”. you whine against his neck. “i’ve missed you so much”. you whimper back. you felt so ashamed. you knew no one could ever fuck you like yeonjun could.

“I don’t want you to ever miss me baby. I want to always be here to love you and give what you want when you want it”.

you hold him against you, melting each time he bucks into you and feeling guilt eat you alive each time he spoke. “I’d love that so much”. you reply hazily glaring up into his eyes.

“and I love you-”. he cut himself off with a hard thrust jolting your body upwards. you gasp. he chuckles into your neck. “fuck--i hope you don’t think I’m a pervert. asking for sex as soon as you walk in the door”.

“mmmh no junnie-- you’re just as needy as I am”.

with his head buried into your neck he fucks into you a bit faster, groaning at the way you felt wrapped around his length. he got his desired effect though. you with parted lips clawing at his back. each time he rocked into you he heard you choke on your own moans and that’s exactly what he wanted. it turned him on.

“junnie I’m going to cum if you keep going like this---that’s why I want you to g-go slower”.

“I’m sorry it’s been so long I can’t control myself”. he tries his best to go at a slower pace but each time he tried he went back to the same pace he started with. you’re not far behind your orgasm and yeonjun knew just by the stutter in your hips.

“tell me when you’re about to cum baby”. he breathes.

“I’m a-about to ccum right now”. you were nearly shaking beneath him. and just as you felt like you were about release yeonjun stops his movements completely. you sank into confusion until you felt him roughly create a makeshift ponytail out of your hair and pin it against the bed above your head so you couldn’t move.

his facial expression immediately changed. instead he looked angry. his eyes were scary glaring down into yours.

“did you really think I’d let you cum you fucking cheater?”.

you glanced up at him with horror. “junnie--”.

“don’t fucking soft talk me“.

you crumbled at his tone of voice. he started pounding into you whilst biting his lips. you whimper in his hands.

“whose cologne is that hm?”.

if you weren’t choking to death on your moans before you were definitely were choking on them now. he was making you feel so good you could barely think of anything else while he was fucking you like this. you felt your orgasm build back up quickly.

“w-what cologne?”. he thrusts rough and sharp and stops just after he felt your hips stutter. you whine in desperation to cum just once. it felt like a punch in the gut.

“don’t play stupid. whose cologne are you wearing?”.

“it’s yyours”. you wanted to crawl into a hole and hide at the way he practically growled at you. he lowers his lips allowing them to overshadow yours.

“that’s not my fucking cologne and you know that. I don’t wear versace cologne. so how about you tell me who does?”.

and right there, he was filling you again. pushing his length into your depth just how you liked it, knowing it drove you insane. knowing it was just enough to make you want to cum again. his strokes were painfully slow, making your body wallow in a feeling of pleasure and anxiousness.  he bites his lips again.

“I think I like you like this. not being able to cum. you feel better around me”.

he’s groaning and you felt heat sit in your cheeks. your hips bucked up with need and he’s snapping his hips into you until he felt you stutter again. you pant heavily, grasping his shirt.

“yyeonjun please--pplease don’t stop I need to cum!”.

“tell me who wears versace cologne”. he snarls. in absolute desperation you answer, “a cclose friend of mine!”.

and just as you were about to finally cum his hips come to a halt once more.  you felt tears cascade down your cheeks. he chuckles in the midst of your pain.

“and you weren’t even smart enough to put your bra on before coming home to me. you’re pathetic as fuck. do you know that?”. he rocks his hips down again with brutal thrusts.

“jjunnie I’m sorry! it’s just I’ve been feeling so unsatisfied lately“.

yeonjun casts his eyes down on you with no remorse. he cared nothing about your explanation or your tears. you whimpered against his chest.

“how long have you been doing this? don’t lie to me”.

your needy cries were muffled into the material of his shirt. you decided to reply honestly. “s-since jayce was three months”. you sniffle.  “please let me cum yeonjun”.

for an affair that he thought was only just a few weeks ended up being months. yeonjun couldn’t believe you. he couldn’t believe you’d intentionally sabotage the family that the both of you started together. he knows he was stressed and moody lately but it was because he was taking care of jayce by himself. and you were no where to be found. tears rimmed his eyes.

his hips stop and he cums good and hard just how he hoped. except you didn’t. you were a tear stained mess beneath him shaking and crying. yet he didn’t care. he leaned off of you and started zipping up his pants. and almost as if he could sense that his father was near, jayce began to softly cry in the next room over.

yeonjun glares down at you in pure disgust.

“I want you to pack your stuff and get out of my house”.

[doeeyeseddie]

coda/missing scene to 4x05 because i, once again, had too many feelings. read on ao3

Eddie Diaz is good at compartmentalizing. He’s great at it, at putting his emotions in a box and locking it to focus on the task at hand. Needs to be good at it to be able to do his job, be it in the army or now, as a firefighter. He doesn’t get to panic when one of his coworkers is in danger.

He still nearly loses it when he and Bobby hear that Buck’s still in the factory.

It’s not a surprise, not really - of course Buck disobeyed a direct order to make sure every last person gets out alive, and of course he doesn’t think about himself. It’s one of the things Eddie loves him for. But the sheer terror of hearing Buck explain over the radio that there’s no way out almost overrides his training. Almost.

For a second, he’s ready to run right back in, on his own if he has to, to find Buck and get him out, somehow, he has to-

Then Buck is on the radio, alive, still okay, and the incident commander tells him that a rescue team is coming in to find them, and Eddie forces himself to stay calm and focused, to be of help where he can be the most useful. And then the factory blows behind them.

Chimney, Hen, Cap, him, they all spin around in shock and Eddie can just stare at the balls of fire and the smoke billowing, feeling paralyzed. The rational part of his brain is already clocking that it wasn’t the whole factory, probably just one of the tanks full of flammable gas, and probably not anywhere near where Buck is, even though he didn’t seem sure about where that was over the radio. His heart, hammering against his ribs, takes a little longer to catch up and Eddie has to press his shaking hands against his thighs for a second.

He’s got himself under control by the time they’re being sent in.

Outside of the factory, he can’t bring himself to look at Buck for too long. He’s over by an ambulance with Bobby, having been checked over quickly, and the look on his face is something Eddie doesn’t quite know how to deal with. But he’s got Bobby there, and Hen, so Eddie has to trust he’ll be fine.

He and Chim checked the victim over, giving him oxygen and getting him ready to be transported to the hospital. He’ll probably be fine in a few weeks, the smoke inhalation shouldn’t have caused lasting damage, and his leg is clearly broken but not crushed. Buck saved his life.

“Tell your friend,” Saleh says on a cough, gripping Eddie’s arm after they’ve moved him onto the ambulance, “thank you. Thank you.”

“I’ll tell him,” Eddie promises, fixing the oxygen mask over his face again. “Breathe.”

They ride in the back of the ambulance mostly in silence, checking Saleh’s vitals and focusing all of their energy on him.

It’s only on the way back to the station that Chimney says, “So that was a bit too close for comfort, huh?”

Eddie lets out a humourless laugh. “You could say that.”

“You think he should’ve been working today?”

“I think,” Eddie says slowly, “that he needed to not be alone with his thoughts today. And I don’t think he could’ve done his job any better today.”

“Yeah, no, he did everything right,” Chimney says hurriedly, “that’s not what I meant. I just...worry about him.”

Eddie looks at his drawn eyebrows and hunched shoulders and thinks about the way Chimney has been acting around Buck for the past few days, like he’s walking on eggshells, careful but ready to jump to his defence at any time, and knows he’s being honest. “Yeah, me too.”

The way Buck called himself spare parts, defective parts this morning is still echoing in his head. He didn’t know what to say or do to make Buck feel better, still doesn’t. Whenever he’s tried to talk about any of it for the past few days, Buck has been quick about brushing him off, with humor or sometimes anger, though that was always directed at his parents and never at Eddie.

He gets it, is the thing, knows all too well what it’s like to keep things to himself, to not want to talk to anyone about them. He just didn’t know what it’s like on the other side of things. All he wants is for Buck to know that none of this is on him, that his parents are the one who fucked up and didn’t do their job. A job that should be the easiest in the world. Eddie knows how easy it is to love your child unconditionally. He also knows how easy it is to love Buck.

One day soon, he’s gonna find a way to prove to Buck how loved he is. If that means coming clean to him about his feelings, then so be it - he’s been thinking about it for so long now that he’s pretty sure Buck wouldn’t ever leave him and Chris, even if he can’t reciprocate Eddie’s feelings. Buck deserves to hear that someone loves him for him.

Back at the station, Eddie showers and changes into a clean uniform, and when he’s walking up the stairs, Buck’s parents are there. He knows it’s them immediately and catches Hen’s eyes across the room, her eyebrows raised.

“Is Buck back yet?” he asks her, voice low as he sits down on the couch next to her.

She shakes her head. “Bobby went to the hospital with him, just to make sure he’s really fine. I don’t think he knows they’re here.”

Eddie looks over at them, and has to press his hands to his thighs again at the sudden rush of hatred that he feels for these people. He doesn’t want to imagine what it must feel like to lose a child, but it gives them no excuse to treat their living, breathing children the way they did. The way Buck has been acting these past few days is their fault, it’s their fault he’s been feeling like he wasn’t enough his whole life, and Eddie hates them for it.

“Has anyone talked to them?”

“Chim did, when they came in,” Hen says, “and I kind of wanna give them a piece of my mind. You look like you do, too.”

Eddie gives her a wry smile. “That obvious?”

Hen scrunches her nose and gives him a kind smile. “Yeah. I can’t imagine ever treating my children like that. And I think they should know what they’re missing out on with Buck.”

Eddie couldn’t agree more, and before he knows it, he’s pushing himself up from the couch and walking over to them.

They both look up with matching expressions of polite confusion, and Eddie grits his teeth and sits down without asking.

“Mr and Mrs Buckley?” he asks. “I’m Eddie Diaz, I work with your son.”

“Do you know where he is?” Mrs Buckley asks. “Howard said he didn’t know.”

Depending on when Chimney talked to them, that’s probably even true, but Eddie wouldn’t hold it against him if he was just trying to get away from his parents-in-law as quickly as possible. “He’s at the hospital.”

“Oh, what did he do now?” Mr Buckley’s voice sounds long-suffering, as if his son being in the hospital is a nuisance more than anything else.

“His job,” Eddie bites out. “He did his job and saved someone’s life tonight. Do you even know the kind of man your son is? He goes above and beyond for everyone. He risks his life to save others - did you know he saved dozens of people during the tsunami, including my son, while he wasn’t even a firefighter? Of course you didn’t. He shows up for his friends time and time again and he puts everyone else before himself. He’s a good man, a great man, something he certainly didn’t learn from you-”

There’s a hand on his shoulder and he cuts off, the sudden silence making him aware of how loud his voice has gotten, and he looks up at Hen, almost expecting her to tell him to shut up, but she’s looking at Buck’s parents with narrowed eyes.

“With all due respect,” she says, and Eddie has never heard her voice like this, this hard and cold, “but Buck deserves better than what he got from you. He’s not just a valued member of this station, he’s family. I’m happy to tell you some stories about him, if you’re interested in hearing them, because I agree with Eddie that you should at least know what kind of person he has become in spite of you.”

Mr and Mrs Buckley look almost chastised, speechless, and Hen drops into the chair next to Eddie. His hands are shaking again and Eddie doesn’t think he can sit here with them any longer, certainly doesn’t have any nice things to say to them, so he decides to let Hen handle it from here on. She’s clearly got it under control.

Wordlessly, he stands up and goes downstairs to wait for Buck instead.

When Bobby parks the car, Eddie spreads his arms expectantly, relief flooding his veins when he announces that Buck got a clean bill of health from the doctor.

“Glad to hear it,” he says, but can’t help giving Buck a once-over just to make sure for himself. He’s also showered and wearing a clean uniform, looking miles better than earlier, but there’s still that sadness around his eyes and mouth that Eddie hates.

“Show off,” he teases him as Bobby rushes off, and Buck smiles at him.

“I had to do it.”

All Eddie wants is to go up to him and pull him into his arms to keep him safe from the world, but this is neither the time or the place. Instead, he just puts as much of that feeling as he can in his smile and tells Buck, “I know you did.” Then, a little reluctantly, he nods his head towards the stairs. “You’ve got some visitors.”

Buck leaves with one last look, a frown on his face, and Eddie watches him go. No matter how this conversation is going to go, Buck has a lot of shit to work through.

First and foremost, he needs to talk to Maddie because Eddie knows how much they love each other and how miserable this situation is making them both. And then he’ll need to start believing that they love him - Maddie, the whole crew, Christopher. Eddie. That he’s worth that love. And Eddie will do everything in his power to make him believe that.

[theultimatefanficwriter]

12 Days of Danganronpa; Day 4: Kokichi Oma

N/N=Nickname

“Kokichi! Hey, wait up!” You called to your boyfriend as you saw him walking down the school hallway towards the exit.

The Ultimate Supreme Leader turned at your voice and beamed when he saw you. “N/N!” He exclaimed, throwing his arms around you and clinging to you like a child. “Ah, it’s so good to see you! I missed you, baby!”

You giggled and returned the embrace before pulling away. “I just saw you this morning, Koki.” You reminded him.

“Nishihi, oh, I know!” He snickered, placing his arms behind his head. “I just miss you every second you aren’t with me.”

You gave him a deadpan look. “...That was cheesy as all hell.” You said. “Stick with lies, babe.” The liar smirked at that. “Anyway, I’m glad I caught you! I wanted to ask you something.”

“Of course! You can ask me anything and I’ll always give you an honest answer!” The short boy told you, flashing a childish smile.

You looked unconvinced. “Uh huh. Sure. Anyway, I was wondering what you wanted to do for Christmas! It’s coming up soon, and I was thinking we could possibly have Christmas dinner at your headquarters?”

Kokichi placed his hand over his mouth as he yawned. “Oh, this is about Christmas?” He shrugged. “I wasn’t planning on doing anything, really. I don’t care much about the holiday.”

You frowned and tilted your head. “Oh. Really? I’m actually pretty surprised by that.”

“Yeah, just don’t really care much for it.” Your boyfriend confirmed. “Besides, the whole holiday is based around telling a lie that some fat guy sneaks into our houses and gives presents to the good girls and boys.” He puffed out his cheeks. “And you know how much I hate lies!”

You decided not to get into a conversation with him. “Well, alright then. Do you still want to spend time together on that day at least?”

The boy in white shrugged again. “Possibly! We’ll have to see how I’m feeling!” He turned on his heel. “Sorry to cut this short, I hate having to stop looking at your beautiful face, but I have to get going! I have some prior engagements!” He then began skipping away before you could reply. “Goodbye, Y/N! Love you!”

He left you standing there, disappointed and confused.

~~~

A bit later, you were hanging with Kaito, Maki, Shuichi and Kaede. You had just explained to the two couples about your conversation with Kokichi.

Kaito frowned and crossed his arms. “I still don’t get what you see in that asshole.” He grumbled. “You can never tell when he’s being serious, and now he won’t even spend time with you on Christmas?!”

“He said he doesn’t celebrate it.” You reminded your friend. “I don’t want to force him to do anything for a holiday he doesn’t participate in.”

“He could still spend time with you.” Kaede pointed out. “It doesn’t have to be to celebrate Christmas. It could just be a way to have personal time with you.”

You sighed and shrugged. “Yeah, well, you know. He’s always busy with D.I.C.E..”

Kaito scoffed. “He’s been spending more time with those pranksters then his own girlfriend! What kind of jerk does that?!”

“Kaito!” Shuichi exclaimed, exasperated. He then turned to look at you. “I’m sure Kokichi is trying to figure out how to show he cares in his own way. I know he loves you, he’s just..difficult.”

“Are you sure he loves her?” Kaito mumbled, earning a glare from your other three friends. “He is a lying bastard.”

You looked down at the floor at that.

Kaede smiled softly and placed a hand on your shoulder. “Why don’t we change the subject? Have you guys seen that new horror movie?”

Maki scoffed and rolled her eyes. “No. Kaito is too easily scared.”

The astronaut quickly shook his head. “What, no! I-I’m not scared!”

“Great! Then we can go see it together?” Kaede asked with a smirk.

You laughed along with the others as Kaito tried to decline while still seeming brave. However you couldn’t stop worrying about Kokichi.

~~~

You were walking down the dorm hallway to your room after leaving Kaede’s just a few minutes ago. The entire time you were with your friends you couldn’t stop thinking about your boyfriend. You knew he was a liar, but the way he acted around you seemed genuine. But...could all that have just been a lie? Was he just...manipulating you? Was he as evil as Kaito thinks? Was he-

Your thoughts were suddenly cut off when a pair of hands covered your eyes. You started to freak out, but then you heard the telltale ‘Nishishi’ and relaxed.

“Did I scare you? You jumped almost ten feet in the air!” Your boyfriend’s voice could be heard from behind you. “Aww, I didn’t mean to do that! ...Or did I? Maybe that’s just a lie!”

You rolled your eyes, a soft grin on your face. “What do you want, Koki?” You asked, reaching up to pry Kokichi’s hands away from your eyes. You were met by a light slap on your hands. 

“Hey, stop that!” The supreme leader scolded you. “I want you to be blindfolded for this!”

You raised a brow in confusion as you suddenly felt a fabric being tied around your head. “Blindfolded? Kokichi, what are you doing?”

“Nishishi. Kidnapping you, obviously!” After a moment and a slight tug from the fabric around our eyes, you felt a hand slip into yours. “Now come on! You’re loveable and sweet boyfriend/kidnapper wants to go somewhere!”

You let out a sigh and relented, allowing the small gremlin you called a boyfriend to drag you down the hallway. Any questions you asked were either met with his signature laugh or silence, so you eventually gave up and waited to arrive at your destination.

It didn’t take long to arrive...wherever you had been taken. Kokichi suddenly came to a stop, and before you could ask another question, you heard a door being opened and you were lightly pushed inside. “Don’t take the blindfold off yet!” The little shit commanded as you heard the door close behind you.

“Yes sir, whatever you say, sir.” You responded sarcastically. 

This caused Kokichi to chuckle. “Hey, I kinda like the sound of that! ‘Sir.’ Hmm.” You rolled your covered eyes as you heard footsteps go from behind you to in front of you. “Alright, you can remove it now!”

“Finally.” You muttered as you all but ripped the blindfold off your head. Once your vision was freed, your eyes widened. “Wha…?”

There before you was a large, well decorated table. On it were flowers, gift wrapped boxes, and all kinds of chocolates. The surrounding area was drenched in Christmas decorations. A large tree was in the corner of the room with even more presents underneath it.As you looked you saw each member of D.I.C.E. smiling happily at you, each of them wearing either a santa, reindeer or elf hat.

“But...but you said you didn’t care about Christmas!” You stammered out, turning to look at the boy.

“That was just a lie!” He exclaimed, skipping over to you and wrapping an arm over your shoulders. “Of course I love Christmas! I celebrate it with my family every year!” The D.I.C.E. members nodded in agreement when he said this. The leader of the group smiled surprisingly softly at you. “And now, we want you to join us for our Christmas dinner! You are basically part of the family, after all! We all worked really hard to make this the best Christmas ever while also being secretive!”

You felt tears in your eyes as you looked around the room again. It was then you recognized this place. It was Kokichi’s headquarters. It was also the place you both confessed your feelings for each other. “Kokichi….this is...You really want me to be a part of...your family?”

The boy nodded excitedly. “Yup! I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have rule by my side than you!”

You laughed softly at that before leaning over and kissing your lover. It was quick, and when you pulled away, you grabbed onto his hand. “I...I’d love to rule beside you, Kokichi.”

The boy grinned smugly. “Now I truly will become the Supreme Overlord of the world!” He laughed maniacally before suddenly pulling you towards the table. “Now come on! Open up your presents! There’s one from each of us!”

You giggled happily and nodded. “Ok, ok. Thank you, all of you.” You looked around the room at the D.I.C.E. members, then kissed Kokichi’s forehead. “I love you, Kokichi. Merry Christmas.”

Once again, lack of ideas, so this one is even shorter than the others. I’ve found out during this project that putting a deadline like this on myself makes me panic and not write as well. Whodda thunk. ANYWAY, welcome to Day 4! With 5 votes, Kokichi is finally here! Tomorrow will be a character I am lowkey afraid to write for because I don’t know his personality AT ALL. Wish me luck, and see you all tomorrow!

[ethereaiin]

To the Skies | genshin impact

synopsis; sorrowful goodbyes and the bitter end of something that, maybe, they should have never started.

featuring; venti, lumine, paimon, and some mentions of aether.

[au]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

To Lumine, there was nothing more important to her than finding her brother. He was constantly on her mind, the twin she lost and the only thing that kept her tied to this world. If it were not for that god she would have been long gone from Teyvat with all her memories intact and her powers untouched. More importantly, she would have Aether at her side rather than somewhere she couldn’t see nor reach.

It disheartened her to know that no matter how far she’s come, he wasn’t any closer. When could they return home, to the skies above, hand in hand as they had done so many years ago?

Lumine was beginning to think that the day would never come.

Their last encounter still weighed heavily in her mind, the words Aether imparted to her and the obvious change within him that differed so greatly from what she could hazily remember. While she lamented the grief of losing her twin, what had he endured in her absence? What could have driven him to the point of siding with the very same beings she once believed to be her foe? Lumine had the answer to none of these thoughts and Paimon, her dear friend and guide, could provide no insight either.

Her chest heaved with a sigh, and her eyes, which rested upon the night sky, lowered towards her side where Paimon rested. Tonight was peaceful. From her perch under a tree atop a hill, there were no monsters in sight. Mondstadt’s plains were as clear as can be and she relished in the silence the serenity provided. The midnight breeze was cool, as always, and its gentle caress against her skin felt like comfort. All that could be heard were the deep breaths of her sleeping companion and the quiet buzz of nature. Being left with nothing other than her thoughts, it was easy to feel herself sink into the loneliness of it all. If it weren’t for the constant squeezes she’d feel at the tips of her fingers that were in Paimon’s tiny clutch, a comfort she least expected, maybe the many forlorn thoughts that plagued her mind would have consumed her whole.

She was very much in need of a distraction and thankfully, along with the wind that encompassed her in its tender embrace, came the presence of the god who commanded it so. As the wind picked up slightly, fluttering her short golden locks, Lumine’s eyes briefly shut and only reopened when she heard the lilt of his familiar voice.

“Lumine,”

Her name rolled sweetly of his tongue, eliciting her attention and the stringent pull of her heart. She glanced over her shoulder, watching as he approached closer towards her with a slight smile on her lips. She said nothing in response, merely placing a finger over her lips and motioning towards Paimon who still slept away undisturbed.

Venti seated himself down at her side, gazing out at the same plains she had done for the past hour. He was close enough to her that she could feel the brush of his clothes against her skin and though she was one who preferred to keep a distance from others, she found herself not disliking the lack of space. He was possibly the only other person she could ever feel this comfortable with.

“I didn’t think you’d come tonight.” She finally speaks, tone low enough to not disturb Paimon’s peaceful slumber. Her lashes spider across the reddened apples of her cheeks as she runs a finger through the soft locks of Paimon’s hair, watching as the fairy smiled happily in her sleep, nuzzling her makeshift pillow as if the gesture delighted her.

Venti peered onto the sight with slight amusement, leaning closer towards her as he too spoke lowly. “I’m glad I did. You looked like you could use some company.”

When he leans back, she glances over towards him once more; her pretty golden eyes illuminated under the moon. There’s a slight twitch in her lips before they spread into an open smile and she laughs with her hand attempting to block its sound. Her laughter chimes, shaking her shoulders yet the abrupt noise is not enough to wake her sleeping travel partner.

Venti relishes in its sound, finding himself smiling along with her even if he wasn’t quite sure what it was that amused her. Still, he felt a singe of pride burn in his chest for being able to produce a laugh from her when she had once looked as if the world were coming undone right at its seams.

“Were you watching me?” She says after her laughter dies, yet her grin persists.

She’s teasing him. He could tell from her tone of voice and the insincere question that would have had most immediately denying it. Though Venti did no such thing. His grin only brightened before he cheekily giggled. With flushed cheeks, he leans in closer towards her watching as her expression grew curious with the lack of space between them.

“It’s hard not to.” He replies so simply as if the words hadn’t raced either of their hearts.

He means them though. Like every word he speaks to her, on nights like these when it’s only the two of them, he means everything. To him, Lumine is a hard person to ignore. Under the pale moonlight, he thinks she looks beautiful. Everything about her seemingly glows. She’s almost ethereal, both delicate and entrancing; and he feels that if he were to take his eyes off her for even a second, she would fade away.

He does as cursory glanced between her eyes, captivated by how they seemed to reflect so much of her emotion alone, and leaning away once again when he noticed she grew too red in the face. Despite her courageous demeanor, she was quite shy when it came to him. Her hand lifted away from Paimon, resting against her chest as she felt the thunderous beats of her heart beneath. No one had ever made her feel like this other than Venti. It was an effect most curious yet lovely to her. She was torn between hating it completely and cherishing it.

Her eyes strayed on him for a few seconds longer, the smile he wore on his lips committing to her memory before her gaze drops from his and returns back to the fields before them. Unknowingly Venti reminded her of the words her brother said and with it came the realization that maybe, the god had more to hide. A part of her wanted to believe Venti was incapable of the cruelty her brother accused all the gods of. It was the part of her that clung to the kindness and warmth he’d shown her since the day they met and the days that persisted afterward. He was always there for her in her time of need, showing up out of the blue with nothing but the gentle breeze to alarm her of his presence. She didn’t want to believe that the words, smiles, and feelings he’d shown her were all a façade.

 Yet, when she parted her lips ready to ask if her brother’s words were the truth or not, she found herself at a loss. She didn’t want to know. The cowardly side of her that she desperately wanted to hide away from the world was too afraid of the answer. What would happen if he didn’t deny the accusations? What would happen if he admitted to her a crime so awful that she could no longer see him in the same innocent light she had for so long?

It was foolish of her. So very naive to deny the truth if only to preserve the image of someone she cherished. Deep down maybe she always knew something like this was bound to happen. Her time in this world was limited regardless of her desire and their relationship. . . no matter how precious, was never fated to last forever.

“Venti,”

She calls, her tone gentle and affectionate yet there is also a hint of sadness that he’s easily able to pick up. Her gaze meets his once more and in it; he could see her longing. Despite their close proximity, at this moment; Lumine never felt more distant. She intertwined her fingers with his, giving him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. From all the alluring smiles she’d given him, this one had to have been the saddest. She leans in closer to him and instinctively, he does the same.

“Please stay with me for a little longer,” She says and he feels each word brushed against his cheek. “Just for tonight.”

His eyes flutter shut and when their lips finally join he pretends he doesn’t feel the heartache of what can only be perceived as an end, neither does he dare to address the tear that rolls down her cheek. His fingers brush against her skin, wiping the tear and combing through her hair. He attempts to memorize everything about her, from the softness of her flesh against his to the feeling of her blonde locks in his grasp. Their connection is painfully fleeting, yet it captivates him. Even after they part he could still feel her lips. She squeezes his hand and the troubled expression she wears tells of the many thoughts running through her head. Thoughts that he would never come to know.

There are many things they keep from one another, the sadness she bears being just another secret she’ll never reveal. He wished to know her. All of her, yet in this life, their differences were far too great for him to ever act on these desires. She may have never said it, yet he could feel it all the same. This, whatever it was and no matter how brief, would end under the stars. Her silent cries fill that night, with him holding her close as her only means of comfort but even then it feels strangely empty. The lies and hidden truths neither revealed was an obstacle too great.

If only fate could have given them another chance.

[jetsetreid]

ignore me like we never met before - spencer reid x reader - chapter 1/?

Summary: Spencer Reid annoys you. Enemies to lovers with a side of BDSM (to follow -- no sex in this chapter, sorry!) 

A/N: New to CM fandom, hiiii. With the s7 cast (the elite) but set post-Maeve storyline. Title from Ignore me by Betty Who.

Word Count: 2.5k

Spencer Reid was annoying. And not just in the normal ways you might find someone annoying. Spencer was annoying in an extraordinary way, that only someone with an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory could be. The most annoying part was that he never really met your quips or participated in your banter. 

It made you look like an asshole, which was completely unfair of him. Because you knew Spencer returned your feelings. You annoyed him as well. He avoided you constantly and when he did speak to you, he made sure it was case related. You didn’t sit next to each other on the jet, or at team outings. Hotch almost never paired you together. You recognized, in the back of your head, that you should be thankful for this, but you just found it to be another thing about him that annoyed you.

Despite your lack of time spent together, you couldn’t help yourself. When an opportunity presented itself, you just had to push back. It didn’t matter though, because he never said anything back. He always let you insult him and looked away without a reaction. 

--

Your favorite pastime. Team drinks. And you were stuck sitting next to JJ and across from Spencer, with everyone else further down the double-sided booth. Spencer and JJ had been chatting all night about her kids and a film festival Spencer went to every year and had recently joined the board of organizers. If it wasn’t for the fact that Spencer was involved, the film festival might have actually sounded interesting. 

Instead, it was mind numbingly boring. You tried to focus your attention on Morgan and Penelope down the booth, but they were too caught up in each other to notice your desperate attempts to strike up a conversation. 

Emily showing up to team drinks was a godsend

“Emily, thank god,” you shrieked. “Sit next to me!”

Emily slid into the booth next to you and quickly ordered a drink before the two of you fell into a conversation. You were discussing Emily’s new girlfriend and how tangled up in each other they’ve been. You’ve missed her lately. This was the first time she’d actually shown up to team drinks in months.

“You know, I like Eleanor and I’m happy for you, but falling in love is gross.” You said it with no bite and a smile on your face. You were teasing her. 

“Actually,” Spencer cut in, “Falling in love has a similar neurological effect as getting high on cocaine.”

You rolled your eyes so hard they almost fell out. What did boy wonder know about falling in love? And why was he involving himself in a conversation that had nothing to do with him? Spencer and JJ had been ignoring you all night. Okay, maybe JJ tried to include you in their conversation, but still. 

“Another fact you read, but don’t know in practice, right?” you asked, eyeing him with spite. You were fairly new to the team, almost a year in, but you just knew there was no way Spencer Reid had been in love before. 

Emily tensed up beside you and JJ fell silent as well. You figured Spencer would ignore your comment, like ways. He never ever rose to your insults.  

“What about you, we all know you’ve been high on cocaine. So even though you’ve never found anyone to love you, it’s almost the same thing.” 

JJ choked out a laugh. Emily smirked without meeting your eyes. All you could do was glare. 

The team knew about your party days in college, although you’d never outright said you’d done cocaine. The reality is that you had and quite a bit too. Your first couple of years in college were a blur of a party until you calmed down your junior year and took academics seriously.

But Spencer never challenged you, so what made this so different? Maybe you hit a nerve. Everyone knew he was lacking in the relationship department. 

“I’ve found plenty of people to love me,” you said with a smirk. 

“For the night,” Spencer added, with a bite.

You should’ve been annoyed or angry, you should’ve told him to shut up, but you didn’t. Because seeing him take the bait after almost a year of digs made something in your stomach flutter. You were finally getting to him.

“Yeah, wouldn’t you like to know?”

Spencer meet you with hard, scowling eyes. Emily and JJ followed your back and forth like a tennis match. 

“What’s that saying? If you caught fire, I wouldn’t piss to put you out.”

“Jesus, Spence,” JJ muttered. 

“Those are Fall Out Boy lyrics,” you responded with a glare. He was such a dick.

Spencer shrugged. “Sentiment stands.” 

You dropped it after that. You hated to give him the win, but another round of drinks appeared, and Emily quickly changed the subject. 

-- 

Spencer didn’t stop after that. It was becoming a problem. Mostly because Hotch could shrug off your mouth before. Most of the team thought you were just teasing, and because Spencer never reacted, they all saw it as harmless. 

But he was reacting now and the two of you were trading insults like siblings. You were being childish, but so was he so you didn’t stop. At first, it was almost fun. But Spencer was too quick, too smart. He didn’t even have to try. 

Another case, another jet ride. 

“Maybe the unsub has something on these victims. With this amount of overkill…” you trailed off, eyeing the photos in front of you on your tablet.

“Actually,” Spencer started. This was the fifth time he’d interrupted you (yes, you were counting) and you’d only been on the jet for 30 minutes. 

“Oh my god,” you groaned, snapping your finger in front of his face. “Does anyone get to give an opinion on anything without you actually’ing them?”

He swatted your hand away. “That’s not a word,” Spencer sighed. “Maybe I always have to interject because like your vocabulary, your opinions resemble that of a 3rd grader.” 

“Focus,” Hotch commanded. You could tell by the tone of his voice that he was absolutely done with both of you so you dropped it and you kept the rest of your opinions to yourself. The worst part of Spencer finally participating in your insult war was that he was always winning. He was smarter than you and he wasn’t afraid to let you know it. 

It didn’t bother you at first, but after weeks of him always getting the upper hand, it started to. You felt stupid and you started to question your spot on the team. You absolutely hated that you let him get into your head like this.

--

The case wrapped up later that week. Unsub caught. Another jet ride home. 

You gathered your things from the bullpen when Hotch appeared, singling for you and Spencer. 

“I need to see you both in my office.”

Derek winced and Emily patted you on the back. “Try not to murder each other in there.” 

“Yeah, good fuckin’ luck,” Derek added with a laugh as they both headed to the elevators. 

You ignored them and started walking up the stairs, quickly followed by Spencer. You both took a seat with your eyes glued to Hotch. You knew what was coming.

“Y/L/N, Reid,” Hotch started. “I’m not happy to be having this conversation. Your behavior has been juvenile and unproductive.”

You twisted your hands in your lap. This felt like getting reprimanded by a parent and you did not like it. Your stomach twisted with guilt.

“I don’t care about whatever rivalry the two of you have going on and I certainly don’t need you to be best of friends, but your behavior is affecting the team. And I need it to end.”

You nodded, refusing to look anywhere near Spencer.

“I understand, sir,” you breathed, voice low. “Consider it ended.”

Spencer nodded, “I apologize. It won’t be a problem anymore.” You saw him looking your way out of the corner of your eye, but you refused to take your eyes off Hotch. You felt terrible, having disappointed your boss.  

You both exited his office with a quiet sigh. Your heart felt heavy. 

You wouldn’t admit it, but you were secretly glad Hotch put an end to things. You knew you had started all of this, but Spencer’s words were like a poison. They were all you could think about some nights, tossing and turning. Were you really that stupid? Like a 3rd grader? Did everyone see it? You often wondered how you even landed this job after the things Spencer said about you. 

Hotch’s door clicked shut behind you as the both of you walked to your desks. You could tell Spencer was just as upset as you and you wanted to comfort him somehow, but you quickly pushed down the foreign and unwelcome thought. 

Spencer lifted his bag over his shoulder, eyeing you finally. “Just stay out of my way from now on, Y/L/N.” 

You really wanted to fight back, but instead you felt tears prick at your eyes. How fucking annoying. You absolutely refused to cry in front of Spencer Reid, but you knew he could tell how emotional you were. He was a profiler after all, and you weren’t even trying to hide it.

“Just stop, Reid,” you whispered, grabbing your purse and exiting the bullpen. You didn’t wait for him at the elevator. In front, you hit the “close doors” button rapidly until they slid shut, leaving you alone.

--

Weeks passed. You were quietly miserable. Spencer ignored you. Hotch watched the two of you constantly. Everyone else did as well, and it was suffocating. You barely spoke up anymore, always having to be prompted by Hotch, or sometimes Derek and Emily. Even JJ and Rossi. Anyone but Spencer. He didn’t care what you had to say and he didn’t even bother pretending like he did. 

You knew you were acting unreasonable, but you still felt scolded by Hotch and now isolated by the rest of the team. Realistically, you knew that wasn’t the case, but Spencer had known them all for a decade and sometimes it felt like they all took his side. It hurt your feelings, as irritating as that was to admit.

Things boiled over in Phoenix. An unsub that the team hadn’t exactly profiled right. A mistake you made, dropping your gun and moving close. You thought you could talk him down. You were very, very wrong.

It happened so fast. The unsub grabbing you, bringing you to his front, your back firmly against his front. He wrapped his arm around your neck, applying pressure. 

He was using you as a human shield. His other hand rose and you felt the cool metal of the unsub’s gun against your temple. You couldn’t speak. Why couldn’t you speak? You were trained for this, but right now you felt helpless. Derek and Spencer stood in front of you, trying to talk him down, but you couldn’t make out their words. You could tell they were panicked, and you knew this wasn’t going to end well.

The unsub – Randall Gaines – tightened his arm around your neck, cutting off your oxygen just a bit more. You felt a tear slide down your cheek. You were going to die in a shitty motel in Phoenix, Arizona. Right in front of Reid and Morgan. Bullet through the skull. They were going to walk out of here with your blood splattered all over them, but you weren’t walking out of this room at all. 

You felt your grip on reality slip as his chokehold tightened, your eyes slipping shut. Darkness. 

--

You woke to Derek crouched in front of you, breathing a sigh of relief. You were still alive. You were still in the shitty motel room.

The unsub was dead next to you, both of you on the ground. You’d passed out, but only for a couple of seconds. You were fine. 

Derek helped you up, snaking an arm around you for support. He loaded you into the backseat of the SUV while you waited for backup.

The ambulance came and checked you out, the coroner carried away the unsub’s body and the three of you left. No one spoke, least of all you.

--

The jet ride home was not pleasant. You avoided everyone’s concerned eyes by taking a seat in the back and putting your headphones in. You didn’t even listen to anything, but it guaranteed that everyone left you alone. 

When you got back to Virginia, Hotch grabbed your shoulder, leading your away from the team out into the hallway. “Take a few days, okay, Y/N?”

You nodded. “Okay.” Your voice was barely there, a rough whisper at best. The paramedic had warned you of this. Loss of voice, coughing, trouble swallowing. Red eyes, headaches, bruising. Even nausea. Although you weren’t sure if that was from the injuries or the situation in general. 

Hotch eyed you, sighing. “I want you to know you are a valued member of this team. See you next week.”

You nodded again before rushing to the elevators. Which would have been great, had it not been for one Penelope Garcia. 

She saw you and scurried over, pulling you into an embrace. “Y/N,” she breathed. “I am so happy you’re okay.”

Maybe it was because it was Penelope, or maybe it was just because of the day you had, but you hugged her back, clinging. She pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Movies and takeout?”

You found yourself nodding without realizing it. You had missed this. The past couple of weeks you had been so closed off, so worried about your place on this team. But now you were too tired and too distressed to worry. You followed Penelope out of the building. 

--

Derek showed up with a 12 pack of White Claw and a bottle of white wine. 

“Your favorites,” he grinned.

Emily and JJ followed with Chinese takeout.  The five of you spread out on Penelope’s couch and the floor in front of it. You smiled despite the burning in your throat, the hoarseness of your voice and the bruising you were sure was developing around your throat. 

You smiled and cracked open a White Claw, attention on the latest episode of Saturday Night Live. You missed your friends. 

Until the door quietly opened and Spencer Reid appeared. He looked uncomfortable. He brushed his his hair behind his ear and sat down on the floor with his legs crossed next to Derek. 

“I brought DVDs,” he said, holding up a handful of them. 

“Thanks,” you whispered. You didn’t mean to say anything, but you didn’t take it back. You even offered him a small smile. 

“Pretty boy, it’s all about streaming these days,” Morgan rolled his eyes, “but it’s the thought that counts.” And then he ruffled Spencer’s hair. You smiled again. 

Even with Spencer Reid in the mix, you were happy.

[fluffykitty1999-blog]

Dog of the Military- Chapter 6

So to be honest, I just intended this to be some good old humor and relief of Ed sleep talking while he's drugged up. But in reality, it turned out a little bit darker. And I'm perfectly okay with that lol. What’s this? A button to donate to my caffeine habit? Here ya go... 

Chapter 6- Nightmares

"Nuugh..." Roy looked over as the lump of blankets that was Edward Elric shifted on his bed. Roy had finished his calls- back to Central, alerting Hawkeye that he'd found Fullmetal and intended to bring him home tomorrow. To Hughes, asking just what hell he could wreck on someone who unjustly imprisoned and tortured a state alchemist. And to General Gruman himself, to report Colonel Bank's misconduct and begin the proceeding for an official court martial.

Now, it was nearly midnight and he was up to his elbows in paperwork for all of the above reasons.

Still, he couldn't really be mad at Ed, since it wasn't like the boy had asked to be held captive by that bastard.

Roy was loathe to admit it, but Ed looked much more childlike when he was asleep. It was almost... cute. Almost.

"Alfonz..." Ed slurred, twisting around on the bed.

Roy pursed his lips, frowning. The doctor had promised Ed would rest through the night, but he certainly didn't sound asleep.

"M-mom!"

Ed's voice rose an octave, and Roy frowned. He was about to say something, try and convince the boy to roll over and go back to sleep. Ed was silent for one moment, two... maybe he'd already fallen back asleep.

"Don't do it! Don't! I said stop dammit!"

Ed vaulted out of bed, stumbling like a drunk and barely managing to catch himself on the nightstand and stay upright.

Roy quickly got to his feet, intent on putting the boy back into bed, but Ed saw him and wove his was over to him, grabbing onto his coat and looking up at him with terrified eyes.

"T-the hands. So many tiny, black hands. L-let him go! I told them to let him go, but they wouldn't, and Alphonse- gone!" It was something in the tea, Roy realized. The laudanum the doctor gave Ed might've acted as a painkiller, but he also was no longer lucid, and apparently having a night terror of some sort.

Ed looked at him with wide, teary eyes. His pupils were smaller than usual, Roy noted- it just made his golden eyes look bigger.

"Don't do it. Don't activate the array." he pleaded, a tear finding its way down his cheek.

"Edward." the boy looked like he was going to fall over any minute, and Roy placed both hands on the boy's shoulders, trying to steady him.

"We didn't know what we were doing!" Ed burst out.

Roy had heard rumors about what happened when one committed the ultimate taboo. Alchemists who saw things- stories of black hands that dragged people to a strange place, one not meant to be touched by humans.

Not knowing what else to do, Roy pulled Ed into a rather awkward hug, pressing the small blond head to his chest.

"Edward. Shh, Ed, it's alright. I know. You were just a kid, you didn't know what you were doing..."

Ed was trembling like a leaf in his grasp, and Roy looked down to see the boy looking up at him with those impossibly large eyes, pupils dilated from the medicine.

Ed reached up, grabbing a fistful of Roy's coat. "D-dun ever do it." he muttered. "Pure white. All of it. So much noise and I couldn't scream. And that... thing- he took my leg. He didn't have a face... just teeth." Ed paused, looking into the distance but not really seeing anything.

He swallowed thickly. "All white." his voice was barely above a whisper, and it had a sing-song quality to it. "No color. I hated it there. Bit my own arm until there was blood just so there was color..."

Ed's body seemed to decide to give into the pull of sleep, and he sagged heavily against Roy, who gathered the teen into his arms and deposited him back onto the bed.

Ed still hadn't let go of Roy's coat.

"Don't ever do it." Ed whispered, looking at him desperately.

"I won't, Ed. I won't." Roy assured him. Ed didn't look much more at peace, and Roy found himself sitting on the bed beside the boy, carding a gloved hand through his bangs.

"I know you probably feel quite odd right now, Fullmetal. That's okay. The doctor gave you some medicine- I think it's given you some vivid dreams..."

"It's real." Ed insisted, reaching up to grab Roy's hand and holding it in both his own, as though he were afraid Roy would disappear if he let go.

Ed looked so... lost, Roy couldn't bring himself to pull away.

"Yes, it is real, Ed, but you're not there anymore. You're here, with me, in the inn, remember?"

Ed blinked drowsily.

"Let me get you some water..." Roy stood, gently disentangling his hand from Ed's hold and grabbing the mug off the beside table, moving to the bathroom and filling it at the tap.

He moved back beside the bed, handing the mug to Ed, who looked impossibly pleased as he took it the mug and held it in his hands. "Thank you."

Ed sat there for a solid minute, grinning at the mug in his hands as though it were the best thing in the world.

Roy chuckled. "You're supposed to drink it, Ed."

Ed blinked at him before doing as he was told, lifting the mug to his lips and taking a large sip, smacking his lips.

"It's delicious." he declared, looking into the distance.

"I'm glad the tap water here is to your liking, Fullmetal." Roy was having a very, very hard time keeping the amusement from his expression. He chuckled.

Ed looked up at him with those golden eyes. His large pupils and golden irises gave him a cat-like look. "Why are you laughing? What's funny?" Ed gave him an easygoing smile and wiggled beneath the blankets. "I wanna know the joke!"

Roy paused. There really wasn't a joke- except that the Fullmetal Alchemist, Hero of the People and dog of the military was a 13 year old boy who acted like an adorable child when dosed with launadum.

Still, Roy couldn't miss the opportunity to mess with the kid. He smirked. "Alright. I know a really good knock knock joke, but you have to start it."

"Knock Knock!" Ed said eagerly.

"Who's there?" Mustang said with deliberate pleasure.

Ed's face went from excited to the prospect of the joke to confused, since he didn't know what to say to continue the joke, before his expression was alight again when he realized that was the joke. He laughed a little. "A-alright. You got me with that one."

"Did I now?" Roy feigned innocence.

"Yeah. But it's my turn. Knock knock."

"Who's there?"

"I eat mop." Ed said with certainty and intensity.

Roy paused, frowning. He didn't see where this joke was going. Maybe it was some drugged out thing that only made sense in Ed's head?

Ed looked as though he was about to burst with excitement, he was practically vibrating on the bed waiting.

"...I eat mop who?"

Ed looked as though he was about to piss himself from laughter just as Roy got the joke.

"Y-y-you just said..." Ed trailed off, unable to stop laughing. "Y-you s-sah-said..."

Roy sighed, though he couldn't help the smile on his face. "Very clever, Fullmetal."

"Y-you said you... eat poo!" Ed was doubled over laughing now, clutching his stomach.

"Easy there, Fullmetal." Roy reached out to rub the boy's back. Ed couldn't help but laugh, but he was breathing harder and Roy could see the pain creeping onto his expression.

It took a minute for Ed to fully calm down and stop laughing, and by then a tear or two had trickled down his cheek.

"Gah, it hurts..."

"I know. Just relax. It'll fade if you take a few breaths." Roy kept rubbing gentle circle's on the boy's back through his shirt, being careful to mind the areas he knew were injured.

Once Ed had settled down, he laid back against the pillow. The kid looked pretty spent.

"Anything else hurting, Ed?"

Ed shook his head, eyes half closed.

"Alright, Fullmetal. Get some rest..." he moved to stand and go back to his paperwork.

"Wait! Don't go. I'll miss you." Ed looked up at him sadly. "Stay... a little longer? Please?"

Maybe it was because it was such a childish request. To not be left alone. Or maybe it was because the boy was out of it on painkillers. Or maybe because it was the first time he could remember Edward had used the word please when talking to him. But he sighed, taking a deep breath and pulling his desk chair over to sit beside the kid's bed. "Alright, Ed, I'll stay for a little while."

"Yay." Ed's voice was nearly a whisper. He really was almost asleep. Within ten minutes, the kid was out.

Roy found himself watching the boy's expression for a few moments- Ed was resting easy again, features relaxed, lips slightly parted- the boy really was just a child. And, as the cuts and scratches on the boy's face reminded him, he'd taken a pretty horrific beating from the sounds of the doctor's report. Why hadn't Ed just given up the information? It would've saved him so much pain...

"Rest up, Edward." he reached over, tucking the blankets further around the boy's chin before he stood up, and with some difficulty, dragged his chair back over to the hotel room desk. Somehow paperwork seemed much less fun after sharing knock-knock jokes with his drugged up alchemist.

Roy stopped the pen mid-stoke, turning to look at the sleeping boy on the bed. He couldn't make out much, but Ed was still fast asleep. Still, since when had the boy become his alchemist?

Roy stopped to think. Ed had always been under his command, he was new, rash, impulsive, but... It'd been after the Shou Tucker Incident, he realized.

He'd gotten a call late at night from Hughes- Ed and Al had just been told they could no longer stay and study with Shou Tucker after Ed had tried accessing the man's research in Central. The boys had gone to stay the night at Hughes.

"I just got a call. They want me team to deploy to the Tucker Estate. Something bad had happened. And..."

"What is it, Hughes?"

"Ed and Al aren't in their rooms."

"I'll be there in five minutes."

He'd ridden with Hughes to the Tucker estate- his eyes eagerly scanning the road, the yard, everywhere. He'd busted into the room filled to the brim with chimeras- abused, suffering beasts in pain. The investigations personnel on the scene looked up, surprised, at his entrance.

All Roy could see was the rather large spatter of blood on the floor.

"Where's my alchemist?" he asked the nearest officer.

She frowned. "Shou Tucker has already been taken into custody, Sir..."

"Not Shou. My alchemist, the Fulletmetal Alchemist, Edward Elric... He should have a seven foot tall suit of armor with him."

The woman frowned. "No one was here when we got here but Tucker, Sir."

He'd found Edward in the alley later that night. Sobbing his heart out over a dead chimera he couldn't save. And selfishly, as he and Hawkeye sat in the car and watched over the boys in the distance, Roy had been relieved. Horrible things had happened. But at least his alchemist- his Ed- was okay.

That was probably the moment Ed had become 'his alchemist'. It was as close to it as he could remember, the first time he'd said it out loud, anyways. But he'd probably been calling the boy that longer in his head.

Ed wiggled around a little under the blankets, and Roy sighed.

Ed. Leave it that boy to worm his way into his heart.

[mikauzoran]

Lukadrien: Your Hands Hold Home: Chapter Twenty-Eight

@lukadrien-june

Read it on AO3: Your Hands Hold Home: Chapter Twenty-Eight: Reunion

“Phew!” XY heaved a thunderous sigh of relief as he sank down onto the couch where Adrien had already collapsed. “I thought they’d never leave.”

Luka rolled his eyes, taking a seat on the makeshift coffee table facing his boys.

Adrien and Xavier-Yves had banded together to throw Luka a small surprise birthday party with a dozen of Luka’s closest friends, and the festivities had stretched well into the night, leaving everyone tired and the Liberty in need of more of a cleanup than usual.

“Thank you, guys. That was a blast, and I really appreciate you organizing it,” Luka stressed, giving XY’s foot a gentle tap with his own and then reaching out to lightly touch Adrien’s knee.

Adrien grinned through his fatigue. “We’re just glad you had a good time.”

Xavier-Yves nodded in agreement. “It’s worth it, so long as you’re happy.”

Luka’s heart warmed at this proof of how important he was to his friends.

“Thank you, Prune, P5,” he repeated. “Seriously.”

“Sure thing,” XY responded with a wink before turning to Adrien and giving his shoulder a nudge. “Hey. Let’s get started on cleanup so we can both get our beauty sleep.”

Adrien groaned, sinking further into the couch. “Ugh. The one downside to parties. Let’s get it over with, I guess.”

“It can wait until tomorrow,” Luka assured. “Don’t worry about it. Xavier-Yves, you should head home and get some rest. You’ve seriously done more than enough.”

XY cocked an eyebrow at this. “Why do I feel like you’re trying to get rid of me so you two can go have sex without me?”

Adrien broke out into a cackle fit of laughter, but Luka only scowled.

“Prune, no one is having sex on this boat,” he informed sternly.

“I think you and I are the only ones not having sex on this boat,” Adrien giggled, clearly entering the slap happy phase of exhaustion.

Luka buried his face in his hands, groaning loudly. “No one is having sex on this boat.”

“He’s in denial,” Adrien snickered conspiratorially to Xavier-Yves.

“No duh,” XY snorted. “Why aren’t you having sex with your boyfriend on his birthday, G Flat?”

Adrien clicked his tongue and gave XY a playful shove. “Why do you have to be so crass, Zay?”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Luka told Xavier-Yves for perhaps the hundredth time in the past two months.

“Still?!” XY demanded, sounding genuinely offended. “Geeeez. Majorly un-dope, guys. Seriously. Just kiss already!”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Luka sighed, scrubbing at his face roughly.

XY caught one of Luka’s hands and gave it a supportive squeeze. “Don’t worry, Six Strings. I’ll have sex with you whenever you want,” he offered in earnest.

Adrien clapped a hand over his mouth to keep another giggle fit at bay.

Luka’s expression, by contrast, was unamused. “Prune, thank you for your kind offer, but please go home before I throttle you.”

“I mean, if you’re sure.” Xavier-Yves shrugged, leaning in for a quick smooch. “You know where to find me, if you change your mind.”

“Get out,” Luka commanded. “And text me when you get home safe, so I don’t have to waste my time worrying myself sick about you.”

“Will do,” XY affirmed, leaning in to give Adrien’s cheekbone a kiss. “Be good, G Flat.”

Adrien rolled his eyes, shaking his head fondly. “Be good, Zay.”

XY clicked his tongue as he got up to go. “I’m always good.”

“I’m sure,” Adrien chuckled just as Luka snorted, “Debatable.”

Once Xavier-Yves’s footsteps had faded into the soundtrack of the city and the gentle waves of the Seine, Luka turned to Adrien in concern.

“His comments like that don’t make you uncomfortable, do they?”

Adrien laughed, shaking his head. “No. If he were anyone else, they probably would, but Zay is Zay, so it’s just funny.”

Luka exhaled slowly in relief. “Okay. Good. I don’t…I just don’t want things to be awkward.”

Adrien nodded. “Don’t worry. It’s not. I promise.”

He gave Luka a reassuring smile, but then something shifted in his eyes, and he looked away.

Luka’s brow wrinkled as he caught the almost imperceptible change. “…What are you thinking?” he inquired curiously.

Adrien shook his head and kept his gaze averted so that Luka wouldn’t see his expression and guess. “It’s nothing.”

Luka’s frown deepened. “Uh-oh. Now I know it’s got to be bad. You usually tell me, even when you’re thinking about something unusual.”

Adrien winced, realizing he was caught. He looked up at his beloved guiltily. “I don’t want to ruin your birthday.”

“Since it’s past midnight, my birthday is technically over,” Luka reasoned. “And now you have to tell me; otherwise, I won’t be able to sleep what with this impending doom hanging over me.”

With a heavy sigh, Adrien gave in. “Oh, all right. I guess you have a point. So…you know how about a month ago I started responding to the letters my father’s been sending me?”

Luka nodded and then moved over to the couch to curl up beside Adrien. “Yeah? Everything okay?”

Adrien rubbed his lips together nervously. “He’s been asking me to come and see him.”

Luka’s eyes widened infinitesimally.

“And I decided that I’m going to,” Adrien resolutely informed, steeling himself for pushback.

Luka noted that Adrien wasn’t looking for Luka’s opinion or approval. Adrien had made a decision, and now he was telling Luka about it.

A part of Luka was extremely proud of how far Adrien had come. Another part was extremely worried.

“…You don’t like the idea,” Adrien observed.

Luka winced. “No, not really. I mean…he’s… He’s not someone…”

He took a deep breath and tried again to articulate his concerns. “I’m not sure what expectations you have, but I’m afraid he’s just going to disappoint you and hurt you again.”

Adrien looked down into his lap at his hands and began to wring them. “Yeah. I’m kind of afraid of that too,” he admitted, “but…I also kind of need the closure? I’ve got questions that only he has the answers to, so…”

Luka nodded, wrapping an arm around Adrien’s shoulders. “I can understand that.”

“And, I mean, maybe he’ll surprise me. From his letters, it sounds like he’s thinking about things and maybe regretting how some of it went down.” Adrien attempted to further justify his decision. “You never know.”

Luka gave Adrien’s arm a comforting squeeze. “Adrien, if you want your father in your life, that’s for you to decide—no one else—and I support you.”

Adrien blinked several times in succession. “You do?”

“I will always support you,” Luka stressed. “I’m here for you.”

With a soft smile, Adrien leaned in and rested his head on Luka’s shoulder. “Thank you, Middle C.”

“Any time,” Luka assured. “Do you know when you want to go? Do you need me to go with you?”

Luka could feel Adrien wincing.

“Don’t feel hurt…but I kind of already talked to Marinette and Nino about this, and they’re going to go with me.”

Adrien lifted his head to meet Luka’s eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to you first. I just needed someone I’m not so infatuated with to bounce ideas off of. You have too much influence over me because I care too much about what you think, and this really needed to be something I decided myself. Doctor Katsuragi said so too.”

Luka’s expression softened, and he blew out a breath, his hurt feelings going with it. “It’s okay. I get it. I’m proud that you’re thinking for yourself like this. I’m just kind of hurt that you’re only ‘infatuated’ with me. Am I just a phase to you, Perfect Fifth?”

An impish grin spread over Luka’s lips, and Adrien rolled his eyes, smacking Luka’s arm. “You know I’m crazy about you. Stop fishing for compliments.”

 “Can’t you just pace like a normal person?” Juleka grumbled as she poked her head into Luka’s cabin. “That incessant plucking is giving me a migraine.”

Luka frowned up at his sister. “It’s a hammered dulcimer. There is no plucking.”

Juleka rolled her eyes, flipping her hair back over her shoulder to emphasize her exasperation as she sighed loudly.

She opened her mouth to sass her brother, but something in the main cabin caught her eye. “Hey, Adrien. How’d it go?”

Luka nearly knocked over the hammered dulcimer and his sister in his haste to get to Adrien who was in the act of slumping on the couch.

“Are you okay?” Luka demanded, taking in the pallor of Adrien’s cheeks.

Adrien brightened up a little and laughed as Luka hurried to his side and set about inspecting him for damage.

“Orpheus, I’m fine. Just exhausted,” Adrien assured, submitting to Luka’s mothering. “Mentally and emotionally exhausted.”

“Let me get you some water. Are you hungry?” Luka fussed, starting to stand.

“I’ll go get the water,” Juleka intervened. “You keep fretting over your boyfriend.”

Luka didn’t bother correcting her. Instead, he focused all of his energy on Adrien.

“Just the water is fine. Thank you, Juleka,” Adrien replied over the back of the couch at his future sister-in-law. He then looked back at his intended. “Luka, I’m fine. Seriously.”

“How did it go?” Luka hesitantly pressed, handing the glass of water from Juleka to Adrien.

Juleka politely slipped out of the room, giving them some space.

Adrien took a deep breath. “Pretty well? I think.”

Luka gaped at Adrien in amazement. “Yeah? He was…not awful?”

Adrien grimaced. “I mean…it was obvious he was trying not to be.”

“But he didn’t say anything cruel?”

Adrien shook his head. “No. He was actually on his best behavior. It was kind of surreal.”

Luka nodded. “Well, that’s good. I’m glad.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it was good,” Adrien agreed, sipping at the glass of water. “I was surprised. I thought he was going to try to manipulate me or make me feel bad for abandoning Maman or…I don’t know. Something.”

Luka shifted in closer, putting an arm around Adrien’s shoulders.

“It wasn’t like that, though,” Adrien continued in a soft, reflective voice. “We just kind of talked. He told me about prison. He’s reading a lot. He hates the food. He misses Nathalie. …He said he missed me.”

Luka bit the inside of his cheek, holding in the question, “Do you think he was telling the truth?”

“I told him about living here,” Adrien narrated. “He seemed concerned about your mother’s influence on me.”

Luka burst out laughing. “But of course.”

“I told him you guys were actually really good for me,” Adrien snickered. “I don’t think he believed it, but he kind of seemed grateful that you’d taken me in and were making sure I ate.”

Adrien scrunched up his nose. “It was weird. He’s never expressed much concern about my general wellbeing before, but…it felt genuine.”

Luka nodded. “That’s…good. I’m glad this was a neutral-to-positive experience?”

“Yeah,” Adrien confirmed. “I…”

His eyes dropped to the floorboards.

“I hope you don’t mind, but…I told him I’m going to marry you if I’m ever able to convince you,” Adrien confessed, a faint, cherry blossom-pink blush dusting his cheeks.

Luka’s entire being flushed until he resembled a sunburnt crab.

“O-Oh?” he choked. “And…what did your father have to say about that?”

Adrien smirked. “Nothing at first. He pulled all kinds of faces, and his complexion turned rainbow colours. There were a few false starts where he could only find parts of words, but he eventually got there. He asked if you were worthy of me.”

Adrien looked up with a coy smile. “I told him I was more worried about me being worthy of you.”

Luka rolled his eyes, leaning in to nuzzle Adrien’s hair. “You and your self-esteem issues.”

Adrien turned his head to nuzzle back. “He wants to meet you. You don’t have to,” he was quick to add. “Only if you feel comfortable. Only if you want to. Please don’t do it for me or anything like that because I only want you to go if it’s something you want to do. I told him I’d ask once I convinced you to be my boyfriend to buy us a little time so you can think about it.”

Luka chuckled. “You didn’t tell him that I’d be your boyfriend the second you were ready?”

Adrien shook his head. “I didn’t want to explain how messed up I feel to him, so I’m letting him think that I have to win you still or something.”

Luka hummed thoughtfully. “If you keep going and he keeps behaving, I’ll meet him.”

Adrien pulled back to gape at Luka. “You don’t have to. You don’t even have to make that decision right away.”

Luka winked conspiratorially. “I think I need to properly meet my future father-in-law at least once.”

With a pleased blush, Adrien looked away, leaning back into Luka and resting his head on Luka’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Absolutely,” Luka whispered, giving Adrien’s hair another affectionate nuzzle.

[rebelwith0utacause]

Another Day, Another Sinner To Pay

Hi, lovely people of Tumblr. I may or may not have written something so filthy, I won’t be able to see myself in the mirror for at least a week. This is my first time writing smut, so please go easy on me.

Reader x Luke Hemmings x Machine Gun Kelly in American Satan AU

2.5K

Warnings: don’t read it if you can’t handle smut, bad writing or you’re underage

Special thanks to @lukeisbaby for mentioning this pairing a few days ago, making it impossible to function until I had this written down, as well as giving it a read before I unleash this baby on you.

You knew that you could be a little judgmental at times. Some called it being an elitist, but you were pretty sure it was just your superior taste in music. You liked dirty bass lines and double pedals, gritty vocals and distorted guitars. You couldn’t care less about the romantic pop bullshit and rapping wasn’t music in your opinion. Making sure you voiced your opinion was at the top of your list of priorities, though.

It was one of the hottest summer nights that season and the humid air made your mind hazy. The two glasses of Zombie you’ve drained definitely had something to do with that, too. You were at your friend Johnny Faust’s place, celebrating the release of his band’s latest album, and the house was packed with artists and producers from almost every genre. 

That didn’t intimidate you, though. The liquid courage gave you a million and one reasons to pick a fight with the two blondes hanging out in Johnny’s backyard. They were both towering over you by at least a foot, slowly losing their patience with your incessant jabs about their music. You couldn’t help yourself, each time you would open your mouth and piss them off, their jaw would clench, making the muscles in your lower belly clench as well. You knew that you weren’t talking smack about their music anymore because you hated it, it was just because you liked seeing them react to your brattiness. You got a kick of the narrowing of their eyes. You got wet when you saw them breathe through their noses to contain their fury.

You were on your way to say that the only rapper that might have a bit of musicality to his songs was Eminem when Colson interrupted you. “Why do you have to be such a brat?” Bingo. “Do you get off on being a bitch to everyone at this party?” 

“As if,” you faked an indignant scoff. “Just because you can’t admit that your music is lame, doesn’t mean that I’m not right.”

“Just because your excuse is lame, doesn’t mean that your panties aren’t soaking wet right now.” You turn your head towards Luke, a little bit surprised by his straight-forwardness. Out of the two, he was definitely the quiet one. And you had to admit, if you weren’t wet by now, hearing him talk about your soaking pussy definitely did the trick.

“Ugh, you wish,” you say over your shoulder and turn your attention towards Colson who’s now looking at you with a smirk on his face. Your next retort gets lodged in your throat when you feel a hand creeping up on your inner thigh. You can feel Luke’s body moving behind you, feeling his mouth angle towards your ear, your eyes moving to lock onto Colson’s.

“So you mean to tell me that if I, hypothetically, lift my hand up a bit, I won’t find a wet patch on your panties?” Colson’s smirk just grows bigger, seeing your eyes bug out as Luke’s hand creeps up. You hear the groan as soon as you feel his index finger touch your lips.

“Damn it, Kells, you have to feel this for yourself. Not only has this slut been dripping while insulting us, she actually had the audacity to do it commando.”

Your mouth lets out a sound of distress as Colson corners you against Luke, followed by a moan as he drops his hand to join Luke’s. 

“No shit,” he says, dragging the pad of his middle finger from your opening to your clit. Your knees almost buckle as he starts to stroke you in a fast rhythm. Your breathing becomes labored, your eyes at half-mast, captivated by Colson’s stare, and your head falls back toward Luke’s chest as he starts to pump two fingers inside of you.

The feeling of both of them almost tips you towards the edge and you let out the tiniest whimper, lifting your hands to half-assedly push at Colson’s chest. You know that no matter how hard you tried, you wouldn’t be able to push them away, and that thought scared you as much as it excited you. You were pretty sure that there were eyes on you three from the other party people, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“What’s the matter little girl, cat got your tongue?” you hear Luke whisper in your ear. “Are you gonna be a good little slut for us and finally shut your mouth?” In a last act of defiance, you turn your head towards him and whimper out a “No.”

His reaction comes faster than your hazy mind can process. He’s removing his fingers from under your dress and forcefully shoving them in your mouth. “You sure about that?” You’re almost glad that your mouth is stuffed with his digits to stop the moan from escaping. One of the most powerful orgasms you’ve ever experienced rips through your body, making the two men laugh at you. “Guess we found a way to shut her up.”

-----

Getting through the throng of people in the living room without falling on your knees is difficult but made possible with the large hand braced on your lower back. Colson is guiding you to one of Johnny’s bedrooms, Luke walking a step behind the two of you. The lingering elation from your orgasm makes your heart beat fast and your thoughts turn silent and you’re welcoming this feeling because you’re almost sure that it’s only going to get better.

You take three steps into the room and you stop. Colson steps in front of you while Luke walks further in, looking for the light switch. He slowly puts his hands on your collarbones, gliding them upwards. You can feel his fingertips tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck, putting some pressure and tilting your head back. “Why aren’t you on your knees yet, slut?”

Taking the hint, you loosen your knees and drop to the floor, sitting on your haunches. The Doc Martens on your feet make it uncomfortable, but you’re too focused on his next command to care. You can feel his thumb rub against your bottom lip, smudging your red lipstick on the side, giving you a toothy smile. “There that’s better.” You almost smile up at him, feeling like a good girl, but he cuts it short when he starts dragging you backward and slams your body to the bedroom door. He moves a step closer, shoving his clothed crotch in your face. You raise your hands to shove at his thighs and squeeze your eyes shut, but you know there’s no escape. Your head still tilted, he uses one hand to open his fly and pull out his cock, rubbing it on your lipstick-stained cheek. “Open up.” You loosen your jaw the tiniest bit and he’s already feeding you his dick. He won’t stop pushing forward and you start to feel the nerves creeping in. Your heart starts to beat faster, your breathing accelerates and your head is stuck between a door and a very hard place. His thumb and index finger pinch your nose the second his tip hits the back of your throat and your eyes start to tear up when you squeeze them closed, just a part of your poor gag reflex. You can feel the insides of your mouth fill with your spit as well as his precum, not helping you with that slight panic attack at all. He starts moving faster, fucking your mouth while you’re on the verge of passing out. Black spots appear in your vision, but he forcefully takes his dick out, spreading your saliva all over your face. Feeling like you can finally breathe again, you start to register his voice “...up, get your ass on the bed.”

“No, don’t get up. I want you to crawl on your knees to me. Let’s see how much you really want this.” Your eyes move toward Luke, sitting on the side of the bed, legs spread wide. You start to move, feeling sharp pain in your knees every time they make contact with the floor. Colson bends down and yanks at your hair like a leash, dragging you to Luke. 

You’re crumpled on the floor in front of him, feeling like all of your energy has left your body, while buzzing with nerves at the same time. In no time, Luke’s pulling you by the back of your neck and pushing you over one of his thighs. He presses your head in the bedsheets to his left, locking your legs with his. His right hand lifts the edge of your dress over your hips, leaving your pussy exposed to his and Colson’s view. You’re getting even wetter if that’s possible. “Oh, this is priceless. Look at this mess, Kells. Such a dirty girl.”

His digits enter you once again, gliding as effortlessly as they did before, only this time, he uses a third finger on you. It’s a forceful invasion of your private parts and the logical part of your mind tells you that you should find a way to get him to back off, but you only manage to arch your back and slide his fingers even deeper than they previously were. “So fucking eager.” You can feel his fingers curl inside of you, finding that special spot and repeatedly pressing against it, making your fingers curl into the bedsheets and your thighs uncontrollably shake. His husky chuckles make you feel an intense humiliation, but you can’t stop yourself from crying out his name. 

The stimulation is almost too much and before you know it, the pressure in your lower belly disappears like a blinding supernova, leaving you breathless. You can feel his grip on your legs slip due to your juices running all over your legs, making a mess around your feet. Every time you try to gasp for air, he presses on that spot again, making you squirt once again and robbing you of your breath and any conscious thought you might have had.

You have nothing left to give, but you’re rudely taken away from your bubble of bliss by a harsh slap to your clit. The metal from his rings makes it ache and it also sends a zing throughout your nerves. He smacks your asscheeks twice in succession, leaving handprints.

Colson grabs you by the hair once more, pulling you to the middle of the bed on your hands and knees. He takes up your left, while Luke gets up on his knees on your right side. They land smack after smack on your ass, turning it a cherry red, making you squirm and moan with every blow. You can feel the shift in the energy when Luke starts to pull your dress over your body, keeping it tangled around your hands while he sits himself in front of you. Colson gets behind you, squeezing your sore flesh. He starts to grind on you and every time he goes up, the zipper of his jeans scratches your clit, making you moan in Luke’s face. As if they’re reading each other’s thoughts, Luke makes you take his cock at the same time Colson enters you from behind. The force of his thrust makes you bob on Luke, eliciting a moan from both of you. He has one hand on your head, guiding the tempo and the other on your tied-up hands on his chest, leaving you stretched out like a cat for them.

The sounds of skin slapping skin and slobber reverberate in the room, making everything ten times louder in your head. “Stop, I need to be inside her too.” Luke slides underneath you, waiting for Colson to pull out. You spread your legs as far as they can go until you can feel him enter you. You’re gyrating on him, working his cock, getting yourself worked up, when you feel Colson start to poke your back hole. It’s not the most pleasant feeling you’ve felt, but you’re so turned on at this point, the fullness is welcome. They start a rhythm, pinning you in place. Your face is poised above Luke’s staring straight into his eyes. You’re breathing the same breath, his exhales, your oxygen. You can feel yourself getting there, and you know that he’s ready to blow when you see the blue in his eyes almost turn white. You know that he can sense it, too, your pussy is milking him hard and your irises are most likely red by now. He’s breathing through his orgasm, making you whimper when you feel his seed inside of you.

It’s always like this. He makes you feel so full, filling your body and your hollow soul at the same time. Colson is almost forgotten until he plops down on top of you, spent. Your thighs are a mess and your muscles ache from being stretched so much, but you can’t get yourself to move. Your eyes start to close, and the last thing you remember before laying your head on Luke’s chest and falling asleep is him muttering “Such a good girl for me.” and kissing the crown of your head.

-----

You feel the tips of his fingers lazily trailing down your lower belly. His hand moves down to your heat, cupping you and making you moan. “Is he gone?” you ask, squeezing your eyes shut when he starts to play with you. “Yeah. He said he’s going for a smoke and never came back.” He picks up the rhythm, running circles around your clit and kissing up your shoulder to your ear. “What did you do to him, anyway?” he whispers, giving your ear piercing a tug with his teeth. 

The smile on your face is instantaneous. He’s working you even harder when you moan out “Might have been a few STDs and a permanent case of blue balls for the next week or so.” He huffs out a laugh from behind you. “You little devil.” “You know it. Just giving him a taste of what it feels like to actually fuck with the devil. I hate it when people use my name in vain.” Your body melts into his and you’re cumming with a soft wail.

-----

“Where do you think you’re going?” You turn to see Luke lying on his side on the bed, seeing you get dressed. You slowly pull your dress over your thighs, careful of the red marks on your right cheek. “I’m heading out to see my other favorite angel boy, I’ve corrupted you too much. Just look at my ass, Luke. Angels aren’t so violent. Plus, Mikey’s got all of the toys. Sorry love.” You walk through the door and right before you close it, you can hear him say “You’re insatiable.” before he plops down on his back and closes his eyes to return to dreamland. You smile to yourself. You catch Johnny’s eye, silently telling him that you’re heading out. Another day, another sinner to pay.