#i'm reading a multi-chapter fic right now

[giliath]

Non-rhetorical question. How do I get better at writing

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Exhausted, Papyrus fell on his knees in the dust. It was covering everything in the room, from the floor to the ceiling. The main door was gone, like most of the windows. Thankfully, no monster tried to enter the balcony, too high. Papyrus crawled to pick up the door, still in one piece by some miracle, and put it in its place. The hinges were gone with a part of the wall, but he forced it to hold by nailing it with some planks that held the windows closed and was now on the floor.

He picked up his phone, hidden deep in his armor. His hands were still shaking with the adrenaline. Sans left about twenty messages, asking if he was fine, then warning him Frisk was gone, then asking him again if he was alright, more and more distressed as the hours went by.

Papyrus simply sent: "Alive. Frisk here." before walking to the kitchen to make sure the child was fine. Several bullets ricocheted against the closet door, but it faced the brunt efficiently. He cleared the chairs out of the way and opened the door, maybe too brutally.

Frisk screamed out of terror and threw themselves in the back of the cabinet. They curled up on themselves, hands on the head, sobbing uncontrollably. They were shaking as well.

Papyrus flinched. He saw himself at five years old, in the same position, as Sans was screaming and fighting for their lives in the living room. This was not a world to grow up. No child should ever be born in this hellish place. Bitter, he felt his soul squeezed painfully. It was his fault. He should have brought the child back to the Ruins. Frisk shouldn't have assisted to any of this.

The skeleton kneeled at their level. He never had been really talented to comfort people.

"Frisk? It's over, they're gone. You can come out."

He leaned a hand towards the human. Frisk kicked it away and tried to get as far as they could from him in the closet. Papyrus tried to stay neutral, but his face betrayed for a few seconds how much it hurt him. He didn't want Frisk to be scared of him. Not after everything they went through to protect them.

The skeleton looked around for a second and noticed a hole in the closet door. Small, but enough for a child to witness everything that happened outside. Frisk saw him slaughter attackers and end monsters on the floor without mercy. Papyrus felt guilty. He gave the child some space and sat in front of the closet, unsure what to do.

No Weakness, Chapter 3.

_______________________________________

Hello, hello!

I commissioned this masterpiece to @seirindono, a French (yeah, team French!) illustrator who works on a multi AU universe called The Missing Scarf, which is a banger. Really cool comic with lots of great characters that you really want to read. Go read it!

I wasn't sure on which fic I wanted a drawing at first, but since we already got one for Horrortale: Rotten Apple (thanks again Zeragii, love you), why not No Weakness?

It's a post-pacific Underfell fic where instead of breaking the Barrier, Sans refused Frisk to fight Asgore and brought them back in safety to Toriel. Now Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys, Mettaton, Toriel and Sans are hiding the child away, trying not to get killed.

The story however is about Undyne and Papyrus' friendship. After Papyrus surprises Undyne kissing Asgore, he is promoted to general of the Royal Guard. Except Papyrus knows something is really wrong here, since that role was obviously supposed to Undyne's. But the more he tries to understand, the more people try to dissuade him from learning more. All the hints lead to Asgore, but how to reach the monarch without getting himself killed, and by extension, those he cares the most about? Between his duty and his friendship, Papyrus will have to make a choice.

I asked for one of my favorite parts ever, which is the moment Frisk realizes how things really work in Underfell, after witnessing Papyrus committing carnage right after he got promoted to General. It's tradition :D

Anyway, if you want to read the story, it's right here. I'm on summer break right now, but new chapters are coming soon!

Thanks again to Seirindono for their amazing work, I love it so much <3 Really great artist, don't hesitate to commission them! They're really nice and pays great attention to details. It was really cool collaborating with you <3

Go send them some love!

[achilles-rage]

Good Luck Charm: Chapter 1

college football player!buck x plus size!eader

summary: you're having a bad day and you run into an attractive guy in the hallway on your way to class. your frustration gets the better of you and you snap at him, but he’s intrigued by your attitude, and goes out of his way to keep talking to you.

word count: 2.6k

series masterlist

A/N: i'm so excited to release the first chapter of my new multi part fic! i definitely started in the middle of this fic and then worked my way back, so this isn't my fav chapter, but if you wanna see them freak nasty in future chapters keep reading!1! i also tried to make the reader race inclusive, but please let me know if there's anything i did wrong so i can correct it!

warnings: both characters are a little mean to each other (oops), slight enemies to lovers??, a touch of slowburn??, no use of y/n, fem!reader, race inclusive!reader

You huff as you walk into the arts building on campus, tripping as your foot hits the doorframe. It’s not enough for you to fall, but it’s enough to piss you off ever more than you already are.

You’re running late, and it seems like everything is going wrong today. First, your alarm hadn’t gone off, meaning you basically had to run to campus for your 9am lecture. You walked in late, which wasn’t really a big deal, the professor paid you no mind as you walked in. It did matter, however, that you had to trip over bags and feet to the middle of an aisle, squeezing yourself into the last seat available in the lecture hall. Then, when you went to get yourself a little treat between classes at the Starbucks on campus, some guy bumped into you and made you spill half your drink on your shirt, meaning you had to race home to shower and change before going back to campus for your later class, which is where you’re heading now.

It’s your last year of college, so while you know your way around campus, it’s the first day of classes, and you’ve never had a class in the lecture hall your next class is in.

Your head is down as you look at your phone, pace slowing slightly as you triple check what room number you’re looking for when you feel a large body hit your shoulder.

“Watch it.” you hear a deep voice say as you look up from your phone, blinking slowly for a moment before something in you snaps.

You whirl around, jaw clenched as you make eye contact with perhaps the most attractive guy you’ve ever seen, not that you notice that through your rage. On any other day, you would’ve apologized and been on your way, but today, you have had enough, your patience gone.

“You ran into me.” you bark back, barely having time to think about what you’re saying. You feel a little bad as you see his eyes widen, but your thoughts are so clouded by frustration at how the day was playing out that you didn’t care. Deep down, you know he’s probably right, you weren’t watching where you were going. But he didn’t have to be a dick about it, right?

“I’m sorry, excuse me, princess.” he says sarcastically after a moment, as his surprised expression is replaced with a smirk. He hadn’t expected you to respond the way that you had, and this intrigues him. He crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes trailing down your figure, taking you in.

“Thank you! Was that so hard?” you reply in the same tone, matching his stance and crossing your arms over your chest, not even noticing the way “princess” rolled off his tongue so smoothly. You also don’t notice the way his eyes roam over your body, taking in your soft curves, the way your chest moves to keep up with the quick beating in your chest.

“Someone’s feisty, huh?” you roll your eyes at this, wanting nothing more than to be done with the incredibly handsome man and go to class. You’re already late enough, you really don’t need this.

“Only when someone deserves it.” you reply sharply, jutting your hip out as you tilt your head to the side, glaring at him.

You’re met with a scoff, and he fights back a laugh at the way you’re looking at him. You’ve got an attitude, but he’s got to admit, you’re gorgeous. The way you’re glaring at him kind of makes him want to push you against the wall and kiss your attitude away, but he also kind of likes the way you’re not backing down. He wants to keep you here. Willing to do anything to keep you standing here, he steps closer to you, licking his lips as he looks down at you, that smirk still on his face.

“You should lose the attitude, princess.” he teases, a playful glint in his eye as he sees the way you react when his words hit you. His words have the desired effect. You aren’t going anywhere. 

“Or what?” you hiss, your jaw clenching at his words. You’re really not in the mood to be told off by a man who thought the world revolved around him. On any other day, you’d already be on your way, but now, you just want to slap the stupid smirk right off his stupid attractive face. And what the hell was up with the nickname?

“Or I’ll make you.” he challenges, gauging your reaction, hoping he hadn’t crossed a line. With the way you hadn’t walked away yet, he has a feeling that you weren’t going to tell him to go to hell.

You pause for a moment, suddenly taking in the look in his eyes. He was arguing with you, sure, but you had only just realized how he was looking down at you, almost flirting with you. For a moment, you’re overcome with nerves, realizing that your temper has gotten you into a situation you never thought you’d be in.

“I’d rather die.” you get out. You bite the inside of your cheek as you hold eye contact, trying to keep up with the attitude that had been blinding you earlier.

You watch as his tongue slowly traces the inside of his cheek, his lips parting as he chuckles softly. He notices the way your breath stills for a moment and you blink slowly, how his words had momentarily snapped you out of your angry haze. 

He’s so close to you that you can almost feel the heat radiating off of him, but you refuse to back down, already this far into the argument.

“You might say that now, princess, but you haven’t seen me when I’m nice. I’m sure you’d like me if you dropped the attitude.” he states, eyes trailing down your figure again, taking in your cleavage peeking out from your shirt slightly, the way your clothes fall on your soft belly and thick thighs.

“That’s never gonna happen.” you say, letting out a shaky breath as you try not to look away. The class you’re currently missing comes to mind as your glare falters for a moment, and you’re suddenly very aware of how close you’re standing to a stranger in the middle of the hallway.

“Don’t be so sure, princess.” he teases, licking his lips again as his eyes study your face. 

What the hell are you doing? You shouldn’t be talking to this man. You have class, and you took your frustration out on him when he mostly didn’t deserve it. You swallow, biting the inside of your cheek as your face grows hot. You have to get out of here before this goes any worse than it already has. If you don’t walk away now, you’d realize how cute he is.

“I have to go to class.” you tell him softly, a hint of coldness still in your voice as you turn on your heel, walking down the hallway and out of sight.

He watches as you walk away, his eyes shamelessly trailing down to your ass as you go. He chuckles at your hasty departure as he bites a lip. If he met you at a party, he’s sure he would’ve already made you a flustered mess for him, but you didn’t seem like the type of girl who’d be at one of his team’s parties. The way you rushed off to class like that? While part of your exit was to end the conversation, there was a hint of nervousness in your eyes that tells him you truly were late to class, and not very happy about it. He wants to see you again, wants to try to get you to lower your guard so he can get to know you at a time where your temper isn’t getting the better of you.

You let out a long sigh as soon as you get far enough away from him, and you can feel that your hands are shaking ever so slightly. Why did you do that? You should’ve just apologized and kept walking because now you were really late for class, and you had basically yelled at a guy when you were pretty sure you had run into him. He was attractive, and built. You think he’s on the football team. Your roommate has a type, and you think you remember seeing his face when she showed you the entire team roster while she forced you to play drunken smash or pass during the summer.

Now that you think of it, what the fuck? Why did he immediately tell you to watch it? And then, why did he just come onto you like that? Did he just immediately assume that you would fold and apologize if he laid on the charm? You shake your head at the thought, scoffing as you pull out your phone again, realizing you had gone the complete wrong way as you stormed away from him. You turn again, hoping he was gone when you walk back to where you ran into each other, and to your delight, he was. 

You finally find your lecture hall and quickly slip in, silently celebrating when you realize that the doors were at the back of the room rather than the front, meaning you wouldn’t disturb the class. You scan the lecture hall, seeing an empty seat on an aisle a few rows from the back, and you silently make your way over. You sit down and pull your laptop out of your bag, quickly opening the class homepage to follow along as the professor goes over the syllabus.

You’re so focused on not drawing attention to yourself that you don’t notice him in the back row, eyes immediately on you as you sneak past him.

He smirks to himself, noticing the difference in your demeanor as you walk past him, head ducked, as if not to disturb anyone further by your lateness. With the way you snapped at him before, he half expects you to walk in with your head up, daring anyone to act annoyed with you as you make your way to your seat.

He keeps finding his eyes darting to the back of your head as class goes on, trying to think of a way to talk to you again, hoping you wouldn’t roll your eyes and keep walking if he tried.

You try to catch up on what the professor is saying about the syllabus, trying to add assignment and test dates to your calendar as she speaks. As the professor wraps up the class, you continue working away, trying to finish adding the dates, knowing you would forget to do it once you got home.

He stays in his seat when class ends, eyes glued to you as you keep typing on your laptop for a minute or two while the people around you start filing out. He puts his laptop away haphazardly, his eyes still trained on you as you do the same. He stands up at the same time you do and walks over to the door, standing in front of it.

You see him as he reaches the door, rolling your eyes as he blocks the way. All you want is to get home and crawl into bed, you really don’t want to deal with him right now.

“Where are you going, princess?” he teases, that stupid smirk returning to his face as he hears your sigh. He keeps far enough in front of the door that you could slip out if you really wanted to. He doesn’t want to scare you, he just wants more time with you.

“Home.” you reply shortly, crossing your arms over your chest. The way he looks down at you has you on edge again. He’s too smug for your liking, and now that your brain had time to process, you couldn’t not notice his blue eyes, his large arms. Your action doesn’t go unnoticed by him, as his eyes are immediately drawn to the way your arms push your chest up slightly.

“No more classes to run off to? No more rushing around and running into strangers?” he teases, giving you a once over.

“I didn’t run into you.” you tell him matter of factly, but your voice is not as loud as it once was. You know he’s right, but it’s far too late to change your mind. Why wouldn’t he let this go? You’re already embarrassed about the way you acted, you really don’t need him to keep reminding you.

“Ah, but you did. You were looking at your phone, trying to find your class, probably. You stormed off in the wrong direction and had to double back, didn’t you?” he says in an amused tone, chuckling softly as you raise your brows. You’re slightly surprised he’s smart enough to put two and two together.

“I might’ve apologized if you weren’t being a dick. Do you think the world revolves around you?” you fight back, waves of embarrassment hitting you as you realize that he had noticed you went the wrong way.

He doesn’t answer as his lips part slightly, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek. He takes a step ever so slightly closer to you, looking down at you with a glint in his eyes.

“You got a boyfriend?” he asks after a moment. He’s both amused and confused at your reaction to this. It’s as if you’re unsure if you should continue arguing with him, or give in and walk away, but that’s what has him so intrigued. He wants to know what you would be like behind closed doors, how you would react to his touch as his hands make their way down your body.

You scoff, shaking your head as you maneuver around him and out the door. The nerve of this guy. Why did he have to be so infuriating? And hot?

He raises his hands in mock surrender as you step around him, his gaze following you as you walk down the hall. 

As you make your way out of the building, you feel yourself let out a shaky breath, biting your lip as your brain is overcome with thoughts of him. You try to get your mind off of him, taking your phone out of your pocket to text your roommate and ask her if she wants to do a movie night tonight. She immediately responds with a yes, asking what movie you had in mind, but your brain feels so foggy that you can’t even think of the endless list of movies you’ve been wanting to watch.

Instead, you think of the way he looked down at you, how his eyes trailed down your body, drinking you in. You think about the way you could see his biceps flexing under his shirt as he crossed his arms. You think about what he called you. Princess. It was weird at first, but as you keep thinking about it, you can’t help the way it makes your stomach flip. Why did he ask you if you had a boyfriend? He couldn’t have been interested in anything more than pissing you off. You shake your head to yourself as you try to clear your head, finally making it back to your apartment complex.

And him? He walks the whole way home thinking about you as well. He can’t wait to see you next week in class, hoping that you’ll have more classes together. He’s hooked, and he’s desperate to break down your walls and learn more about you.

next chapter

notes: likes/comments/reblogs would be much appreciated if you liked this<33

click here for my masterlist!

click here to be added to my taglist!

click here to read my request rules!

taglist: @sherlocksbaby2323 @essienoe @p14th0mps0n @celestixldarling @minsugafour @brooke0297 @zelfanswhenshecan

[smileysuh]

hello !!

im the same anon who messaged recently about the new mark fic :) since you're one of my favorite authors on here do you have any fic recommendations? Im interested to see what you deem a good fic

hi!!!! This is such a good question! You can find my archived rec's here. tbh, I don't read that much, and when I do read, I'm usually already friends with the author, or through reblogs and such I become friends with the author- so Imma tag some of my favourite writer beans :)

@domjaehyun (masterlist) - NCT & others

Jewel has a writing style that I can't even quantify. Her stuff is INTENSE, it gets you in the moment, it's literally everything- she's got some long fics that pass so fast cuz you're just THAT into what's going on. Her Hyuck filth is GOD TIER

My favourites are: Pussy Fiend & Quarentine Chronicals & Kiss U Right Now

@sehunniepotwrites (masterlist) NCT & others

Nikki is another one of those writers who I could read forever. Her stuff is so wholesome and sweet, but the smut is also hot as hell. The amount of detail is astounding- literally publishable work. Like, babes, write a book already

My favourites are: Going For The Gold & The Midnight Shift

@milfgyuu (masterlist) NCT & Ateez & SVT & others

Lana is so good at everything she puts her mind to. Like, the multi fandom in me lives for her blog. I started reading for her SVT stuff, died for her nct content, and I was foaming at the mouth when Ateez was added to the mix. 10/10 content no matter what group.

My favourites are: Babe Watch & Bingo & Peach

@seokgyuu (masterlist) SVT & others

Mitchie my love- I'd been meaning to read her long standing chaptered series for a while, put it off- finally started and couldn't put it down. Read the whole series in a day and now I'm obsessed. This hoe holds it over me tho- who is mc going to end up with? we don't know- but I think I'll cry no matter what because it's the end of an era

My favourite is: the Challenge Me Series

@bitchlessdino (masterlist) SVT

Nana is such an interesting writer. One of the softest bitches I know, down BAD for Dino- and then just pops up with a Halloween fic that included blood play. I really can't even with this girl- all I know is, her mind is amazing, and I wanna read more.

My favourites are: Scream Your Heart Out & Nobodys Home

@honeykyeom (masterlist) SVT

Mo is another one of those writers who does poetry. I've sat with this girl for hours and she types out one like four paragraphs of some of the most thought inducing, detailed shit I've ever heard. Fics like hers take time, and it shows

My favourite is: White Noise

[turtletaubwrites]

Turtletaub Fic Recs ~ Part 2

I continue to get floored by the amazing and delectable One Piece fics I encounter here, so here's another batch! I hope you enjoy this list as much as I have, and that you go show these incredible writers some love! ~ NSFW Fics will be marked with a 🔥 | Other Fic Rec Lists ~ | Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 |

Ace

Ready? 🔥 ~ by @maddddstuff  ~ Here's some oh so fucking good smutty smut. Ace easing you through it 🍑 because he's the perfect, scrumptious guy. I should have waited for a better time to read it, but I couldn't help myself 😅

Barto

Dance Inside 🔥 ~ by @bartosbabymama ~ I love when you have a crush, and now you're sitting in their lap 🥰 He is way too fine, and this is smutty and cute. Barto and his fangs need more love! 💚

Buggy

Please don't say you're gone forever, 'cause I can't hurt no more ~ by @lostfirefly ~ Chapter 1 hit me right in the feels! Such a well written couple's argument that made me want to shake them both, and teach Buggy some communication skills 😭 Chapter 2 was the perfect, sweet conclusion 🥰🤡

I’m full of surprises ~ by @hey-august ~ This is so lovely, and cute, and magical 🥰✨ Feels like letting yourself be free, letting the adventure start. Buggy is so sweet, and I wish his ship had shown up when I needed it.

Crocodile

The Sand Dragon and I 🔥 ~ by @discordantwritings ~ I'm OBSESSED. If you ever read Dealing with Dragons as a kid, get ready for the tastiest adult version of that. 🐲🥵 I would gladly serve Sir Crocodile, I don't even care.

Kid

Calm Down ~ by @sheerxfiction ~ This is fucking adorable, and brought me back to growing up in a hippie stoner town. He's a grump, but all he needed was weed and smooches 🍃🥰 So stinkin' cute, go check it out!

Law

Law Helping You Study 🔥 ~ by @nina-ya ~ Just the sexiest lil study session ever. Law is such a nerd, and has no right being this hot 🥵 Well written smut that I'll definitely read again!

Down the Alley 🔥 ~ by @quinloki ~ VERY inappropriate use of devil fruit powers 🤭 This is so hot! Where is Law when I need him? I need to try this out asap 😭🥵

Mihawk

The Hat Stays ON 🔥 ~ by @sordidmusings ~ Desperate Mihawk desperate Mihawk DESPERATE MIHAWK! This is so flipping hot, go have a read. It is TOO GOOD! 🥵

Multi and/or Character x Character

The Crow's Nest | Zoro x Sanji | ~ by @shewrites02 ~ Such a beautiful, sweet, angsty Zosan fic that made my heart melt! 😭 It’s got Whole Cake Island spoilers, but if you’re caught up, then do yourself a favor and read this! I love them so much, and this wonderfully written fic gave me all the feels 💛💚

Nami

One For Me ~ by @maplekzh ~ This is lovely, and fluffy, and hot! Just the sweetest little moment with Nami x GN!Reader in an established relationship, and I adore how Nami is written here 🍊

Robin

drowning ~ by @oxittocin ~ I love Robin so much, and this is so goood 😭😭 Angsty and sweet, from Robin's POV. It makes me want to wrap her up in a blanket, and make sure she never has another bad day for the rest of her life!

Sanji

Just For One Dance ~ by @gingernut1314 ~ I adored this sweet yearning goodness! It captures one of those rare, magical moments between two people that might not have long together, but will never forget each other. I loved it 🥰

Shanks

Two More Times 🔥 ~ by @fanaticsnail ~ This is insanely good brat taming smut with Daddy Shanks. (Also sweet and lovely because that's our Shanks 🥰) Seriously 🥵🥵🥵 HIGHLY recommend!!!

Zoro

Mean-Mugging ~ by @indydonuts ~ I can't describe how fucking cute this fluffy fic is. I snorted at the Straw Hats antics, then had to immediately go tell my partner about it because it's just so CUTE!! 😭💚 Zoro is so sweet, even if he's scary looking 😅

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

[thecodeveronica]

Good news, they came back to me while I was eating dinner and

Oh god, can it be? Am I... am I...

PLANNING? OUTLINING?

unthinkable, usually I write by the seat of my pants outside of scattered notes from totally separate scenes that I stitch together like Victor Frankenstein working on The Creature

I had a ton of plot ideas and dialogue and scene snippets hit me while I was in the shower, and fast-forward to now when I can jot them down and they've disappeared into the ether 😭

[raph-x-reader-logs]

Masterlist

I would like to preface this with a disclaimer that I do not own TMNT and I am not a writer! This is a collection of all the Raphael writings I can find, so it would be easier to binge-read for my favorite turtle. Last Updated: 16 July 2024

╔════════════════════╗

Directions:

This is fairly simple and straightforward, but I'll add some directions just in case!

The master list is split into different iterations, genres, points of view, and then reader types. If the section gets too long (which I'm expecting they will) a new page will be created and linked on this post.

Each link will take you exactly where you want to go within this blog! This exempts the posts with a cut in them, those links will take you directly to the blog where the story is posted.

As for AO3 links, if the story has multiple chapters, it will take you to the "Entire Work" version so you can binge the whole fic.

Rules:

I am open to any suggestions or submissions! HOWEVER, within this Masterlist, you will not find the following:

OC x Raph

Canon x Raph

TCEST x Raph

Now that all of that stuff is out of the way; Enjoy!! :D -Pinto🌱

╚════════════════════╝

Fluff

NSFW

Angst

Just Friends by @theyhavetakenovermylife , 2POV, fem!reader, NSFW too, Summary: Raph has trouble juggling his mission and his feelings for you.

—

Fluff

NSFW

Angst

—

Fluff

Focus by @pebblestar , 2POV, gn!reader, Summary: Raph helps you focus, whether he likes it or not.

NSFW

When The Tables are Turned by @theturtlelovers , 2POV, gn!reader, Summary: Raph really likes it when you take charge..

Overstim by @katanablue , 2POV, fem!reader, Summary: Raphael is your biggest cheerleader and your number one supporter in all aspects. All. Of them.

Suit on, Dress Up by @theyhavetakenovermylife , 2POV, fem!reader, Summary: You look absolutely stunning in that dress.

Angst

—

Fluff

NSFW

Shower Sex by @theyhavetakenovermylife , 2POV, fem!reader, Summary: Things get a bit steamy with Raph.

SnapCall by @oozedninjas , 2POV, fem!reader, Summary: You send him nudes while he is on patrol and he isn't quite happy about it.

Angst

Acceptance by RubyRaspberry , AO3, 2POV, Hurt and Comfort, fem!reader, Summary: An injured Raph lands on your fire escape! Turns out you’re an extremely understanding person! But how much are you willing to accept?

—

Fluff

NSFW

Rough and Tumble by @mytheoristavenue , 2POV, fem!reader, Summary: After dating Raph for almost a year, he begins to ache for you...

Angst

A Reasonable Turtle by @thejudiciousneurotic , 2POV, gn!reader, Yandere, Summary: Raphael wasn't an unreasonable turtle—at least that's what he told himself with each hit of his fists, relentlessly beating the man who dared to try to take you from him.

Fire Breather by @tmntxthings , 2POV, fem!reader, Summary: Reader is fed up with Raphael's attitude.

There, I Said It by @tmntxthings , 2POV, gn!reader, Summary: It's that awful feeling when you can feel them slowly start to slip away.

—

Here

—

Fluff

Cuddle Headcanons by @mysticovo , 2POV, fem!reader

He's Too Nervous to Ask You Out by @scaredycatqlt , 2POV, masc!reader, hc format

You Don't Scare Me by @tmntfixationxreader , 2POV, fem!reader, Summary: Raph misunderstands your shyness toward him as fear.

Self Conscious Sleepover by @tmntfixationxreader , 2POV, gn!reader, Summary: Raph doesn't want you to see his retainer during your sleepover together.

Make You Feel Loved by @tmntxthings , 2POV, gn!reader, Summary: Raph takes a love potion!

Wherever You Go by @tmntxthings , 2POV, gn!reader, Summary: Raphael is head over heels in love with you and he would do absolutely anything for you, just as you would for him.

Dating Headcanons by @multi-fandomedfreak , 2POV, gn!reader, slight angst

A Lazy Morning by @luckycharms1701 , 2POV, gn!reader, Suggestive, Summary: It is a perfect morning.

Like 'Em Big by @hotheadedhero , 2POV, fem!reader, Summary: Cutting right to the chase. You like big dudes.

A Quiet Confession by @dancingdonatello , 2POV, gn!reader, Summary: Buckets of rain started to fall and he pulled you even closer to his front to try and squeeze the both of you under the small awning.

NSFW

Gentle by @fishstixloser , 2POV, gn!reader , Summary: You spend some quality time with Raph while he's brumating.

Angst

Change by @tmntxthings , 2POV, Hurt no Comfort, gn!reader, Summary: You make him happy and he's willing to do anything to make you see that he loves you. He wishes you can see that.

Big Teddy Bears Are The Best by @theyhavetakenovermylife , 2POV, fem!reader, Summary: Raph knows he's a big guy, he can't change that. But sometimes he wishes he could.

Your Protector by @tmntxthings , 2POV, gn!reader, Summary: It was supposed to be a normal night -- a normal date. But someone got to you before he could.

Red, Red, Red by @spoopyblues214 , 2POV, gn!reader, Major Character Death, Summary: He can't lose you, he just can't.

Lights Out by @fried-milkfish , 2POV, gn!reader, Yandere, Summary: "You know I would never hurt you, right?"

—

Fluff

Miss Me? by @theyhavetakenovermylife , 2POV , fem!reader , Summary: Raphael is away in Gotham and you miss him.

NSFW

The Night Before by @theyhavetakenovermylife , 2POV , fem!reader, Summary: The events of the night before Raphael leaves for Gotham.

Angst

—

Fluff

Hallway Crush by @theyhavetakenovermylife , 2POV, f!reader, Summary: Raph had a crush on the prettiest girl in school, but he's too nervous to talk to her. He took down SuperFly! He saved New York! He can do this!!

Angst

—

Fluff

NSFW

How The Movie Night Went by @theyhavetakenovermylife , 2POV , fem!reader, Summary: Things get a little steamy during movie night with Raphie.

Angst

—

This absolutely is NOT all of them. I'm steadily working through the tag again, so I'll be updating this frequently (as frequently as my life will permit lol).

Again! If you have a fic in mind and you don't see it here, please submit it! I'd love to add it to this list!

[fayes-fics]

When The World Is Free: Chapter 14 - Un Coin Tout Bleu

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: None really... angst, make-ups, misunderstandings, confessions and a proposal.

Word Count: 1.9k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl. Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This is the penultimate chapter, so everyone is starting to make peace. There is one more chapter that will have explicit content and an epilogue to go. Thanks as always to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Aubrey Hall, UK, October 1939

Instinct has you up on your feet and chasing after, rounding into each room you pass, but you cannot find either of them. Your stride is definitely no match for Benedict’s; he is likely already far away. 

When you stumble up the stairs, you collide with Violet. She is taken aback at first but then sees your apparent distress and has you in a hug before you know what is happening. 

“Whatever is it, my dear?” she soothes into your hair.

“Eloise found Benedict and I asleep in an embrace and ran away in horror,” you stutter. “And then I let slip to Benedict you think he loves me, and then he ran. Oh god!! I have messed things up so horribly,” you lament.

Her motherly concern has you clinging to her, the sting of your mother’s recent rejection still a whiplash to your heart.

“Let us find my wilful daughter; she is likely just in shock, that is all.” she counsels calmly. “And then we will deal with your errant husband.”

Looping your arm with hers, Violet leads you to a few places where she knows Elose skulks when she wants to escape the world. You both eventually find her in the attic, where stacks of books and pillows are near an oval window that suggests this is often a refuge for her.

“Eloise Bridgerton, come and make amends with your friend,” is her stern greeting.

“Why should I?” Eloise sniffs, steadfastly refusing to turn around, staring out the small window at the grounds below. “She did the one thing - the ONE THING - I told her would make me disown her….” she adds bitterly, referencing the chat you had in Paris many weeks ago before Benedict arrived. “This was a choice she made.”

“Falling in love with your brother was not a choice, Eloise; it happened quite without me meaning to,” you implore, wanting her to believe it's true.

At that, her head whips around, surprise claiming her face. “Love?” she scoffs. “Please…” Looking to her mother for support in her derision, she frowns when she seems to find none. “Are you serious?”

“Yes…” you reply softly, taking a hesitant step forward, holding your palms open at your side—a conciliatory gesture. “I married Benedict to escape, yes, but even before then, I knew I felt something for him. That connection has only grown more profound since. We have spent a lot of time together in secret. I am truly sorry I, well, we, kept it from you. I was scared you would be angry and hurt. And you are. And you have every right to be.” 

“It's true, Eloise,” Violet, standing a few paces behind you, pipes up. “I saw it the minute they arrived here. And I can tell you right now, your brother feels exactly the same.”

You want to believe Violet’s assertion about that, but you feel a tightness in your chest as she says it, worrying that it may not be accurate.

“You are my friend,” she whines almost petulantly. 

“And I will always be your friend if you allow me,” you counter delicately. “No matter what happens with Benedict, and even I do not know now, you will always be dear to me and a part of my life.”

“What did that bloody idiot do now?” she inquires, sharp as a tack.

“After you left the room, I-I mentioned your mother thinks he loves me, and well, he ran out, you admit, hanging your head.

“That idiot…” she blusters, rolling her eyes.

“I'm very sorry if you see this as a betrayal. I wanted to keep it quiet because I love you so much as a friend. I truly never want or meant to hurt you….”

Eloise sighs, and you watch her shoulders slump. “You are just lucky I know some semblance of what you speak…” she offers wistfully, a glimmer of hope that has you inhaling sharply.

You know without asking that she is referring to Phillip, and you twist to smile at Violet briefly, who suddenly looks very invested. 

“I hope you can find it within your heart to forgive me. I know it may take some time,” you allow. Hope creeps into the edges of your heart that you can reconcile with one Bridgerton, at least. 

“It is just a shock that you kept it from me,” she sighs, finally admitting what upset her the most.

“I thought us terrible actors,” you giggle lightly, hoping humour will brighten your exchange.

A soft smile teases at the corner of her lips. “Are you suggesting I am not as sharp as I could be?” she jests gently.

“Heaven forfend!” you clutch your chest, feigning shock, then morphing into a smile you hope is an olive branch. 

“I think perhaps you saw what you wanted or rather didn't want to see, daughter dearest,” Violet interjects mildly. “Because I can confirm they are both utterly terrible actors,” she chuckles.

You bite your lip and hang your head in an act of contrition that seems to amuse Eloise greatly. Her hesitant huff of humour is the best noise you could possibly hear.

“Friends?” you query tentatively, hopeful.

“Friends,” she pouts, crossing her arms. “But there is still much to make up…” she adds.

“Understood.”

With this fragile peace brokered, Violet links her arm in Eloise’s and yours, leading you both back down into the house with a declaration that tea, the ultimate British elixir, is needed.

—

Ten minutes later, you are gathered in the small glass conservatory, partaking in said refreshments. Other Bridgerton children—Colin, Francesa, and Gregory—likely drawn by the biscuit smell have also materialised. The gathering is a peaceful balm to a dramatic day. A large part of you still aches that Benedict fled, but you try to force it from your mind and concentrate on the fact that Eloise may be willing to forgive… with time.

Just as you stand to refill your teacup, however, the calm is shattered. Benedict charges into the room, flustered and breathless. He drops an envelope he is holding onto a side table and marches right up to you, stride purpose-filled, completely ignoring the rest of his family.  

“There you are! I have been looking all over for you!” Relief palpable in his tone but still agitated and animated, grabbing your forearms. “Where on earth did you go?”

You splutter indignantly. “Where did I go?! Me? I think the more pertinent question is… where did you go?! You ran out of the room so fast!”

“I asked you to wait a moment,” he frowns.

“No, you didn't!” you state forthrightly.

He seems to falter, relinquishing his grip on your arms. “I… I didn't?”

“No…”

A look of doubt, then confusion, then finally understanding ripples over his face. “Oh…So you thought I… Oh…”

“Yes,” you reply quietly so the others gathered, who seem very invested now in your exchange, cannot hear. “I thought you walked out because of what I divulged.” Not wanting to go into detail with an audience.

“No! No!” he asserts candidly. “Nothing could be further from the truth!” His eyes soften as he realises what happened, looking genuinely contrite. “I am so sorry. I must’ve forgotten to say it out loud in my excitement.”

“Excitement!?” you are baffled. “You looked terrified!”

He grabs your hands this time, holding them in his, a look of earnest sincerity claiming his handsome features. “Yes, I was nervous and shocked that my mother knew and told you,” briefly glancing towards her over your shoulder. “But it spurred me to finally be brave enough to show you something. Something very important that I need your opinion on” 

He lets go of your hands to grab the envelope from the table. With a nervous mien, he opens it and hands you a pile of photos. They are of an idyllic-looking country home surrounded by a pretty garden and countryside beyond. It looks so beautiful and instantly captures your imagination. For some strange reason, it already feels familiar to you.

“What do you think?” Benedict seems super nervous, shuffling his weight between his feet, apparently anxious for your answer. 

“It's very pretty,” you opine neutrally, primarily confused. “I'm not sure why you are showing me, though?”

“I… I wanted to know if it was somewhere you could see yourself living?” he asks enigmatically with a small smile.

“Why?” you frown, unwilling to confess the truth - that you would live there in a heartbeat. It looks like the house you dreamed you would live in one day.

He takes a deep breath, seeming to steel himself. “Because… I would like to buy it. For you. Well, for us.”

There is no other word for it - you are floored. A loud buzzing sound is behind your ears, your knees feel oddly weak, and there is a tingle in your fingertips. 

“For us?” you stutter, disbelieving.

You could hear a pin drop in the room. You can’t see them, but you know his family behind you likely have gaping mouths, especially Eloise.

“Yes, to live in. Together,” Benedict answers, that crooked smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “And if you are willing to live with me, well, then I also have another question for you…”

Your lungs feel afire, and your brain is short-circuiting—almost unable to surmount the shock. Entirely confounded as your heart pounds hard in your ribcage.

“A-A-And if I am, what is your other question?” you ask breathlessly.

You gasp as he falls to one knee before you, and you hear a collective ripple of shock behind you as he produces a little velvet box from his pocket.

“I wanted you to wait so I could also go and get this,” he explains, a slight shake in his hand as he holds it open—an engagement ring with sapphires and diamonds nestled within. 

You can feel your eyes welling with tears as you gaze down upon him.

“Realising my mother knew the truth and accepted it was a wake-up call for me. I had to finally be brave and confess to you. We are already married, so some may think this pointless, but it is nothing less than you deserve: a proper, heartfelt, honest proposal.” 

His free hand reaches and grabs yours, lacing your fingers together. It feels like the anchor you need to stay upright. 

“Given the short time, it may seem reckless to others, but I do not care what anyone thinks but you. I know what my heart tells me, indeed, has told me from the moment we met—you are my home, my refuge, my present and my future. Y/n, I love you more than I ever thought possible. I would marry you a hundred times over, in whatever way you would have me. Please, please, will you be my wife?”

A sob escapes your lungs, and you fall to your knees with him, wanting to be at eye level.

“Yes, Benedict! A hundred times - yes!!!” 

Your answer is rendered through watery tears as he breaks into a breathtaking grin and pulls you both to your feet. He gathers you into his arms and seals the pact with a lingering but chaste kiss. His eyes are misty, too, as your lips break apart and exchange smiles.

Behind you, his family erupts into whoops and applause as he pushes the ring onto your left finger, fitting snugly over your wedding band. You twist to see Eloise, a begrudging tear in her eye; a burden lightens in your heart as she nods towards you as if bestowing her tacit approval.

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[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.

Law x Fem Reader

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE read these warnings before reading this fic. Genuinely, I implore you. I started writing this fic on a whim a few weeks ago, when I was contemplating my own experiences with reproduction-related health conditions such as the one that will be addressed later on in this story (endometriosis). Reproductive education and health is something that I feel very strongly about, and I feel that topics such as pregnancy complications and loss aren't addressed enough in media for fear that they're too taboo or shocking. Which, to be fair, is true, at least for the shocking aspect. Pregnancy loss is difficult, traumatic, and life-changing, for better or for worse, truly dependent on the person and the world around them.

Now you might be wondering... why would you drag one piece into this? well, i don't know. i felt like it, perhaps. Law is a character who resonates very deeply to me, his character is emotionally complex and layered, and imagining him in a scenario like this one became very interesting to me. Combine that with everything i stated above and taddaa, you get this fic.

this story does and will eventually have a happy ending (a very happy ending!) however it will take a bit to get there. this is a multi-chapter fic that i'm moving from my ao3 to my new blog, and the same warnings there apply here.

if this fic doesn't seem like your cup of tea, i encourage you to check out some of my other fics on my blog. i have a few law/readers that are tooth-rottingly fluffy and much more feel good.

with all that out of the way, thank you for reading.

Chapter 1

[Next]

The air in the room was as stifling as a sauna from the stress and anxiety filling the air.  It was so silent, the tiles surrounding the small area blocking any and all noise from outside.  The door was closed, caging you in.

You were sitting on the toilet lid, your hands rapidly perspiring and your whole body shivering with nerves.  Across from you, your husband had his arms crossed, his head hung low, his heel bouncing off the floor.  The tension was unlike anything you had ever experienced, however this had unfortunately become the norm for the past six months.

On the side of the sink sat a long white stick.  Neither of you wanted to look at it.

“Do you think it’s ready now…?” you asked, inwardly cringing at how pathetic and weak your wobbly voice sounded.

Law picked his head up, his golden eyes creased in profound concern and worry.  “It should be.  Five minutes, right?”

“I think so,” you replied.  With a trembling hand, you grabbed the stick from the counter.  Law watched your every movement with a close eye.  With a deep breath, you flipped over the test and gazed at the result window.

A single red line.

After the last failed attempt, you made a joke that you didn’t have any more tears left in you to cry, but clearly that wasn’t the case as fat, salty tears rapidly welled in your eyes and flowed down your cheeks.  Law immediately knew what the result was the second your lips twitched downward.  His heart sank into his stomach, immediately stepping toward you, grabbing the test from your hand and blindly chucking it into the small garbage can in the corner.  He knelt on the floor in front of you to pull you into his chest.

“Damn it…” you whimpered.  Your body forced you to take a shuddering inhale before sobbing an anguished, “FUCK!!!!”

Law’s heart broke.  He didn’t even know what to say to comfort you anymore.  6 months of failed attempts at conceiving a very wanted baby had caused nothing but pain to both of you.  You had both been scientific about the process.  All birth control and protection was ceased, and the two of you were religiously tracking your cycle to make sure you would try during your ovulation window, but nothing but failure after failure showed up.

You thought you were broken.

Law thought he was broken.

You wept into his shoulder, your body shuddering with each pained sob that crawled from your sore throat.  Law’s hands were frozen around you, firmly gripping your back.  You couldn’t see the tears that were forming in the corners of his stern eyes, biting his lip and forcing every muscle in his face to prevent those tears from slipping downward.  The last thing you needed was to see him cry, but he didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to hold it in.

“Law…” you whimpered into his shoulder.

Law stayed silent.

“I’m sorry–”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” he quickly retorted, cutting you off.  He felt you lurch in his arms.  “This isn’t your fault.  It’s not anyone’s fault… it’s…”

Now you stayed silent.

Law took his own shallow inhale.  “I… don’t know.”

For one of the only times in Law’s life, he was rendered completely incapable of speech.  Normally calm and analytical, looking for every possible solution or reason for an issue, he was now left completely helpless to the crashing waves of sheer dejection.  As your quivering body clung to him like a lifeline, his entire brain was scrambling for some sense, any logical thought, for the current predicament, but it was starting to become glaringly obvious to both of you.

It was very likely one of you was infertile.

When you finally picked your head up from his shoulder, Law’s previously broken heart fractured into even more irreparable pieces.

Your eyes were puffy, swollen and bloodshot from your tears.  Your entire face looked bloated from the force of your crying, and you were clearly flushed.  You looked, for lack of a better word, completely miserable.  Law helped you stand from the closed toilet seat, keeping your eyes away from the trash can where the negative pregnancy test lay on top of discarded tissues and makeup wipes, to guide you to your shared bedroom.  Neither of you had to say a word, you knew he was going to put you into your shared bed and let you get some much-deserved rest after the stressful eternity (10 minutes) you had just endured.  It was almost 8:00PM anyway, and regrettably, both of you still had work the following day.

You didn’t fight it when Law eased you down onto the mattress by your shoulders.  You kept your eyes pinned closed, not wanting to let your husband see any more of your beaten state.  You rolled over onto your side and hid in your pillows.  You didn’t hear Law mention that he would join you after cleaning up, and you didn’t notice the overhead light dimming.  You simply begged for sleep to take you quickly and painlessly.

When Law finally returned after washing his face, he gazed dejectedly at your weary form.  Finally asleep, fortunately, but your cheeks were glossy with fresh tears.  The man carefully crawled into bed behind you, carefully pulling your body into his.  He wished more than anything that he could make your pain go away.  He ran through the many years you had been together, and struggled to find a time where your sorrow was as profound as it was this evening.  His mind was constantly at war- his analytical, doctor side beginning to list specific reasons why this could be happening, and his sincere, passionate, loving husband side breaking apart reflecting over the sound of your sobs.

It could have been either of you.  But it also could’ve been both of you.  The thought was enough to finally force the tears in Law’s eyes to break free and travel down his cheeks.  Some of them plotted into your hair.

—

You awoke to the sound of whispering in your hallway outside the bedroom.  The blinds covering the window above the bed you shared with Law were pulled shut, but the sunlight still beamed through them leaving patterns on the walls and floor.  The side Law slept on was empty and freshly made.  No surprise, he left for work early in the morning after all.  You slowly sat up in bed, your head pounding.  The events of the previous evening came rushing back to you, but you felt nothing but an empty melancholy, a dark fog that hung over your brain and clouded your vision.

The door to your bedroom slowly opened.  You looked up just in time to see a very large, very fluffy cloud with four legs and two beady eyes come sprinting into your room.  Its feet ripped across the carpeted floor as It hopped on your bed with a loud huff, immediately snuggling on top of your duvet and leaning into your body for some much needed cuddles.

You mustered a weary laugh, your hands instinctively moving to the back of the dog’s neck to rub his fluffy cheeks from behind, eliciting happy grunts from the large animal.  He had his tongue out, a tiny pink blep among the sea of rich white fur.

“Bepo,” you sighed.  “You know Law doesn’t like it when you get on the bed.”

“He missed you!” called a voice from the hallway.  Spiky red hair appeared in the doorway.  “So did we, actually.  I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

Shachi had, actually, woken you up, but you didn’t need to tell him that.  “No, not at all.”  You shook your head.  Bepo’s tail was wagging in your face, causing you to sputter out small strands of loose fur from your mouth.  The red-head entered your bedroom, leaving the door open.  The smell of French toast instantly wafted into the space, making your mouth water and your eyes widen.  “Is Penguin cooking?”

“Yee-up,” Shachi replied, popping his lips to enunciate the word.  “Law invited us over, if you couldn’t tell.”  He flashed a smirk.  “You got the day off, by the way.”

Your eyebrows wrinkled in confusion.  “What?”

“Law called in sick for you,” the man confirmed.

You frantically reached for the night stand and grabbed your phone, tapping the screen to illuminate it.  It was almost 10:00AM, and sure enough, your alarm had been turned off.  Three texts from Law sat waiting on your screen, as well as two texts from your coworkers.

Baby~~<3

Sorry, I broke into your phone to turn your alarm off.  You get to sleep in today, I called you out sick.  I didn’t tell them anything, just that you weren’t feeling good.

Baby~~<3

Shachi and Penguin might be there when you wake up.  I did tell them a little about what happened, just so they know to give you space if you need it.

Baby~~<3

Call me if you need anything at all, I love you.

Ika-chan

I heard you called in sick today!!!  I hope you’re alright, let me know if you need anything!

Nami Swan

How r u feeling?  If u caut the flu u can blame Usopp :P

You smiled, your heart beating in your chest.  “You guys are too much sometimes.”

Shachi proudly rested his clenched fist over his sternum as a display of pride.  “Nothing is ever enough for your best friend!”  The sight made you chuckle.  

You were caught off guard by Penguin entering with a much larger platter of food than you ever expected.  He excitedly approached your bedside with a wide grin, marveling at his own work.  A bowl of mixed fruits, a plate of French toast drizzled with maple syrup and dollopped with a swirl of whipped cream, a small portion of sausage on the side, and a single unopened bottle of apple juice.  You graciously accepted the spread, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t completely befuddled.

“You guys know I’m not actually sick, right?” you asked, glancing at your husband’s best friends with concern.  You shooed Bepo away from getting too close to the sausage.

“We know,” Penguin clarified.  “We can treat you to a nice breakfast even when you’re not sick, though!”

You smiled, forcing down the lump that formed in your throat.  “Thank you guys, I really don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I know what you’d do,” Shachi stated.  “You’d eat your breakfast and savor every bite!”  He stood up from your bed and clapped his hands twice, beckoning Bepo off of the bed and over to his side.  “We’ll take Bepo for a walk around the neighborhood!  Take some time for yourself!”  The two men left with your dog in tow, leaving you to stare in awe at the spread of food.

Your mind was reeling.  Law’s text informed you that he had given his two friends a brief summary of what had happened, but you didn’t really mind.  If anything, it brought you some comfort to know that you and your husband’s two closest friends understood the predicament you were currently in and were more than willing to go out of their way to support you.  You also couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Law calling you out sick for the day, putting your passcode into your phone to turn off your alarm, and making sure his friends would be there for you when you woke up.  You were beyond grateful for such an incredible support system, but just to be on the safe side…

You grabbed your phone once more, opening your text messages with Law.

Good morning baby, thank you for calling me out.  Im feeling a bit better, Shachi and Penguin made me breakfast.  I hope you didnt give them too much grief ;3; Take care of yourself today, I’ll see you when you get home.  I love you!!! <333

With your breakfast completed, you slowly trudged to the bathroom to take a relaxing shower.  The sight of your negative pregnancy test filled you with nausea, but you pushed past the feeling and turned on the water.

[redislazy]

Deadly Attachments, Chapter 01

Chapter 02 >>

[EVENTUAL SMUT] - Minors DNI

> ao3 <

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x female!Reader

-

Summary: As a skilled mercenary, you've navigated countless high-stakes missions—until one job puts you in the crosshairs of Task Force 141 and the elusive "Ghost." Now forced into an uneasy alliance, you’re drawn into a dangerous game of shifting loyalties and hidden motives. But as the stakes climb higher, one question lingers: how close can you get to the man who was meant to be a shadow in your path?

-

Content Tags: Enemies to Lovers, Military Action & Romance, Mercenaries, Soldiers, Non-Canon Antagonists, Eventual Smut, Military Inaccuracies, Slow Burn, Will add smut-specific tags later as the story goes

-

Author's Note: i've been wanting to write a multi-chapter Ghost x female!reader fic for a while now, and i'm excited to finally share it! i've already written a lot of chapters in advance, though they still need tons of proofreading; English is NOT my native language, so i rely heavily on tools like Autocrit, Grammarly, and ProWriting Aid to help me with grammar and flow + my bf, who's a native speaker, has been super helpful with this project. <3 a quick heads-up: there are likely some military inaccuracies;; sorry in advance! comments and feedback are hugely appreciated; they help me know if i'm on the right track! (10/29/24) edit: i made a playlist on both Spotify and Youtube!! it’s not exactly tailored to the story’s vibe, but more like the songs that kept me in the zone while writing. have fun!

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You stare at the dingy wall of the interrogation room, your body weary from being bound to the chair for hours. You've always been pretty damn good at your job, but somehow, you finally met someone that matched your skills, managing to catch you. You—a mercenary who's been in the industry for ten years, and never once have you been in a bind like this. You let out a loud groan, your frustrations growing the more they make you wait in the room. Typical for the SAS to waste people's time like this.

The door swings open and in walks a tall figure clad in tactical gear, a skull balaclava covering his face. His cold blue eyes peer through the holes in the mask, scrutinizing you. The sound of boots echoing against the concrete floor is the only thing that fills the tense silence. He takes his time to observe you, noticing the signs of weariness and frustration etched on your face. He takes a seat across the table, his movements deliberate and controlled, making sure you know who's in charge here. He leans forward, arms crossed, and studies you.

"Alright," he says, his British accent sharp and authoritative, "let's cut to the chase. We know you've been working with those Russian bastards. What we want to know is why?" His voice is stern and unwavering, making it clear he won't tolerate any lies or evasion. He takes a moment to analyze your body language and reactions, trying to read you like an open book.

His hatred towards you isn't personal, at least not yet. But you represent everything he despises in this world—mercenaries who sell themselves to do dirty work without considering the consequences of their actions. He hates the fact that he has to deal with your kind in the first place. But he also knows that sometimes, information is more valuable than a bullet, especially when it comes to taking down the enemy. So, he'll play this game of cat and mouse for now.

You take a deep breath, stopping yourself from popping up a vein at his question. "I've been telling you this whole time! I'm not one of Kozlov's men. I'm a merc, okay? I was hired by a PMC." You let out an angry huff.

Once a decorated intelligence officer within Russia’s GRU, Viktor Kozlov became disillusioned with what he saw as the corruption and moral decay of powerful nations. After a covert operation went wrong and exposed him to the brutal lengths governments would go to maintain control, he vanished, presumed dead. In reality, Viktor spent years gathering resources, supporters, and arms to launch his own crusade against the "imperialist and morally corrupt" systems of the world. Now, he leads The New Dawn, a terrorist network dedicated to dismantling global powers through calculated attacks designed to destabilize entire regions.

The masked man raises an eyebrow at your response, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. He taps his fingers lightly on the table, the rhythm a silent countdown before he speaks again. "A PMC, you say? And yet, here you are, in the middle of our operation against Kozlov," he retorts, his voice still cold and calculating. In his mind, he's already running through various scenarios and possibilities, trying to piece together your story and find any holes in it. He leans forward once more, the dim light reflecting off his skull balaclava, creating an intimidating visage. "Who hired you? And what were your orders?"

You scoff at his question. "You think I'd just tell you who I work for? I may not look like it, but I have a decent work ethic."

Ghost chuckles darkly at your defiance, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Work ethic, huh? You do know we have our ways of making people talk, right?" His tone turns icy, making it clear he's not one to be trifled with. "Look, we're not playing games here. If you're truly not one of Kozlov's men, then you'll tell us who sent you. If you don't, I can't guarantee your safety. We both know how things can go south pretty quickly in our line of work." He pauses, letting his words sink in before adding, "And if you are lying, well, then it's just a matter of time before we find out anyway. So, what's it going to be?" His voice is firm, leaving no room for negotiation.

You take a moment to study the expression in his eyes, the only part of his face that is exposed. It's almost impossible to tell what he's thinking.

You sigh, recognizing that you no longer have the energy to prolong this game with the SAS any further. You've already been compromised. Hard. Is it truly worth it to hide details of your mission at this point? He's right; even if you don't talk, they'll find out eventually.

"Fine," you finally relent. "Aegis Black Ops. That’s who I work for. They’re a black-budget PMC; no official ties, just results. We take the jobs no one else can—stealing intel, sabotage, high-risk extractions. Founded by an ex-CIA agent, they run ops in total secrecy. Kozlov's been on our radar for a while now, and Aegis has a personal score to settle. We’ve hit his operations before, and my task was to steal data while he and his men are preoccupied fighting you SAS lot," you answer firmly, with no hint of any deceit in your tone.

Ghost listens intently to your explanation, his expression unchanging behind the balaclava. It's not uncommon for private military contractors to have their own agendas, but it doesn't mean he has to trust them blindly. After a moment of contemplation, he finally speaks up, "So, why didn't you just come clean from the start? We could've saved ourselves a lot of trouble." There's a hint of annoyance in his voice, but it's quickly replaced by curiosity. "What kind of data were you after? And what's so special about Kozlov that Aegis wants him out of the picture?" He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table and steepling his fingers together, studying you carefully.

You cross your arms, meeting his gaze steadily. “I didn’t ‘come clean’ because I know exactly how this works,” you say, keeping your voice cool. “You and the SAS might claim the high ground, but governments? They’ll weaponize any intel they can get their hands on. I’m not here to hand over data that’ll just end up as another piece on some political chessboard.”

You let out a low breath, fighting the urge to laugh at the irony. “As for Kozlov, he’s a threat, sure. But to Aegis, he’s also an opportunity—an unstable element that could bring a lot of secrets to the surface if we get to him first. I’m not here to play nice or pretend I’m on some noble crusade. I just know where my loyalty lies—and it’s not with any government.”

He maintains eye contact with you, a flicker of amusement crossing his mind. He nods slowly, acknowledging your position. "Understood." His tone is terse, showing no sign of taking offense at your blatant lack of trust. He pushes himself off the chair, his military boots echoing in the cold concrete interrogation room. He paces around, his shadow looming over the data on the table. "We both want Kozlov gone," he finally says, stopping to look down at you. "That's enough common ground for now. But I'll need proof that you can deliver." He pauses, allowing his words to hang in the air. "Any proposals?" Ghost asks, his British accent clipped and authoritative.

"I propose you untie me off this chair and send me home. I'm not going to get involved with whatever you're planning from here on out. I failed my mission already because of you, and that's where my role ended." You glare at him, each word sharp with irk.

He raises an eyebrow at your defiance, his jaw clenching slightly. He reaches up, running his gloved fingers along the edge of his balaclava. "Well, now that's a problem, isn't it?" he replies coldly. "Because I can't exactly let you go back to your merry little band of thieves after all this." His eyes narrow, assessing your reaction to his words. "Besides, if you're half as good as you claim to be, then I could use someone like you. And it'd be a shame to waste talent like yours because of some misplaced loyalty." He closes the gap between you in a few short strides. Leaning in close, he looks down at you with an air of challenge. "So, what's it going to be? Are you going to be a liability...or an asset?"

You raise an eyebrow, smirking up at him, not budging an inch as he closes in. “Oh, please,” you say sharply, mimicking his demeanor. “Let’s get one thing straight—‘misplaced loyalty’ isn’t in my vocabulary. I know exactly who I’m loyal to, and let’s just say it isn’t anyone waving a government flag.”

You tilt your head, meeting his stare without flinching. “And as for being a ‘liability’ or an ‘asset’? Let’s not pretend you didn’t decide to let me live because of my expertise in the first place. Maybe you’re starting to realize you need someone like me a little more than you thought, huh?”

You shrug, all casual defiance. “So, what’s your choice, skull-face? Going to trust a so-called ‘liability’ to get the job done, or keep playing it safe with your merry band of rule-followers?”

He straightens up, his gaze never leaving yours. "Skull-face, huh?" he replies dryly. "You think that name bothers me?" He leans closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You're not the first to try to get under my skin." He steps back, his eyes glinting with a dangerous edge. He crosses his arms again, studying you closely.

You snort at his response. "Now, don't get me wrong, I simply just don't know what your name is. Until you introduce yourself to me properly, well, 'skull-face' it is." You give him an annoyed look, remembering how he just brought you in here with no pleasantries whatsoever.

He chuckles softly, the sound sending a chill down your spine. "Fair enough," he concedes, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He takes a deep breath, contemplating his next words. "Names aren't important in our line of work," he says finally. "But since you asked so nicely, you may call me...Ghost."

A loud, audible chuckle escapes your lips as he mentions his name. "Ghost? Really? You think that sounds cool or so—"

But then it hits you, and your laughter dies mid-sentence. The callsign is strikingly familiar, and suddenly, the pieces fall into place. You let out a heavy groan, frustration washing over you.

In this line of work, you hear a lot about the big players, whether they’re on the right side or the wrong side of the law. Whispers swirl around powerful individuals, and one name always stands out: Task Force 141. Rumor has it they’re a unit of some of the most skilled soldiers, and one particular figure has earned a notorious reputation. A man who wears a skull balaclava and goes by the callsign 'Ghost'. Stories of his exploits send shivers down the spine of those who hear them.

Now that you’ve connected the dots, your previous confidence evaporates. The realization that you’re in the custody of this man sends a chill down your spine. The idea of wriggling free from his grasp suddenly seems a lot more daunting.

"Ah, so you're that 'Ghost'," you manage to say, the cockiness in your voice significantly dimmed.

He watches as your demeanor shifts upon hearing his name, and a smug sense of satisfaction fills him. He nods slowly, letting you process the information. "You might want to reconsider your choices," he warns, his voice low and serious. "You're in, whether you like it or not." He cuts off your restraints, freeing you.

You stretch your arms, letting out a sigh of relief. You get up from the seat, and you walk towards him, stopping right in front of him. His towering figure does not intimidate you at all.

"Just this one time. After I'm done being your lapdog, I'm out of here. Give me your word," you say commandingly.

Ghost studies you for a moment, your boldness surprising him.

"Very well," he agrees, holding out his hand. "One job, then you're free to go. But know this," he adds, his gaze hardening, "if you try to pull anything, I will make sure your name becomes nothing more than a whisper in the wind." Ghost's voice holds an underlying threat, but there's also a hint of intrigue.

Now that you know who he is, you no longer find it in you to scoff at his threats. You just silently stare at him, not saying a word any further as you accept his hand.

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Ghost remains silent as he leads you through the dimly lit corridors of the base, his mind working overtime, processing the unexpected turn of events. He hates being cornered, but something about your tenacity intrigues him. Upon reaching your designated quarters, he opens the door and motions for you to enter.

"Get some rest," he orders gruffly. "We leave at first light." Once you're inside, he closes the door behind you.

Relieved that the room includes a bathroom, you quickly take a shower, dressing in one of the spare outfits provided once you're done. You lie in the darkness of the room, attempting to ignore the creaks and hums of the unfamiliar environment, your mind drifting back to the mission, replaying every detail.

The plan had been flawless—or at least, that’s what Aegis led you to believe. They sent you in, banking on the fact that the SAS and Kozlov’s men would be too focused on tearing each other apart to notice you slipping in through the chaos. You'd timed it perfectly, darting through darkened hallways, avoiding the sounds of gunfire echoing down the corridors as you closed in on the server room.

The data was right where the intel said it’d be, and for a moment, you actually thought you’d pull it off without a hitch. You were halfway through the upload, the light on your drive flashing as it sucked in everything Aegis needed, little by little. The noise outside was just enough to cover the hum of the servers, your fingers poised, watching the data percentage tick up.

Then you felt it—that prickle on the back of your neck. Before you could even look, a shadow moved behind you, and the next thing you knew, a hand was on you, dragging you backward. You’d spun around, aiming to get the drop on him, but you barely managed a step before Ghost countered, deflecting every strike you threw. It was like hitting stone—unyielding, relentless. For every blow you threw, he responded faster and stronger.

You’d landed a few hits—felt the contact, heard his grunt—but it didn’t faze him for a second. Within minutes, you were pinned, arms behind your back, his grip ironclad. He didn’t even say a word, just hauled you up and marched you out, tossing your drive onto the floor like a discarded toy.

And now, here you are, lying in this cold, uncomfortable bed, running the event over in your head, wondering where exactly you went wrong.

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The following morning, Ghost knocks sharply on your door. When you open it, he sizes you up, noting your disheveled appearance. "Get changed," he commands, tossing a duffel bag at your feet, likely containing a fresh set of tactical gear in your size. "Mission briefing in fifteen minutes."

At the briefing, with everyone assembled on time, Ghost stands in front of a map, tracing a route over marked points as he speaks in a low, direct voice. “Alright, listen up. We’ve got a solid lead on Kozlov’s next location—a small compound just outside Grozny. Intel says he’s regrouping there with a skeleton crew. This isn’t one of his main bases, so we’re catching him at his most vulnerable.”

He glances around the room, making sure everyone’s focused. “We’re hitting hard and fast. The objective’s simple: we move in, locate Kozlov, and secure him. The area’s got minimal cover, but we’ll use the terrain to our advantage—come in from the east, using the tree line for our approach. Once we’re in, expect close-quarters combat. Kozlov’s men are few, but they’ll be armed to the teeth. Any questions?”

He pauses, scanning each face, his gaze briefly resting on you—a silent reminder of what’s at stake. “If we do this right, we’ll have Kozlov in cuffs by morning.”

As the briefing continues, your mind wanders to what comes next, once you’re out of SAS custody. You know that once this is over, things with Aegis won’t exactly be...friendly. They don’t take lightly to mercenaries who fumble, let alone those who end up in SAS hands. You’ll have to move fast, probably disappear, setting up somewhere under Aegis’s radar. Burn what few bridges you have left and start fresh—they don’t offer second chances to those who ‘compromise’ a job. Now, with the SAS using you as leverage, you’re as good as a loose end in their eyes.

Your gaze shifts back to Ghost, but he doesn’t notice, focused on the mission. To him, you’re just a tool—a temporary means to an end. Fine by me, you think. You just need to get through this. Once you’re free of their watch, it’ll be time to disappear.

As Ghost wraps up the briefing, Captain Price gives him a light tap on the shoulder, acknowledging a solid plan, then dismisses everyone. But Ghost’s gaze locks on you, silently signaling for you to stay behind.

When the others leave, he walks closer, standing tall over you. "What's on your mind?" he asks, his voice low and gruff, betraying none of the suspicion in his eyes. He noticed after all.

He leans forward, his gloved hands resting on the table, his presence imposing. He expects an answer, and he’s not accepting anything less than the truth.

You shift under his gaze, catching the intensity in his eyes. He’s watching too closely, looking for any sign of hesitation.

Your gaze drops to his shoulder, and you keep your tone casual. “It’s nothing,” you say, your expression unreadable. “Just keeping tabs on the mission, same as everyone else.” You shrug, crossing your arms, leaning back as if his scrutiny doesn’t faze you.

But the tension hangs thick, and his eyes stay on you, probing for cracks. He’s expecting something more, but you hold steady, giving him nothing. Just another merc playing the part—for now.

Ghost narrows his eyes, clearly not fooled. "Don’t play games with me. I don’t have the time or patience," he says firmly, a hint of a growl in his voice. "I’ve seen your type before—always thinking they’re smarter than the rest. But I promise you, testing my limits isn’t in your best interest." He leans in, his skull balaclava inches from your face. "I know you’re plotting something. If it’s against us, you’ll regret it." He straightens, his expression hard. Then, turning to leave, he issues his last command.

“Be ready in ten. We’re moving out.” He exits, casting one final, critical glance over his shoulder, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

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The night is thick with tension as you and the team approach the compound, faint lights flickering through the trees. You stick to the shadows, keeping a step ahead, while Ghost’s voice crackles in your ear, the only reminder you’re not alone. “Stay in formation,” he says in a clipped tone. “Just because you’re tagging along doesn’t mean you get to run off and play hero.”

You grit your teeth, ignoring his tone as you press forward. The plan is simple: sweep through, locate Kozlov, and secure him before he slips away. Gunfire erupts as the task force breaches the compound with their backup unit, everyone moving in sync while you keep to the edges, taking down guards with quick, silent strikes. But as the chaos unfolds, you catch sight of something—a narrow back stairwell leading out of the main area.

You slip through, already guessing where Kozlov is likely headed. If I’m right, I can cut him off before he even knows what hit him. You move quickly, your steps silent on the metal stairs, reaching the next floor and rounding a corner—only to nearly collide with Kozlov himself.

The second he sees you, he bolts, diving into the shadows. You raise your weapon, prepared to take him down. Ghost’s voice buzzes through the comms. “Report. Fall back to the main corridor.”

But you don’t listen; your focus is locked on Kozlov. He darts down a hallway, and you’re right on his heels, firing off a few shots that barely miss.

Suddenly, a strong hand clamps down on your shoulder, yanking you back. You spin around to meet Ghost’s glare, his jaw clenched in frustration. “You just couldn’t follow simple orders, could you?” His voice is ice-cold, and the disdain in his eyes is unmistakable.

You shrug off his grip, anger sparking. “If you’d just let me, we’d have Kozlov by now. I know his methods; he was one step ahead of your ‘perfect’ plan.”

“My plan doesn’t involve risking the mission for a mercenary who’s only here because she got caught.” His tone is biting, but before you can fire back, a gunshot echoes from the corridor ahead.

Both of you turn, watching as Kozlov slips through a hidden exit, vanishing into the night. Ghost swears under his breath, casting a look at you that’s a mix of anger and frustration. There’s no time to argue, and you both know it—but as Kozlov escapes, it’s clear Ghost won’t be letting this go anytime soon.

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The tension lingers all the way back to base, thick and unyielding. You can practically feel Ghost’s anger radiating as you step into the debriefing room. He barely waits for the door to close before he rounds on you, voice low and cutting.

“You just couldn’t stick to the bloody plan, could you?” he growls, his gaze cold. “You had one job—follow orders. But instead, you nearly compromised the entire mission. Kozlov slipped because of you.”

You cross your arms, not backing down. “Compromised the mission? I was the only one thinking on my feet. Your ‘perfect plan’ left Kozlov with an escape route I could’ve closed if you’d trusted me.”

“Trusted you?” He barks out a harsh laugh. “You’re here because you got caught, not because we need you. This isn’t a team exercise where you get a say. You don’t belong here—you’re only here out of mercy, and yet you keep acting like you know better than the people who do.”

Your jaw tightens, heat rising. “Unlike you, I’m not here for loyalty points, Ghost. You kept me because I know Kozlov’s methods. But when I try to use that knowledge, you shut me down.”

He steps closer, his voice dropping dangerously. “You think this is some mercenary gig where you’re the only one with skin in the game? Kozlov got away because you decided to act like a lone wolf. End of story.”

Your fists clench as you hold your ground. “Kozlov got away because you’re too caught up in hierarchy to recognize a good call when you see one. Face it, you’d rather let him slip than admit a merc might have a better idea than your so-called Task Force.”

Ghost’s jaw clenches as he glares at you, the air crackling with tension.

“You’re out of line,” he mutters, his voice low and full of warning. “Next time you pull something like that, I won’t bother hauling you back. You’ll be out there on your own—with nothing but Aegis breathing down your neck. Understood?”

You meet his glare, forcing yourself to stay steady. So he knows what fate awaits you after all of this. Of course he does. He's sharp.

“...Clear,” you reply, your voice cold. But you both know neither of you is letting this go.

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The morning drags on, with the wait for fresh intel on Kozlov stretching endlessly. Ghost’s words from last night still echo in your mind—“You’re here because you got caught, not because we need you.” As if you needed the reminder.

Stuck at the base with nowhere to go, you head to the training field. They won’t let you leave the perimeter, not while you're under their watch, so you decide to make use of the open space. You start running laps, each step an outlet for the irritation simmering inside.

The cold air bites, grounding you in the steady rhythm of your breath and the burn in your muscles. At least here, you don’t need anyone’s permission. A few passing soldiers give you curious looks, probably wondering why an “asset” like you is still around. But you push those thoughts aside, focusing on the field.

As you round another lap, you catch sight of Ghost by the railing, arms crossed, watching you with that unreadable gaze. You keep running, refusing to let his presence disrupt your focus. But it’s clear he’s not here just to watch. Eventually, you slow to a jog, then a walk, meeting his gaze with a silent, unspoken challenge.

“Working off last night’s steam?” he asks, tone sharp, as if testing you. There’s a hint of something else there—maybe curiosity, or that familiar Ghost-brand amusement.

You wipe sweat from your forehead, catching your breath. “Something like that. Figured I’d make use of the time since I’m not going anywhere.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t peg you as the type to sit around waiting for orders.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Not much of a choice, is there? Last time I did things my way, you made it crystal clear why I’m here—to do your dirty work and get out. I’m not wasting energy pretending otherwise.”

His expression hardens slightly. “As long as you’re under our watch, you follow our lead. Whether you like it or not.”

You glance away, jaw tight, staring out at the field. “Trust me, I’m not here for team-building, Ghost. I’m here because it’s the quickest way out of your custody.”

A flicker of something—irritation, maybe—crosses his face, but he holds his gaze steady. “Then don’t make it harder than it needs to be. Kozlov’s all that matters right now.”

You don’t respond, just push past him and keep running. He doesn’t need to say anything else; you both know you’re not about to play the compliant asset. And as long as that’s clear, you’ll do what you have to—your way.

The intel finally comes through a few hours later, and the team assembles in the briefing room. The air is tense, thick with the urgency that always hangs before a mission. Captain Price stands at the front, a holographic map flickering beside him, casting an eerie glow over the room.

He gestures to a marked point on the map. “We’ve got eyes on Kozlov. He’s holed up in a safehouse just outside Nizhny Novgorod. Remote location, minimal personnel—keeping it small to avoid detection. But make no mistake, he’s got backup on call, so we need to be fast and hit hard.”

He pauses, letting it sink in before nodding to Ghost, who steps forward to take over. Ghost navigates through the map. “We’ll split into two teams. Bravo will handle perimeter control, keeping his reinforcements at bay. Alpha goes in through the main entry.” His eyes flick briefly to you, his tone unyielding. “That’s you. You’ll breach with me and clear a path. Once inside, we secure Kozlov. No deviation, no solo heroics. Understood?”

He doesn’t wait for responses, focusing back on the map. “Timing is critical. We’re on a tight window, so the moment we hit the ground, we move. Any questions?”

The room is silent, everyone aware of the stakes. Ghost’s gaze lingers on you a second longer, reinforcing his unspoken warning. This time, you nod curtly, already running through the plan in your head. The sooner this is over, the sooner you’re one step closer to freedom.

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The mission starts smoothly enough. Under cover of darkness, the teams approach Kozlov’s safehouse on foot, moving quickly and keeping low. Bravo team takes position around the perimeter, silently eliminating the sparse guards posted on the outskirts, while Ghost, you, and a few others on Alpha team make your way toward the main entrance.

As planned, you breach the door and slip inside. Ghost signals for you to split up, both of you sweeping the narrow hallways and checking each room. It’s quiet—too quiet, almost like Kozlov is baiting you. Your instincts buzz with a sense that something’s off, but there’s no time to dwell on it.

You clear the first floor quickly, then move up the creaky staircase to the second. Ghost leads the way, moving with controlled urgency. As he rounds a corner toward a reinforced door at the end of the hall, it happens—an explosion. A tripwire, hidden under a loose floorboard, detonates. The blast rips through the hall, sending Ghost flying backward. He slams into the wall, dust and smoke filling the air.

“Ghost!” you shout, ducking for cover, the ringing in your ears nearly deafening. Through the haze, you see him slumped against the wall, struggling to stay conscious, blood trickling down his forehead.

A flicker of movement catches your eye—one of Kozlov’s men, sneaking up behind Ghost with a knife. Your heart races, instincts taking over as you spring forward. Drawing your own blade, you lunge at the attacker, catching him off guard. You manage to twist the knife from his grip before he can strike. With a swift, decisive shove, you send him sprawling, finishing him off with one clean motion.

Breathing hard, you crouch beside Ghost, gripping his shoulder firmly. “You good to move?” you ask, your voice sharp but steady. His eyes clear just enough to focus on you, and he manages a slight nod, though he’s visibly shaken.

He takes a shaky breath, forcing out a half-growl. “Didn’t think… you’d bother.”

You roll your eyes, slipping an arm under his to help him up. “Yeah, well, we’re not done here. Let’s get you out alive first—then we can argue about it.”

With Ghost steadying himself, you both push forward, weaving through the remaining chaos to regroup with the others. The safehouse is cleared shortly after, but Kozlov is nowhere to be found—it was a decoy. Not the outcome you wanted, but you’re both alive.

And, at least for now, Ghost owes you one.

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Back at the base, the adrenaline from the mission has faded, leaving an unsettling quiet in its wake. You step outside, seeking a moment of calm in the cool night air. The stars flicker above, but they do little to soothe the turmoil in your mind. You can’t shake the image of Ghost slumped against the wall, blood trailing down his face.

Leaning against the cold metal of the building, you’re lost in thought when you hear footsteps approaching. You look up to see Ghost walking toward you, his gait slightly uneven, a fresh bandage wrapped around his head. His gaze is sharp, unwavering, all business.

“You should be resting,” you say, trying to keep any lingering irritation from your tone.

He shrugs, a faint, almost mocking smile visible beneath his mask. “Rest doesn’t come easy. Figured I’d check on you after today’s fiasco.”

“Fiasco?” You raise an eyebrow. “You nearly got yourself killed out there, and I had to save your ass.”

“True.” He crosses his arms, something resembling respect flickering in his eyes. “But you acted out of turn. That wasn’t part of the plan.”

“And what was I supposed to do? Watch you get stabbed?” You shake your head. “I’m not just some disposable asset.”

“Right,” he says, his tone hardening. “You’re still a merc, and I’m not sure where you fit in all this. Just curious—what makes you tick?”

You narrow your eyes, thrown by his sudden interest. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, why do you do this? You didn’t get into this line of work for the glory. What’s your story?” He leans against the wall, studying you like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle.

You hesitate, debating how much to let him in. “Does it matter? You don’t see me as anything but a pawn.”

“Maybe.” There’s an edge of sincerity in his voice that surprises you. “But you saved my life today. I’d like to know who I’m working with.”

You cross your arms, defensive but resigned. “Fine. I got into this for survival, for the money. Aegis found me on the fringes, and I’ve been making my way through the chaos ever since.”

He nods, taking in your words. “And what happens when Aegis finds out you’re working with us? Think they’ll just let you walk away?”

You shrug, a bitter laugh slipping out. “If I don’t find a way out soon, I’ll be in deep trouble. But I’m not worried about their opinion. Life’s unpredictable; this is just how things ended up.”

He studies you for a long moment, the weight of his gaze intense. “I know you saved me today, but don’t expect any favors.”

“Trust me, Ghost, I won’t be asking for any,” you reply, a mix of defiance and resolve settling in your voice.

The silence stretches, the night air heavy with unspoken words. You know you’ll have to carve your own path, but this unexpected exchange has shifted something between you. As you look back at the stars, you can’t help but wonder where this uneasy alliance might lead.

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Author's Note: my upload schedule will likely be on weekends since I work full-time (rip). some updates might even come a few days earlier if I finish proofreading faster. hopefully, the first chapter has grabbed your attention! if you have any questions, feel free to submit them on my ask box, it’s always open!

[hey-august]

Stowaway

One year ago (on October 8) I started writing my first Buggy x Reader fic and shared it on Ao3.

I was overly ambitious by starting with a multi-chapter smut story when I hadn't written anything in years. Definitely no fanfiction since high school, which I graduated from in the early aughts.

I started because I had too many words in my head and needed to get some space back. (Jokes on me, there are still too many words in my head and all of them are for the clown.)

Anyways, cheers to Stowaway for letting me indulge in the fantasies, come back to a hobby that I enjoy more than ever, and for bringing me to this world and all of the wonderful people I've met! 🩷🩷🩷

Have some blabber director's commentary about that story (with spoilers obv):

This story was completely indulgent. Born out of an overactive imagination that kept reworking different scenes in my head and I was getting tired of playing with the same moments and had to write them down.

Specifically, the first spicy scene in the cell is one that drove me to all this.

I'm not sure I actually wrote any smut before this. Like a smutty filthy story... I read A LOT though. Lots of studying. So much.

Chapter 4 is one of my favorite things I've written. I think I have a thing for dry-humping. And masturbation in the shower. 🥰

Chapter 6 also has some personal faves. Sad clown + using knives as absentminded fidgets.

Also the conversation at the end of the Chapter 6 - it was more emotional than I expected.

You know what, as I'm skimming through the story right now, I'm really feeling like "who wrote this? it wasn't ME" lmao

I originally planned to have the story end with Chapter 7, but I was having so much fun and had a few more ideas I figured could fit. (Like the mango scene in a later chapter...)

BUT because I continued the story without much of an idea for a flimsy plot to push things forward, I was floundering.

The fight that Buggy and Reader have about what they want/how they see the future was what I came up with for plot, but, honestly, I still don't love how it came around.

Then again, I do love that it opened the door for a bit of angst and a cute date.

I remember feeling a bit bummed with how Chapter 8 was, but Chapter 9 made me feel like I was getting back in the grove. I was having fun putting Buggy in all sorts of situations.

Throughout the whole story that I wrote JUST FOR THE SMUT, I worried so hard about the plot lol, that's still something I struggle with.

I JUST FOUND A TYPO IN THE LAST CHAPTER, THAT'S MORTIFYING. GUESS THAT'S THE END OF THE DIRECTOR'S COMMENTARY. 😭

[milkpup]

｡⋆ʚ♡ like father, like son

›› chapter 5 ›› nsfw 18+ ongoing multi-chapter fic!

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ʚ ao3 ɞ / ʚ kofi ɞ / ʚ fic masterlist ɞ

›› toji fushiguro x reader ›› megumi fushiguro x reader ›› toji x reader x megumi (mfm) ›› 18+ f!reader ›› started: 12/6/23 : updated: 1/29/24 : status: ongoing

‹𝟹 summary: You and Megumi are best friends. You've known eachother for almost your whole life. His home has become your second home. As time passes and life happens, Megumi slowly develops feelings for you, even though he's unaware of it. To complicate things further, you're now living with him and his father, who has also taken a liking to you.

‹𝟹 fandom: jjk, jujutsu kaisen

‹𝟹 genres / warnings: au - no powers, college au, power imbalance, pseudo-incest (they both want y/n, nothing w/ eachother), dubious consent

‹𝟹 tags: good cop bad cop, fluff, smut, angst, toji has a big dick, dilf toji, toji is his own warning, toji tries to be a good parent, toji is an asshole, toji is trying okay?, daddy dom toji, daddy kink, porn with feelings, porn with plot, friends to lovers, spit / spitting, spit kink, spit as lube, breeding, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, double vaginal pen, double pen, anal, making out, making love, love triangles, praise kink, degradation, light masochism, light sadism, emotional sex, cuckolding, jealousy, jealousy kink, smoking, smoking kink, emotional manipulation, manipulation, polyamory?, father and son share you, protective megumi fushiguro, megumi needs a hug, megumi has a big dick, AGED UP CHARACTERS, dead dove: do not eat, finger sucking, large cock, cum swallowing, blow jobs, first time blow jobs, under desk blow jobs, fingerfucking, face sitting, face riding, 69, mutual masturbation, threesome mfm, lots of smut, loss of virginity

‹𝟹 notes: hi, sorry this took so long to update! i've had a lot going on lately, but i finally felt good enough to finish this chap! i tried to go for soft megumi but then eventually i couldn't help myself. sowwy x_x (im not sorry :3!) don't try so hard to imagine the positions, just go with it PLSSSS T_T LOL. for tumblr: i'm gonna start adding a section for tags. if y'all wanna be tagged in future updates on this fic or any of my stuff lmk!

&lt;;33

!! - again, PLEASE READ TAGS BEFORE CONTINUING - !!

! - ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+ - !

Chapter 5: Pink Carnations

--

“It’s already almost 5 in the afternoon… and there’s a storm forecasted? Why are they not home yet?” Megumi questioned as he anxiously paced back and forth in the living room. He was worried, not really about the guy who he’s supposed to call ‘father’, but about you. He would never admit it, but he counts the hours, minutes, seconds, moments even when you’re not together. He misses you but feels like he’s not allowed to miss your presence.

Yet… he does. He always does. And that’s why when he sees you come bursting through the front door, clothes soaked but laughing, he’s confused. He knows you hate getting your clothes wet, much less completely soaked through. So why are you in such a good mood? He doesn’t mind, and loves hearing your sweet laugh, but he’s confused, nonetheless. That is, until he sees Toji’s massive frame follow right behind you.

Megumi’s cheeks flare with jealousy, his face flush a crimson red. He stares right at you, loudly asking where you’ve been. He isn’t trying to be mean, but he is mad. “What took you so long in a storm like this? You know it’s dangerous to drive with streets flooded so badly like this.” He finishes, looking straight at Toji, staring daggers into him for even thinking of putting you in a dangerous situation.

“I’m a good driver. You don’t need to worry. And we took a while because we were busy.” Toji smirks slightly at the end of his sentence, moving across the foyer and setting his keys on the table.

You don’t want to feel the uncomfortable sensation of soaked clothes for any longer, so you silently slip out of the room and make your way towards the bathroom.

Toji being Toji, he’s watching every part of you until your silhouette disappears into the dimly lit hallway. He’s watching you like a predator stalks his prey. Megumi’s brows furrow as he feels anger and jealousy boiling beneath his skin. He starts walking up to his father, confronting him, “Why are you looking at her like that, and why are you spending so much time with her in general, you old bastard?” Megumi is practically in Toji’s face, eyes fierce and cheeks flared with anger.

Toji only smirks as he’s leaned against the wall, looking down at Megumi. “I mean, why wouldn’t I? She’s fucking hot, and so obedient. I would be a fool to not want her for myself.” His response almost sends Megumi into a blind rage. Megumi understands Toji most likely takes what he wants from you, sometimes aggressively, and he wants to protect you from that.

“You’re disgusting.” Megumi retorts, words laced with venom. “You make me sick.”

“You can’t deny it though. I’m right. And you know I’m right.” Toji responds before pushing off the wall and away from Megumi towards his own bathroom. Megumi rolls his eyes as Toji walks away, but somewhere deep down inside him- that he’s blind to and wouldn’t even admit to- agrees with Toji. And that’s what pisses him off the most. He feels as if he’s been thrown into a competition to “win” you, one that he is already losing at. Megumi is disgusted with himself at the idea of you being described in terms of a prize, but he also can’t resolve the fact that he wants you. It’s wrong and unfair how someone like Toji could get to you first; Toji doesn’t know you like I do. He doesn’t value you like I do. And thus, Megumi resolves to make you happy in a way no one else can.

--

A few days pass, and nothing really happens between anyone except sneaking glances and private thoughts.

Eventually, Megumi can’t take it anymore. He chooses a night where Toji is out working overnight “hustling’ or whatever the fuck he called it. He ordered your favorite food and went to pick it up, hoping you’d spend some time with him. Even a little bit. On the way home, he picked up a small bouquet of pink carnations- flowers that mean missing someone.

You get back home from your afternoon class shortly before Megumi pulls up in the driveway. You are just barely sitting on the couch before Megumi opens the door and enters, the sight of flowers and bags of food warming your heart. He makes his way towards the table, setting down the food, flowers still in hand, as you hastily get up and hug him.

“It smells amazing, Megs.” You say, holding him tightly. He thinks you’re talking about the food, but you’re most certainly talking about the intoxicating scent of him and his cologne. He smelled like what rainwater personified would smell like, comforting and refreshing.

“It’s gonna get cold, ___. And these are for you.” He finishes as he sheepishly hands you the flowers. You sit at the table, placing the flowers aside as Megumi looks for plates and silverware for you both.

“Thank you, Gumi.” You gently say as you’re taking containers out of bags and unpacking them. “It smells so good!! I can’t believe you remembered what kind of pasta I like.”

Megumi returns to the table, placing silverware and plates down. “You’re welcome. Of course I’d remember. How could I forget?” He’s sure he could see a faint blush creep on your cheeks, but you’re ultimately distracted by your craving for noodles. He chuckles at how you’re practically inhaling the food.

You both talk for a while about how classes have been, what stuff you’ve been watching, just mundane stuff that still shows how deeply interested he is. You know he remembers every detail, no matter how boring it may seem. He never forgets.

--

After finishing the wonderful food and cleaning up together, you’re both relaxing on the couch looking for something to watch together. Usually, you gravitate toward thriller or horror movies, but Megumi picks out some almost cringey – but still cute – romance anime about two people who meet at a convention for a game and fall for each other. It’s not your first choice, but it’s still cute.

Your legs are resting on Megumi’s lap, not moving as you both watch. Megumi is slow, almost cautious when he places a hand on your leg, just rubbing you. He wants to make sure any touch in general is fine as he takes his time, slowly moving up your legs and eventually reaching your thighs. You’re acutely aware of his agonizingly slow touch, but the wait almost makes it better. He’s not even watching whatever he put on, and you’re too caught in the sensations of his soft hands rubbing your inner thighs to even begin to pay attention to the show.

Megumi’s hands continue its ascent up your inner thighs, going painfully slow. He’s looking for any and all reactions he can get out of you, and the way your breath hitches as he gets closer – it drives him insane. The way you try to hide your blush across your cheeks with your arms, trying to look at anything else to save you some embarrassment…. He loves it.

His hand moves to the waistband of your shorts, tugging at them to show he wants to take them off. He hooks his fingers around the waistband and gently pulls them completely off before tossing them to the floor. Megumi’s eyes instantly lock on to your panties. “Fuck, ___... do you always get that wet?” He’s teasing you but also shocked, the underwear was soaked from just a little teasing. You must have really wanted him.

His fingers play with you, rubbing the outside of your underwear as he draws sweet moans from your mouth. He absolutely loves the taking his time, hearing every soft moan you squeak out every time he moves his finger.  He pulls your panties to the side, not even bothering to take them off as his long, slender finger slips past your folds. Just as quickly as it appeared, he pulled his finger back to his mouth, tasting a bit of your slick. “You taste so good, baby. Oh my god.” He purrs as he brings another finger back to your cunt, this time pushing into you.

“Fuck, Gumi…”

He fucks you with a single finger as he expertly rearranges you on the couch, one leg hanging off with him in between. He slips another finger inside your tight hole as he brings his mouth to your cunt, flicking his tongue around your clit. The whimpers and pants you make only serve to make Megumi feel like a man starved. Eventually he slips his fingers out, much to your annoyance, and replaces it with his tongue. He’s eating you like a man having his last meal. He wastes no time in tasting every part he can reaching, fucking your cunt with his tongue. His hand creeps back up to your clit, thumb gently circling it as he continues eating you out.

He comes back up for air and inserts his fingers again, fucking you in a rhythm matching his thumb on your clit. You can feel yourself approaching that edge, the knot in your stomach tightening as Megumi stretches your cunt with just his fingers. He adds another finger, stuffing you full of his fingers as his thumb continues its assault on your clit. “You’re such a good girl for me, huh? Did you miss me, baby?”

Your eyes widen as he praises you, feeling yourself reach your limit and cum over his fingers. You make quite the mess over his arms and the couch. “I guess that’s a yes, isn’t it princess?”

He pulls his fingers out of you and reaches for the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling them down. There’s a noticeable small wet spot on his boxers, he was definitely hard and leaking at just teasing you. As much as he loves your mouth, he absolutely wants your already fucked out hole.

He picks you up and turns you over so you’re on your knees, hands on the back of the couch. Megumi aligns himself behind you, gently pushing his throbbing cock into your soaked hole. Your panties are still pushed to the side, creating a lewd sight Megumi hadn’t even anticipated as he watched your cunt swallow his cock.

Your upper body was pushed against the side of the couch, with your knees spread apart and ass in the air. Megumi bottomed out his cock inside your tight hole, pushing against you fully. “You’re such a good girl. Holy fuck.” Megumi wasted no time in picking up speed, developing a comfortable pace. You moan in tandem with his thrusts, turning him on even more. He wants to be gentle with you, but you were taking his dick like a bitch in heat, and he couldn’t be more thrilled about it.

He spanks your ass as he slams his thick cock into you, and you tighten around him in response. He doesn’t realize it now, but soon will understand how masochistic you really are. He slaps your ass, creating red marks all over it to mark his presence. “You’re a dirty girl, aren’t you? You like being fucked like a whore?” He asks as he thrusts into you, hitting your g-spot. “Answer me, princess. Are you a disgusting whore?”

He gives you almost no time to respond as his hand snakes up your back, reaching your head and grabbing fistfuls of hair to pull you back with. “Yes sir, I am” You barely manage to squeak out as you feel yourself being fucked silly, close to cumming again.

“You’re what? Answer me clearly, darling.” He coos as he tugs at your hair, pulling you back against him.

“I’m a dirty whore-ah” You yelp out as he pulls on your hair. You can feel the warmth of his body on your back, as you feel another hand make its way around your neck.

“Good girl.” Megumi purrs out. He is picking up the pace now, as his grip around your neck gently tightens. He’s thrusting into you with ferocity he didn’t know existed, abusing your tight cunt.

You feel yourself getting dizzy while Megumi keeps drilling into your cunt. He releases his grip on your throat, allowing you to gasp for air as he pushes you down against the couch. His hands grip you at your waist, giving him a better holding on you to fuck you harder. He groans as he feels himself getting close.

His cock slams into your g-spot again, as he nears his edge. “I’m close, baby. Be a good girl and come with me, yeah?” You can feel his cock starting to twitch inside your cunt as he continues his relentless assault on your sensitive spot, feeling that knot snap in your belly as you tighten around his cock. The moment you cum, it sends Megumi over the edge, and you feel his warm cum filling your womb. He slips his cock out as he pulls your panties back over your cunt. “Keep this on for a while, sweetheart.” He says as you start to roll over. He leans down and kisses your forehead, while caressing your cheek.

“That was amazing, ____. You were amazing.” He praises as he sits on the couch, pulling you into an embrace as you sit on his lap. Your head rests in the crook of his neck and you can smell that familiar, fresh scent. It smells like home.

“Thank you, Gumi.”

--

‹𝟹 notes: i don't think there are going to be many more chaps for this fic soon. maybe 2 more at most idk. i dont rly know what i wanna do going forward, so i gotta keep it cookin in my brain for a lil more i guess lol. if y'all have suggestions i am ALWAYYYYYYS open for them! getting comments on my fic literally gives me so much serotonin u dont even understand lol

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‹𝟹 notifs: @vvxxccaa @arylaa @starshipxoxo @rzcnlb

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(･ω･)つ divider creds to @/cafekitsune and @/eloquentreverie

[lupinmoonlight]

First Morning Together

Masterlist AO3

Summary - An interlude to Domestic Bliss. After graduating from Hogwarts, you and Remus move into a cozy little cottage in Hogsmeade. Your first morning together results in steamy spoon fucking (879 words).

Warnings - age gap, spooning, smut, impregnation kink if you squint, my grammar, not proof-read.

Notes - I don't know what this is and I kinda hate it. I was longing for something domestic but also smut without plot so there it is. I know I have several requests in my inbox but I have had some serious writer's block. I will get to them as soon as I can! I am also planning out a multi-chapters fic with possibly my first ever OC. Let me know if that is something of interest :)

You still had to remind Remus that you were not his student anymore, that it was ok to touch you, to hold your hand, to have you. You were his now, after all. You had been his for a long time already, only now you didn't have to hide it from the world. 

Yet, he was still so careful around you. There was still this lingering guilt behind every touch, as if he was afraid to corrupt you. The truth was that you were corrupted ever since you laid your eyes on him for the first time 3 years ago. And that corruption had led you to this cozy little cottage nestled on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, sleeping next to the love of your life for the first time. 

That love of your life had been awake for a while already, savouring the intimacy of the moment, of having you all curled up against him, fitting so perfectly into the curve of his waist as if you were made for him alone. 

Your favourite thing was to feign innocence with him, to pretend you were not aware of the effect you had on him. But you knew exactly what you were doing and now, in your first morning together, you could feel the unmistakable hardness pressing against your backside as he was spooning you yet you pretended to be asleep, subtly grinding your butt against him. 

He groaned and tried to put some distance between the two of you, not wanting to make you uncomfortable, but your body instinctively sought out the contact, pressing yourself back against him.

"Y/N...I'm sorry. I should-" he started stuttering. 

"Don't apologize, Professor," you said, turning your head slightly to give him a mischievous smile. 

His body betrayed him at the sound of his title on your lips, his length twitching with arousal against you. One of his hands found its way down to your hip, pulling you more firmly against him, causing you to gasp. You were not used to this type of assertiveness with him; he was always so careful, so gentle. But now, in the intimate confines of your shared cottage, his resolve was crumbling and he was hungry, starved. 

In a swift motion, he slid your panties down just enough so that the cool air of the morning kissed over you bare bottom, making you shiver. His erection was painfully hard now. He freed himself from his boxers and slid between your cheeks as his lips found your shoulder, his breath ghosting over your skin. 

"Fuck..." he let out as he started grinding himself against you in a torturous pace. 

"Remus...Please," you whimpered, arching your back in a desperate plea for him to be inside you. 

You could feel his lips form into a smirk against your skin; he loved having you all needy and begging. Except now there was no time for teasing. He wanted you, needed you. He aligned his length with your entrance and slowly, oh so slowly, he pushed inside of you, his arms keeping you firmly against him. 

The tightness of your body threatened to undo him right then and there and he stilled for a moment in a futile attempt to control himself. 

"God...you feel good," he whispered as he found his rhythm, thrusting slowly but steadily into your welcoming heat. Your soft moans and whimpers did nothing to help him stay in control, his breathing becoming ragged. 

He increased the force of his pace as his hand travelled down to your core, the tip of his finger teasing over your sensitive bud. You arched your back, pushing your hips forward in a silent plea for more contact and you moaned and he gave into what you wanted, that sweet friction bringing you closer and closer to the edge. 

It only took a few strokes for your climax to hit you, your entire body tensing up as you gave in to the pleasure. Remus growled as he felt you clench around him, and any ounce of restraint he had was gone. He gripped your waist, anchoring himself to you as his hips drove into you relentlessly. 

"I'm close," he panted. 

"Please...fill me up. I want to feel you inside me," you begged. 

His thrusts became unsteady as he approached his climax, his grip on you almost painful. "Ah...fuck. You're going to make me come," he practically growled.

With one final powerful thrust, he felt the familiar explosion of pleasure erupting from him as he came inside your tight hold. His hips continued to grind against you as he pumped you with his seed before finally coming to a still. 

You could feel his chest heaving against your back, his length still pulsing as he was nestled deep within you. His hand came to rest on your belly as he imagined vividly how beautiful you would look with his child growing inside you. 

He pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder and whispered "I love you" against your skin, pulling you closer to him, your bodies still intimately connected. 

"This is how I want every morning to be from now on," you said with a hint of a smile in your voice. 

"You know I can never refuse anything to the love of my life." 

[mcufan72]

Hello everyone!

After writer's block and some changes in my life (mostly good ones), I'm finally able to write again. I can't believe that the last lines I wrote for my Loki fics were in July/August 2023. Unbelievable.

Here is my new multi-part fic!

It's a modern AU, I will use MCU characters and facts incorrectly and Loki will be as I want him to be. The Multiverse is open and I do what I want. Those who have read my other stuff know what I mean. So if you don't like it, don't read it. This story will contain morally grey stuff (or not, I don't know. What exactly is morally grey? But nothing too bad happens here or without consent. It's still a love story), fluff, angst and eventually smut…so 18+ only, please!

I also use random names/characters, they have nothing to do with the MCU, they're a product of my fantasy. They are inspired by real-life people and also the plot might be inspired by real-life experiences (not every part of the plot, please keep that in mind). So please don't steal my stuff, use your own experiences and let them inspire you. I also did some research but without a guarantee of completeness and accuracy.

Here is the first chapter of my new fic. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. 💚

Sugar and Cinnamon

Loki x female reader / 18+

Chapter 1

Preview here

Warnings: none so far, contains fluff, angst, and smut (eventually), it's a slow-burn love story.

“I leave."

"Yeah, good. Go home and get some rest. I don't know when I'll be back. Might be late. “

“That's not what I meant.”

“Then explain.”

“I leave the company…and you!”

“It's just a phase, darling. Take a few days off and then everything will be fine again.”

“You really don't get it, do you? It's not a phase.”

“No one screws things up with me! Not even you! ...you have six months.”

3 months later

Damn! Just damn! You were late, like always. You were permanently struggling with keeping places in time and today it wasn't any different. It was pouring rain since you had left your apartment and you were nearly completely drenched from head to toe and of course, you had forgotten your umbrella. The only protection from the rain was the high collar and the hood of your coat. You hurried through the streets of Manhattan, melding into the people who crowded the sidewalks. The city's smells and noises were engulfing you, uncountable different languages and accents were hitting your ears. On every street corner was music, played by street entertainers who tried to grab some money from the people passing by. Car horns were honking, and brakes were squeaking, the sirens of ambulances or police cars drowning out any other sounds. The whole city was buzzing and glowing, a permanent noise filling ears and streets, echoing between amazing skyscrapers. But you loved it, this was your hometown and you have been living here for five years now. You wouldn't stay here forever, surely not, but for now you would stay.

On your way to your appointment this afternoon you accidentally bumped into someone because you held your head down to keep the rain away from your face. “Hey, watch it, girl!” a manly voice scolded you. You apologized with a hasty: “Sorry”, and continued your way unimpressed. Somehow you managed to cruise fluently through the masses of people and cars and reached the building you wanted to go to right in time. You passed the doorman, who gave you a friendly smile, and the security men in their black suits in the reception area, who greeted you with a short nod. They looked much too good for your liking but you couldn't deny your attraction to tall men with broad shoulders in black suits. You had a soft spot for this kind of man. The rainwater that was dripping from your coat was wetting the floor of the entrance hall and with an apologetic shoulder shrug and a heartwarming smile on your face towards the security men, you headed for the lift.

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

How much Loki hated the weather today. Fortunately, he had his umbrella with him so he was protected from heaven's water. The pouring rain, the crowded sidewalks and streets, the deafening noise. He was living here in New York for over twelve years now but it seemed to some things he would never get used to. He surely wouldn't stay here forever but for now, he still had to. Normally he wouldn't go out on the streets when it was raining like this. No one would go out voluntarily in such weather. But he got a call from a negotiating partner, who asked him to meet him at a café in the early afternoon to inform him about a few details. And some conversations were better made personally than by phone. The meeting wasn't a long one and his conversation partner Mr.Miller had already left but Loki was still sitting in the café, sipping on his espresso. “Damn it!”, he murmured under his breath, annoyed about what Mr. Miller had asked of him.

Mr. Miller was an extremely old-fashioned, elderly man and he told Loki for his next event, a business dinner, he would like to see him with a female companion. Every other guest would bring their significant others too, there wouldn't be just the dinner, there would also be some dancing afterwards and how sad it would be if he were there alone.

“Please, bring your significant other, too. I don't accept a no!” Mr. Miller insisted.

Loki knew exactly when it was better to not discuss a negotiation partner's wishes and so he agreed. Sometimes you have to make concessions if you want something to be successful. Now a solution had to be found. Loki didn't have any female friend he could take with him on such a date. It must be someone trustworthy, someone who could be silent as a grave, someone who could keep secrets. In the best case, someone who did it professionally. He would never ask any of his former affairs, not to talk about that his last affair was some time ago. He pulled out his mobile phone and did some research. Over the years he'd learned to appreciate his phone as a daily companion. Using apps on your mobile phone made your life easier and finding a solution for nearly every problem was easier with it as well.

Shortly after starting scrolling through several websites, he found it. The solution to his problem ‘how to attend a date with a female companion’: an escort agency. Professionally escorted by a well-educated woman, intelligent, sophisticated and with perfect manners, professionally obliged to keep silent. That was it, the ultimate solution to his problem. Of course, he had to meet the woman he wanted to book for that upcoming event, first. He had to ensure that she was the right one and if she was suitable for such an event. He had no other choice so he gave it a try. He called the agency he had chosen and described what he wanted and what was required in every detail to the polite and friendly lady he was talking to. It sounded like she was smiling on the other end of the phone and it gave him the good feeling of having made the right decision.

“Okay, Sir. I'm pretty sure I already have the right lady for you. Have you heard of the ‘Vivian's Velvet’ nightclub?”

“Yes, I did."

“Fine. Then you'll meet her there at the bar at 8 pm sharp. She'll be waiting there for you.”

“How will I recognise her? I mean…”

“She'll know who you are. Please send me a photo of you and then I can forward the image to her. Please don't get me wrong, Sir but we handle it this way because we want to guarantee our ladies a way out in case they want to refuse a meeting for whatever reason and at any time. Even if they are already at the nightclub. It's for the safety of our ladies. I hope you understand.”

“I do. It's what your ladies deserve and I respect that.”

“I'm glad to hear that, Sir. Thank you for understanding. Would you please give me your name so our lady can address you correctly?”

Loki hesitated for a second. In his business sometimes it was advantageous to use an alias and he would hold on to this tradition here.

“My name is Luke Larsson.”

“Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Larsson. If you have any questions or if the lady I've chosen for you is not for your liking, please don't hesitate and let me know. I'll look for a new lady for you then. We aim to satisfy you completely at any time. And please don't forget to send me your photo, Mr. Larsson.”

“I'll send it immediately.”

“Of course, Mr. Larsson and I wish you an enjoyable evening. Thank you for choosing and calling us. Goodbye, Sir.”

“Goodbye, Ma'am and thank you for your excellent service.”

“You're welcome” and with that, the call ended.

He did what was required of him and he sent the agency a photo of himself. To book a lady at an escort agency was an expensive matter but money was no object. He had called the best escort agency in the city and only the best was what he needed.

He paid his bill and left the café. The streets were still crowded, rain was still flooding the streets and slightly ruining his leather shoes and his slacks. On his way back home a hood-wearing person with a lowered head, drenching wet from the rain, bumped into him. Why couldn't people watch their way, he thought angrily.

“Hey, watch it, girl!“ he scolded. He wasn't sure if it was a woman, he just assumed it. He barely heard the apology of the person and he immediately regretted his harsh words. He turned around to apologize as well. But the person who ran into him had almost completely disappeared in the crowd. He could just catch a short glimpse of the shoes the person was wearing. ‘Nice colour’, he thought and disappeared into the crowd himself. In a few hours, he would meet the escort lady who probably would accompany him to his next business dinner.

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

With a ping, the lift's door opened on the 25th floor where the agency had its office. The word REA was written in large, finely curved golden letters on the big white, opaque glass door, right above the golden door knob. REA was the acronym for Rhea's Escort Agency and you had to ring a doorbell to get in. The interior was simple but very elegant, bright and inviting at the same time. Smooth jazz music played in the background and created a comfortable atmosphere. A large white leather couch was invitingly positioned close to the floor-to-ceiling windows, framed by exotic green plants and a coffee table. Behind the front desk sat Rhea, the owner of the agency, on the phone, talking to one of the other escorts. She beckoned you with her hand getting over to her. After you approached her desk, she opened her mouth with a soundless dismay when she saw you in your dripping wet state. You could just smile at her with a shoulder shrug. You took off your drenched coat and hung it on the coat rack. Shortly after, she ended the call and rounded her desk to hug you.

“Jeez, girl…look at you. What happened , dear? Did you take a swim and forgot your towel?”

“Kind of.” you answered and laughed.

“Sit down, lovely. You must be freezing. I'll get you a towel and a hot drink. Some Tea?”

“Yes, I'd fancy a cuppa“, you said with a sigh of relief and you were glad to drink something warm now and to dry the front part of your hair with a towel.

“Here, darling “, Rhea said when she came back from the restroom and kitchenette which were both located at the back of the office, invisible to clients.

“That's much needed now, thanks, Rhea. You're my saviour.“ you answered with a thankful smile and took a sip of your tea before you began to dry your hair. You immediately felt much better. Rhea sat down again in her chair opposite you and opened the appointment calendar on her laptop.

“I'm glad that you made it to the office, y/n. The weather is really horrible today but I needed to see you personally.”

“Did something happen? Did a client complain? “ you asked concernedly. You hoped not, you needed this job and you always gave your best.

“No no, don't worry, darling. Everything is fine and that's what I wanted to tell you. Every client you have escorted so far has been happy and satisfied. You're booked up for this week except for the weekend, as you wished. So based on your successful dating and our clients’ satisfaction, I can offer you a higher hourly rate.”

“Oh, really? Oh thank you so much, Rhea, that really means a lot to me. I need every dollar I can earn.” You meant it, it was the undeniable truth.

“I know, dear and you know you could increase your income further by being booked for the weekends as well.” Rhea reminded you.

“Yeah, I know but I need the weekends for personal matters. Those are important too, I'm sorry.”

“Don't be sorry. Your personal matters are surely important and I know it's none of my business. But please let me know whenever I can do something for you, okay?” she said softly.

“No one can help me, I'm afraid. But thank you for your kind offer, I appreciate it,” you replied, well aware regardless of how much you'd work, even if you worked 24/7 you still wouldn't earn enough money to solve your problems. But you had to try and that was what kept you going.

“Okay…so…are you spontaneous, dear?” Rhea asked you while looking for her work mobile phone on her desk.

“Ahmm…yes”, you answered hesitantly.

“Good, because I got a request 30 minutes ago and already made an appointment …and based on the requirements of our potential new client I think you perfectly fit him.”

“Okay, where will I meet him and when?”

“At 8 pm sharp at ‘Vivian's Velvet’. Walker will drive you like always. It is more a casual meeting with our client to get to know each other so please dress appropriately but not too chic. Classy will do…a black cocktail dress would be fine.”

“Yeah, no problem. How does he look like and what's his name?”

“Waaaiiit…ah now…sent you a photo “, Rhea explained and a second later your phone vibrated with an incoming message.

“He's eye candy, a jackpot, a real cherry on top, the icing on the cake…and his voice…he could read the phone book to me. But the most important thing, he sounded nice. Maybe a bit arrogant but nice.” Rhea gushed.

“A jackpot you say? Let me see…” and with these words on your lips, you opened the file. You nearly dropped your phone. Black mid-length curly hair, a beautiful blade of a nose, a chiselled jaw, prominent cheekbones and a mouth you just wanted to kiss. But the most impressive were his piercing blue eyes which seemed to look deep into your soul.

“Wow” was the only thing you were able to say.

“I told you” Rhea laughed, fully getting your reaction towards the beauty of this man. “His name is Luke Larsson. I'm sure you won't miss him.”

“Absolutely not. How could someone miss this handsome man? Luke Larsson…is he Norwegian? “

“I don't know…his accent sounded more British. So you're willing to meet him? “

“Oh yes, I'm looking forward to it. I'll be at ‘Vivian's' at 7.30 pm so I can wait for him there.” you confirmed.

“Fine, dear. He booked you for two hours. When I get the drinks bill from the bar, your hourly rate and your share of the drinks will be transferred to your bank account…as usual. Enjoy the evening, dear. And tell me how it went, okay?” Rhea asked you.

“Of course, I'll let you know.”

After this enjoyable talk, you headed back home quickly. You had less than two hours left to get prepared for the meeting with Mr. Luke Larsson.

In less than 20 minutes Walker would arrive at your apartment to drive you to ‘Vivian's Velvet ‘. Walker was your chauffeur and was responsible for driving you safely to a dating location and back home again afterwards. In case you would spend intimate hours with a client, he would wait in front of the hotel. For your safety and to drive you home after the intimate encounter. Walker was 56 years old, a rock of a man with a buzz cut and a beard. He was an imposing figure, always dressed in a formal suit. But he had a heart of gold and you always felt safe when he was around. Knowing he was always close by when you had an appointment with a man, made you feel even safer. You knew he had a soft spot for you and he would always be there for you, no matter what. Somehow you were like a daughter to him but if you were his daughter he would never allow you to work as an escort.

You were almost ready. You were wearing a simple but elegant black, midi cocktail dress with sleeves in black lace and black high heels. With your hair parted in the middle and pulled back into a sleek tight bun, which sat deep in your neck, you created an illusion of long straight hair. You grabbed your purse from the wardrobe and after a final inspection of your appearance in your large mirror, you left your apartment.

“Good evening, y/n. You look wonderful tonight “. Walker was waiting for you in front of your house and opened the door of the black limousine with tinted windows for you and you let yourself slide into the backseat of the car.

“Thank you, Walker and good evening.“ you replied with a smile on your lips.

Walker closed the door, entered the driver's seat and drove you to ‘Vivian's Velvet’. It was one of the most exclusive and most expensive nightclubs in Manhattan with a luxurious interior in black and purple.

It was close to 8 pm and you were waiting for your date. You were excited about how he would be if he really looked that good and if you would fit his expectations. You ordered a glass of champagne to calm down your nerves a little bit but it would be your only drink tonight. As always, because you must remain in control of your senses. It was a golden rule. The men you dated were supposed to drink alcohol, lots of it, not you. It brought additional money to the hourly rate of an escort. The more they drank the more you got. The only thing that brought the most additional money was having sex with them. But it wasn't a must and you weren't interested, not in the slightest. But the day might come when you had no other choice and maybe one day you would feel a carnal desire again that needed to be satisfied. But you wouldn't do it with everyone. It had to be a special man with a special aura and he must give you kind of a feeling that you were safe with him.

A few minutes later, at 8 pm sharp, you felt someone standing behind and then next to you. A hint of a delicious scent hit your nostrils and a sizzling energy filled the air, making your skin tingle.

***********

When Loki entered the nightclub, there were already four women sitting at the bar, their backs turned towards him. Two of them were in the company of a man, two were sitting there alone so one of them was supposed to be his date, he assumed. Because he didn't know what the woman he had booked looked like, he went over to the bar and ordered a drink, the most expensive Scottish whisky the club had to offer. Next to him to his right side sat a woman on a stool, dressed in an elegant black cocktail dress and black high heels, her hair in a tight hair bun. For now, she ignored him and he wasn't sure if she was his date or not. She looked stunning as far as he could see it. He didn't want to stare at her. But he hoped she was the woman he had an appointment with. She was very lovely to look at. In the corner of his eyes, he saw her sipping at her glass of champagne.

“Good evening, Mr.Larsson. Nice to meet you,” you addressed him with a calm, velvety voice and smiled at him.

“Good evening, Miss… I'm sorry but I don't know your name yet,” he answered softly but dryly.

“How would you like to call me, Mr. Larsson?” You asked him mischievously, a smile curving your lips.

“I don't think I am in the position to give you a name.”

“You're very polite and well-mannered, aren't you?”

You had difficulties maintaining your facade. He looked extremely good in that photo but in reality, this man was beyond beautiful. Inky black hair you wanted to rake your fingers through, broad shoulders, lean muscles, slender waist and endless long legs. All of this gorgeousness was wrapped in an exquisite black suit and a crisp white shirt, the top three buttons undone. You could see a hint of his chest hair which peaked out of the V of his shirt. You felt your mouth watering. He was devastatingly sexy. Now that he was reassured that you were his date he moved a little closer to you. His smell was enchanting. An indescribable mixture of fresh cotton, sandalwood, orange blossom and something spicy you weren't able to specify.

The way he leaned against the bar, his big veiny hand with long, perfectly manicured fingers holding the whisky tumbler, his other hand in his trouser pocket, had something indecent about it. You wanted to rip his shirt open and watch the buttons scatter down to the floor. You should better stop salivating over him and begin entertaining him. That was your job and he was the client you had to convince of you because you wanted him to book your service. You had to focus on your job.

“What kind of escort service do you need from me? How can I be of help?”, you asked him kindly.

He took a sip of his whisky and you of your champagne before he gave you an answer, making eye contact with you and holding your gaze. It made you inwardly shiver.

“I need a companion who escorts me regularly to functions. I'm not interested in flirting with you. I need someone I can have an actual conversation with. Nothing annoys me more than some people and their boring talk. It also should be someone who is discreet and can keep secrets. Someone who doesn't want more afterwards,” he explained, his voice dark and raspy.

“Even if you would want more afterwards I won't give it to you. I'm an escort, not a luxury call girl. I just offer you simple accompaniment, nothing more and nothing less,” you stated kindly but firmly. Good-looking or not, you would never give him the chance to get between your legs.

“I'm well aware of that, Miss”, he replied dryly. “You're an escort lady and this is what I want and what I need. And don't worry, I don't believe in love or anything related to it!”

Loki took a sip of his whisky, his gaze still fixed on you. How pretty you were. Your big bright eyes, your cute nose and your rosy lips were just perfect. Your body was perfectly hugged by your black cocktail dress and your legs with those beautiful high heels at your feet were tempting and he suddenly thought about how good it must feel if they were wrapped around his waist. Loki quickly pushed that thought aside. He wasn't here to live out his lust with you. Also, his past was dark and blood-drenched. And you definitely deserved a better man than him. Regardless of his indecent thoughts, he liked your attitude and your behaviour. A little bit of sassiness, a lot of passion and somewhere hidden deep inside of you, vulnerability and a kind of sadness. Now that he has gotten to know you he wondered how and why you had ended up in the escort agency. You didn't seem to belong there.

“Me neither, Mr. Larsson! I'm glad we see it the same way. I've sworn off men entirely. I'm not interested in a love affair with you.”

“Well, I guess we got a deal, then.”

“Absolutely, Mr. Larsson, we got a deal”.

You smiled at him and you took another sip of your champagne. He gave you clearly and precisely all the information you needed to know so you could get an idea of the business dinner he wanted you to escort him to and you agreed with the conditions. Time flew by so quickly and before you even knew it your appointment with him was over.

“So we'll meet next week? “ Loki asked you.

“Of course, Mr Larsson. Call the agency and make the appointment. It was a pleasure to meet you. I'm glad that I could satisfy you and I'm pleased that I meet your expectations “. You smiled brightly at him. You were still captivated by his incredible aura.

“The pleasure is all mine. But there's one last thing…” You looked quizzically at him.

“I still don't know your name. What should I call you? “

“Sugar. You can call me Sugar.”

🌹🥂🌃🌹🥂🌃🌹🥂🌃🌹🥂🌃🌹🥂🌃

Taglist: (please let me know if you want to be added or removed)

@lokisprettygirl @fictive-sl0th @stupidthoughtsinwriting @fandxmslxt69 @chantsdemarins @justjoanne242 @lovingchoices14 @huntress-artemiss @smolvenger @lokixryss @anukulee @wheredafandomat

[thekidsralright]

a love worth fighting for.

pairing: abby anderson x f!reader

synopsis: anderson is the name on everybody's lips when it comes to discussing the newest up-and-coming boxers of the season. with the help of her coach and you by her side, she's going for the world title. but what will she have to sacrifice to get there?

an: so, it's finally here. this is a big one for me folks - i'd go as far as to say the biggest fic i've ever worked on. ever. i'd love for this to be multi chapter, but that depends on the reception part 1 receives. if you like it, please reblog and let me know your thoughts. i'm proud of this, so be kind with your comments x

warnings: 18+ mdni. violence, swearing, references to smut (despite this chap not having any super explicit content, if i decide to continue this fic there will defo be heavy smut in the next upload - so don't even bother reading the first part if you're not of age).

The MC’s voice reverberates throughout the stadium, drowning out the cacophony of cheers, boos, and overarching buzz from the crowd. You could never predict who they would back until the night, usually finding that boxing fans are easily swayed depending on who gets the first punch in. You were hoping all support would be directed at her tonight, god she needed it. Trying to maintain a positive attitude is hard when your girlfriend's opponent is making his way into the ring, his impressive height and wide, muscular shoulders towering leagues above his teams; arms raised, working the crowd and hyping them up in anticipation for the fight to come. They’re already eating out of his hands, the bastards.

“Ladieeees and Gentlemaaan! Welcome to the main event. In the blue corner, weighing in at 188 pounds, undefeated in 48 fights; he needs no introduction folks - it’s the man, the beast, Zach ‘Thunderstorm’ Norriiiiiis!”

The crowd roars in excitement, slapping their hands together and pumping their fists in the air. Zach is one of the nation's favourites, as any undefeated boxer would be. The nickname ‘Thunderstorm’ came from the sound his opponent’s bodies would make when they hit the canvas, like the crack of lightning. You look ahead with a neutral expression, keeping your eyes focused on the empty archway ahead of you - trying not to zero in on just how big his arms were. How they could crush someone's airways, smash apart their ribs, do irreplaceable damage.

You inherently hated what your girl did as a profession, hated the way she put herself in harm's way time after time after time. But there was also a part of you that admired her for it, for the unbreakable determination that radiated from her - if she got beaten down, she would get right back up and come at you even harder. It’s what kept forcing you to show up. That, and also the tiny factor of being absolutely in love with the woman. But when she got hurt, which seemed to be every other day lately, you really wanted to grab a hold of her fucking head and shake the-

“Aaaaand coming into the red corner, Thunderstorm’s opponent, weighing in at 175 pounds. She hails from Salt Lake City, and is rising through the ranks quickly. With 30 wins, 24 of them coming by way of knockout, give it up for the new kid on the block -  it’s Abbyyyyyy Andersooooon!”

And here she comes, bowling out of that archway with Coach right on her tails; the hood of her red robe covering her plaited hair, matching red gloves already fastened and ready. Even from where you were waiting by the stalls, you could see the all-too-familiar expression that befalls her face before every fight. Eyes so dark they look black, focused, unwavering; brimming with unshed aggression that are preparing for the violence that is about to ensue. 

Frightening. Arousing. Another reason you’re still with her.

Abby ducks under the ropes of the ring, bouncing on her feet as she grounds herself on the canvas before moving over to her corner where Coach is now waiting. As you rush up to them, Coach gives you the look he always does before a fight - the type that screams, ‘you shouldn’t be here, girl.’ He thinks you’re a distraction, an irritating fly he’d rather swat away so he can make sure his prized money maker has the best chance at winning. You weren’t giving in that easily. Coach could go to hell for all you cared; you knew his real motivations when it came to all of this. Abby may regard him like a father, but you saw him for what he really was. A leech.

Coach shouts up into Abby’s ear, her head bent in concentration - “He’s a fucking showman. That, and a bit of muscle. You know you got the upper hand tactically; he has no fucking clue what’s about to hit him. Just stay focused Anderson, and this bout is yours.”

Abby nods resolutely, eyes trained on the canvas as she rolls her shoulders back and cracks her neck. Coach’s hands come up to grip the ropes between them.

“You gotta win this champ, you can win this. Just don’t. get. distracted.”

Both Coach’s and Abby’s eyes turn to you at the same time as you offer up a reassuring smile to your girlfriend, also now clutching at the ropes that separate you.

“You got this babe.”

She nods quickly and gives a tight smile, but you can tell from the tense line of her shoulders that she’s stressing out. Yes she’s fought before, but it was never on this big of a scale. Never against opponents like him. It was what Coach insisted was the next step –

“You wanna face off a load of wimps Anderson? Or do you wanna make it to champion status?... Yeah? Of course you fucking do. Then you gotta get in front of the crowds and beat the shit out of the favourites.” 

Easy for him to say, he’s not the one going up against an undefeated fighter. But you had faith in your girl. That was never going to change. You move closer to the ring as she crouches down into the corner, Coach double checking he has all the supplies that she would need between rounds. You take her face in your hands through the division of the ropes and pull her in for a quick kiss - before she can move away, you hold her there and take her chin in your grip, eyes lingering on hers.

“Win this…like I know you can, and then come home and fuck me like a champion.”

You don’t give her time to respond as you let her face go and back away, moving into the crowd as you cheer her name. That posture of stress has eased slightly, and a smug smile is planted on her face instead. Coach, of course, comes and wipes that smirk away as he puts her mouthguard in, holding her head still as he most likely shouts some type of bull at her once again. But of course, she’s listening to him like it’s gospel. Amped up and ready to fight, Abby raises herself to full height, bouncing on her feet and swinging her arms to the side. The crowd aren’t sure what to make of her, most of them never even hearing her name before. But there is the occasional cheer for “Anderson!” amongst the rally of support for Norris. After all, people do love an underdog.

The announcer calls Abby and Norris into the middle of the ring, a hand on both of their chests as he explains, “Now I want a nice, clean game. Nothing below the belt. Are we clear?”

Both nod, pressing against the MC’s outstretched hands in an act of intimidation towards the other. Abby’s face is like stone, never breaking eye contact and standing strong. Norris on the other hand, his smirk was the show of pure arrogance. She better fuck this dickhead up. Both back away from each other, getting into a southpaw stance as the MC’s voice rings out for the last time. 

“Are we readyyyyy…FIGHT!”

You forget about everything else when that bell rings; the crowd getting louder, Coach’s bellows erupting from her corner, the look on Norris’ face as he circles his prey. The toll of that bell ringing in your ears sounds like a death sentence, also signalling the start of round 1. 

____________

By round 4, the feeling of uneasiness settles in your stomach and your eyes continue to follow her quick-shifting form, matching her movements so that when she ducked or flinched back, so did you. Both fighters have been pretty level with one another so far, both sending out jabs and uppercuts - only for them to be warded off before any real damage could be inflicted. It’s not enough to win though, she needs a clear hit.

Abby goes in for a right hook, ever so slightly clipping Norris’ chin and the crowd ripples in response, hoping for the real fight to begin soon. Norris responds with a clinch to stop her from advancing too quickly, wrapping his arms around and over her. You hated seeing him touch her like that, your own fists clenching at your sides in response.

The bell tolls again signalling the end of the round, both fighters making their way to their respective posts - but not before you see Norris saying something in Abby’s ear. She doesn’t move for a second, eyes unwavering on Norris as he turns his back. For a second you think she might go for him, but she’s worked too hard to let her temper win now. With a shake of her head, she goes over to Coach and plunks down on the ground - tearing off her gloves with her teeth and ripping out her mouthpiece. Her focus is still sharply on Norris across the ring, most likely getting strategy tips and a pep talk in her ear from Coach, reminding her to channel all that anger back into the task at hand. 

You don’t move from your seat in the crowd, wanting to give her the space to fully zone in. She knows you’re here for her and only her, and you provided enough motivation at the beginning of the night to last the duration. You'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy the view at the moment either, and that those feelings of uneasiness were also coupled with an overwhelming tide of arousal.

The way sweat is dripping down her face and neck, trickling down her chest and onto her arms. How she runs her hands over the top of her head, dousing it in water and brushing through the roots with her fingers to cool off. Yeah… you really hoped she did win tonight, not just because she deserves it from how hard she’s been training, but selfishly a part of you really wants to get fucked good tonight. Especially after the show she’s putting on for you right now. And you know for a fact it’s only for you.

Abby’s let you know multiple times how much she loves you watching her fight, seeing her crush opponents to a pulp and looking absolutely glorious doing so. It’s upsetting that tonight, she isn’t doing so well. But this is what she and Coach wanted, to start moving up the leagues and facing off against better fighters - solidifying her name among the real competition. You try to stop the negative thoughts from creeping in, try to stay positive for your girl.

The rounds keep stacking up, neither Abby or Norris winning the upper hand for long. It’s evident that both fighters are getting aggravated by round 9, their punches falling on the side of reckless, their expressions displeased and downright pissed. You shout as loud as you can, “Come on baby, you can do this!” in the hopes that Abby can hear you over everyone else. And she must have done, as her head slightly turns in your direction on instinct, and Norris’ gloved fist takes the opportunity to make contact with the side of her face in response.

The crowd screams with excitement, satisfied with the fact that something is finally happening. But all you see is red as the blood sprays from Abby’s mouth on impact, her body crashing into the ropes that barely keep her form upright. You take a step forward as does Coach, you both now waiting for the bell to ring so you can meet her at the post. 12 seconds.

Come on, just stay out of his way for a bit longer…avoid the fucker for 12 seconds!

Abby’s so stunned from that first punch that as she tries to right herself on the canvas and pick up her stance, Norris is already waiting with another blow to the face - this time an uppercut that sends her head flying back and her legs out from under her.

No no no no, NO!

5 seconds.

You’re screaming for her to get up as the crowd counts how long she’s been down. 

1…2…3-

“Stand up! Abby stand the FUCK UP!”

A wave of an arm and a twitch of a leg has you screaming in relief, as Abby slowly gets back on her feet before a KO can be declared, just as the bell signals the end of the round.

Abby all but bolts for her corner, leaning her body and head back against the post - her eyes shut from exhaustion and pain. Coach partially moves out of the way for the cutman, who is trying to clean the blood from her face as best they can - the enswell pressing against the areas where Norris’ punches made impact.

You can see she’s starting to give up, that undeniable fire in her eyes has dulled to a mere glow. You can’t stand it. You try to move your head further into her corner to say “Baby, you can do this, you just gotta-”

Before you can finish, Coach has climbed through the ropes so he’s kneeling directly in front of Abby’s hunched figure, grabbing the back of her head so their foreheads are nearly touching.

“You listen to me Anderson. You’re jumping about this ring like a fuckin’ monkey on steroids. Calm the fuck down, focus in on the technique we’ve been working on for months and stop…getting…distracted.”

At this, both heads turn in your direction. Abby’s expression shows you she isn’t angry about being distracted from your support; she knew you were coming from a good place. Coach on the other hand is looking at you like you went up there and hit her yourself. He never liked when you were around, always insisting that partners were just unwanted emotional baggage that could wait until after the last punch was thrown. But Abby refuses to get in the ring if you aren’t watching from the sidelines.

“Not going out there without my girl, Coach - she’s my lucky charm.”

“Well your lucky charm has been making you late to training. Gotta get your head back to the task at hand. You can play housewives later.”

But tonight isn’t the night to bicker with Coach about things that won’t change. You will both always be here for Abby, and right now she needs you. You hold her gaze, giving a smile and a wink - “Are you seriously giving up this easy? You and me both know you’ve got it in you to bring this piece of shit down. Come on Abs…fucking finish it.”

Coach is clapping her shoulders in agreement, lifting Abby up so she can shake out the stiffness and get ready for the next round. What you hope to be the last round. You take your position back up in the crowd, and get ready to cheer for your, and her, life. The bell rings out. 

Round 10.

____________

She makes every punch count, unleashing herself at Norris like a fucking beast. He doesn't know how to respond to it at first, taken aback at how quickly Abby has switched up her fighting style. The renewed vigour in her movements only enrages Norris even further, the confidence that this fight was his now starting to crack under the weight of Abby’s rage.

He still manages to land some blows, but it’s almost as if she’s stopped feeling them - blinded by the sheer animalistic instinct to push through and keep punching. A flurry of blows to Norris’ face causes him to hunch down and over for relief, but what he doesn't realise is that he’s just given her the perfect head shot from above.

The blow comes fast, and hard. You wince as her gloved fist makes impact with the back of his bent head, forcing his body further beneath her.

Norris goes down, face first into the canvas at Abby’s feet. 

Knockout.

The volume of the crowd increases, if that’s even possible, counting along with the MC to ten to see if Norris has it in him to keep going. You’ve never been more relieved when he doesn't move a muscle.

8…9…10! KNOCKOUT!

You’re screaming, jumping with your arms in the air like a crazy person. She won. Abby won. The MC brings her to the centre of the ring, raising her arm with his to signal her victory. She’s shouting too, showing her black mouthguard mixed with the sight of fresh blood, unable to stand still as she takes a victor’s lap, celebrating her win.

Coach rushes up, gripping her in a bear tackle whilst you look on from the sidelines - still trying to come to terms with what you’ve just witnessed. She won. Against ‘Thunderstorm.’ This is what she’s been working towards for months, hoping for the chance to make her name known among the big leagues. Your girlfriend just put herself on the map, and it wasn’t about to go unnoticed…

____________

It takes a while for you all to make your way out of the stadium, fans constantly asking for autographs and pictures with the underdog-turned-champion of the night. It was nice to see. Finally, Abby was getting the recognition she deserves. Coach was eating that shit up, as expected, spreading the word to anyone that listened that we had a new heavyweight world champion in the making. Abby would get that glint in her eye at every mention of the ultimate title: world champion.

Her head might as well be made of glass, because you can see exactly what’s happening up in that brain of hers as she processes the weight of what’s happened tonight. She can see the prize that has never been in reach now that little bit closer. And she wants it. Bad. You go to remind her to take it one step at a time, but you know it would be received the wrong way.

A number of journalists and presenters were waiting by the entrance of the stadium as you emerged into the cold night. They rush you as soon as they spot Abby. You weren’t expecting so many people to come at you with cameras and microphones, reaching around, past, through you to get to her. A flurry of voices swarm the now enclosed space.

“Anderson, how do you feel after tonight’s knockout performance?”

“Who’s next on your kill list?”

“Are you staking your claim on the heavyweight belt?”

“How will you be celebrating tonight, Abby?”

Overwhelmed, you take a step back so Abby is ahead of you - Coach now placing his arm around her shoulders to also lean into the microphones held up against Abby’s mouth. 

“The next fight is coming sooner than you think. Anderson is ready to take on any of these amateurs and claim the title that is rightfully hers.”

The interviewers all look to Abby expectantly, hoping she seconds the statements made. Of course she does. It’s Abby.

“I’m ready for the next fight. This is what I’ve been training for and I'm not going to slow down now. Put any fighter in front of me and I’ll deal a knockout to whoever wants one.”

You hear this and let out a long breath. This was the flaw that irked you most about Abby. She never knows when to take a break - to step back and appreciate how much she’s already achieved. Once she gets something, it’s on to the next. You just worry that she’s going to burn herself out.

As expected, her comment only invited them to ask more, now wanting to hear the name of the next person she wants to challenge and when that would be. Coach begins to move you all forward again, giving that cheshire smile he’s perfected and a sly “you’ll have to wait and see” - most likely aiming to leave some suspense in the air so more articles are printed tomorrow. 

All three of you go to move through the reporters, making your way to a black SUV waiting just ahead. From where you took a step back, the crowd sees an opening and begins to slot themselves in between you and Abby, hot on her heels with more burning questions. When she turns her head to answer them, that signature smirk on her face is quickly replaced with alarm, then stone cold anger.

One reporter is physically elbowing you out of the way to get a better angle for his picture, the flash blinding you for a second, causing your head to snap the opposite direction. 

You hear her voice ring out over everyone.

“Get your hands off my girlfriend and back away. Now.”

She pushes through until she’s in front of elbow-camera guy, who is currently regretting his choices now Abby is towering over him, his mouth slightly open with a mixture of awe and fear.

“Do you think it’s ok to treat a woman like that? Do you think you can push my woman out of the way and expect me to pose for a photo?”

He’s frozen to the spot, and Abby only raises her eyebrows in response. Taking your hand and pulling you to her side, she turns you both around after muttering “watch yourself” to the wimp you leave behind. 

“Sorry baby” she whispers in your ear, thumb brushing down the side of your arm. Placing a hand on the small of your back, she leads you both through to the SUV and watches you get into the car before joining you. The voices now muffled; you finally release a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding in since the start of the night. She was fine. She’s safe. Everything’s ok again.

Now you finally have a chance to talk just the two of you - well, you and Abby and Coach - you want to make sure she isn’t serious about jumping straight into another fight. But when she turns to you, her eyes alight with pure happiness that you haven't seen in a long time, you decide to have that talk in the morning.

You have a champion to take home…

____________

The minute you get through the front door of your apartment, you’re leading her to the bathroom to get cleaned up. She’s got that dazed look in her eyes of someone in a dream. Only this dream is real, and you couldn't be happier for her. But God, does she look rough. Hot, always, but rough.

“Did you see how fast he went down when I threw that last punch, bubs? I felt like my chest was going to explode during those 10 seconds, it felt like a lifetime to wait. I need to start thinking about my next move with Coach and strategizing ‘cos I could never use exactly the same technique, these fighters are way smarter than any of those fuckin’ rookies I’ve fought before and-”

“Woah, Abs slow down.” You give a slight chuckle as she realises her rambling, holding her hands up in defeat - allowing you to lightly push at her shoulders so she can sit on the toilet. You grab the first aid bag in the cabinet, packed with the essentials that have come in handy many times through the years. The cutman at every fight has of course offered to clean Abby up, but you always took it upon yourself to take care of her wounds at the end of the night. You both liked it that way. You were gentler, caring.

Getting down on your knees in front of her, you get to work wiping the dried blood from her face, placing cold packs and plasters over her swollen cheek and jaw. She sits there in silence, patiently watching you do it all - her hands trailing over your face, neck, arms.

“ ‘m sorry for not noticing you got left behind…don’t want you to think I forgot about you or anything. I just get carried away with it all, ya know?” she mutters, cutting through the silence - cupping the side of your face with her hand as her fingers begin to brush through your hair. You close your eyes as you revel in the feel of it, nuzzling into her palm to give it a kiss.

“It wasn’t your fault, bubs. Besides, you came to my rescue in the end…like always” - you give another kiss to her open palm, reaching up to take her hand in both of yours so you can kiss her sore knuckles.

“Besides, it was kinda worth getting pushed just so I could see you make that guy absolutely shit himself.” You both burst out laughing, leaning in close to one another as if you were best friends sharing a secret. This was the Abby that only you saw. The one who didn’t have the weight of the world on her shoulders, who could just be and not think about the next move.

You whisper, “I’m so proud of you,” and she almost begins glowing with pleasure from your praise.

Abby pulls you in by your face, hands back to cupping either side, eyes turning mischievous. 

“I nearly forgot…I have one more thing I need to do tonight.”

You grin up at her, “oh yeah? And what’s that?”

She leans in further, her mouth stopping to hover just next to your ear, whispering “I need to fuck you like a champion.”

Her hand comes down to cup you through your jeans, squeezing ever so slightly. You’d be lying if you said you haven’t been waiting for this ever since they declared KO, getting wetter by the minute just thinking about the moment when she fucks you good and proper. 

“Come on baby…time for round 1.”

[loftec]

Shameless DVD Commentary: None the wiser

I was tagged by a lovely anon over at @shamelessdvdcommentary to do this, thank you! Here we gooo

Which fanfic is your DVD commentary about?

The people (11 out of 20) have spoken! None the wiser

Give us some stats - (when you wrote it, word count, how long it took to finish, is it a one-shot/multi-chapter, etc)

First published: 2015-09-23 (coming up on 9 years what is time??)

Last updated: 2021-12-11 (holy heck that's... shit! I'm sorry!)

Words: 218,480 and counting

Chapters: 53/68

What was the initial inspiration for your story?

A little bit of everything, mostly I'd been reading a lot of Shameless fic at the time and really wanted to write something that was both a really quite basic diner/coffee shop AU, but The Most version of it. The slowest burn, the most diner AU. I had no ambition for people to like it but I wanted it to be Known. If anyone ever asked for a diner fic, they'd HAVE to say, well, NTW is The Most diner fic we've got. If someone asked for slow burn, people would sigh and say, WELL, this one over here is the worst, but it is very slow. And also I was inspired by Before Sunrise / Before Sunset, and working in the music industry.

If the story is written from a character’s POV, why did you choose this character?

I chose Mickey specifically because of the Concept, that Ian decides when the chapters start and end (with some exceptions) by going to the diner, but we're limited to Mickey's POV. Generally I think Mickey is easier for me to write, too, he's got a really strong voice and I like looking at the world (and Ian) through his eyes.

What was your favourite scene to write?

The whole banter/walk scene in chapter 44 when they leave the venue:

“Sure you and your lips can do whatever you set your heart to,” he says, “I believe in you.” Ian is silent, and when Mickey risks a glance in the direction of him and his non-trumpeting goddamned marvelous lips, Ian is looking at him like he’s some kind of unsolved mystery. ”What?” Mickey asks, frowning at him when Ian smiles. “Just a thought,” he says. ”You’ve been flirting with me since we first met, haven’t you?”

I had that whole back and forth leading up to the first kiss in my head for years before I got to finally got around to write it and I still love it.

How did you come up with the title?

It's from a song, one of the core songs I associate with this fic. My playlist now has 149 tracks on it, but the ones I consider "core songs" are None the wiser, Day After Tomorrow, Let's Dance, How I Made My Millions, Not Dark Yet, and Mosquitoes. I'm not sure I can explain why, but None The Wiser came on randomly when I was doing dishes and thinking about this fic I was writing, and the vibes just lined up in my head. Also I think it fits this version of Mickey I'm writing, who knows so much and has so much experience, but refuses to understand what's happening when Ian walks into his life.

Are there any little moments or references you hope readers will notice?

Oh, wow. Yeah. I always reference silly little things and I just have to hope people understand them, or tolerate them at least. I think one of my favourite bit of foreshadowing is in chapter 39 when people keep staring at Ian because they obviously recognise him, but Mickey thinks staring at Ian is a completely reasonable thing to do and is mostly just annoyed over how blatant they're being.

Was there anything you struggled to write? If so, how did you overcome this?

I am struggling right now lol, I had meticulous notes for what I wanted to happen for every single chapter up until 45, and now half of them say "they text all day" and I'm like THANKS!!! VERY HELPFUL!! Also life and writers block etc etc.

Favourite line in the story?

This is such a hard choice, so I'll just go with this one from chapter 42:

“So,” Ian says, sitting back to sweep his arms out in a wide motion, presenting his solution. “I think we should go out for breakfast sometime.”

Because to me it pinpoints the moment when Ian breaks the format, in a way? They have met outside the diner before, but only on accident, and here Ian realises that it might be a problem that they only ever hang out at Mickey's job. But metatextually, he also highlights the narrative crux they're stuck in. I don't know, is that a boring favourite line? I have many, and I grabbed the first one I saw so I wouldn't get stuck rereading the whole fic lol. Do you have a favourite line?

Did the storyline change in any way as you wrote the story?

So much, it's hard to believe because there isn't too much of a plot, but so much. My planned ending is so far from what it was when I started out, which is maybe one blessing that comes from how long it's taking me to write it, I have time to rethink things. I can't really talk about it now without spoiling the actual ending, but you better believe I will expose myself once we get to it.

If you are writing a particular trope or genre, was it your first time writing this?

I'd written fic for a different fandom ten years earlier, but nothing in this style I don't think, and this was my first time writing since I was 20 and stopped writing jrock rpf. I suppose I'm still writing about music, though!

What are you most proud about in the story? (plot, characterisation, dialogue, twist/cliffhanger, etc)

One of the things I've always wanted to do with writing for Ian and Mickey is to let them have conversations, have things in common, and be friends. Because I think they were in canon, we just never got to see it (in the first 5 seasons, careful what you wish for). Guess I'm saying I'm proud of the bants!

Are there any deleted scenes that didn’t make it to the final story?

I don't think so! I mean, maybe the last 15 chapters? I kid! They will make it!

Are there any ‘behind the scenes’ info you’d like to share - e.g. what’s going on in a characters head in a certain scene or how you came to write a certain line?

There is one line Ian says where, when I wrote it, I was like; this is the first time Ian thinks "I love you" but says something else. Cannot remember what or where right now, and I don't want to try and find it, it's late! Submit your guesses here, I might find it over the weekend if I have some time to look. Also, it's like one of those silly I love yous, one of the early ones, full of potential and feeling but perhaps lacking a bit in substance, but he thought it and I saw him thinking it!

Reading back the story now, is there anything you’d change or add?

Eh *coughs* I might already have, and I apologise. The worst part about writing something this slowly and posting the chapters as I go is that the fic isn't finished and so I feel like it's fine for me to sometimes go back and edit already published chapters. It's not right but I... will still do it. Sorry! A most embarrassing example is when, not too long ago, we discussed the layout of the diner here and I went back to the first chapter to see how I had described it, and it had changed in so many ways over the years? Small round tables?? The tables haven't been round since 2016!! So that's a very clear case of something having become canon for all the hundred little times I've thought of the tables as square while writing vs that one time in chapter one I carelessly said they were round.

Would you ever write a sequel to this story?

Yes! So many! Or maybe not a sequel, that suggests another part of equal size. But little bits of stories, yes!

If you’ve chosen your most popular story, are you surprised by the popularity?

Yes! Like I said, my only aim was to annoy my way to fandom infamy. Turns out it's so much more fun to actually connect with people and write something with someone else in mind, besides myself. I feel so lucky that so many people have connected with NTW over the years <3

Were you nervous or excited to post this story?

Mostly just excited, I think! I still am, whenever I get to post something : )

Did you have a beta or a friend who helped you as you wrote?

No, I probably should have but I have a very hard time showing things to people when they're not finished.

Ask your followers to pick a snippet (no more than 500 words) and share your thoughts about it.

Add snippets in the replies and I'll share thoughts, if you want!

Thanks for reading! <3 <3 <3