#i've been looking for these dark brown eyes forever

[fashionbugster]

i can't hide it anymore — you give me butterflies. (reiko — butterfly)

[areyouwell]

Nyctophobia

Noun: An extreme fear of the dark. Children or adults may have Nyctophobia if they are afraid to be left alone in darkness

Ch.1

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader

Warnings: None as of yet, but we'll get there ;)

Word count: 9.2k

A/N: RIGHT FUCKERS ITS TIME. i don't think i've written a fic this long in goddamn years but here we are. DEFO ooc Logan and also timeline what timeline? Kitty is older than the rest of the students cuz i love her and i said so. reader's mutation is currently shadow-walking but that'll develop as we go on so slay boots. also I have no concept of word limits sooooo 9k chapter let's fucking go

How long had it been? Six months? A year? Two years? Honestly, you couldn’t recall. It felt like it had been forever since ol’ Charlie had sent you travelling the continent. Sure, it had been your idea to try and find mutants before they experience the most traumatic event of their lives, but you didn’t think he’d send you, and certainly not immediately. Though you were glad he did, you didn’t think Scott would make as good an impression as you could.

But, now you were back. Thank fuck. You could finally rest your weary legs and put down your heavy-as-shit bag. And at least now you could work on developing your mutation. Shadow walking. Or at least, it is now. You thought that was the extent of what you could do, just disappear and reappear whenever and wherever there happened to be a shadow cast on the ground. Or on a wall. Or anywhere really. But, Xavier had gently suggested that, perhaps, those shadows could be manipulated one way or another. You wished to fuck you knew how because your bag was all but cutting right through your shoulder.

Your boots crunched against the gravel as you took a deep breath, making your way inside. It was nice to notice nothing had changed. The lawn was still neatly mowed, brickwork hadn’t aged a day. It smelt like comfort. It smelt like home. But before you could even knock on the door, at least being courteous enough not to slip through the shadows, the oak burst open and two unidentified arms had wrapped themselves around your neck in one of the most warming hugs you’d ever received, accompanied by a high pitch squeal.

You knew instantly who that would be. Brown hair spilled across her shoulders, smelling faintly of lavender. “Hey Kitty,” you grinned, dropping your bag to return her tight embrace. It truly did feel like forever.

“I’m so happy to see you it’s been years! We thought you were never coming back! Scott thought you’d died and Charles wasn’t telling us, Logan didn’t think you even existed and that we were all lying, Jean thought you’d just got sick of this place and dipped, it was carnage!” She rambled, her deep brown eyes sparkling slightly. You had to take a minute to actually comprehend what the fuck she was saying before your lips split into a broad smile.

“Well, I can tell you that I’m not dead, at least not yet, and I do very much exist and I am not sick of this place despite what Jean may think. And– wait who’s Logan?” Your brain had only just caught up with the fact that Kit had mentioned a name completely unfamiliar to you. Just how long had you been gone?

“Oh, right yeah. A new teacher,” Kitty kept one arm around your shoulder as she guided you back inside, stopping only when you realised your bag was still left discarded by the front door. “He uh, sorta took your position as PE and combat professor… sorry.” She looked genuinely apologetic, whilst internally, you couldn’t be more grateful. You always thought you weren’t ever cut out to teach, and whilst you sometimes enjoyed it, you were always too worried about the kids being hurt. 

“I’m hurt, a girl’s gone for a year or two and you replace her? What kind of school is this?” you cracked a smile, Kitty’s face morphing from remorse to relief. She really thought you’d be upset? You were touched. “Anyway, what time is it? Where is everyone? I thought classes stopped at–” You were cut off abruptly upon entering the lounge.

“Welcome back!” you covered your face at the chorus of voices, laughing behind your hands before clutching your heart dramatically. 

“Christ! You’ve all just knocked five years off my life!” you grinned, faces both familiar and unfamiliar laughing and smiling just to see you.

“They’ve been looking forward to this for days. Ever since rumour of your return started circulating, they’ve been pestering us nonstop for a date. Eventually, someone caved,” You didn’t need to see Scott’s eyes in order to know he was giving Kitty a pointed look behind his glasses. You looked back to see her looking sheepish.

“Yeah well… they can be really persuasive.” She shrugged, taking your bag off your shoulder and placing it out of the way. You sighed at the loss of weight, rolling your joint slightly. 

“It’s good to see you,” Scott pulled you in for a brief hug, clapping your back once before pulling back, letting the rest of your friends and pupils make their way over. You were consumed by various arms of embraces, questions about your travels, introductions to new students, reminiscing with old students. It was quite possibly the best moment you’d had since you left. But a face caught your eye at the back of the crowd. A young girl, with the same dark brown hair you remember, only now a streak of brilliant white framed her face.

You made your way over, shuffling through the crowd, clasping hands and shoulders with people you knew before finally getting to her.

“Hey you,” you smiled gently, remembering how timid and easy to scare she used to be. You were caught off guard completely by her sudden bright smile. 

“Hey.”

“How long’ve you been here? I didn’t actually think you’d listen to me to be brutally honest with you, thought you’d just shrug it off and continue your own path,” you were relieved to see she had listened to what you’d said two years ago. You’d urged her down this path, to find the school. You’d already known Charles would take her, it was just a matter of her taking herself here.

“Uh… about that…” you’d only seen a smile that sheepish on Kitty. You cocked a brow, head tilting to the side slightly before a hand on your shoulder caused you to whirl. But it was just Ororo. Clearly, your travels had affected you more than you originally thought. 

But Storm wasn’t looking at you, you could only see the back of her white hair as she frantically waved at someone through the crowd, beckoning them over.

“Logan!”

Ah, you guess that made sense now.

Whoever you’d expected to walk through the crowd, you threw that image out your mental window the moment you saw him. 

Now you understood why he taught combat and PE… he was fucking ripped. White t-shirt leaving nothing to the imagination. The facial hair was an interesting choice, but you couldn’t say it didn’t suit him. He was very… rugged lumberjack looking.

You placed a hand on your hip, brows raised in intrigue as he made his way over. You don’t think you’d ever seen a grumpier-looking man. 

“Logan, this is Phantom,” your eyes slid to Ororo as she used your mutant name. 

“Ah, so you do exist,” his voice seemed a perfect match for the rest of him, just as rough and rugged as the worn jeans he was wearing. You nodded, mouth quirking into a small smirk.

“Heard there was some debate over that, glad I could put it to rest,” you outstretched your hand for him to shake, something you were surprised he actually did, calloused palm encasing your own.

“Can ya blame me?” He asked with a raised brow, dropping your hand after a beat too long. Clearly unaccustomed to civility, judging from his appearance. 

“Guess not. You’re also the son-of-a-bitch that stole my position, right?” You asked, wanting to be a lot more serious than you actually were being, but for some reason, you couldn’t help grinning slightly. 

“Language!” Storm elbowed you slightly. Guess you’d forgotten how to behave around the kids too.

Logan held his hands up in surrender. “In my defense, I didn’t think you existed,” though he also seemed serious, you thought you could detect something that could be perceived as humour in his hazel eyes. You couldn’t keep up your poorly constructed façade anymore, waving your hand as if to physically clear the air between the two of you.

“I’m kidding, you can keep it. In all honesty, I was never really cut out for it.” You shrugged. “Besides, I’m–”

“She’s being super modest by the way, she rocked as that professor!” Kitty called from the other side of the room, somehow managing to listen to your conversation. You didn’t know how, since the entire welcome party was still chatting way, but you cast her a withering look nonetheless. 

“So I’ve heard,” Logan’s eyes slid from Kitty back to you as you scoffed.

“Though, of course, it was purely hypothetical, since I didn’t exist and all.” You teased, gesturing to your very much existing self. You silently triumphed over the fact you managed to drag a small smile out of him, realising that making this man pull any other expression other than irritation was something to be proud of. 

You hadn’t realised how completely caught up in the introduction you’d been before you noticed the girl still standing next to you, eyes flicking between you and Logan with a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips. 

“Anyway,” you continued pointedly, “you were saying? So you didn’t come to find this place?” your head tilted again slightly in confusion. “How did you end up here?”

Rogue looked from you to Logan, who’s eyes were still trained on you. You looked between them. “Nope, still confused. How did…?” 

“Well, after you found me, I did carry on my own path, which led me to some shady bar where Logan found me,” she explained quietly.

“More you found me but sure.” He shrugged. You could tell there was some kind of bond between them, one you could recognise was only built through trauma. You’d heard a little of what happened with Eric through Charles’ telepathic link, but he always reassured you to continue what you were doing. But you often wondered what could have happened if you’d returned. 

“So, you brought her here?” You asked, trying to prompt the story forward. Honestly, you wanted to know how he’d succeeded where you’d failed. You could be incredibly persuasive when you wanted to be, but Rogue was stubborn on another level. 

“Me? Nah, didn’t know this place existed at that point.”

“Seems to be a common theme with you,” you couldn’t help the subtle teasing grin spreading across your face, nor your laugh as he rolled his eyes skyward.

“Never gonna live that down, am I?”

“Not whilst I’m still breathing,” you winked, before turning your attention back to Rogue and completely missing the way his features shuddered slightly. “So how’d you get here if tall, dark, and broody over here didn’t know about this?” 

“Tall, dark, and– what?” He asked, bewildered.

Ororo snorted in amusement, before stepping in. “That would be us. We’d been tracking another mutant, Sabretooth, and he just so happened to be tracking Logan, or so we thought at the time. We found Sabretooth, and these two at the same time. Brought them both back.” 

You nodded in understanding, now finally having got through the whole story. Well, maybe not the whole story, you knew there were details you definitely were missing, but at least you got the jist.

“I see. Glad it wasn’t my lack of persuasive skills then. Though I guess a life or death situation isn’t much better. How’s your mutation coming along?” you asked, only now noticing the black, elbow-length gloves she was wearing. Ah.

“Still hard to control, but I’m getting better at it!” She looked genuinely enthusiastic about her mutation, so much so that it almost brought a tear to your eye. When you’d met her two years ago, you didn’t know if she even wanted help. She’d been so lost in her despair and self-loathing that you didn’t think she had long left with the way her mental health was going. So to see her so happy, your throat closed up slightly.

“I’m glad, I really am. You deserve this, Rogue. All of this,” you gestured to the room around, to the friends she’d made, to the haven she’d found.

“Oh, my name’s Marie. Guess I didn’t tell you before.” She shrugged, and you had to laugh to stop yourself from crying. 

“Marie it is.” Her story touched your heart, and to see she managed to get her happy ending… fuck you were so close to crying. You had to change the subject before you broke down in front of these people. “Oh hey, is my room still the same? Wouldn’t mind freshening up a little, been a long journey.” Two birds with one stone. You could leave the situation and cry in your bathroom whilst taking a shower so you didn’t smell like the wrong end of a skunk. Perfect!

“Uh…” Storm started.

“About that…” Kitty continued, coming over to stand alongside Storm. You looked between them, before shooting a glance to Logan who seemed to be showing absolutely no remorse.

“Your bed’s real comfy, bub” he smirked, and you gaped.

“You’re fucking kidding me?”

“Language!” both Ororo and Kitty said at the same time, and you winced.

“Fuck, sorry. Shit! Argh!” you gave up, throwing your hands in the air. “I’m not letting any of you off the hook. This is betrayal at its finest! Giving him my position I can handle, but my damn room? That’s shocking behaviour from the both of you!” You pointed at them accusingly, shooting a glare to the man next to you who was doing nothing but lowly chuckling. You breathe out a sigh. You had the best room in the whole mansion. Or at least you did, before Muscles McGee stole it from you.

“Don’t blame those two” Jean placed a calming hand on your shoulder. “we didn’t have another room made up when these two arrived. It was supposed to be temporary, but–”

“The view was too nice to pass up on,” Logan interjected. You realised he probably thought it was his turn to tease you. You knew that view was nice, it was overlooking the entire grounds behind the school. And whilst you were going to sorely miss it, you weren’t so heartless that you’d take it back from him. Besides, in a weird way, you felt like you owed him. He found Marie, and whatever transpired between them, she seemed happier now. You guessed you maybe had him to thank for that.

“Yeah yeah, alright fine. I concede. Where am I then?” you asked Jean, who broke into a broad smile.

“You’re in the one above, still got the same view, don’t worry,” she elbowed you slightly. That wasn’t so bad actually. Same view, same side of the mansion, just one story up? You breathed a sigh of relief. Yeah, you could do that.

“Good enough, I’m still mad about it though.” Your eyes narrowed at four of them, Logan included, before cracking your neck in preparation to take your bag all the way up the stairs.

Kitty clapped her hands excitedly, and you raised a brow in suspicion. “What’s got you so giddy?” you asked as she once again slid her arm across your shoulders, guiding you back towards the door. 

“Oh nothing, just glad you're home. It’s been kinda boring without you.” You laughed at that. With everything that’s been going on, you didn’t think any of them had time to be bored. But you appreciated the thought nonetheless. 

Eyeing your bag on the ground, there were times when you really wished your mutation involved some kind of super strength, because as happy as you were to be home and have a room just above your old one, you really didn’t want to lug that thing all the way up. And all the damn lights were on, so slipping up through the shadows was a no-go. You blew out a breath in preparation, rolling your shoulder once again, before you were stopped by a broad hand landing on your arm.

“I got it,” Logan’s voice weaved butterflies through your stomach. You hadn’t realised he was behind you before he was leaning down next to you and effortlessly slinging the bag over his own shoulder.

For the second time that afternoon, you gaped up at him, left almost speechless. 

“Super strength?” Was all you could say, hoping to Jesus he knew what you were asking. You watched his features morph from confusion to amusement as he shook his head slightly. 

“Nah, not quite.”

“Then how the fu–” you were reminded of the children present by a sharp elbow to the ribs from Kitty. “–uuun. How fun.” you gave up on your question, much to his mirth. The sight had your brain short-circuiting. You wouldn’t deny he was good-looking. You’d be fucking crazy to deny that. But there was something else hidden under all those knowing smirks and sharp glances. Something that you wouldn’t mind uncovering. 

Deciding that was a quest for another day, you turned abruptly on your heel, making your way to the staircase before once again stopping in your tracks. This was starting to get on your nerves a little. However, any irritation soon died as you finally saw Professor Xavier.

“Ah, I wondered whether the commotion was your return.”

You snorted a laugh. “No, you didn’t. You absolutely knew it was my return.” You quipped back, earning yourself a laugh from the man.

“As quick as ever. And I see you’ve met our Wolverine.” Charles nodded to Logan next to you, and you turned to him in bemusement. 

“Wolverine? Seriously?” you asked, laughing at his shrug. “Can’t think why…” your sarcastic jab paired with your pointed looks from his hair to his body brought another amused smirk from the man. 

“I thought you two would get along. Get yourself settled back in and meet me in my office and your earliest convenience.” You nodded back to Xavier, unable to take a moment to process what he meant when he said he thought you and Logan would get along before Kitty began dragging you towards the stairs.

“C’mon! You’re gonna love it!”You were slightly worried about what it was but followed her nonetheless.

Logan had to admit, he didn’t mind carrying your bag up four flights of stairs. It wasn’t the worst way to spend his afternoon. And as much as he wasn’t the kind of guy to stare at a woman’s ass, he wasn’t mad that he was behind you. 

Everything he’d been told about you had been proven correct. At least, everything he’d seen so far. Whether or not you could hold yourself in a fight was up for debate, but everything else, your wit, your charm, heartbreaking kindness, humour… it was all right there in front of him. 

Literally.

He’d lost count of how many times he’d had to bite back a smile or a laugh, stunned by the fact that you actually managed to break through and pull both from him. Even now, as you paused before the landing that lead to your old room and sighed wistfully, had had to stop himself grinning. And he was glad you turned back around quickly after throwing him a pointed glare over your shoulder because that was another smile he was struggling to rein in. Fuck, how did you do it? He’d only known you for half an hour and he’d displayed more expression than he had in his whole two years of being here. 

He was in huge trouble. 

The stairs finally flattened out to the top floor landing, Kitty still leading the way down the corridor until the final room. It was isolated, like his one floor below, and he guessed you must like it that way. Which he thought strange. The way you were with others, he hadn’t exactly pegged you for being someone who liked her space. But then again, he’d only known you for thirty minutes.

He had to remind himself of that. 

“Here we are!” Kitty grinned excitedly, stepping to the side to let you open the door yourself. Logan knew what you’d find behind the wood. He’d helped set it up after all. Some twisted guilt forced him into helping. At least, that’s what he told himself. 

You eyed Kitty suspiciously, before twisting the handle on the door, pushing slightly to reveal what she was so excited about. 

If Logan was being honest, your expression was worth all the consuming guilt he’d felt by taking your room. A smile of pure, unadulterated awe wiped all thought from his mind, your eyes were practically glowing.

“You… Kitty, you didn’t need to do this,” You looked back to the giddy girl and pulled her into a tight hug. Everything you remembered was here. Your posters, fairy lights, and every single plant you’d nourished and grown made your room look like a rainforest. The light in the ceiling had been covered by patterns to ensure there was always shadows cast somewhere, whether it be floor, wall, or ceiling. 

“It wasn’t just me! I employed help,” Kitty smiled, taking the liberties she knew she had to sit cross-legged on your bed. “And others offered to help.”

Logan held his breath as he felt your attention shift from Kitty to him, meeting your gaze of sheer wonder. 

“You helped?” you asked, taking your bag from his shoulder, though he was almost too caught up in your gaze to notice.

“Here an’ there…” he muttered, trying to calm himself by leaning against the doorframe, folding his arms across his chest, attempting to escape your eyes by looking around your room. 

“Here and there? That’s such a lie! He’d heard about your mutation, the shadow-casting thing was his idea!” Kitty grinned excitedly, and you all but choked on the realisation. He did this for you. He didn’t even know you, and he did this for you. 

“Kitty, that’s en–oof!” Logan barely had time to react before your arms were around his neck, your chin resting on his shoulder. Your scent hit him like a truck, and it was nothing like how he’d imagine it. Not that he had imagined it…

“Thank you,” you whispered earnestly, and any guard he’d put up previously melted away. He didn’t exactly return your embrace, but his hands somehow found your waist as you pulled back, keeping your arms across his shoulders. “Maybe I can forgive you for stealing my old room now. Oh! And my job. And not believing I exist,” your grin held more mischief than he ever thought possible, but now you were back to teasing, he felt his thoughts return. 

“Anythin’ else?” He asked, mirroring your expression.

“Not yet, but I’m sure I’ll think of something,” was it Logan’s sudden and overactive imagination, or did your eyes just flicker to his lips?

Was it the sudden physical contact that made your body hum this way, or was it just the fact that he could bench-press three of you? You didn’t care, and somehow, you didn’t think he did either. 

Until very suddenly and very abruptly, you did care. You stepped out of his hands far too quickly for his liking, your arms falling back by your sides. Though you didn’t look like you regretted anything. 

“I really appreciate this, from both of you. And whoever else helped. This is… well it’s better than what I was imagining,” you gestured to the room around you. It truly was perfect for you. They’d really outdone themselves. He’d really outdone himself. And you couldn’t help the warmth that spread from the centre of your chest to your limbs. You wanted to know more about him. “What’s your mutation, by the way? You never said,” you asked before you could stop yourself, and Logan blinked in surprise.

Holding his fist up, he flexed the tendons holding his claws. He no longer winced when his knuckles split. No longer grimaced as he sliced through his own flesh, though watching your face did cause him to worry just a little. 

You held your silence for a moment, not really knowing what to say. That looked painful as fuck, but you felt that asking might make it worse. “I see…” was all you said, before it hit you. “Wolverine! I get it now. It made sense before but now it actually fits!” You exclaimed, chuckling at his confusion. 

“Whaddya mean it made sense before?” 

“Don’t think too much into it,” you winked again, and Logan swore his heart stopped. 

“Yeah, alright Phantom.” He cocked a brow at the playful narrow of your eyes before you melted into the shadows right in front of him. He’d been made aware of your mutation, having overheard Jean using both you and Kitty as examples of phasing mutants, but to actually see it for himself? He couldn’t say he wasn’t impressed. He glanced around the room, retracting his claws as he looked for where you could have gone. 

“Get it now?”

Logan whipped around to see you standing behind him, arms folded across your chest, a mischievous grin plastered across your features. 

You always felt a sense of freedom when you released yourself into the shadows, like holding yourself in this corporeal state was somewhat of an effort. But letting yourself be free, to move like liquid amongst the darkness, it was like refueling a beaten truck. 

Logan’s lips quirked into a smile as he nodded once. “Got it,” the silence lingered once again, some kind of charge energy crackled in the space between the two of you before he cleared his throat. “Kitty, we should– the fuck?” 

You popped your head to the side, peering around Logan to see the space on your bed Kitty used to be sitting in was now completely empty. “Guess she left,” you shrugged. “Or she never existed.” That earned you a flick to the forehead from Logan, and you laughed, batting away his hand. How long had it been since you’d felt this comfortable with someone this quickly? Either it had been years, or never. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” he smiled, this time completely unrestrained. And fuck was he gorgeous. But you had to remember this was a man you’d just met. 

He had to remember this was a woman he’d just met.

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll uh, see you later?” You didn’t mean for your voice to sound so hopeful at the end, but honestly? It was worth seeing him turn back to you with that same smirk you’d seen countless times already.

“Sure.” He said, before closing the door. 

You sat heavily on your bed, your head in your hands. “What the fuck?” 

Little did you know, Logan was having a similar reaction right outside your door, his back against the wood as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “What. The. Fuck?”

Having almost drowned yourself in the shower, using that shampoo you’d missed so dearly on your travels, you’d changed clothes into something a lot more comfortable, a loose pair of sweats and a spaghetti strap tank top, before heading down to Xavier’s office where he’d just spent the last ten minutes explaining his plans to further your mutation. And to be completely honest with yourself, you hadn’t listened to half of it. 

“So, in short, your ability, whilst appearing similar to Kitty’s, is actually entirely different. Where Kitty phases through objects, you become those shadows. Your molecules break down completely, unlike Miss Pryde.” He finished his explanation slowly, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him you had no idea what he’d just said. Luckily, when conversing with a telepath, you didn’t have to.

Charles sighed, rubbing his forehead slightly. “You’ve always said you felt a strain on yourself whilst corporeal, yes?” He asked, and you breathed in relief. Finally, a question you could answer.

“Yeah, it’s like I’m holding water with my bare hands. Or something like that,” you nodded, looking at yourself slightly curiously. “So, I’m not like Kitty?” you clarified, looking back up the the professor, who shook his head. 

“I’m afraid not. We were mistaken before, simply assuming you were just another phasing mutant. But Jean ran some tests on your blood, and it was quite remarkable.” You’d almost forgotten the woman was in the room until she cleared her throat, her red hair pulled up in a tight ponytail. 

“I think you describe it perfectly. Your molecules are being held together, more or less, by string, or so to speak. Not real string, but I think you understand.” You nodded. You actually did understand, because that’s how you constantly felt. It was, however, incredibly unnerving. What would happen if that string frayed? Or worse, fucking snapped altogether? Sensing your distress, Charles covered your hand with his own.

“My dear, that’s why we brought you back. We’ve been incredibly lucky so far, and clearly, you have an innate ability to control the string. It’s led us to believe that your abilities don’t stop at shadow walking.” He looked at you with understanding as you took this all in. He’d mentioned to you previously that he thinks you could do more. 

“Shadow manipulation, right?” You asked though the question was rhetorical. You knew that’s where they were going with this. Charles glanced at Jean who nodded in confirmation. 

“Essentially, yes. We think you could pull shadows from an already existing cast and wield them to your heart’s content. In… theory.” She hesitated, and you blew out a breath.

“But in practice?”

“In practice… honestly we don’t know. It will be a learning curve for all of us, to be blunt.” You nodded a little numbly. You’d only just returned and already you were being bombarded with hard truths. 

Once again sensing your distress, Charles cleared his throat. “Well, I think we should continue this discussion tomorrow. You’ve had a long day and perhaps right now isn’t the best time to be entertaining new ideas.” He threw another look to Jean and she nodded again, standing from her seat.

You couldn’t agree more. This was a lot to take in. Especially since you’d become so comfortable with your mutation, believing that you were just another phaser like Kitty. But now, you were something else completely, something unknown. Even to yourself. It… scared you. And you didn’t scare easily. Worry? Sure. Impending sense of dread? Absolutely. Fear? Never.

“Right. Thanks, Professor. I’ll uh, see you tomorrow then.” You dipped your head goodbye, before leaving his office and closing the door behind you. Tea. You needed tea. Fuck you needed something stronger than tea, but since this was a goddamn school, alcohol was strictly prohibited. 

Fuck’s sake. 

Dragging a hand down the side of your face, you absently made your way to the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. Muscle memory guided you to the drinks cupboard, moving aside the jar of decaff coffee to reveal your personal stash of teabags. Whilst primarily you were a coffee drinker, when it was this late in the evening, you tended to steer clear of the caffeine. You weren’t the best at sleeping to begin with, let alone when your mind and body were buzzing. 

You didn’t turn when you heard footsteps behind you, and the scrape of one of the chairs against the wooden floor, too focussed on rifling through the cupboard adjacent to the drinks one for our favourite mug. A gift from Kitty, she’d had custom-made for the print on the side to say ‘Phasers Forever!’. It made you a little sad to think about now. But, thankfully you found it, nestled right at the back next to the mug you’d gifted her. Also custom-made, but this just had the image of two hands with their little fingers linked. You’d made sure the gloves matched the ones you both wore in your suits. 

Dropping the teabag into the mug, you instantly savoured the scented steam as you poured the hot water, even the aroma calming your slightly frayed nerves. Wow, that meeting had seriously rattled you. Looping the string and tag over the lip of the mug, you turned back to the room, only to almost drop your freshly made drink in surprise.

Logan. Hair slightly damp, in a white v-neck tank, sat at the far end of the table, leaning back in the chair with a bottle of what you could have sworn was larger in his bear paw of a hand. That same fucking smirk pulled at his lips. 

“Phantom.” He raised his bottle in greeting. You wished you could match his energy, but honestly, you were drained from the day and the meeting. But you tried nonetheless.

“Wolvie.” You smiled back, though you could feel it didn’t reach your eyes. And clearly, he noticed too, expression shifting from self-assured confidence to slight concern.

“You alright?” Logan had only known you for less than a day, and he already knew he really didn’t like seeing you despondent. 

“Yeah, fine.” It almost pained him physically seeing your eyes remain dull with your liar’s smile. That was something else he realised in that split second. 

He really didn’t like you lying to him.

“Uh huh?” Fuck, he definitely knew you were hiding everything. How the fuck could he possibly tell that? He didn’t even know you! You sighed heavily, hoping it would help your next half-truth.

“I’m just tired. Long day, lots of emotions. Are you hungry? I’m starved and was gonna make pasta if you wanted some,” You tried your best to steer the conversation away from how you were feeling. Once again it wasn’t exactly a lie. You were starving, having not eaten since this morning, and it was now ten in the evening. 

Logan knew you turned away quickly so you didn’t have to see his suspicion. If you weren’t ready to talk about whatever was bothering you, he knew he shouldn’t push. But, to his surprise, he found himself wanting to know. He wanted to know what was up, and maybe, just maybe, he could make you feel better. It seemed doubtful, but it was worth a shot. “How was your meeting with Charles?”

Your shoulders tensed, spine straightening. Gotcha.

“Yeah, fine. Just easing me back into life here basically. Nothing earthshattering.” Now that was a flat out lie, and once again you refused to turn around as you brought the kettle over to the tap, filling it to the max line before placing it back on the stand and flicking the switch. You found it easier to lie when you were busy doing something else and making pasta seemed perfect. Crouching to one of the lower cupboards, you pulled out the pack of wholewheat, refusing to eat any of the sugary white bullshit. Unfortunately, the one downside of busying yourself so remarkably well was that you weren’t always paying attention to what was going on around you.

For example, Logan walking up behind you to take the packet from your hand and place it on the counter. You turned, realising he’d given you minimal space to move. He was so close you could smell the gel he used in the shower. Woodsy and smoky, like a forest cabin. He smelt fucking great, but to be honest, you were too busy trying to avoid eye contact to care.

“S’that why you look like your pet just died?” You knew he was trying to be teasing, trying to lighten the mood, trying to create a comfortable environment for you to open up in, but you didn’t know him, and he didn’t know you. With a deep breath, you stepped to the side and out of his reach, opening the fridge to look for something to make a nice creamy sauce with.

“Look, Logan. I appreciate it, and what you’re trying to do, but at the same time, I don’t know you. And you don’t know me. So, and I mean this with the utmost respect, fucking drop it. I’m tired and I have genuinely had a long day, what more do you want me to say?”

Logan blinked. And blinked again for good measure. He wasn’t expecting you to be so sharp. He didn’t know why he wasn’t expecting it, but you really took him by surprise. That seemed to be all you were doing since the moment he met you. Though this one stung a little more than he cared to admit. “That might’ve been the nicest fuck off I’ve ever heard. But it was still a fuck off.” He shrugged. He knew deep down you were right. You didn’t know each other, and maybe was was expecting a little too much from a three-hour friendship. If he could even call it that. 

“I didn’t mean–” You turned back from the fridge just in time to watch his disappearing form leave through the door, hearing his footsteps recede back up the stairs. You cursed inwardly, hating yourself for how you handled the situation. Though, looking at the pasta on the counter, you had an idea as to how to fix some of this. 

It had been roughly half an hour since he’d left you in the kitchen, recognising you needed space, and in all honesty? Retreating to lick his own wounds. He didn’t know why he wanted you to open up so badly. It wasn’t like he had a long-lasting friendship with you. He met you today, for fuck’s sake. Only hours ago. Shit, this morning he still didn’t think you existed! Logan groaned at the memory of you shutting him down, wishing he’d handled the situation differently, and stopped prodding when he knew he should have. Fuck!

He’d just managed to resolve to come and talk to you, before there was a thump at his bedroom door, followed by another. That wasn’t any kind of fist knocking… 

With deliberate caution, Logan stood from his bed, shining claws sliding through his knuckles as he approached the door, only for his nerves to be calmed when a familiar scent wafted through the cracks in the door. He didn’t dare get his hopes up until he turned the handle, pulling the door open to reveal you, stood before him, two steaming plates of pasta held impressively in one hand, and two bottles of larger in the other, your foot raised to kick the door a third time. 

“Before you slam the door, I brought peace pesto pasta, homemade so you know it’s good.” You were honestly surprised he opened the door, though you eyed his claws cautiously. Who did he think it was?

Logan noticed your line of sight, retracting his claws to cross his arms, a brow raised. “Peace pesto pasta?”

You nodded. “Homemade, don’t forget.” Logan smiled slightly at the hope in your eyes. “And also beer so you physically can’t turn me down.” You raised the two bottles in your hand, and he sighed as if you were a nuisance. Unfortunately for him, that couldn’t be further from the truth. 

“Homemade peace pesto, beer, and…?” 

You stuck your tongue in your cheek. “An apology.” You reluctantly admitted, looking anywhere but his face. “Can I come in or are you gonna stare at me all evening? These aren’t the most balanced plates, been a while since I was a waitress so…” you mumbled in explanation, earning yourself a quizzical look.

“You were a waitress?”

“Yes and it was a long time ago but we can talk all about it if I can set these down somewhere they won’t fall on your feet,” you said hurriedly, borderline pleading with your eyes for him to let you in. It wasn’t as if he was about to say no, there was just something comical about the way you were managing to hold everything in your hands. 

With a click of his tongue, he gestured for you to enter with his head, closing the door behind you as you set one of the plates down on the window seat, rubbing the red skin of your arm where the hot plate had ever so slightly burned you. He instantly felt bad, crossing the room with the intention to take your arm to look at it before you stuck it into the shadow on the wall, removing it again to reveal your skin pristine again.

“It wasn’t that bad, just uncomfortable,” you shrugged, handing a plate and bottle to him. Logan shook his head at what he’d just seen, giving you a look of ‘fair enough’ before taking the plate and beer gratefully. How long had it been since someone cooked for him? Though you’d done it as a peace offering, it still warmed his heart slightly. That and the fact it smelt fucking divine. 

“I’m sorry…” you started, mindlessly poking your pasta around your plate with your fork after making yourself comfortable on his window seat. He guessed it used to be your window seat, but it still made him happy how comfortable you looked. “The Professor told me something in the meeting and… rattled me, that’s all,” you shrugged, popping a few pieces of green pasta into your mouth and chewing thoughtfully. 

Logan decided to wait for you to continue, cracking open the bottle top of his beer with his teeth. Raising a brow as you looked over at him in slightly disturbed awe. 

“How did you not just break your jaw?” you asked, flabbergasted at his seemingly endless pool of abilities. 

“Not much can break it, considering my skeleton’s adamantium.” Logan was starting to like when you gaped at him in shock, admiring the way you jaw went completely slack, eyes wide. 

“Wait, how don't you– ohhhhh…” It had taken you a while to notice just how much the bed dipped when he sat down. No wonder he was so ripped, he had to be that strong in order to fucking walk around. “Any other secrets you're hiding?” You asked, before instantly regretting the question when his eyes met yours.

“You wanna talk about keeping secrets now?” He asked curtly.

“Walked into that one…”

“Yeah, you kinda did.” 

You sighed, fiddling with the bottle cap of your beer. Not to remove it, just to feel the sensation of the almost serrated edges helped to ground yourself. 

“You know about my mutation, the whole shadow-walking thing?” You asked, to which Logan responded with a nod, finally taking a bite of the pasta you’d made. Your heart swelled with pride as he paused, looking from the food to you with an impressed smile. “So, turns out, it’s nothing like Kitty’s. It’s not phasing like we originally thought, but something totally different.” You started to explain to an intensely listening Logan. “Kitty phases through things. I actually become the shadows I enter. Like, it’s not still my body but just in the shadow, my molecules break down to literally be the shadow,” you could tell he was trying to understand, his head tilting slightly to the side in a way you genuinely found cute. “It’s like, I’m holding water in my bare hands,” you started to demonstrate, placing your plate and bottle down beside you to cup your hands in front of you. “And this, this is my body. My corporeal body. But, when I dive into shadows, that body breaks down,” your cupped hands splayed apart, fingers spread to simulate a liquid splash. Logan nodded thoughtfully through mouthfuls of pasta. “How Jean explained it was that my molecules are held together with some kind of thread, and I control that thread, but it’s a constant strain… Like, I can feel my body being held together. And it just… I don’t know. It scared me I guess.”

The room fell into silence as you finished your explanation, Logan setting his somehow clean plate to the side, leaning his elbows against his spread knees, beer bottle clasped in both hands. “I uh, don’t really understand what’s scary bubs, sounds like this is an opportunity to develop it, right?” he asked, eyes searching your face for any sign you were reassured.

You sighed, the back of your head softly hitting the wall behind you. “Well apparently we’ve been lucky so far, and my control over this string or thread or whatever the fuck is stronger than they thought but… I don’t know, I guess what first went through my mind was what would happen if the thread snapped. Would I just stop being able to shadow walk or–”

“Would you stop altogether, and be able to do nothing but shadow walk,” Logan finished, realisation dawning on his gruff features. You nodded slightly, not wanting to speak anything into existence. 

“Exactly.” You whispered, staring into your borderline untouched pasta. You honestly didn’t know what to do, and you didn’t know what could be done. Surely, at this point, it was just a matter of time, right? The thought hit you like a lightning bolt. If it was just a matter of time, you just burdened this poor man, who you’d only met hours ago, with the knowledge that, eventually, you were likely just simply dissolve into nothing, cursed to live forever in the shadows of others. “Anyway, yeah, that’s why I had a face like, how did you put it? Like my pet just died,” You did your best to imitate his voice, hoping to shit it would lighten the mood of the room, but it only earned you a look of sympathy.

Fucking sympathy. You hated sympathy.

You’d come in here in the hopes to make things right with him and apologise for how you were earlier, but the one thing you really didn’t want, and never fucking wanted, was sympathy. You sighed heavily, preparing yourself for whatever ‘I’m so sorry this is happening speech’ he was clearly getting ready to spill. 

But for the umpteenth time in the short while you’d known him, Logan surprised you. Taking your bottle of beer from your side, he cracked the lid off with his teeth, the same as before, before handing it back to you. You, as stunned as you were, managed to take it from his hand, the soft skin of your fingertips brushing the backs of his own. You smiled in resignation, raising your bottle in some tragic excuse of a toast. ‘To the inevitable’ you wanted to say, but you physically bit your tongue before taking a long sip of the slightly bitter liquid.

“It won’t come to that,” you’d forgotten, in the period of silence, that you were waiting for him to say something. You tilted your head in confusion, and it honestly took all of Logan’s willpower not to launch into you and wrap you up in his arms. He really needed to pull himself together. “Look, I was pretty fuckin’ helpless when I came here. And I know you remember the state Marie was in. Neither of us thought we were worth savin’, but look at us now,” in complete honesty, Logan still didn’t think he was worth saving, but that was neither here nor there. “He’ll help ya. You’ll get this under control. And it ain’t all bad. He already said you had more control than he thought,” You could feel his eyes search your face as you closed yours. Maybe he was right. Charles had said you had more control over these strings than he thought. 

Logan was right. That was a good thing.

“Well, we’ll see tomorrow. That’s when we really start everything. We have another meeting before we’re straight into training, seeing if we can really develop this mutation before I cease to exist. No pressure right?” You half-joked, your lips quirking up into what you hoped was a smile. Or, at least, a lopsided one. 

Fuck he wanted to kiss you. Kiss you. When the hell was the last time he’d felt like this toward anyone? He hadn’t wanted to kiss anyone in goddamn years, and here you were, a woman he didn’t even believe existed a few hours ago, waltzing into his life and making him feel things like wanting to fucking kiss you. 

“I uh… ya know I wanted to apologise too.”

Well, that caught you off guard. “Wh– wait what? Why? What for?” you couldn’t help firing off questions at speeds you didn’t know you were capable of, utter bafflement contorting your features. 

“You were right. I don’t know you. And you don’t know me.” Logan watched as your face transformed from confusion, to hurt, to acceptance. 

“Yeah…. I did say that didn’t I? I–”

“But,” he interrupted, stopping you mid-sentence. “That doesn’t mean I don’t wanna know ya…” Logan almost laughed aloud at how your eyes went comically wide. Did you know how cute you were? When you weren’t telling him to fuck off, that is.

“I– Uh, okay, sure… what d’ya wanna know?” you asked, hoping to fuck you didn’t sound ridiculous. If you didn’t, Logan didn’t seem to mind or care. 

“You can start of by tellin’ me how or where you learned to cook so well,” you scoffed loudly, rolling you eyes. “Nah I’m serious kid, that was fuckin’ great,” Logan leaned against the headboard, an arm positioned behind his head as you too made yourself comfortable again on the window seat, resting your elbow on your raised knee.

“Kid? Do you know how old I am?” you asked, smirking slightly. Though you were a little embarrassed, there was no way you’d show it. Kid? Did he seriously think you were that young? 

“Do you know how old I am?” he retorted, that same self-assured glint dancing in his eye. You peered at him in scrutiny, emphasising how hard you were looking at him by squinting intensely.

“I’d put you at around like, early thirties? Maybe mid? Am I hot or cold?” you asked, kinda hoping he was in the same sort of age bracket as you were. Not for any specific reason of course… just for… science.

Yeah. For science.

Though your heart deflated slightly at his bark of a laugh. “Not quite. Try mid to late hundred and thirties. Give or take a few years.” Once again you gaped at him, mouth wide open, jaw completely slack. He could get used to that sight. Dangerously used to it. “Take a picture bubs, it’ll last longer.”

“B-but… how–? Y–? Hundred and– what the fuck?” You couldn’t get over it. Though your mind was still reeling, you managed to recover quickly. “Why you don’t look a day over ninety. You’re in good shape for a fossil, though I was wondering why I was getting a lot of calls from museums recently… probably looking for their exhibit back,” you smirked wildly whilst Logan just stared at you, trying his fucking damnest not to let his disobedient lips quirk anywhere other than down. 

“Ya done?”

“I’ll probably think of some more. But, in all seriousness, how?” You asked, and Logan couldn’t detect anything other than genuine curiosity.

“Regenerative. I heal real quick, but that also keeps my body in good condition. Dunno exactly how old I am, but it’s around hundred and thirty,” he shrugged, and you whistled lowly. “So?” he prompted, and you looked up.

“So what?”

“How’dya make the pasta?” 

You snorted in amusement, before launching into an explanation about your brother and how he always had an interest in cooking and had taught you to cook simple things, like how to make a béchamel sauce, or how to make pesto from scratch. And if you weren’t so caught up in your storytelling, you would have noticed Logan drinking in every damn word like he was parched for conversation. Listening to you talk, the cadence of your voice, the way you pronounce every letter and the way you occasionally drop a letter, it was hypnotic. You didn’t have an abundance of energy, and whether that was simply because you were exhausted after the day you’d had, or if that was just who you were, he didn’t know. But honestly? He didn’t really care. 

As long as you kept talking, that was all that mattered. If he could take your mind off tomorrow, or your situation by letting you ramble about the smallest of things, he would. And he would pretend the whole time like he was doing this for you. And not because, at the end of everything, he liked listening to you. 

“Anyway, that’s how you tell the difference between a Thoroughbred and a Quarter Horse. And I will not make that mistake again.” You’d somehow weaved from topic to topic, the conversation ebbing and flowing for hours, you both taking turns in sharing random stories from your pasts, little anecdotes that gave context to who you both were as people now. And it was only thanks to the brief silence and the conveniently timed chime of the clock did you realise how late it was. Or rather, how early.

It was one in the fucking morning. How the hell did that happen? Your eyes slid back to Logan, who at some point had made himself comfortable on the opposite side of the window seat, and you watched as he had the same realisation. Holy shit.

“I should probably–”

“Look, you should–”

You both started to speak at the same time, before pausing to let the other talk first. It was gross and awkward and cringey but, for the life of you, you couldn’t find it in you to care. 

You stood, gathering your long abandoned, though now empty plate, and crossed the room to grab his from the bedside table. You heard Logan sigh heavily behind you in what you assumed was exhaustion. You couldn’t blame the man. You’d been talking for hours. 

Logan followed you to the door, holding it open for you as you stepped out into the hallway. You placed the crockery onto the floor, freeing your hands to wrap your arms around his neck in a similar embrace to the one before. Only this time, you felt his strong arms return your hug, wrapping you up tightly against his chest.

“Thank you. For letting me talk for hours. You don’t need to pretend you enjoyed it, by the way. But thank you all the same.” You stepped back, and Logan leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah well, you brought peace pesto and beer. How could I say no?” He quipped, and you chuckled lightly. He wasn’t about to admit he enjoyed your company far more than he should have done, and he sure as shit wasn’t about to admit he wasn’t pretending to like it. His eyes softened at your laugh in a way he’d stopped them from doing all evening. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

You peered up at him, a knowing spark dancing in your iris. You noticed. Of course, you’d noticed. That was almost exactly what you’d said to him earlier. The same hopeful lilt and all. 

“Sure.” Was all you said in return, before picking up the empty plates and bottles off the floor, and turning away to head back down the hallway. You refused to look back, worried that if you did, you’d run straight back to his room and never fucking leave.

But if you had. If you had just turned to look over your shoulder, you would have seen him leaning against the doorway still, eyes following you down the stairs, and lingering still, long after you’d disappeared.

Yeah… he was definitely in trouble.

[honeyedmiller]

When in Positano | Javier Peña

javier peña x f!reader

rating: 18+, minors do not interact

warnings: light alcohol consumption, smut (fingering, f & m oral receiving, unprotected piv, major breeding kink, ass slaps), talks of starting a family, an insane amount of fluff, javi is a romantic at heart, bits of spanish with translation, frequent pov switching, no use of y/n.

word count: 6.1k

synopsis: honeymooning in italy with your husband is a dream, especially when he reveals he wants to start a family with you.

a/n: this has been in my wips / drafts since january- and then i ultimately decided to change the whole plot of this bc i've been in a soft mushy mood for husband x reader lately. shoutout to @ilovepedro (ily) for beta'ing this baby for me. hope you enjoy <3

It was times like this that you could hardly believe this was your life.

The morning sun had shown her golden rays through the linen curtains that danced with the wind, illuminating your villa brilliantly. The first thing you get to see when your eyes flutter open is your husband, unknowingly basking in the golden light of the morning. 

You stretch your sore limbs, the glint of your wedding ring in the light catching your attention. You can't help the smile that spreads across your lips, eyes shifting down to the man next to you once again. 

You study his peaceful features as if you were sketching him from memory — tan, warm skin; dark, thick hair; a mustache that always tickles the tiniest bit when he’d kiss you anywhere on your body; a strong, angular nose; long lashes that fan his cheeks; and plush, pink lips that were slightly parted as he breathed steadily. 

The only thing you miss dearly in sight at that very moment are his beautiful brown eyes. The same eyes that had you hooked from the very first time your gaze fell upon them. 

Your eyes travel down to his muscular arms — the same arms that always hold you tight and protect you, all the way down to his torso and his naked, but covered, lower half. 

Your eyes snap up to his gorgeous face once more, reaching your hand out to trace featherlight lines over his smooth skin. You cup his cheek, leaning forward in the slightest to kiss his nose. His brows scrunch in reaction as he finally stirs awake. 

He groans softly as he instinctively wraps an arm around you, bringing your bare body flush to his. You can’t help the giggle that bubbles in your throat, taking advantage of your proximity to him as you start peppering kisses all over his face. 

You pull back and he peeks one sleepy eye open, a half smile immediately forming on his face. 

“Buenos días, mi amor.” [good morning, my love] He whispers, leaning in to kiss your forehead. 

“Buenos días, mi esposo.” [good morning, my husband] You beam, and he gently grabs your left hand — the one that decided to caress his face once more — and looks down at it with pride, seeing the wedding band and engagement ring together. It’s something he’ll never tire of. 

“Still can’t believe you said ‘I do’.” He chuckles, bringing your hand up to his lips so he can kiss your ring. 

“I’d say those two words in a million lifetimes with you, Javier.” You whisper, and his soft brown eyes look up at you in pure adoration. 

“Mi vida.” [my life] He shakes his head in disbelief, an undeniable grin etching itself upon his plush lips. 

You said I do to each other just seventy-two hours ago, and you both have been luxuriating in the blissful feeling of forever. 

Javier surprised you with your dream vacation destination as your honeymoon, and you cried in happiness on your twelve hour flight as you both made your way to Italy. 

You don’t know what you did to deserve such a man as Javier, and you truly don’t think you’ll ever comprehend how you got to marry him. What you do know, is that you’re the luckiest woman alive. 

Little do you also know, he feels the same exact way about you. 

“I love you.” The words flow naturally, easily, and he gives you a look that makes you want to give him the whole universe. Fuck, if you could, you would. 

This man—the man that has endured so much in his past, only to open up his heart to you and only you—to protect you, cherish you, and love you the way he does, is a man that deserves everything gracious and peaceful this world has to offer. 

And if you told him those exact words, he’d kiss you searingly and tell you that you are his grace, his peace, his god-given solace. You are the reason his heart beats, his days are brighter, his world spins on its axis. You’re everything to him and he’d show you time and time again just so. 

“I love you too, cariño.” [honey] His voice is softer, a voice only reserved for you. Underneath the harsh exterior and the stern brow he always wears, there’s a softness that he carries when it’s just you two in the confines of your own space. You always greet him at the door when he comes home, pressing a kiss between his furrowed brows, wrapping your arms around him before telling him “welcome home.” He always relaxes under your touch, and knowing you’re his peace makes pride bloom in your chest. 

Your heart aches in the best way possible with how much you love your husband, and your faithfulness and devotion to him will never, ever waver. 

Javi buries his face into your neck and leaves a trail of kisses up to your jaw, mustache hairs tickling your skin as he nibbles on your chin playfully. 

“What’s on the agenda today, baby?” He asks, hand gliding up the soft skin of your torso, thumb brushing just beneath your breast. The ghost of his touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you grin lazily as you look at him. 

“I was thinking about the street market we passed yesterday, and maybe a new restaurant?” You say, running a hand through his thick brown locks. You twirl a longer piece at the nape of his neck around your finger, and he begins to kiss your collarbone languidly. 

He hums in thought, kisses trailing down to the swell of your breasts. You cradle the back of his head gently, not particularly wanting him to stop, but also aware that you should really get out of bed and enjoy the beauty of Positano while you can. Your fingers release his head and skate down to his back, gently double tapping the space between his shoulder blades. 

“We should really get up, amor.” [love] Your tone isn’t convincing enough even to yourself, and Javi rests his chin on your sternum as he looks at you with a glimpse of mischief in his eyes. 

“Can I enjoy the sweet taste of my wife first?” His tone is more of a statement than a question, and you can’t help but laugh at his eagerness. Truthfully, if it were up to him, you two probably wouldn’t leave the bedroom very much in the week and a half you get to spend here. To you, Italy was paradise, but to Javier, you were his. 

He could spend days with his face – or cock – buried between your thighs, savoring every moment of your addicting taste and tight cunt. 

“Only if you let me pick the restaurant.” You negotiate poorly, and even then, Javier sports a grin that lights up the whole room. The sun and her radiance doesn’t even nearly hold a candle to your husband’s smile. 

“Deal.” He murmurs, lips marking their territory down your sternum. Before he gets any further, he kisses both of your breasts before enveloping a nipple into his mouth. You suck in a breath at the feeling, the sensation shooting straight down to your already needy and aching core. 

Something of a whine escapes you, tugging on his hair as you arch your back off the mattress. You can feel his smug smirk against your skin before he switches sides, relishing the other pert bud before letting go with a small pop. 

The anticipation is building up much quicker than you expected, and you’re squirming beneath Javi as his lips ghost your stomach, moving down the bed before uncovering your bottom half. 

A lazy grin appears on his lips as he takes in the sight of your puffy, glistening pussy, ready for his tongue to drink you up like you’re the finest nectar on the planet. 

Javier tsks at the sight teasingly, swiping his middle finger through your folds, preening at your receptiveness to his touch as your hips buck toward his mouth involuntarily. “Now who made my beautiful wife this wet and needy, hm?” He asks, moving his face down to kiss the supple skin of your thigh before biting down gently. 

You yelp in surprise, looking down at him only to find him sporting a shit-eating grin. The word wife makes you even needier, loving the fact that you belong to him. 

“You, mi corazón [my heart]. Solo tú.” [only you]

Javi closes his eyes at the endearment, nestling his cheek to your thigh as he breathes in a few times. He feels like he’s in an alternate reality where his dream woman just dropped out of the sky, and he gets to spend the rest of his life with her. 

But this is real, you’re real, and he nearly has to pinch himself to prove that you aren’t a figment of his imagination. He gets to spend eternity with you, and he deems himself the luckiest son of a bitch alive. 

He opens his eyes and his gaze meets yours once more, and you can’t help but reach out for his face. You look so ethereal to him as the golden rays fall upon your body, making you glow like a goddess. Your head is back against the pillows as you watch him with an adoring gaze from above, and he truly has no words to ever conjure up just how much he loves you. 

And, for a moment, as he’s watching you watch him, his eyes flicker down to your stomach. Javier never thought he’d be a man who wants to have kids in his life. Hell, he didn’t even think he’d ever be able to get married, let alone to a gem such as yourself. 

You’ve given him a softer life; a life full of love and happiness—a complete one-eighty from his time in Colombia—and a house to call a home, albeit you being his home no matter where you two are. You’d also be the one to be able to give him the ultimate gift: fatherhood. 

He sweeps his reeling thoughts to the back of his mind for now, his main focus averting back to you and pleasing you until you’re screaming his name. 

With that thought in mind, he wastes no more time before he gives your pretty, glistening pussy a kiss, delving his tongue into your folds right after. 

You gasp at the sensation, eyebrows pinching together as his muscle works your nerves expertly as he’s done countless times before. He traces the tip of his tongue through your folds, up to your clit and flicks it a few times before moving back down to your entrance. He prods the muscle inside and dutifully fucks you with his tongue, the pace delicious as his nose bumps your clit repeatedly in the process. 

You grip onto his hair, hips bucking into his face in tandem with the stroke of his tongue. 

You can’t help but cry out his name repeatedly, and he feels prideful that he’s the only one that can make you feel this good. 

Javi’s mouth separates from your dripping cunt, bottom half of his face shiny with the taste he loves oh so much. 

“Taste like a dream, muñequita.” [doll] He breathes, sliding his hand down to grip your thigh as the other toys with the slick on your pussy. He kisses your thigh again and he looks up at you trying to catch your breath. Your head already feels fuzzy at the immense pleasure your husband’s tongue brings you, and to top it off, he slides his middle and ring finger into you. 

He keeps his eyes on your face and watches as you unravel, pumping his fingers in and out of you. He makes sure to curl his fingers to hit the very specific spot he knows you like, and when he does, you lose all resolve. You crumble under his touch as your arousal seeps out of you and down his fingers, coating his wedding band in your juices as they flow down to his wrist. 

“So fucking pretty, baby. You like when I fuck you with my fingers?” He asks, and you nod without hesitation. 

“Words, corazón.” [heart] 

“Fuck–fuck, yes, Javi, oh, god-” You cry, and he squeezes your thigh before diving back down to lap up your pussy once more. The combination of his tongue and fingers is absolutely lethal—you know you aren’t going to last much longer. 

Javier is the matchbox to your match, dragging, dragging, dragging you along. The coil in your core is wound up so tight that within seconds, you break and light aflame. 

You cry out his name, the sound of your own desperate plea reverberating off of the four walls of the villa’s bedroom eagerly. 

You feel like you’re gushing everywhere—his fingers, his mouth, the bedsheets—and it’s pure ecstasy when he blows out the flame, your body the smoke as you dissipate into the luxury of a devastatingly euphoric bliss. 

Javi drags his lips up your thigh, to your torso, all the way up to your jaw before capturing your lips in a searing kiss as you both share the taste of you on his tongue. 

He hums into the kiss and separates from you, bringing his slick-coated fingers to your mouth. You huff a laugh as you eagerly lick the arousal off of his wedding ring and up his digit, popping both of them into your mouth and suck them until they’re clean. 

Javi’s cock is impossibly hard now, but he knows how badly you want to explore the beautiful city. So, he pushes his urges down for now, though you’d likely gladly take his cock into that pretty mouth of yours and suck him dry. 

He groans as he gets up from the bed, giving you another chaste kiss before he trudges to the bathroom to retrieve a towel to clean you up. Your eyes follow him as you lay on your side, head propped up by your hand. You study his figure unashamedly, admiring your husband and his bare form in all of its glory. Long legs, toned arms, tan skin, and of course, that insanely cute ass of his—and he’s all yours. Every inch of his beautiful body, face, and mind is yours. 

He walks out of the bathroom with a towel in hand, and you can’t help but admire his impressive length. He teasingly throws the towel at you and you catch it, and before you can protest, his body is hovering over yours. 

“Someone can’t keep their eyes to themselves, hm?” He quirks a brow at you. 

“Well excuse me for admiring my husband and how sexy he is.” You retort, and he can’t help the guttural laugh that escapes his belly. 

“You’re something else, you know that?” His tone is playful, snatching the towel from you as he cleans you up. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows as you give him a stern look, and he meets your gaze with a boyish grin. 

“You’re the one who married me. That’s on you.” You say, and he grabs your shoulders after tossing the towel onto the floor before giving you a light shake. 

“And it’s been the best decision of my life, muchas gracias.” [thank you very much]

You roll your eyes before leaning up and giving him a kiss, tapping his thigh as you pull apart. 

“Up and at ‘em, baby. Italy is waiting for us.” 

-

You watched Javi as he bought some fresh fruit from a vendor at the street market, patrons bustling on the side as they enjoyed the beautiful weather and scenery before them. The water was a brilliant hue of blue, tying in the bright colors and coastal landscaping Positano had to offer. 

Javi holds out his arm for you after he purchases the fruit, and you gladly cling onto his bicep as you make your way down the street. You stop for a moment to look at him and admire his outfit—bright blue shirt that contrasted beautifully against his tan skin, and some white pants paired with brown loafers.

 He gave you a face when you originally suggested the shoes to him because it simply wasn’t something he’d ever wear, but they were insanely comfortable and undoubtedly great for walking, deeming you right once more. 

“Mi esposa always knows what’s best,” [my wife] He’d said. 

Javi peels an orange for you both to share, splitting it in half and hand feeding you the slices. You bite the tip of his finger playfully, and he can’t help but admire the buttery sweet sound of the laugh that emanates you. 

You hum at the citrus taste of the orange, closing your eyes in delight at how fresh it is. 

“That’s delicious.” You say aloud, and Javi looks at you while sliding his aviators down the bridge of his nose. 

“It is, but nothing compares to the taste of you.”

Your face heats up at his words, hiding it in the crook of his neck for a second while letting out a mumbled ‘behave’ from you. 

He’s smug when you pull your face back from the warmth of his body, and you lightly swat his chest in mock-chastise. 

“You hungry, mamí?” He pulls a food guide of local restaurants out from his back pocket, and you nod eagerly. 

“For more than just food.” You murmur, slotting your arms onto his broad shoulders, letting one hand dangle and the other play with the curls at the nape of his neck. His hands instinctively grab onto your waist and he pulls your body flush to his. 

“Now who needs to behave, hm?” 

“Still you.” You beam.

“Smartass.” He retorts with a chuckle. 

“Maybe. But you love me.”

“That I do, bebita,” [baby girl] He leans in for a kiss before handing you the food guide, and you briefly scan the options. 

 “How about some pizza?” 

-

The restaurant reminds you of your first date with Javier. You remember how much he tried to impress you, and even then, you knew he was someone special. To end up here with him in Italy eating the most delicious pizza and drinking the crispest glass of wine four years later seems like a total fever dream. 

Javi raises his glass up to you, giving you his infamous puppy dog eyes and the softest smile you think you’ve ever seen on him. “Cheers to you, amor de me vida,” [love of my life] “You make me the happiest man alive. You’ve given me everything I could wish for and then some, and your beautiful heart and soul never ceases to amaze me.” 

Tears prick your eyes as you raise your glass to clink against his, sipping the Prosecco in your glass. You reach for his left hand across the table, bringing his knuckles up to your lips as you kiss them and his wedding band repeatedly. 

“I love you, Javier Peña. Thank you for giving me a life well beyond my wildest dreams. I’d do anything for you. It’s me and you against the world, baby.” 

“I’ll never know how a bastard like me got so goddamn lucky. You’re a godsend, corazón,” [heart] “What if we had an addition to our world?” He asks, voice almost shy as he tries to gauge your reaction. 

“What do you mean, mi amor?” [my love]

”How do you feel about starting a family? With me?” 

He’s hopeful with the way he stares at you, squeezing your hand as he awaits your answer. 

“Is that something you want, baby? I know a while back you said you weren’t too sure.” 

You’d love to have a family with Javier. The thing was, he wasn’t too sure of that awhile back when things really got serious between you two. You were a little crushed by the prospect of not having kids with the love of your life, but you’d learn to make do. It was never a dealbreaker for you specifically, but you’ve always felt like you were meant to be a mom. 

“I’m sure now. I love the sound of having a little one of us running around. We don’t need to rush into it, though. I just—I want this with you, and I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life. Well, besides asking you to be mine para siempre.” [forever]

You try to not let your emotions overwhelm you in the moment. The man sitting in front of you has you in pure awe, with the way a softness has wrapped itself around his heart, showing him that this side of life is full of warmth and love. He’s gradually learned to accept it, unlearning all of the harsh stoicism that seized his being in the past. 

“You’d be the best daddy, Javier Peña. No doubt in my mind.” 

His face gleams with joy as he brings your hand up to his mouth, kissing each knuckle individually. 

“And you’d be the best mommy, Mrs. Peña.” 

Your heart flutters at the sound of your new last name. You still genuinely cannot believe you’re married to this man. 

“Chucho is probably going to ask when we’re going to give him grandbabies.” 

Javier can’t help but laugh, knowing full well his father would undoubtedly ask that question as soon as you two get back to Texas. 

He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively at you. “We should start practicing now then, mamí. Wouldn’t wanna keep him or the rest of the family waiting.” 

-

A sheen of sweat coats your brow and chest as you arrive back to your villa with Javi. The walk itself wasn’t far but the warm weather was starting to get to you. And yet, as soon as you walked through the doors of the bedroom, he was on you. 

He was kissing your pulse point while his hands roamed over your body with fervor, skimming over the cotton material of the sundress you were wearing. You giggle as his mustache tickles your neck, playfully nudging him.

“Javi, baby, I’m all sticky and sweaty. Let me take a shower first.”

He hums at your words, continuing the assault of his lips down your jugular before nibbling on your hot skin. His grip on your waist tightens before he leads you backwards into the bathroom, hands moving down to your ass before giving it a playful slap. He spins you around so you’re both facing the huge mirror above the double vanity, and his hands settle onto your stomach. 

His eyes travel down to where his hands are as he starts to rub his thumbs back and forth. The look of pure love in his eyes was enough to tell you how badly he really wants to be a father. You reach an arm back to cradle the side of his face, craning your neck to the side to give his cheek a kiss. 

“Can you just imagine growing a life that’s half you and half me in here? Nuestro hijo o hija. You’d be glowing even more than you do now, mi amor.” [our son or daughter ; my love]

Your gaze snaps back up to his face, his usual stoic brow softened at the idea of you carrying his child. You didn’t think you could fall in love with this man even more, but picturing him taking your newborn baby out of the carseat after coming home from the hospital and seeing their tiny body resting against his chest in comfort, against someone so loving and so familiar, gives you an indescribable amount of butterflies. 

His eyes meet yours in the mirror once more, and you can’t help but give him a soft smile. Both of you are well aware that no words can ever come close to describing the emotions that flow through your minds and hearts, but somehow still connect perfectly like a puzzle piece.

It’s sacred, your love with Javi, and it’s something you’ll both pour into your future child endlessly. 

Javi’s lips find your neck once more, fingertips skating over the sticky flesh of your arms before settling on the straps of your dress. His lips move to your shoulder as he slips one strap off, then the other, and tugs down gently so the fabric falls and pools at your feet. 

You’re bare on top, and Javi takes advantage of the beautiful sight and kneads your breasts with his hands. You can’t help the way your head lolls back onto his shoulder, biting your lip as he tweaks both nipples simultaneously. 

“My beautiful wife.” He whispers, trailing a hand down your torso and over the fabric of your panties, teasingly rubbing you through the thin material. A gasp evades you as the familiar low ache bubbles in your core once again. 

“Javi,” You gasp, hand flying up to steady yourself as you grab the side of his neck. 

“Fuck, I love the way you say my name.”

Your ass presses against his front, and you feel his cock harden in his pants. You turn around to face him and he grabs your hips instinctively before pulling you forward so you’re flush to his body. He leans in to kiss you ferociously, hands sliding down to grab your ass as you toss your arms over his shoulders. 

You stay like that for a minute just enjoying the simplicity in the art of kissing your husband before reaching down to unbutton his shirt. You slide the material off of his shoulders before moving down to his pants, palming his cock teasingly. He groans into your mouth and kisses you like a starved man, backing you toward the shower. You slide his jeans off of his hips once he’s stagnant and he steps out of them, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. 

Before you two can continue your escapades, he gives your forehead a kiss before turning on the shower to a temperature comfortable for you both. You slide your panties off and he mirrors your actions, sliding his boxers off before you both step inside. 

The lukewarm water cools your skin briefly before Javi steps under the stream, face up toward the water. You watch as the droplets stream down his face, to his neck and shoulders, down his torso and down down down into the dark, wiry hairs that sit below his navel and above his delicious length. 

Your mouth is practically salivating at the sight before you, and you need to have a taste of your husband. 

Your hands are gentle on his torso before they drag down, your body lowering with them until you’re on your knees. Javi looks down at you with his lips parted and a wild look in his eye. 

You lick your lips and smirk at him before pushing on his thighs, backing him up so he sits down onto the bench in the shower. You scoot forward on your knees, admiring your man from below as his thighs spread wide and his hard cock is already furious and leaking pre-come, slathering itself onto his torso. 

Your nails scratch his thighs lightly before you lean down to kiss them each once, looking back up at him before taking his cock into your hand. You pump his silky flesh a few times before swiping your thumb over his slit, spreading his arousal over the head of his cock before lowering your mouth. 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head at the taste, absolutely entranced by this man and his cock that you love oh so much. 

“My wife is so pretty with my cock in her mouth.” He says, stroking the side of your face with his thumb. 

You separate from him as you sit back on your heels, pumping his length as you quirk a brow. “I think I look prettier when your cock is in me, papí.” 

He groans and squeezes his eyes shut, thumping his head against the shower wall. “Got a dirty fucking mouth, bebita. Christ.” [baby girl]

“Just wait to see what it’ll do to your cock.” You can’t help but giggle at the way your words were easily affecting him, but you decide to cease your teasing. 

You slowly take him into your mouth, gagging as you reach the hilt. You swallow around him as best as you can manage before bringing your mouth up once more, swirling your tongue around his tip before taking him all the way into your mouth again. 

He’s heavy and warm against your tongue, twitching with every bob of your head as you set a steady rhythm. You squeeze your lips around him and he cradles the back of your head, guiding your movements up and down his cock in haste. 

“Your mouth feels so– fuck– fucking good, corazón.” [heart] 

He struggles to vocalize a coherent thought, babbling on about how good you make him feel and how much he loves you. 

The broken praises only spur you on further as you begin to deepthroat him with every pass, tears pricking your waterline as you control your gag reflex. He’s nearly bucking his hips up into you at this point, fucking your mouth at a pace that drives him insane. 

“Shit– yeah, baby, just like that. Fuck you’re so perfect, I’m gonna fucking come—”

You hum around him and squeeze your lips even tighter, gripping his thighs as he tenses up. His spend shoots onto your tongue and he can’t help the loud groan that rumbles through his chest, the feeling of your mouth so heavenly around his cock. You swallow everything he gives you, enjoying the view of your husband’s post-orgasm glow. 

The late afternoon sun seeps into the bathroom and illuminates him in such a way that even the Greek Gods have nothing against. He looks picturesque like this; mouth parted and panting—a wild and untamable rasp, eyes shut as he comes down from the orgasm he’s been pining after all day long. His wet curls stick to his forehead in disarray, but it suits him. 

His eyes slowly peel open and peer down at you, and you know better than to give him a smug smile. Instead, you lean down and kiss his inner thigh a few times without breaking his heady gaze. 

“C’mere.” He murmurs, pulling you up by your elbows. You’re standing now, and he leans forward to kiss your stomach a few times before he pats his thighs. You straddle his hips, hands landing on his chest as you trace small patterns. 

His hand slides down and in between your thighs where it’s slick with your arousal. You were so lost in pleasing your husband that you didn’t notice the incessant need growing stronger by the minute. It wasn’t a low, bubbling thing anymore—it was a full-fledged monstress clawing her way to the surface, begging to be tamed. 

The carnal desire for Javi couldn’t be held off anymore. You leaned in to kiss him, moaning into his mouth as your hips rock against nothing in particular. Javi is already half-hard again, and ever the gentleman that he is, he angles you down to where your dripping core is gliding against his warm, thick length. 

A strangled moan leaves your lips as you toss your head back, and Javi leans forward to nose at your jaw before peppering your neck in kisses. He nibbles on the junction between your neck and shoulder, rocking his hips up onto you simultaneously. 

You whine his name as you loll your head forward, eyes blinking open and gaze locking with his. 

You’re not sure what exactly possesses you to say your next words—maybe it’s the look in his eye, maybe it’s a mixture of desperation and desire, maybe it’s just pure, honest truth. Hell, maybe it was all of the above. 

“I want to make you a daddy, Javi.” Your voice is sultry and sickeningly sweet, dripping like honey. 

And from that point, he was determined. Determined to make you the mother of his child, determined to start a family with you and grow it to both your heart's content, and determined to love and cherish you and your future child, or children—always—and Javier Peña was a man of his word. 

He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you forward so you both are chest to chest, and you’re reeling over the look he’s giving you. He notches his tip at your entrance, fully hard once again with the promising tone behind your words. 

“Say it again.” He says.

“I want to make you,” You pause, moving your lips down to slot between his, pulling back just enough to whisper the rest of your sentence. “A daddy.” You sink down slowly onto him, and you kiss him again as you slowly adjust yourself to him. 

You both moan into each other, pulling apart as he fully sheathes himself into you. You’re so full like this, content in every way possible at the feeling of your husband’s cock stretching you out so deliciously. You rock your hips slightly as a test, moaning at the sensation that surges through you. 

You do it again, this time with more intent, and slowly set a rhythm with your hips. The feeling of his cock is otherworldly. A greedy, selfish part of you thinks that you’ll never be able to get enough of him or the feeling of this—being connected as so. 

You fist a hand into his thick wet locks as the other grabs onto his shoulder, ensuring you can keep your balance as you rock your hips back and forth. He captures your mouth in a blazing kiss, groping your ass before slapping it once as he picks up the pace for you. 

You’re panting into each other’s mouths as he increases the pace, now pounding his hips up into you. You cry out his name as your fingernails claw their way down his back and he hisses in pleasure, cradling the back of your head. 

Your mind is fuzzy and your lungs are on fire from kissing him desperately, and the white hot feeling in your core is blazing. 

“I–I love you, Javi– oh, god, I fucking love you. I love you and I want you to be the father of my child and I—” You’re babbling so much that you don’t even have a clue as to what it is that you’re really trying to say, but Javi gets the message, you think. 

He kisses your jaw as you try and match the movement of your hips to each thrust up into you, but it’s genuinely no use. Your body wants to succumb to Javier and his strong body and delicious cock and beautiful face and his big, loving heart—so you let it. You fall limp in his hold, leaning onto him as your orgasm surges through you unexpectedly. 

He can feel you pulsating around him and he knows he’s not going to last much longer. 

“Gonna make you a mama. Gonna be so good to our baby, the best mama ever.” He’s losing all self control, and you cradle his head as you ride out your prolonged orgasm. 

“Please, Javi.” You beg, and that’s enough for him to completely come undone. His hips still as he comes in you, a string of ‘I love you’s’ spilling from his mouth. You’re both breathless and completely dazed, immersed in post-coital bliss. The sound of the shower water hitting the tile floor is a relaxing constant as you both try to control your breathing. 

You sit like this for a while; you're perched in his lap as he leans against the wall, face tucked into the crook of his neck. 

You smatter kisses along his pulse point as a silent plea of love. You’re both pruny and fucked-out, but being here with each other like this is truly a dream in itself. 

The prospect of his dream woman giving him a child has him reeling, so perhaps leaving the room this week is an empty promise that flew out of the door the minute you told him you’d make him a daddy. 

Even if nothing happens right away for the two of you, that’s okay, too. You’d get to relish in the unbelievable life you already share with him a bit longer, built from the ground up by you and a man who loves you unconditionally. A man that would individually pick out the stars from the brilliant night sky for you. A man that still cannot fathom that he gets to share this life with you. 

And if that’s the case, you really wouldn’t mind at all. 

tags: @punkshort @endlessthxxghts @javierpena-inatacvest @ovaryacted @northernbluess @clawdee @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 (since all of you were excited about me posting this. ily)

divider by @saradika-graphics

[kteezy997]

The Candy Man- Part Two//W.W.

Warnings: smut, bathtub sex, curse words, some dirty talk, Willy wanting to fill reader with his cum

You couldn’t stop thinking about him. Your candy man, your Willy Wonka. You were convinced that his wonder-filled green eyes were burned into your memory forever. Your mind raced with images of his springy dark curls, his creamy pale skin, and his big cock that filled you to the brim. Your pussy ached just thinking about it.

It was a week to the day that he came knocking again. Your heart nearly leaped out of your chest when you opened your door to reveal Willy: brown top hat, purple coat, and the sweetest of smiles.

“I can’t believe it’s you.” you uttered dreamily. Your prayers had been answered: Willy had come back.

“Hey, y/n. I’m sorry to bother you.”

“Oh, you’re certainly not bothering me.”

Willy smiled kindly at you, then continued, “I have just been thinking about you, and I wonder if maybe what happened was wrong. I mean, it was absolutely wonderful, but you are a married woman. I would hate for your husband to find out-"

You cut him off as he was speaking, “Don’t worry, Willy. He will never know. It’s our little secret.”

“Oh,” he nodded, “alright then. That’s great. Um,” he looked down at his boots, shyly, “do you mind if I come in? There was something else I wanted to ask you.”

“Oh yes, of course, come in!” you said, maybe a little too enthusiastically, and you stepped aside, letting him by.

Willy walked over to the couch, rubbing his cold hands together. He did look rather cute with his rosy cheeks and slightly pink nose from the briskness outside. “You really should stay inside today, it’s too cold for you to be out there, y/n.” he said.

You blushed at his sweet words, “Should I get you some hot tea to warm you up? Or maybe some coffee?”

“No, no, I really don’t want to trouble you.” he insisted, “Come, sit with me if you would?”

You obliged him, and sat down next to him.

"Look, the real reason that I came by is to ask you if...it was okay, what I did? Was it any good?" Willy cleared his throat, apprehensively, "Did I do a good job?"

You laughed and touched his hand, "Yes, you did. I came twice, Willy. You were a natural. Better than my husband, might I add. And I've been having sex with him for years now. Well, not hardly at all lately, but that's neither here nor there." you shrugged.

"It's just that it was my first time, and I wanted to be sure that you enjoyed it as much as I did." his cheeks became a little bit flushed again, but it was not from the cold this time.

"I definitely did, Willy." you said sincerely, intertwining your fingers with his.

He softly squeezed your hand and nonchalantly looked over to the fireplace area. He shuddered ever so slightly, "That rug."

"Does it do things to you like it does to me? The memory?" you purred as you leaned in close to his ear with an idea creeping into your mind. You bit your lip.

"Yea-yeah, it does. I remember exactly what you looked like laying on that rug.” he turned to look in your eyes. The tension was palpable as your faces were just a few inches apart. “I can't get you out of my head, y/n."

"Ya know, I was about to draw a bath for myself before you came knocking, would you like to get in with me?"

"More than anything." Willy blurted out without hesitation.

.......

Willy had gotten into the hot water first, and you straddled his lap. With the both of you in the tub, the water level was dangerously high. But even if it were to spill onto the bathroom floor, you didn't notice. You were ravaging his lips, and he ran his wet hands all over your body, above and under the water.

Steam rose up from the water, creating a sweltering atmosphere. Your bodies were flushed.

You sank down onto his hard cock, and he rutted up into you. You cried out in pleasure as it slid all the way in. Your breasts bounced, tapping the surface of water and splashing in Willy's face. You grabbed his cheeks and kissed him sloppily as you fucked.

You did your best to grind your hips and keep up with him, but it was a losing battle. You were quickly brought to an orgasm with how fast he was thrusting up into you.

You whimpered as your body went limp, but Willy put his arms around you, and continued to pump his cock in and out. "Oh my God! Willy…Willy Wonka!" you cried, having never felt so good in all your life.

"I gonna come, y/n." he stuttered as his pace slowed and he thrusts became sloppy. He grabbed handfuls of your ass, and gave you a few more strokes as he kissed your face. He groaned in a huff, and you felt his cum filling your pussy.

You hugged him tightly, just needing to be close to him. Willy nuzzled into your neck and you rested your chin on his head. You put your hand on the back of his head, his curls at the nape of his neck were soaked as you pet them.

He looked up at you, his arms still linked around your body, "Kiss me?"

You leaned in and smashed your lips to his, "Mmm." you moaned happily against his mouth. You pulled away and he snuck in another peck to your swollen lips. You put your hands on either side of his chiseled cheekbones, "My angel candy man, dropped on my doorstep, so yummy and cute, with a cock made by the devil." you grinned, kissing him again. You couldn’t get enough. He was addictive like chocolate.

Willy chuckled, "I don't want to be done yet. Need to fill you with more of my cream.”

"Ugh, yes, treat me like one of your fine chocolates, Willy. Fill me, I want it.” you begged, moaning into his lips in another eager kiss.

"Turn over, please?" he asked, in between pecks, puppy dog eyes in full effect.

You couldn't deny his request. He was all you wanted, all you thought about and longed for, and you were going to take him as long as you wanted, as long as he was there. You nodded, swirling yourself in the water so your back was to him. Willy pushed you forward, careful to keep your head above water, and he pulled your hips up. With your ass to the surface and facing him, he held your waist, and slid his dripping wet cock inside you again.

"Ah!" you moaned as he thrusted fast, splashing the water and making it slosh out on the floor. The bathroom was filled with the loud splashing noises he created. You braced yourself on the bottom of the tub with your hands. The bath water sprinkled your face and hair with warm droplets as you took Willy's cock over and over.

After a moment, he let out a huff and you felt him release inside you once more. "Wheeew, sorry y/n. It may take more practice for me to last longer." his breathing was uneven as he spoke. He leaned over your back to leave a kiss on top of your head.

"No," you panted, "it's alright, it was amazing. You bring me more chocolate next week and we’ll practice some more.”

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @chalametbich

[simp4konig]

“𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐈 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐞.„

𝕲𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝖝 𝕲𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗-𝖓𝖊𝖚𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖑 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℭ𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 𝟏𝟒,𝟖𝟎𝟕

𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶

𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐙𝐨𝐦𝐛𝐢𝐞 𝐀𝐩𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐩𝐬𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮, 𝐚 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐞𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭, “𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭”, 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐬.

𝐈𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭. 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝?

...

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*𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖! 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧!!! 🔥

*⚠️ 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭! 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭! 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓!!! ⚠️

*𝐂𝐖s: 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐔𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 (?). 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐜 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐞. 𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭'𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐌𝐚𝐣𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 “𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡„. 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥-𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲/𝐧.**

**Let me know if there's anything major that I've missed! ☺️

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“𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭„ ♡ @simpforkonig ♡ @rustic-guitar-notes ☆ @happy-mushrooms ♡ @best-soup ☆ @lotionlamp ♡ @trepaika ☆ @luci4theminorannoyance ♡ @nightlyvoids ♡ @skeletalgoats ♡ @aethelwyneleigh27 ☆ @arrozyfrijoles23

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Simon "Ghost" Riley always had been a puzzle you couldn't solve. Always had been, and always was.

Stoic and stone-cold, it seemed, who did not respond with any warmth whatsoever, as a fire was put out in his adolescence, never to be rekindled again.

All that remained of his softness quickly became a hardened shell, ashes and dust from the extinguished flame left behind, not a spark to be reignited ever again.

The mask he wore became who he was, and he became the "Ghost" persona. Simon Riley was no more, and he hadn't been for years; he was Ghost, ghosts of his past forever haunting him, until he himself became a ghost of who he used to be.

So, Ghost was a distant man; which, was also always a contradiction — physically in close proximity to you on the few missions you had been paired with him, shoulder to shoulder with the both of you looking into the scopes of your sniper rifles, yet practically on another continent in terms of relations and closeness.

You were a rookie, and it seemed to you that Ghost viewed you in disdain for that.

With each attempt you made to become closer, he'd retreat back further into his shell. You'd think you'd be able to thaw his icy exterior, at least by mere degrees, yet his melting point grew higher with each interaction, the distance between you growing despite you trying to close it. Him recoiling at each attempt you made to come closer, as if your warmth burned him.

Every attempt at casual conversation was shot down. Stepping a couple of steps away from you, not looking at you at all, he would physically make the distance between you two further apart.

"Keep it tactical," he'd mutter. "If it's not about anything of importance, don't bother wasting my time. You got that?"

"Was only asking how your day was, you know," you grumbled, arms crossed defensively as you looked off to the side, hurt. "What's not tactical about that?"

"I hate small talk. Nothing tactical about it."

With that, he'd storm off unceremoniously, not sparing you even a single glance.

You'd jog after him, the treatment he was giving you making you feel like an unwanted dog. "Sir, hold on—!"

Ghost halted, and you would have crashed into the human wall had you not slipped in the combat boots a size too big for you.

"Not 'sir'." Dark brown eyes narrowed into yours.

"It's Lieutenant to you, rookie. Get that through your thick skull." Turning away from you with his arms crossed firmly across his chest.

"On second thoughts, you could be of use for somethin'."

Side-eyeing you, his words dripped with sarcasm. "That thick skull of yours could be a sniper's worst nightmare."

"Look, si— I-I mean, Lieutenant— I was just wondering—"

"Look, don't waste my time, yeah? Not here to bloody babysit a blooming toddler that can't keep itself busy."

Work with him was kept strictly professional before the outbreak — well, more so "stand-offish" as opposed to professional.

There was no point becoming acquainted. You two were vague associates, had occasionally been deployed together, and Ghost rarely associated with you when if wasn't on a mission, always acting aloof.

"Gotta stay focused, soldier. Especially in these circumstances."

"I'm not a soldier, you know," you remarked, daring to roll your eyes as he had his back turned. "I don't have the training that you have had, or the experience. I'm just a rookie."

"All the more reason for you to stay focused," he repeated matter-of-factly. "So, get a grip, soldier, because that's what you are now. If you don't have what it takes to survive, might as well lay down on the ground and wait to die."

And those working dynamics hadn't changed whatsoever after the outbreak.

The outbreak of a virus.

Almost the whole human population was wiped out by a world-wide epidemic, a plague that could not be cured.

The virus gave those infected the ravishing urge to purge anything living, a diseased mind wanting to spread its disease.

Like a parasite, it sucked out all of your life essence, your conscience fading as your body deteriorated, until had degenerated beyond repair.

Rabid like a stray dog, you would no longer be human. True, you were still you, yet you weren't you, only a monster in human form.

A corpse, violent and violently out of control, driven by animalistic instincts; instincts to kill, and to ravage fresh, human flesh like a savage, ripping apart meat off bone with sharpened canines.

Out of 8 billion people, 2 billion had been killed by the military's efforts to reduce the spread of the disease, while 5 billion roamed infected.

Out of the billion that survived, millions were driven to suicide, and those that remained fought and killed each other like primitives for basic necessities such as food, water, and territory. It was survival of the fittest, though few were fit mentally and many had gone mad. It would make one wonder whether there were any sane people left.

Of course, you and Ghost found out the hard way, when you two were deployed on a mission.

A mission quite unlike the few you had been deployed on before, as you two were retracing the steps of the police, trying to gather information on their whereabouts.

Shortly after police cars had arrived on scene of an emergency, communications with them were lost almost immediately.

And what's worse, was that Shepherd's forces had been supposedly involved in the incident.

You two had been dispatched by helicopter almost immediately, and upon landing, you realised that this would be the perfect opportunity to prove yourself to Ghost.

The place was strange.

Wide streets, dotted with brick buildings. Ominously flickering street lamps. The gentle drip-drip-drip of rain, collecting in shallow puddles.

Something about the streets being so deserted, no lights lit in apartment windows and nothing stirring in the alleyways, put you on edge.

Ghost, on the other hand, was completely calm, laser-focused.

A voice came through his earpiece. One of a female. "Ghost, what's your status?"

"Approximately 500m away from the target area," Ghost said robotically, scanning the surroundings like a machine. "No contact at all, and nothing out of place."

The voice hummed with satisfaction. "Good. Make sure you've got each other's backs. You never know what lurks in the unknown."

"Roger that."

"What lurks?" You asked, turning to Ghost in slight fright. "What does she mean by that?"

"Well," he shrugged. "An ambush, for one. Could be anyone hiding out in these streets. May not be as deserted as they seem."

A shrug. "But then again, you'd know that if y'had some common sense."

You two walked soundlessly ahead, footsteps in sync.

Rain dripped onto your gun, collecting into small droplets of water.

Once, you stepped into a puddle, and as your boot made ripples in the water, you swore you saw something. Something distorted in the water's reflection.

A wrinkled face, with glowing orange eyes, with sunken eye sockets and sullen cheeks, baring it's yellow teeth at you.

About to lunge at you from behind.

Whipping your head around in fright, you saw nothing there, and Ghost shot you a questioning look, a brow raised.

"What's gotten you jumping like that?"

"It's nothing. I just—" You shook your head, shaking off the fright. "—I just thought I saw someone. But there was no one there."

A dry, monosyllabic chuckle from Ghost. "Seeing ghosts, are we? Come on. Get your bloody head in the game, and focus."

You two walked ahead, yet you still couldn't shake off the sixth-sense telling you that something was wrong.

The figure you briefly caught a glimpse of made you paranoid, and you'd look over your shoulder every so often to see if something, that something, was behind you.

Nothing was, yet that didn't make the goosebumps go away, or your pulse to slow down.

Eyes closed, you breathed in and sighed. Almost immediately, you gagged in disgust.

"Eurgh! Lieutenant, do you smell that?"

Ghost quirked a brow again. "What?"

You sniffed again, and retched, tasting vomit in your mouth. "That."

The putrid odour of rotten flesh.

"You're right, I smell it," he wheezed, and fixed his balaclava. "Bloody disgusting. Smells like—"

"A dead body," you whispered.

"Dead bodies," Ghost corrected. "That isn't just one corpse. No corpse smells like that. There's gotta be a heap of these, all rotting away."

A chill went down your spine. "So you're telling me that all of the policemen just... died? On the spot? And they've just been rotting here, despite it bringless than a few hours?"

Ghost shrugged offhandedly. "Sure seems that way, don' it? Though, I admit, I'm jus' as lost as you are on this one."

Sighing deeply, and beckoned you with his head. "Come on. Let's keep going."

Looking back down, you immediately you noticed it.

A thick, magenta mist swirling from the ground and rising into the air, swiftly shifting into shapeless shapes.

It slithered like a snake up your leg, neither a fog nor a gas, but instead behaving like a liquid.

You were mesmerised, and couldn't help but take in in, if not but for a moment.

Out of nowhere, a snarling creature was sprinting straight at you, with those same glowing orange eyes.

Baring its sharp teeth at you, it had a crazed look in its eyes, pupils dilated and its sceleras blood red.

Sprinting straight at you, you realised.

Before it could register to you what was happening, what that thing was, and what to do, a single bullet went through the creature's head, straight through between its eyes.

"Godamnit, soldier!" Ghost yelled. "For Chris' sake, you should have been paying attention. You have a gun, so bloody use it, will you?"

Shook by what you saw, you had to protest: "Yes, but Lieutenant, did—"

"No 'but's," he snapped. "Eyes on the back of your head at all times, don't I tell you enough already?"

Still shaken, you tried again to physically shake off your nerves, in vain, and steadied the rifle in your hands.

"N-no. You're right, Lieutenant. You tell me enough already."

Looking down at the swishing mist, you still couldn't shake off the goosebumps on your arms.

Walking slightly behind Ghost, he suddenly stopped in his tracks, armed and ready.

He held a hand out to tell you to be quiet, and stepped aside.

Your eyes widenened.

Police cars toppled over, some completely destroyed by a rocket launcher, in a circle clumped on one side.

Shrapnel and sharp glass lay scattered on the ground, while guns were carelessly left behind.

Further along, army vans and trucks were parked, abandone. Doors left ajar and windows half-closed, as if the people there had struggled to escape, and left at the last second.

There were thick, black tyre marks from the wheels of one of these trucks leading north, that had skidded rapidly away. Away from something.

Sound of glass cracking under your foot brought your gaze to the ground. Lifting your boot, you saw what looks to be a vial. The contents were empty.

"Bloody hell..." Ghost shook his head, and, calm and composed, put two fingers to his ear piece. "There's been a shootout here, but no bodies. Any updates?"

No response.

Ghost's fingers moved to his earpiece again. "Ma'am, I repeat, there has been a shootout here, but there are no bodies. Do you copy?"

Nothing.

A cold chill tickled your spine, only this time, your body temperature dropped by degrees.

"Lieutenant, something's not right."

"More like everything is not right. Haven't you noticed?"

You gaped at him stupidly. "Wh-what?"

"That there's no bodies. Look around."

Ghost was right — not a single corpse was on ground.

It was as if everyone here had ceased fire and fled, dispersing into all directions, not caring at all whether they had been shooting at each other moments before.

There was sudden rumbling from the distance, and under your feet.

For a second, you thought it was an earthquake at the way the ground shook so forcefully.

You two looked into each other's eyes, Ghost's dark brown ones wide with alertness, while yours were wide in fear.

Soon, it dawned on you that it was not an earthquake. It was the stomping of feet, running in unison. A stampede.

"What the—?"

A cacophony of high-pitched screeching echoed from the othet side of the street.

Finally, you saw them on the horizon.

Dozens, at least fifty or more, were running right at you both.

Some, were limping, their broken leg trailing behind them like dead weight, yet still were driven by the fire in their eyes.

Most, however, were sprinting straight to you with inhuman speed, sprinting faster than any Olympic athlete could have done.

Horrified, you stared, having never seen such a sight in your whole life. If it had not been for Ghost shaking you violently, you'd have stood there, like a deer in headlights, yapping jaws of imminent death just a few yards away.

"Bloody hell, soldier! Snap out of it!"

Rescued from your trance, you had no idea what to do. You hadn't enough magazines to kill so many. There was nowhere to hide, you thought.

"Back to the chopper, now!"

Ghost pulled your arm, yanking you beside him, and you two bolted from where you came, you dropping your rifle in your haste to get away.

Adrenaline coursed through your veins, energising you in a way you had never been before.

Your sudden stamina shocked you, but you had nothing else on your mind, your mind screaming at you to run! Run! RUN!

Your feet were moving so fast that they were a blur. When you dared to look back, you nearly tripped over your own feet. The was horde less than fifty metres away.

Ghost had broken off into a full sprint at the sight of the helicopter, still on the ground, and you had been filled with hope.

Then you saw from the distance that the pilot that had piloted you here was slumped in the front seat. Two zombies had gotten to him and had ravaged him mercilessly, his jugular gushing blood, his collarbone protruding as they tore through skin and muscle.

Without thinking, Ghost pulled them off the corpse, and shot each in the head.

He spared a second's worth of mourning for the man, before pulling him out from the front seat and setting his body at the back compartment.

When you caught up to him, the horde was nearly nipping at your heels. "Fuck, Lieutenant! What are we gonna do?!"

Without warning, Ghost shoved you inside, manic. "For fuck's sake, get inside already!""

Your eyes widened in fear. "Do you even know how to pilot this thing?!"

Ghost slammed the helicopter doors, while you had a death grip on. "'Course I know how to pilot this bloody thing! I was part of the Special Air Service. I know what I'm doing."

Fiddling a little with the controls, and furiously mashing a few buttons, you miraculously got into the air.

The flight had heavy turblence. Ghost nearly crashed the thing into a tall building, yet managed to swerve in time.

And with that, you two were off. Panting, gasping for breath, gasping at the horrific scene that replayed like a movie reel.

Yet, it was awfully quiet, a contrast to the loud thoughts inside your head.

Just the whirring of the helicopter blades and the purring of the engine.

Finally, after what felt like ages, the tornado of thoughts and the narrow escape from storming, snarling creatures all headed for you as fast as whirlwind, metres away from throwing themselves and taking you to the ground, tearing you apart, you calmed. Calmed yourself enough to the point where you were no longer in a hysteria.

"S... Sir?"

He grunted in acknowledgment, not bothering to correct you this time, eyes staring fixedly ahead of him and piloting the helicopter in silent concentration.

"S-so—" Stuttering, because you were shuddering at the premise of what had just happened, shivering from a continuous cold chill and persistent goosebumps.

"—So, uhm, wh-what— what do you think happened back there?"

For a few agonisingly long moments, Ghost was agonising quiet, clearly contemplating what was at hand. The quiet was deafening.

"Listen. If I'd had to hazard a guess—" Ghost began, still staring ahead of him solemnly. "—I'd say those were zombies."

When he turned around to spare you a glance, your dumbstruck expression seemed to frustrate him.

"Fuck, what's with that expression, soldier? If that mouth of yours is open for any longer you'll bloody catch flies."

"Z— zombies?"

Although recovering slightly, enough now to speak steadily, you were dumbfounded.

"Y-you can't be serious. You've gotta be taking the piss!"

His eyes narrowed, and he glared in warning. "Think I've lost my head? Christ, you haven't ever watched a zombie apocalypse movie, or summat? The resemblance was uncanny. Those were not humans."

Tilting your head in confusion and curiosity. "You watch... Zombie movies?"

"Oh for crying out loud—" He pinched his temple in frustration. "—I'm telling you that we're in some serious shit, that there might even be an ongoing apocalypse, and you're more moved by what I apparently watch in my free time? Bloody hell—"

After a thoughtful pause, you turned to him, eyebrows furrowed. Suddenly serious.

"It doesn't make sense, though."

"Sure it does," he growled. "Life doesn't imitate art. Art imitates life. There had to have been inspiration somewhere."

"You're still going on about those zombie movies?" You groaned, tempted to face-palm yet to scared to be so blatantly disrespectful. "No. I mean, why? Why have people become zombies?"

He let out an unamused chuckle. "God, could you be more dense, you?"

"What was the reason we went on this so-called operation? Think. Think this one time, as I can you don't do it often enough."

Rolling your eyes, you immediately froze in the spot, eyes wide.

It hit you, that there could, could, be a connection. If Shepherd's men really were involved in the shootout, then...

"Look, I didn't tell you," you said, swallowing. "I stepped on what looked to be a test tube. Or a vial, I'm not sure. It had purple stains on it."

"A sample of the virus that went wrong?" Ghost proposed. "I suppose it wasn't meant to be airborne. They used it as a last ditch effort to get the cops off their tails."

"How can you be so sure that is what happened? What if it was just a mistake?"

Ghost turned around, arm slung around the back of the adjacent seat, and his eyes were dark. With a mocking tone: "Oh yes, because genetically engineering a virus that causes people to eat other people was obviously a mistake. And the shootout was just a slip of people's fingers."

You crossed your arms indignantly, annoyed, and Ghost took advantage of your offense by continuing:

"By now, they've definitely made adjustments. Engineered it so they have more control over it."

Despite being annoyed, you audibly gulped, your defiant demeanour dropping instantly. "Y-you sure, Lieutenant? I-I mean— how can you be sure of this?"

Wordlessly, dark brown eyes darkening, Ghost said: "Positive."

Turning around, his shoulders tensed up suddenly. "I'm just prayin' that I'm wrong."

For close to half an hour, you two were flying back where you came from.

From afar, the base, with its several camps and adjourning buildings, temporary tents that had become permanent ones due to the lack of time to put them down, military trucks parked in neat rows, vehicles just as they had stood when you departed, untouched, stood like an imposing monolith, despite being far wider than it was tall.

There was none of the usual commotion, however, the hustle and bustle of people rushing to and fro, the stamping of feet and the grunts of effort from the distance as soldiers took part in drills, of purring car engines and whirring helicopter blades transporting soldiers on a distant mission. It was quiet.

Upon landing, you looked back at the corpse in the back compartment, and swallowed air, throat bobbing strenuously.

"Lieutenant... what are we going to do about... him?"

Ghost, after a few moments of studying you closely, murmured: "Take the body back to his family, of course."

You furrowed your brows. "Didn't you say we may be in an ongoing apocalypse?"

Sighing deeply, Ghost's shoulders sank. "I did. But I've been prayin' that I'm wrong, and jumped to conclusions. Maybe this fella has a family to return to. Doesn't seem right to leave him to rot, does it?"

Right at the entrance, you two exchanged an uneasy look at each other. Neither of you were saying a word.

Tentatively stepping through the threshold, you held your breath.

It was a good thing you did. The stench — the odour of death and decay — made you gag.

You had not imagined anything, refused to imagine what it would be like inside. And, inside, it was worse than you could have possibly imagined:

Bodies were slumped against walls, crumpled up in heaps on the floor. Guts were splayed on the floor. Half-eaten intestines and pools of blood, right where the corpses were.

Many had fear stamped on their faces, with wide, frightened eyes and gaping mouths, and flies had been swarming to the soft tissue of the eyes and tongue until they fleed from your presence.

Some had already been infected, dead yet living, and were feeding off the rotting flesh of the victims with a crazed look in their glowing orange eyes, flashing like a cat's.

Their fingers were gnarled. Had skin peeling off their hands, revealing tendons and bone, nails morphed into claws.

Others had not fought without a struggle, it seemed; guns were held by the dead in a deathly grip, empty cartridges and bullet casings were littered on the floor, and some even had grenades in the palms of their hands, having had not reacted quickly enough to pull the pin and launch them at approaching hordes.

Some of the zombies were laying, lifeless, with a bullet between their eyes, others with wounds in their abdomen and chest. Black blood oozed out like sticky goo.

Ghost stood as still as a statue, taking everything in. Wordlessly, he unholstered his pistol and walked towards the nearest creature.

And shot it right in the head.

A mercy kill, to put whoever the monster had been before its infection out of it miserable suffering, its mortal torment.

He would do the same with the rest. A few of them even looked up at him, dazed, not knowing what was coming for them, and hissing malevolently, before a deafening bang rang out and echoed down the hall.

When Ghost was done, he was panting, out of breath as if he had run a marathon.

Although he did his utmost to keep his breathing steady, each exhale was shaky, feeling like at any moment the air in his lungs would vanish.

"The virus," He said through gritted teeth. "It is here. It's real."

Hands clenched into fists, he was actually trembling. "It is real."

For an agonisingly long time, Ghost had his back to you, yet with the way his shoulders were slumped and his back hunched forward, he was forlorn.

Feeling like it was wrong for you to speak up, yoy hesitated, your voice barely above a whisper:

"Lieutenant? What do we do now?"

Ghost didn't respond. His shoulders rose and fell with each shaky exhale, doing everything he could to stay composed.

"...Sir?"

Cautiously, you tip-toe'd towards him, hesistant to speak up again.

He sensed your presence, and slightly turned his head around so he could see you in his periphery.

Surprisingly, Ghost was incredibly calm in the way that he turned to you. His breathing was steady now, and he no longer let out laboured breaths. It was almost like he was back to his usual self. This trauma would become nothing more than a mere memory, another one to stack on top of the memories that were emotional baggage he carried on his shoulders.

Staring straight into your eyes, his voice was quiet, but he spoke directly. Assertively.

"'s you an' me, now, soldier. We're all we've got."

And that was that. That was all there was to it.

You and Ghost were lone survivors.

No one had survived the ambush, despite having double-checked every cupboard, every barricaded room.

Those inside had gotten bit without realising in their bid to stay alive, to survive, and instead of human survivors, you'd be faced with surviving zombies that you would have to put down. One at a time.

Something told you that maybe, just maybe, Ghost's intuition was right.

That Shepherd had unleashed this disease, right here, as a means of destroying their opposition quickly, to clear their names.

After all, with everyone dead or infected by a virus that made them lose the capacity for human thought, who would be there to oppose them?

The reality that likely, very like, this was true, made your stomach churn.

That a corrupt individual with a mega corporation would corrupt humanity rather than bringing salvation, sickened you.

Had he even known the chaos that would ensure?

Ghost, having hauled canisters of fuel into the closest military truck, slammed the door closed.

With you two inside, in a single motion, he started the engine, and pressed his foot on the pedal, pulling out slowly.

In hesitation, for a minute, his hands shook, knuckles on the steering wheel turning white from how tightly he gripped it.

You didn't say it out loud, but you thought it was ironic: hours earlier, Ghost had been hellbent on making his way back to base, had even saved a comrade's corpse with the promise of restoring his dead body to his family members, yet now, he was creating as much distance between it and the both of you as possible, not turning back even once. Could not turn back, as there was no family for that man to be restored to, and no one, no one, to turn back to.

Weeks passed — or were they months? The days merged into one blur, indistinguishable from each other.

Encountering zombies became day-to-day to you. The ones you encountered could be shot straight through the skull. The parasite fed off the brain, feasted off mortal thoughts, yet with just one pull of the trigger it would die on the spot.

Fighting off a third, fifth, seventh, eleventh, nth small horde, no longer struck the same fear in you. You had quickly adjusted to the circumstances. Your new life.

You two spoke little in the beginning. Quite frankly, there was little to say.

How could one approach this subject? Of imminent doom following this global doomsday? Of having lost colleagues, comrades, in a single instant, and not even having been able to help, to even witness it, because you two were assigned on a mission that had been pointless in the end?

Sure, you knew who was to blame. So what? What was there to do with this information? Vengeance was not the answer anymore, as surviving was the priority. Besides, you didn't even feel vengeful. All you felt was numbness, and the burden of this knowledge that should have been forbidden.

Walking through various locations, all abandoned and lifeless, a wave of déjà vu would crash into you, flooding you with memories of what cities used to be like.

Seeing cars all in one cluster, stuck forever in a traffic jam, metal heavily rusted and weak gusts of wind made it all the more eerie. Especially more eerie, given what the cars had been lined up to do. To escape.

The quiet unnerved you. Filled you with dread. You dreaded the silence, yet flinched at sudden sounds.

Echoes of screams were brought by the wind, whimpering voices begging to be freed, begging the callous soldier in front of them not to shoot them, their children, promising that they weren't infected, they swear! Alas, kneeling, facing a brick wall, they'd be shot. One at a time.

The best thing about walking through these locations was that the two of you never saw the chaos, the catastrophic damage, the devastation, all happening in real-time. That, in a sense, was also the worst thing about this apocalypse.

You two were not associated with the events, and, realising that you'd never experience what millions of other people had collectively experienced in those moments, their final moments, left you disassociating for hours at a time, your feet walking on their own.

Something about seeing the cities stood still, frozen in time, a relic of the past, that fateful day of panic and fear preserved in a time capsule, and unaltered. Untouched. So unlike what they had been not so long ago, made you shudder. To think that it used to be lively, full of life, and so lifeless now, was a surreal feeling.

It made you feel out of place. As if you shouldn't have been there.

You had to be there, though. Supplies would rarely last and food in your surroundings was scare.

Ghost seemed to know exactly what to do. He led you towards the dilapidated pharmacies and the rundown convenience stores, most of what was left of the medication and tinned goods thrown onto the floor, piled in heaps.

What remained of past haphazard searches from other wandering individuals, was scattered. It made you wonder whether those people that took the supplies from where you were were still alive, and if not, how shortly after they had died.

Over time, you two became comfortable in each others's company, as you had become so uncomfortable with the mutual silence, you sought comfort in each other's presence.

And, although Ghost wouldn't have ever admitted it, the truth was, he was in desperate need of comfort, too, regardless of who you two used to be to each other before all of this.

Ghost's icyness thawed, and he came out from his shell, slowly.

Soon, though, his sarcasm wasn't directed at you as much, and you two could actually exchange banter, meaningless puns with the most God-awful punchlines, as a past-time.

Warming your hands over a small fire, you'd quip: "Lieutenant, what do you call a dictionary that smokes weed?"

A huff, his attention fixated on handling his rifle, wiping down the remains of a carcass that had splattered onto it. "I'd rather not know."

You had a shit-eating grin on your face, like a Chesire cat's. "High definition."

Ghost's eyes locked on your face, deadpan. "Fuck, that was terrible. I wish we'd go back to the times when you'd say nothin'."

Back to silence you two returned.

A heavy burden was on your shoulders, weighing the two of you down.

Out nowhere, Ghost spoke up. "Y'know why an oven and an microwave broke up?"

You rose an inquisitive brow, tilting your head in interest. "Why?"

"They argued frequently, and jus' overall weren't on the same wavelength."

You were mildly disappointed. "That... was your idea of joke? Really?"

"Hold your horses, soldier. Y'didn't even hear the actual reason as to why they broke up."

A deep sigh, shoulders sinking in an exaggerated movement, and you rolled your bored eyes playfully. "Ugh, go on, then."

In a deadpan voice: "They broke up, because neither of them could be turned on anymore."

"Oh my God!" You groaned. "That was so gross! I can't believe you said that!"

"What can I say?" A shrug, still deadpan. "I'm just hilarious, and you're not. Clearly, you don't have what it takes to be a comedian like me."

"It was not remotely funny at all! Did not even laugh!"

Ghost leaned in, his voice low. "But you're smilin'."

"Okay, okay, fine. It was a little funny!"

"Damn straight, soldier. 'Course it was."

To you, you two were closer.

Although Ghost was still his brooding self, and put up his gruff front, you knew otherwise.

You were shocked by him when one day he told you to drop the formalities.

"Look, having you address me as Lieutenant now seems redudant. Call me Ghost."

"Lieutenant, I—"

"Come on, soldier. I want to hear you say it."

You swallowed. "Gh-Ghost?"

"Thas' it," he said with a drawl. "You're learning. 'S about time, isn't it?"

Yet the warmth that radiated off him now could not be mistaken for anything else.

You thought you two had formed a bond. You really thought you had.

Bonded over the shared fear, the shared experienced, your shared journey to nowhere.

Which is why you hadn't understood why would Ghost leave you for an hour every couple of days.

For exactly an hour, it seemed. You didn't know, because you didn't have a working watch, but Ghost was punctual, so you assumed that it was true.

Like clockwork, he'd leave at a specific time, and come back an hour later, refusing to explain what he had been doing on his excursion.

"Jus' 'ad somethin' to do," he'd reply briefly, and return to what he had been doing before he left.

"This 'something' — couldn't I have done it with you, Ghost?" You'd eye him, hands on hips, eyebrows furrowed in suspicion. "And what is the need for that bag? You're gonna break your back carrying that thing with you all the time!"

Without fail, he would bring along his backpack, which was in all actuality a heavy dufflebag slung over his shoulders. A bag too big to be carrying for a small errand, you thought.

He'd glare at you, and act defensively, huffing. "I can handle it on my own, don't worry your little head, a'right? I can manage."

"You know," You'd say, tone softening. "I worry about you, okay? It worries me not knowing where you are, and what you're doing."

After a pause, his eyes would slowly crinkle in a smile, and his tone would soften, too. "Yeah, but I know where you are, don't I?" His voice dropped to a low murmur, a gentle hand on your shoulder reassuring you.

You were stunned. Here he was, touching you, when he had always recoiled at the faintest brush of a shoulder. You were blushing.

"Just stay put for me for the one hour of the day, yeah? You don't need to worry about me, soldier. I know what to do."

With him gone, you'd be worried sick. You felt not helpless — you trusted Ghost, and knew that he'd protect you — but useless, sitting there idly, practically twiddling your thumbs, not knowing what he was getting up to.

This went on for God knows how long. Each time, he was oddly secretive, and act as inconspicuous as possible so you wouldn't be suspicious of whatever he was doing.

Each time, he had made it back at exactly the same time, hurried footsteps hurrying back to your temporary hideout and going back to cooking a can of something over a crackling fire.

It was so strange, as it seemed to become routine to him, his movements mechanic, and his depature precise down to the last second. Robotic. Like clockwork he'd make it back.

Unable to take the mystery anymore, you followed him. Not close enough to blow your cover, yet far enough so that you'd always catch him taking a corner before he'd walk out of sight.

It wasn't long after walking through winding alleys that you came across a building — the tallest one in the surrounding area, in fact.

Climbing up the staircase, two flights behind him, you reached the rooftop, and watched from afar as Ghost unpacked his large bag.

It puzzled you seeing him take out technical equipment. Cables, a power pack, a rudimentary router. Alongside other hardware foreign to you, mouth agape at the sight of such prehistoric technology, there was radio.

Before you put two-and-two together, there he was, listening to the same radio with bulky headphones, a cracked red bulb blinking weakly.

Intrigued, you creeped a few steps.

When you were behind him, you leaned forward, arms behind your back. "Ghost, what are you listening to?"

He jumped up, startled, and immediately turned it off. For the first time ever, you saw him flustered.

"Was it music?" you teased. "A heavy metal fan whose blown their cover now? Maybe even a trash pop enjoyer? I mean, If you're into that sort of thing, you don't have to keep it secret, you know."

He coughed, clearly caught off-guard by the sight of you expectedly leaning down to him, but shook his head vehemently.

After pulling himself together, he looked you in the eye. "No."

"Aw, then what was it? Were you listening to radio static? It's my favourite song, you know."

"If you're gonna be such a smartass, then there's clearly no need for me to tell you."

You shook your head, smile vanishing. "Okay, wait! I was just messing. Please tell me?"

"I discovered Price's signal," he grunted as a matter-of-factly, quirking a brow at your gobsmacked face.

"Been communicating with him these past few weeks. Said Soap an' Garrick are with him, an' they're still with him."

"Oh my God!" You clasped a hand over your gaping mouth, gawking at him in shock. "That's amazing!"

"Mhm," he hummed. "They've told me their coordinates, and update every couple of days, when the sun is highest in the sky."

"When's that?" You said eagerly. "Maybe I could speak to them, too! Tell me when!"

Shrugging off-handedly. "Depends on the day." he said simply.

Barely able to contain your excitement, you didn't catch on to his innuendo, and couldn't help but exclaim: "So you could regroup! Right? You could reunite with the Task Force?"

A stone-sized lump got lodged in his throat, and his Adam's apple struggled to swallow it.

Yet, he managed to nod, though with his neck so stiff it looked as if he was shaking his head at the same time.

"Yeah, soldier. Yeah. I could."

You furrowed your brows. "Well, what's stopping you?"

"Well," he replicated, "they're thousands of miles away. That's the whole point of this journey, don't you think? What, you think we've been trekking aimlessly?"

Ghost said no more, and you were glad you didn't have to, either, a lopsided smile sheepishly tugging at the corners of your lips.

He busied himself with dismantling his set-up, putting his equipment away.

"Come on." He heaved himself up, and, with a stiff hand on your back, led you towards the way out. "About time we get out of here, hm? I'll see if I can contact the lot tomorrow."

"Okay," you said, grinning. "I daresay, though, your equipment is kinda out-dated, Ghost. Maybe we could pop in the hardware shop for some upgrades?"

He let out a monosyllabic chuckle, the usual for him. "Sure. We could even upgrade our TV to a 4K flatscreen one. Get with the times, and all that."

One day, though, he hadn't made it back at the same time.

Maybe he got caught up in conversation this time. That was it, surely! Surely that was it?

Leg bouncing in agitation, anticipating his return, you had a sinking feeling that this time, however, this time, something was not right.

You could say that you let your curiosity get the better of you. But you wouldn't have called it that, more like your trepidation clouded your rational judgement.

As, turning a corner, you hadn't even heard the feral snarling of a small horde of zombies over the voice incessantly telling you to find Ghost, and had no clue that you'd be pinned down by a zombie.

It lashed and thrashed at you wildly, bearing it's stained rotten teeth and sallow, black gums.

Harsh spit sprayed your face, and to your horror, the others had surrounded you, growling in hunger.

You had mere seconds to act, you knew that. If you didn't pull out your gun in time, you'd be torn to pieces in mere seconds.

Yet, paralysed with fear, all you could do is stare wide-eyed, you felt helpless. You locked eyes with the creature, its naturally orange eyes glowing brightly, possessed.

Just before the zombie's jaws could clasp around your face, it was shot in the head.

The body crumpled on top of you, knocking the wind momentarily out of you.

Peeking over the corpse, there was uproar among the horde, and they all hissed in unison, heads turning in the direction at the shot, before brain matter and bits of skin were blasted by a heavy calibre rifle.

Ringing disorientated you. Only flashes of someone's legs could be seen in your blurred vision, before you realised that you were lying on the ground, an entire pack of wild zombies around you.

Frantic, you heaved the body off you, and struggled to your feet, full of adrenaline, and locked eyes with Ghost.

Ghost was holding off the horde one-manned, and he grunted with effort as he snapped a zombie's neck while using another as a shield, his rifle shooting at a third rushing from behind you.

"For fuck's sake, don't jus' stand there like a bloody git! Shoot, soldier!"

Snapped out of from your daze, you suddenly realised just where you were, you whipped out your pistol and shot as many zombies as you could from close-range in your haste to get to Ghost.

Slitting the throat of a zombie about to throw itself at Ghost, you used up the remaining bullets in the magazine on another, and gritted your teeth as you changed mags with shaking hands.

Back-to-back to each other, you two were overwhelmed by the horde, but the close proximity to each other meant you had teamwork. Worked as a team.

You fired two bullets at two zombies, bodies crumpling into lifeless heaps, and aimed at a third.

Pulling the trigger, no shot fired. No shot was fired.

Looking down, you fumbled with the pistol, you pulled the trigger frantically, yet the bullet was jammed. Panic-stricken, you were desperate for it to fire, in despair to be in this situation, now, of all times.

Just as you looked up and felt the zombie's cold fingers lock on your shoulders in a death-grip, head about to pounce at your neck, Ghost growled and pushed you to the side like a ragdoll.

You saw nothing as you fell to the ground again, but slashed at more zombies in a frenzy, not many left now.

Killing the final one in your periphery, your head whipped around just in time to see Ghost wrestle the zombie to the ground and stomp its head, snapping the final zombie's neck in two like a twig.

Panting. Chest rising and falling, rising and falling, in painful breaths.

Ghost exhaled deep, deliberate breaths, black blood splattered all on his gear, dark blood staining his skull balaclava, his cargo pant legs, his gloved hands.

For an agonisingly long time, you couldn't catch your breath.

Finally, Ghost turned to you, looking grizzly, nearly sinister, had it not been for the dark brown eyes brightening a little and looking at you intensely.

He trudged to you in three wide steps and took you by your shoulders, shaking you a little.

"Soldier! Are you okay?"

Breath hitching in your throat at the emotion in his usually emotionless eyes, you nodded wordlessly.

You took in your surroundings and the horde you two had massacred; bodies contorted in impossible positions, heads and backs snapped in half, limbs broken so that arms and legs looked double-jointed. Orange eyes had become dull, and were no longer glowing, dim.

Looking at the ground, the zombie, its head grey brain matter and black-red mush, lay lifeless, bleeding black blood.

Wordlessly, you two two nodded, and limped back to your temporary base, completely exhausted.

It was a calm night.

A skinned hare roasting over a crackling fire, cooking the out-of-date contents of your tinned food and eating it with a dull silver spoon, you two sat in an uncomfortable silence, which was deafening. A silence that you dreaded.

Yet, the silence was far more welcome than the high-pitched screams and guttural growls of zombies from before, and you sighed deeply.

A sky so black that it cast a shadow on the trees, your surroundings, plunging you into a darkness had it not been for the lifeline of the lashing flames, There were a few twinkling stars in the sky, blinking in morse code, trying to relate a secret message to you that you missed.

With Ghost basking in the orange glow from the fire, looking so thoughtful as his unfocused brown eyes stared a thousand yards, gloved hands holding a flask with a steaming hot stew, warming his cold fingers, your first thought was that he looked alluring.

The skull-print balaclava pulled up to his nose so he could drink, days' worth of salt and pepper stubble sprinkled on his jaw, the sleeves of his hoodie riding up to reveal scars that caked his skin, most deep, some shallow, some recent while most years' old.

To you, he looked handsome.

Then, mortified by this thought, you shook your head vehemently, the warmth on your cheeks coming not from the fire.

Looking down at the half-eaten tinned slop in your hands, you suddenly lost your appetite, and set it aside.

Ghost noticed, and turned to you, about to ask you, but you held up a hand before he could interrogate you.

"I'm alright, Ghost," you said, convincing yourself more than him. "Not feeling hungry."

"You gotta get somethin' down your system, soldier. We've a long journey to go yet."

"I know. I mean, not to be a picky eater, but eating canned slop is not appealing to my taste buds."

Ghost let out a huff. "What? This cuisine not suited to your sophisticated taste, soldier? My bad, let me bring out the caviar, your highness," he deadpanned.

You roll your eyes. "You're hilarious, you know that? If only there wasn't a booing crowd throwing tomatoes at you. You'd be a top-tier comedian."

The corner of Ghost's lip twitched upwards, before he shot you a one-sided smirk. "Knew you'd come around eventually."

You didn't know why, but the way his jaw moved in the smirk was attractive. Physically shaking this thought off, you shook your head with a smile, unable to contain the silent laughter of your shoulders.

Again, you two returned to a silence. Funnily enough, this one wasn't uncomfortable like the one before, even with the light banter moments ago. This silence was unbearable, like the high-pitched screeching of tinnitus in an empty hall.

You stared at Ghost, almost in anticipation, as if it was he who was the reason for the unspoken change in atmosphere, yet he seemed to ignore you, too taken with looking ahead of him thoughtfully.

Swallowing the dryness in your throat, too awkward to initiate conversation, you looked at the fidgeting hands, picking at the dirt under your nails.

When Ghost unexpectedly called your name from the dark, you nearly jumped out of your skin.

"What's wrong, Ghost?" You asked, worry etched into the lines in your face.

"I need you to do me a favour."

At that, your eyebrows rose to your hairline, then furrowed in surprise and suspicion. Ghost, was not, not, the one to ask for favours.

"...O-okay? What's the favour?""

"Look." He stated simply. "I want you to promise me something. You can do that, can't you, soldier?"

You were becoming even more suspicious. What was the need for him to be enigmatic? Your interest was piqued, however, and you nodded wordlessly, hanging on his every word.

"I want you to promise—" He coughed into his fist, clearing his throat roughly. "—that when I'm ever, ever to turn into one of these..."

"...things—" Shivering, which surprised you, given how much heat was radiated from the fire. "—then... Then I want you to shoot me dead, a'right?"

Your jaw dropped to the ground, so taken aback not even by his request, but his bluntness.

"What— what do you mean, shoot you dead? How could I do that to you? I can't—"

"No." He interrupted, definitive. "It will have to be done at some point."

"Of course, I wish I could... avoid, this situation, but, inevitably, it's inevitable," he grimaced, tugging at his collar in an awkward gesture that was unlike him.

"And you have to do it when the time comes. No hesitation. No second-thoughts. Just pull that trigger, and put one right between my eyes."

Ghost stared at you, eyes stern. "Now promise me."

You stammered. "B-but—"

"No. Promise me now. That you'll protect yourself from the monster I'll become."

"Ghost—"

"No, promise."

His eyes penetrated yours, his gaze inescapable and domineering. Clearly, he would not let you weasel your way out with any weak excuses, or your pathetic reasoning. It was evident that no matter what you were to say, Ghost would refuse to listen, only becoming more dismissive.

Reluctantly, you found yourself nodding, breathing out a breathless: "I promise."

Ghost hummed in satisfaction, pleased, and said no more.

"Good. See, wasn't so hard now, was that, hm?" He asked, yet you said nothing.

"Hey, cheer up..." Tone softening, as he reached a callous hand to place on your knee in an attempt to reassure you. "It's not like I'm asking you to do it now."

You sniffed fiercely, eyes glassy. "Then why would you ask me in the first place?"

"Why? Because at some point, I'll turn."

He shook his head. "It won't be you, though. Never. I would never, ever, let you get bit."

His breath hitched in his throat, and your eyes widened slightly in surprise.

Ghost took a sip from his steaming flask, seemingly unfazed by the sensation of burning on his tongue. In fact, he even relished in it.

His lips were tightly pressed together into a needle-thin line. "When you shoot me, you won't be shooting me, y'know."

"Therefore, you must not let your emotions get in the way. What's the point of me getting infected, in an attempt to save your life, only for me to kill you in death?"

You pondered this over for a moment. "What makes you think you'll get infected saving me? Maybe it could the the other way around. You can't be so sure."

Ghost's eyes had an ironic glint, and flickered like a light bulb about to blow a fuse.

"Oh, trust me. I'm sure."

You sat up, straightening your back. "Hey, what is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, it's not s'pposed to mean anything."

"Hey! Are you mocking me?"

For the first time in this conversation, Ghost chuckled. He couldn't help not to, with how childishly you were acting.

"Maybe a little bit. But you just make it so easy for me, that I can't resist."

You groaned, and rolled your eyes.

"Well then, maybe resist being an ass."

Ghost quirked a brow at how you spoke, yet decided not to scold you like he always did. Instead, he offered you his flask.

"Will put hairs on your chest."

You scrunched your nose at the contents. "Let me guess: carbonated piss, vodka, and liquid shit? My favourite."

"Made an order at a cafe, and I got served this slop," he shrugged. "They even spelt my name wrong. Would you believe that?"

You shook your head in mock disbelief. "Unbelievable. You better have gotten a refund for that."

"I didn't pay. Made a beeline for the exit. I wouldn't pay a cent for this shit."

Unable to keep up the act anymore, you snorted, and stifled your silly giggles by clasping a hand over your mouth.

"It's tea." Ghost said. "I'm not thirsty, anyways."

"You gotta get somethin' down your system," you said in an over the top gruff voice. "Promise to shoot me when I get a papercut. I won't be able to go on—"

Wordlessly, Ghost placed the flask in your hands. The fact that instead of a scowl on his half-masked face was an ironic smirk surprised you, and he said:

"Drink that, and go to sleep, yeah? I'll keep watch."

"What about you, though?" Your eyes frowned. "Won't you sleep?"

"I'm good. I'm a light-sleeper, anyways, and I won't exactly get a wink of shuteye with your snoring."

"Hey—!"

"C'mon. Rest up."

Taking a swig of the hot beverage, you felt a warmness wash over your body, cleansing your soul, and heating you right from your fingertips to your ears.

"Thanks, Ghost," you said with gratitude. "You sure you'll be okay tonight?"

Ghost nodded, staring deeply into your eyes.

You sighed, and moved off the wooden log to unzip your sleeping bag to nestle inside, like a worm comfortably in a cocoon.

It didn't take you long to fall asleep, as the crackling of the flames lulled you to sleep, whispering in harsh, yet warm voices a bedtime story in the language of fire.

When he heard your soft snores and saw the way your sleeping bag rose and fell with each muffled breath, he untied his boot laces.

With you asleep, he finally dared to peel the coarse fabric that had dried with blood, like cardboard on his skin.

Wincing in pain as he pulled up the material coagulated with blood, his calf had an evident bite mark.

The skin around it had not rotted, yet, but was raw, with the surrounding flesh pulsating as if it had a human heart beat.

Gritting his teeth with each maggot that he picked out from his calf, burrowed deep in his flesh, feasting upon it, he blinked indifferently at the wound, already accepting of his fate.

The bleeding had stopped. That much Ghost had going for him, at least.

Stomping on that zombie's head was cathartic. Watching its brain matter splatter on his boot, a lifeless body with a head of grey, slimy mush, brought instantaneous relief.

Yet, when reality sunk in, and he realised that killing that zombie in that heated moment would not take back the bite mark, that moment of relief transformed into the weight of an even heavier burden on his shoulders, an added weight to the emotional baggage he had been lugging for years now.

His gaze turning to your concealed body, burrowed in your nest, he hobbled over to lay his own sleeping bag over you, and took off his coat. Tucking in the sleeves under you so you were cozy, he sighed again, and slumped on the ground some metres away.

How was he going to break this news to you? You were a smart cookie, even with the shit he gave you all of the time, and were bound to figure it out on your own.

But he couldn't. Not yet, anyways. He still had a base to get you to.

He couldn't burden you with this information. He couldn't.

Only when the end was in sight, the base on the horizon, you headed straight towards civilisation, could he make his peace with shortcomings, the way you'd sob and shout at him, how you'd curse as your fists pounded at his chest, voice so hoarse and choked with tears all you'd be able to do is sob.

Or, maybe he wouldn't at all.

Maybe the gentle breeze in your hair, sun reflected in your rolling eyes that were unamused by another humourless joke, dry, unwashed skin positively glowing in the setting sun, the cracked lips twitching in a desperate desire to stretch into a smirk, and the way your body was hunched over under the weight of your heavy backpack, head bobbing in blind, naive determination to reunite him with his team, to have been there on the journey, was not a sight he had wanted to taint.

He'd tell you to walk straight, and you'd babble obliviously on about something, and slowly withdraw from your side. You'd get swept away by the crowd in the base, with familiar faces, arms hugging you from all sides and welcoming you with warmth, as a shot rang out in the cheerful commotion, his cold body laying on the even colder ground.

When the time came to it, he would have likely said nothing. A selfish need to preserve the memory of your not knowing, of your being blissfully unaware and never being burdened with the truth, was a mercy.

Just how it would have been a mercy kill for you to shoot him when push would come to shove, just was it merciful to spare your sanity and your innocence.

When you woke up, Ghost had slowly started developing symptoms of a common flu in the night.

Nothing too alarming, yet alarmingly out of character for him to be unwell, and you raised your alarm.

"Jus' pnuemonia, soldier," he'd say, voice hoarse, before coughing into his fist.

"What about these?" You insisted, taking out medication from your backpack. "And plenty of rest? Doctor's orders!"

"These drugs that the doctor prescribes don't ever work on me. Besides, we've got places to be. I'm not wasting my time in waiting room."

This time, Ghost's sarcasm didn't amuse you like you always pretended it didn't. Worry gnawed at you from the inside like a parasite, and your eyes were pleading. "Not even for me? Please? Jokes aside, you really should rest. It's fine if we cam out here for another few days or so.

At that, his eyes softened. "Gonna 'av to bear through it. Like I would have otherwise. 'S not the end of the world."

There was an undertone to his words that was so subtle you hadn't noticed. The ironic smile betrayed nothing.

Not the end of the world for you, it wouldn't. For him, it would. His life on this world would be over. Would end.

The next day, Ghost slurred his speech.

When Ghost was speaking as you two were hunched over some grub, you'd catch drool running down his chin and collecting in pools on the sides of his mouth.

As soon as he realised where your eyes were looking, Ghost immediately went to wipe his mouth with the back of his hand.

He ate isolated from you then onwards, and would have his back turned to conceal his eating.

Sinking his steel bat into a head of an approaching zombie, he'd grunt with effort now.

Ghost, trudged rather than walked, stomping his feet, as if each foot weighed a tonne and was a weight he had to lift each time.

Feet faced in opposite directions, perpendicular to each other, and legs wobbling as if sea-sick. It meant that he was limping, as if he had a walking impediment.

"Ghost, are you okay?"

"Twisted my ankle when we were fighting that horde," he hissed through gritted teeth, voice as monotone as always. "Don't worry about me, soldier. We're going to get you to that base."

You started. His ankled hadn't been twisted when you were running away just now. But, you reasoned, it was probably the adrenaline that kept him going, that had heightened his senses yet numbed the pain.

Then, you halted in your tracks. "Base?"

"Cap'ain's base," he clarified. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead.

He was limping. Walking like he was ineberiated, core off balance and like his legs too long for his body.

He was no longer as affectionate with you. Showing signs aggression, getting frustrated with small-talk. He'd rather grind his jaws in silence, nearly growling.

"Hey, I just— I wanted to thank you. For saving me. I mean, that day, when we were fighting that horse. You saved me."

He grunted. "Don't get used to me saving your ass all of the time."

"I won't! Really, Ghost, I'm grateful. I couldn't put it into words."

"But?" He snapped. "Spit it out."

"W-well— I mean, you should rest. For Christ's sake, you're barely able to walk! Your ankle isn't going to heal if you keep putting pressure on it! And on top of the that, you're fucking sick!"

"I've had worse. It's not like my foot will dislocate itself on its own." He snarled. "Besides; choices have consequences. I chose to save you. I could turned, and left you to the horde. But I didn't. And that had its consequences."

"Had? What are you on about? You mean has, because you damn near broke your fucking leg! You're close to a fucking cripple!"

"I can walk just fine, soldier. You're just overreacting."

"I'm overreacting?!" Your eyes bulged out of your head, and you almost erupted in fury. "Then how will your team react, seeing you like this, huh? You think they won't be overreacting, huh?!"

He gave you a death glare. "You're right, soldier. They won't be."

"Look..." you began hesitantly, wincing at his sharp voice that stabbed a dagger into your already breaking heart. "You won't die if we don't make it there by this week," you insisted, "so, won't you please rest?"

"Soldier, I won't rest until we make it there by this week." He'd smile his iconic ironic smile, one that you still couldn't interpret nor comprehend as to why. "We've not long to go. And then, I'll consider resting."

"You promise?"

He stiffened up, still as a statue.

"I don't make promises," he grunted, and stormed off.

Your heart sank.

"Hey!" You jogged up to catch up with him, taken aback by his sudden change in character. "Why not? It's not even life or death, like the promise I made to you! What's the big deal?!"

"I can't make promises," he stated as a matter of factly, almost as if it was common knowledge and he was putting it in simple terms for you to understand.

You were seething. "What do you mean you can't?!So I made you a promise, promised to shoot you, for what? For you to end up being a fucking hypocrite?!"

"I mean," he emphasised. "It's not in my moral code."

Almost grinding your teeth in frustration, you quipped back: "Just as it is immoral of you to withhold information! What is so immoral about you—"

Your heart sank so, so much deeper, so deep it was lost in an abyss.

In deep water, drowning.

It couldn't be true. Couldn't be.

"Oh my God."

You took two steps back. Not in fear of Simon , but in fear of the situation itself.

"...You're... y-you're bit, aren't you?"

Shoulders tensing up, Ghost moved his hand towards your shoulder in an attempt to placate you, but you flinched.

"Y-you're bit! Oh my fucking God, you're—"

You couldn't breathe. It was like you were suffocating, your head underwater.

For the first time ever, you understood the irony behind Ghost's smile.

Hyperventilating, you recoiled at each of his attempts to console you, refusing to allow him to.

"Won't you calm down, soldier? It's alright."

Ghost was beginning to lose his temper. "Calm down," he hissed. "We can talk about this."

"FINE! Let's fucking TALK!"

Ghost was walking ahead of you, walking so fast that you were out of breath jogging after him.

Doubled-over wheezing for oxygen, you looked up with a heaving chest. You two had reached a wide warehouse, making up for its lack in height it its width.

The metal around the door hinges had heavily rusted to the point that it took kicking a side-door down until it finally gave enough lee-way to slither inside through the small gap made.

Brown eyes darkened, and narrowed at you. "Inside."

You shot him a scowl, tempted to give him the middle finger, but backed out at the last second, realised it would be childish.

As you two were inside the warehouse, the bolt tightly shut behind you and all windows and doors locked, ensured that the place was completely abandoned, and barricaded the entrance as a safety precaution... you two got into a screaming match.

"SO?! Are you going to FUCKING tell me why you chose to say nothing?!"

"About me being bitten? Really? And what would me having told you sooner changed, huh?"

"Uh, HELLO! You're fucking infected! You were bitten by one of those zombies, and that was, what? A WEEK ago?"

"It was because this is the exact type of interaction that I was dreading. For fuck's sake, rookie, I knew you'd blow y'fucking lid like this! What sort of a soldier bloody are you if you can't fucking calm yourself?"

"Oh, me?! Blow MY fucking lid?! How fucking dare you! You're the one always calling me a fucking soldier when I'm not!"

"Fuck, don't you get it? It's your own damn fault for being so goddamn reckless!"

You seized up, eye twitching. Positively seething.

"What— what did you say?"

"For fuck's sake, I told you, didn't I? I fucking told you to stay put!" Ghost yelled. "There of course had to be an itch in your ass and of course you had to go bloody wandering, straight into danger!"

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. "What, so you're fucking blaming me for you being infected? Is— is that it?"

"Wait, no—" Ghost immediately backtracked. "—you're misinterpreting what I fucking told you!"

"No, I interpret it loud and clear," you said, tone dripping with venom. "It's my fault. I get it. It's my fault for wanting to get involved. My fault for fucking caring about you, because I was worried sick and worried whether this outing would be your last—!"

Tears of fury were streaming down your faces in rivers, a waterfall of emotions all crashing into you at once.

You sniffed angrily, and avoided his eyes, feeling vulnerable. "I-I— I care about you, Ghost! Don't you get it? I have always cared!"

"I just guess—" Your wobbly, cracked voice, blotchy cheeks, quivering lip, and puffy pink eyes made you look pathetic, you knew.

You didn't care. Feelings pent up for far too long now came hurtling out along the floodgates, and you were in utter despair.

"—I-I just guess I never should have cared, should I?"

Ghost stared at you with a steely gaze, stoic and remorseless.

"Well. I told you to keep work strictly professional, didn't I, rookie? What can I say, aside from, it's your own fault?"

He stormed off before you could call after him, slamming the nearest door in this workhouse and locking it from the inside.

You sobbed, feeling more pathetic than ever, and crumpled on the floor in a disgarded heap, like a pile of trash.

Ghost slammed his fist against the door.

"Goddamnit—"

Keeping work strictly professional his ass.

He fell in love with you. How could he not have?

Always trying to hard to break down the walls that he'd stubbornly keep building, brick by brick, you tore down those walls.

Like a human bulldozer, you demolished his reinforcements, and his bare scaffolding, his vulnerability, were exposed to you.

The moment him and you returned to base, he was hit with a gut feeling.

That, at that moment in time, it was truly you and him left. There was no one to save, no one to save you. No one to save you, aside from him. Realising that it was he, he the only one who could get you to safety, and no one else.

And he hated you.

It wasn't a hatred, or a loathing. You gave him no reason to, and were none the wiser.

He never hated you, never. It was you that he hated, the one that broke down his reinforcements and rekindled the fire inside that had been ashes.

With every time he pushed you away, kept you at arm's length, he found himself pining for you more.

And he hated you. Hated you because he loved you.

He hated your voice because it soothed him like a mother's voice would her own child.

It didn't matter when you cursed, when you hissed harshly at him in a mock anger, when you sniffed and your nose twitched. All these things about you made you human, and he realised that even if humanity was lessened, humanity was less, there was still humanity in you.

And it made Ghost feel not like a ghost, a haunting phantom, of the Simon Riley he was, but the Simon Riley he ought to be. Your Simon Riley.

He hated you because you made things all the more difficult for him. If he just was to push you away, to distance himself, he thought, surely your inevitable parting of ways would be less painful.

But it didn't get any easier. Not at all.

If anything, seeing the dejected expression you would fail to hide in time, the way the sparkle in your eyes dimmed just a little after getting rejected once more, meant that gnawing guilt ate Ghost from the inside out.

He reasoned that he was doing all of this for your own good. For his own good, too. No strings attached, with no attachment to you, your parting of ways would have been easier.

But it was this act he insisted was selfless, that was selfish. The fact of the matter was, he needed you as much as you needed him.

He hated that you made him feel this way because these feelings were dangerous.

At any moment, at any point in time, you could be ripped away from his callous hands, leaving a void that was already empty as it was.

Emptiness inside of him that only you could fill, feelings which would never again be fulfilled with you gone, and he could not bring himself to admit that regardless of how much you needed him, it was him that needed you.

Most of all, he hated you because you were the only good thing that he had left.

If you were to die, there would be no reason for him to keep living.

Yes, he had told you that he was on his own mission to track down the Task Force, but, he had known long ago that it was just a delusion he was playing into, an insane idea that managed to keep him sane as it gave him some purpose.

It was a lie he spoon-fed you, forcing you to believe in a lie that he himself was beginning to believe in, realising that at the end of the road, was would be nothing left for him.

Ghost lived for you and did everything in his power so that you too would keep living. You were just a rookie, had your whole like ahead of you, and deserved to live past his own years. Deserved to live, and outlive a person like him, as he knew that he didn't deserve to.

With that logic, he just never knew that he was willing to die for you, too.

He had cheated death once. Faced the Grim Reaper and spat in his face.

But not this time.

He swore he was hallucinating the cloaked figure in the corner of this room right now, sneering, domineering, with glowing orange eyes.

This time, he wouldn't claw his way out from his grave, the taste of blood and dirt repulsing him in his mouth and his limbs weary, yet tasting the sweet, fresh air of freedom; this time, all that he would ever taste is the dirt. Buried for good six feet under a nameless tombstone marking his grave.

As he saw his bruised leg pulsating, he couldn't control the unnatural tics, his calf twitching as maggots swarmed to feed on his decomposing flesh.

Whole body spasming painfully, his arms and legs jittered as if his limbs as if they had a severe form of arthritis, yet each involuntary contortion of his limbs brought agony, agony, agony.

The bags under his eyes had gotten bigger, hollow eye sockets with milky white eyes that had a thousand yard stare now.

Deep grey veins bulged out of his hands to his forearms, all the way past his biceps, shoulders, and neck. Throbbing in rhythm to his synthetic pulse.

Pupils were sensitive to light, and had adapted to the darkness.

Skin was far paler, sallow and sickly-looking, sagging in places and skin cells starting to peel off.

And, despite the layers of clothing he had on — a tank top under his shirt, a jacket, a hoodie, and a tactical vest, all underneath a thick winter coat — he was freezing, and constantly shivering from the cold.

Constantly cold, cold, cold.

The realisation that he was watching himself decomposing into a corpse in real-time was a horrific one.

Few times could Ghost admit he was horrified, as he had become desensitised to horror after his exposure to it from a young age, witnessing horror beyong imaginable that he was wholly unfazed by.

This, however? It was not horrifying. It was torture.

His brain, however, had self-awareness in tact and sufficient enough for rational thought.

His limbs did not do what he told them to do, though — would seize up, as if having an epileptic seizure, the feeling of writhing on the ground in agony as he was also electrocuted, imparting his movements.

It took every fibre of his being to hold off the urge to take your body in his claws and to rip it apart with his teeth.

He was a prisoner of his own body, unable to break free of the virus consuming him from the inside out, the way his cells were mutating alternating his strings of DNA, his code, coding for an intense desire for flesh. For your flesh, because you were the closest living being in his proximity.

Not to mention, that his teeth were decaying, too. Black gums bleeding, yet tongue salivating excessively even though he'd have thought his body physically incapable of producing saliva.

He yearned to bite into a chunk of your flesh, to lick his dry, coarse lips, his mouth stained with the sweet taste of your blood.

To chew on the meat of your neck, and watch in fascination as a fountain of blood sprayed from your neck like a hose, blood splattering on the walls as you screamed in agony, struggling in vain to push off the crazed monster—

Ghost let out a shaky sigh, and after a moment, regained his composure.

Looking back now, Ghost could have amputated his leg. He felt the jaws close around his ankle and sink his teeth to his bone at that exact moment, felt his skin, muscle, flesh, be torn apart by sharp canines.

As soon as you two were safe, he could have hacked off his lower leg with a saw at the abandoned warehouse you two were camping outside that night that he would have surely been able to find, no matter how rusty and the bluntness of the sharp blades.

But why? Why butcher himself? What was the point of doing all that in a frantic effort to cease the disease infecting his entire body when he'd be crippled?

He wouldn't be able to protect you. Instead, he'd be dead weight and drag you down. A burden that you'd be burdened with.

You were skilled, intelligent, and lucky, too. Yet you were only human. Your luck, as plentiful as it was bound to run out.

And, through no fault of your own, a gang of deranged lunatics would ambush you and kill you if it meant they could divide your possessions amongst each other, a horde of zombies would come storming in like a mass hurricane and devour you when you were at a dead end, succumb to starvation or, you would succumb to an injury like he was succumbing to.

He couldn't let that happen. He had to keep going, would only rest in peace when he knew you were at a secure hideout, a safe location, free of danger. At that, he'd gladly pass away, his mission completed.

And his mission would never have been completed if he had been hobbling with makeshift crutches, holding on to your shoulders for support, weighing you down with his weight and having been powerless had a zombie, zombies, found you.

Then again, he couldn't have blamed them. Just one sinking of teeth... just a small chunk of the juicy meat of your thighs or arms... j-just to quench his thirst for human flesh—

Ghost punched his arm, hard.

No. He couldn't.

The temptation was becoming too great to resist.

He could overpower you, could, but he could not do that.

To you, of all people. His love.

He had shut the door in your face. It was like driving his own dagger through his own heart at your forlorn face, but it had to be done. His love for you was dangerous.

Having these thoughts was dangerous. Not just thoughts to kill, but thoughts to kiss you, just once. Just once, before he died.

How he would have had liked to feel your lips on his, to bite down on your lower lip.

Harder, and harder, until he pried your mouth open with inhuman grip and snapped your jaw, ripping your gums with his own teeth, oh so delectable—

Ghost hurled the lone chair in the cellar.

"Godamnit!"

He was self-aware, but not self-aware for rational thought. Not anymore.

Only minutes ago had he been thinking straight. Now, he couldn't differentiate his desire for you, between his desire for your flesh.

Calmly, he limped towards the turned-over chair in the corner and set it straight, and slumped on top of it, feeling like a sack of potatoes.

It pained him knowing that the last time he would see your face would be frowning, your lower lip quivering, chin and cheeks blotchy from the salty, bitter tears of your argument.

You would blame yourself, would go on thinking that this was your fault.

It was never your fault. Never.

It was never your fault that he got bitten.

It was never your fault that he loved—

"Ghost?"

Your voice was shaky, hoarse with tears. At any moment, it seemed, anything to trigger you would cause your emotions to tip over in an explosion of anguish, and you could maintain your composure.

"Ghost. P-please come out. I'm sorry."

A muffled voice on the radio spoke to Ghost, yet he said nothing in reply.

Putting your ear to the door, the loud noise obscured much of what you could hear from the other side of the door, meaning you had no idea what was going on in there.

Yet, if you really, really concentrated, then you'd hear vague shuffling in the room, heavy footsteps moving things.

"Ghost? Please. Please come out."

You still waited.

Waited for Ghost to say something, anything, anything at all, to hear him respond, reply, acknowledge your presence at the door, to at least acknowledge the voice on the radio.

By the sounds of it, the voice was beginning to get emotional with Ghost's unresponsive state, his lack of reply, and it began emphatically ranting about something, all unintelligible from your side.

Slumping on the floor, your back to the door, your chest rose unevenly with each inhale, fell as unevenly with each mournful exhale.

You hadn't thought you'd really be mourning.

As, a sickening crack behind the door suddenly brought you to your senses.

Panic-stricken, you banged on the door with your knuckles. "Ghost, Ghost! You okay? Ghost!"

Knocking turned to hammering with your fists, afraid and desperate at the same time. Yelling repeatedly: "Ghost! What happened?" "Are you okay?" "Can I help?" "Ghost, please. Please!" "Say something!" "Please!"

The door would not budge, and no noise came out. Ghost would not respond. Or maybe he couldn't.

You resorted to kicking the door, using your entire body weight to tet it to open. To no avail.

"F-fuck—" Too desperate at that moment to care about the ringing from shooting from close-range, your hands scrambled for your pistol and shot the door handle multiple times, grimacing when high-pitched ringing in your ears was splitting your skull open louder than you could have anticipated.

Miraculously, the handle fell off. But something was in front of the door, and even with your entire body pressed against the door, the door stayed put.

Full of adrenaline at having made some progress, in your blind haste, you hurled your entire side to the door.

And, the door slid an inch, a vertical line revealing little in the room aside from the light from the awning window. It was progress.

Energised by this sudden success, you became a makeshift battering ram, not caring for the grey and green bruises already that had surely formed already all on your side.

Inch by stubborn inch, the door moved outwards.

The door flung open, and what had obstructed the door — a tall metal filing cabinet — crashed onto the ground, with yellowed paper spilling on the ground, fluttering like butterflies.

At the sight before you, you froze.

There Ghost was, sitting cross-legged on a chair.

That same skeleton mask, the same gear, the same body, true, but it wasn't him. Not anymore.

The sickening crack you heard moments before made sense now.

His jaw, dangling inanimately, was off-center. It was completely broken.

Dislocated, it seemed, through brute force. Broken with his own hands, his hands shining with wet, black blood.

His neck was strapped to an unfolded metal chair by his own belt. His chest and waist also were binded to the chair, but with with thick rope, tied intricately initially, then had devolved into a sloppy loop when the task got too fiddly.

His arms, likewise, were strapped to the arm rests, wrists handcuffed for good measure, yet Ghost's left forearm had broken out from his restraint, and his nails had scratched metal, deep claw marks in the armrest.

The radio had been loud. Loud, so it obscured the sound of his struggle.

You suddenly doubled over, hands on your knees, thinking that you were about to vomit.

It hit you, that he had been doing this while you had stood there, idle, none the wiser.

Immediately imagining Ghost thrashing around in this chair, fighting the spread of the disease, all the while you sat there idly and ignorantly, you regurgitated what you had eaten, tasting vomit in your mouth.

You gagged, groaning in disgust, but swallowed it all in one go and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand.

Torn between looking at Ghost and not looking at him at all anymore, you found your gaze gradually going down.

His ankles were also bound to the chair legs. One of his calves, however, was completely decomposed, to the point that you could see his tibula and the tendons in his foot.

An airy gasp escaped you, silent. No sound came out.

The skin around it had deep black veins, and had frayed, decayed, oozing a slimy pus, with maggots feeding off the rotted flesh. Already, flies had swarmed around his corpse through the open window.

It was clear. Using his last remains of sentience, what remained of his consciousness, his humanity, Ghost tied himself to this chair.

Yet, something must have told him that this wouldn't last. His belt, the ropes, and even his handcuffs wouldn't have been enough to hold him back.

As a last resort, be broke his jaw. You knew immediately why: as a final precaution, in order to prevent himself from infecting anyone. From infecting you. From biting you.

You were unbelievably calm processing all of this. Too devastated to move, you now understood the voice that was speaking to Ghost on the radio.

It was as if the sound was on mute, your world at a stand-still, and some higher power had unpaused this moment. Like some cinematic choice made by a director.

And the plot twist, was that it was neither the voice of Soap, Price, or Garrick. This was a stranger, a female, speaking:

"—a safe zone. Here, there is safety, and we can guarantee your protection."

You recognised that voice. It was the female commander talking through Ghost's earpiece.

"Humans have not yet gone extinct, and humanity in our safe zone exists.

"To anyone that is out there, you are welcomed. We will welcome you with open arms and tend to any and all of your wounds.

"You will be fed, will be given shelter, and will be a member of our community of survivors.

"If you are hearing this, our coordinates are ***°**′**″ N, ***°**′**″ E. Keep this channel on. We can track you, as long as you play this message.

"Every day, we broadcast this message at 1200 for an hour, just as we have done yesterday, the days before, and will continue to do so tomorrow.

"There is a safe zone. Here, there is safety, and we can guarantee your protection.

"Humans have not yet gone extinct, and humanity in our safe zone exists. There is food, water, warmth, and shelter. Close to seventeen thousand of us have regrouped — civillians, farmers, teachers, doctors, scientists, soldiers — and are rebuilding civilisation a day at a time.

"Your background does not matter. We take in anyone able-bodied and fit to contribute in any way possible.

"We have a pharmacy, with medication, with antibiotics, with inhalers and with insulin.

"To anyone that is out there, we will take you in, and you will be protected. You are not alone.

"I repeat, If you are hearing this, our coordinates are ***°**′**″ N, ***°**′**″ E.

"Every day, we broadcast this message at 1200 for an hour, just as we have done yesterday, the days before, and will continue to do so tomorrow—"

You shut off the radio.

Ghost had been lying to you.

Lied to you about the Task Force. Lied to you about the journey you two had been making.

Had lied about having been bitten, and it was only through chance that you had found this out.Ghost had been lying to you all this time.

You broke down in hysterics, your calmness taking a 180 all in the duration of seconds.

Why, why? Why didn't he tell you? Why couldn't he just tell you?

This whole motive, the reason to keep going, was all a lie. A pretense.

It was a selfless act, yet to you it, couldnt have been more selfish. How dared he keep this from you? How dared he? Why didn't he tell you the truth?

Curse you, Ghost! you thought, wailing in pain as hot tears cut your cheeks.

Vision blurred, you looked up, stricken with grief, and glanced into those milky white eyes of his.

For a moment, a wave of serene had crashed into you, and your crying calmed. Mind was tranquil.

Ghost wasn't thrashing around like a zombie would in his restaints.

Wasn't bearing his teeth, lunging forward to sink his canines into your flesh.

Wasn't letting out a guttural roar.

It was clear that he had before you entered, the restraints that did little to restrain him evidence of that.

Yet, he observed you in a docile manner, and his broken jaw made him look pathetic.

His eyes weren't glowing, neither, nor were they orange. Just white.

You had thought he was blind, as his pupils were pinpricks unresponsive to light, but his eyes followed your every movement, watched you intensely.

Completely still, he stared at you with unblinking eyes, unable to swat the flies landing on his eyeballs with his wrists cuffed. Maybe not even feeling them at all.

Perhaps you were imagining things, thinking irrationally when hysterical, but you swore there was more to those eyes. Recognition.

A hesitant hand moved towards his face, wavering yet unwavering in its purpose.

When you cupped his masked cheek, his eyes conveyed a certain sadness, and were apologetic, almost as if his eyes were apologising. Conveying an apology through his eyes that he couldn't ever had through words.

Silently pleading for forgiveness. For you to forgive him. To understand.

It was unbearable. You couldn't bear to look him in the eyes anymore. You couldn't bear this.

His eyes narrowed, gaze as penetrating in death as it had been while he was alive. Even more penetrative, almost as if seeing right through your very soul.

The promise. You had of course remembered. The promise you had made that night had weighed heavy on your mind ever since.

It was unbearable. The thought of what you had to do was unbearable.

You promised. You had promised. Even if Ghost wasn't one to make promises, you were.

Your pistol on the floor where you had dropped it while collapsing, shimmered in the slither of sunlight that broke through the crack in the window.

With effort, you stretched your arms and reached for it with all your might.

You couldn't bear to hold your gun in your hands. Hands were clammy, so your grip was weak, and fingers too weak to hold it properly.

Even with both hands, you couldn't steady the shaking, the swallowed sobs causing your throat to go dry, and to choke on oxygen.

Head turned away, waterfalls of tears streaming down your face in gushing rivers, you pulled the trigger.

And a deafening shot rung out, echoing in the cellar.

You knew what you had to do. You did.

You had promised him. Promised Ghost.

But you didn't have the strength to do it.

The bullet pierced through the handcuff restraining his other wrist.

The metal fell to the floor with a dull clang.

Ghost, mesmerised, raised his hand to stare at it, not fully registering to him that this was his own hand.

You broke his promise.

Guilt overwhelmed you, as you denied a dead man's wish.

Without looking up at Ghost, you crouched down, and with your pocket knife, began working at the thick ropes binding his body.

When you stood up, Ghost had not budged. Had not even moved a muscle. His eyes were on you, unblinking.

"Come on, Ghost," you whispered, in the same tone of voice that Ghost himself would use when he used to address you.

Eyes widening, he allowed you to pull him up to his feet, no longer towering over you like he always did with his back hunched over now.

Your eyes softened at the sight of him, fresh tears brimming at the corners of your eyes, but you wiped at them before they could fall, and smiled reassuringly at Ghost, the ways that his eyes would smile reassuring you.

"Our journey isn't over, s-s—soldier," you whispered, voice cracking.

"My journey has always been you, Ghost."

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A/N: Happy New Year guys !! 🎉🎉🎊🙌🎆🎇🎇 Startijg the year off strong with a fanfiction TWO MONTHS in the making!! 💥🥳🔫 Sure do hope all tjis work was worth it 😍, bc i SWEAR im not postijg anytjing for ANOTHER two months bc I am EXHAUSTED 😭😭😭😭💔💔💔

[spiralsdrop]

This is a hypnosis story I've always loved. If anyone knows who the author is I would love to give them the credit they deserve for this.

“My friends and I were at a bar across town. It was dark, a little loud, underground, with dim red lights and drinks that cost too much. But there were lots of plush little booths and we managed to snag ourselves a corner, so we sat and got deep into drinking and chatting.

After an hour or so, there was a big commotion going on in one corner with people falling around laughing. Before we saw what was going on, everyone involved had stumbled away hooting and giggling. But my friend Rachel leads me over and there’s this young guy kind of holding court.

“What’s going on?” Rachel asks, over the music.

“Oh, I’m hypnotising people,” he says, casually, like people do that all the time.

“For real? You’re a hypnotist?”

“Yes I am,” he says.

Rachel thinks this is hysterical. I think it sounds ridiculous.

“We should dooooooo this!” she says, waving over the two other friends we’re out with.

“Should we?”

“We should! YOU should.”

“I don’t think so,” I say, but she’s already tugging on this guy’s arm… and pushing me towards him.

“Hypnotise Emma!”

“Yeah?”

“She REALLY wants to!”

He looks at me.

“Do you want to?”

“Uh, I’m pretty sure I’m un-hypnotisable.”

“Well,” he says. “Wanna find out?”

“You can try,” I say. I’m smirking a little bit. Silly me.

“Well, OK then. Here, take a seat.”

Like I said, I thought it was ridiculous.

There are two small wooden chairs facing each other and I sit in one. I smooth down the short, tight little dress I’m wearing. He – neat grey t-shirt, jeans, a tattoo of swirling black lines, like a soundwave, on one arm, a mischievous sparkle in his deep brown eyes, like someone who’s just had a sinfully good idea – sits on the other one, pulls it closer so our knees are almost touching. I’m a little nervous… but determined not to let it show.

“OK,” he says. He takes my arms and places them on the arm of my chair, palms up. He holds my hands with his and gives them a reassuring squeeze.

“You OK?”

“I’m fine.”

“This is going to be fun, OK?”

“Well, if you say so.”

Three of my friends are now gathered watching us. I hear Rachel say “I bet she thinks she’s a chicken five minutes from now.”

He lets go of my hands and wraps his gently around my wrists, his thumb on each, like he’s taking my pulse. He starts talking to me low and urgently, looking into my eyes warmly.

“So what’s your name?”

“Emma.”

“Where are we?”

“A bar.”

“What colour are the lights here?”

“Red.”

“Only red?”

“Some white.”

“What’s your name again?”

“Emma.”

”OK, Emma. We’re good.”

His thumbs are tracing circles on my skin.

His questions became… rhetorical. Think of my feet on the floor. Were they heavy? Did it feel good to just rest them there? Doesn’t it feel warm? Isn’t the chair comfortable?

It did feel comfortable. It felt like the second when an elevator stops descending and you’re that little bit heavier. I felt warm like sinking into a fresh bath. He put his hand on my bare shoulder. It felt solid and good.

Didn’t I feel calm? Isn’t it nice? Try closing my eyes. Keep listening to his voice. Even raised over the music is voice, is like a heavy blanket on a lazy Sunday. His hand slides to rest under my hair, on the back of my neck. Weren’t my wrists relaxed? Like they could rest on the arms of the chair forever. His other hand taps out a rhythm on my knee. Calm like warm sunshine on my skin. The sounds around me drift off into a dull hubbub. This was more relaxing than I th…

…I open my eyes and time has jumped just a little. Maybe it’s a few seconds later – or a few minutes? Which was weird. But it can’t have been long. My friends were all still there. And I still felt good. Calm. Nice. The rest of the world feels a little muffled, like the air is thicker.

“All awake, Emma?”

I nod.

“How do you feel?”

“I feel… fine.”

“That’s good.”

He rested his fingertips on my wrists and… oh.

“How does that feel?”

For some reason, it felt SO good. It was like one of those feelings that ran all through your body, like the feeling I get when my neck is being kissed, or my nipples are teased, or having ‘good girl’ growled quietly in my ear.

“It feels good,” I murmured. I was still sort of sleepy.

His fingertips started running slowly up and down my wrists, from my up-turned palms to the crook of my elbow. It was like the sexiest teasing I’d ever felt. Tingles rushed up to my shoulders and through my chest. I could feel my nipples getting hard under my dress.

“Do you like the way it feels?”

I nodded. The tingling was spreading through my tummy and between my legs. I was calm and floaty and burningly turned on all at once. He pulled his hands away. I bit my lip in frustration.

“More?”

“Yeah.”

He picked up his chair and moved it. I felt him sit down behind me. He leaned in close and whispered “Close your eyes…” into my ear. I did what I was told.

The moment his hands touched my back I gasped like lightning ran down my spine to my crotch. Every tiny hair on my neck stood up in reaction to his touch.

“Fuck.”

Each stroke of my shoulder blades felt like being stroked… everywhere, all at once. My clit was getting harder and more sensitive with each rub. My underwear felt hot and wet. I could barely control my breathing.

His hands slid over my shoulders and teasingly over my upper arms. It was like ecstasy. Just the fabric of my underwear against my clit was delicious. I slid my ass against the wooden chair instinctively trying to find some friction or relief. As he blew gently on the back of my neck I leaned back and spread my legs in the confused hope of being touched. I fucking ached with pleasure.

“It’s such a strong feeling,” he murmured in my ear, “when you think about it.”

He pulled his hands away once again. My heart was thudding in my chest, my nipples were hard through the fabric of my dress which had ridden up from my accidental grinding against the seat. Even with my eyes closed, I looked like a hot mess but I was so turned on I was beyond caring. I was just glad the club was so dark.

He puts brought his chair around to my side and just in front, so it was perpendicular to me. He sits in, close.

“How are you feeling?”

I open my eyes. I’m dimly aware of the giggling of my friends, and the gaze of some other onlookers over me. I feel a wave of heat as my face reddens.

“Don’t worry about them,” he says. “Look at me.”

“This is crazy,” I mouthed.

”I told you it would be fun.”

I’m speechless.

“Keep going?”

I was nodding before I even thought about it.

He scoots in front of me a little more. “Put your leg on my lap, Emma.” I lift my bare leg and place it tentatively across his knees.

His hand rests on my knee and a jolt of pleasure hit me. It snakes up my thigh to my wet cunt and fizzles deep me, my hips twitching. To my embarrassment I let out a moan of pure pleasure.

His fingertips are stroking my skin in soft, little circles. My thighs are starting to shake. Laughter among the crowd sends me blushing. He shakes his head in their direction and then looks at me.

“Emma, look at me.”

His twinkling eyes lock mine.

“You’ve been doing really well. Don’t worry about them. Listen to my voice.”

I nod in breathless agreement. His fingertips start drumming slowly on top of my thigh, one-two-three, one-two-three, one-two three..

It feels like a fluttering feeling inside me and I scrunch my eyes closed in delight. I squirm in my seat, squeezing my thighs together tightly just for a hint of pressure on my clit.

“Emma, look at me.”

“You’ve been doing really well. I know it feels intense. It feels so strong…”

I’m trembling with each quickening tap. One-two-three-one-two-three-one-two-three-one-two-three…

“It’s getting stronger and stronger, Emma. Like you can’t hold back.”

The drumming moves imperceptibly up my thigh, to the edge of my dress and it feels 100 times stronger. I’m arching my back. My hands grip the arm of the chair like they’re my bedsheets when I’m touching myself. I’m so close…

“Emma, listen to me.”

“Oh my god.”

“Emma, listen.”

“I’m… please… I…”

“Let go.”

With those two words the orgasm hits me like an explosion, my thighs clamping together, the contractions in my cunt are so strong I bend double in my chair.

“Let go.”

It feels like I’m being fucked hard and deep while I cum, my g-spot is spasming with pleasure. I cry out helplessly.

“Let go.”

His hand gripping my thigh sends another orgasm shivering through my clit and then bursting inside of me. I feel a hot flood of wetness soak through my panties as I involuntarily squirt a little.

“Let go.”

I slump back in the chair as my hips jolt into the air. I can hear my friends shrieking with laughter as they watch me orgasm uncontrollably. I try to hold back but I can’t stop cumming. Each squeeze of my thigh sends another wave of powerful juddering contractions through my pussy, makes me moan, twitch, gush, gasp, grind, shake, cum.

I’ve never cum for so long.

“OK, you. Come here.”

He takes my leg off his lap and comes in close to me. He wraps his hand on my neck and pulls me toward him, my forehead resting on my shoulder, exhausted and trembling. “Just relax,” he murmurs. “Listen to my voice…”

I sink back into a calm darkness.

A few moments later I wake up, sheepish and embarrassed… but even so, I can’t stop grinning. He strokes my wrist one last time – no unbearable pleasure, this time – and smiles. I tentatively stand up, and my legs are like jelly. Rebecca grabs me incredulously and says “OH. MY. GOD.”

“I. KNOW.”

I tell her I have to excuse myself to use the bathroom and shakily stumble in that direction. It’s busy with girls streaming in and out, but in the mirror, I see my face and chest are flushed pink. And my hair’s a mess.

I shut myself in the cool dark cubicle and slide off my panties, down my ankles and over my shoes and step out of them. They’re so drenched from my cum I throw them in the trash can. I instinctively reach between my legs and fuck, I’m still so wet and sensitive. I lean back against the cubicle door and let my fingertips find my slick, hard, throbbing clit. It feel so good to finally feel the touch my body had been craving.

Around me were the sounds of doors opening and closing, girls talking, water running, the throbbing music from next door and the hand-dryer blowing.

I was so hungry to feel full inside and I greedily pushed two fingers deep inside, sliding in deliciously easily. My knees buckled with satisfaction as I slowly, quietly fucked myself. Each time the hand dryer switched on, I pumped my fingers in and out hard and fast, the noise of the motor covering the sounds of my wetness, until it stopped and I had to wait for more agonising seconds.

When I couldn’t take it any more, with one last blast of the hand dryer, I frantically rubbed my clit, my other hand grabbing my tit, and then those commanding words “Let go… let go… let go…” suddenly reverberating in my head, until, my hand clamped over my mouth, I came for the second time that night, my legs buckling in shock, sliding down the cubicle door until I was sat on my heels, waves of pleasure still shuddering through my thighs.

I sat on the toilet for a few minutes and straightened myself out, until the red flush of orgasm had faded from my chest. Then I went back out to join my friends… embarrassed, sans underwear but oh-so-satisfied.

And when I’m alone, the words ‘let go…’ can still push me over the edge sometimes :)”

I would love to give proper credit to this author. If any of you know who wrote this please let me know so I can tag them and give them the credit they deserve.

[hyunebunx]

DENI!!! i've been a little bit out of here 😣😣 but i received the notif of your post......... the soft thought ( more like domestic details, which i love ) is painting hyune's nails. you do not know how to properly do it, because the nail polish always lands on the skin surrounding the nail, and even if you try to do a desing, like a little flower w a couple of points, it ends up all messed up. imagine a quiet afternoon, after watching some tv show, all cozy and warm, and he offers you his nails to practise a little bit. even if you mess it up again, he might actually paint yours and try to follow the same messed up pattern to go matching 🥺

⁺ 𖹭 . genre: fluff and even more fluff!!

⁺ 𖹭 . a/n: MARS!! i wrote this in one go, istg this is the cutest idea ever :( thank you for helping me and letting me write soft hyune fluff, this fixed me fr. i hope you enjoy, my love <333

“Can I do it?” You ask, eyeing his clean nails as Hyunjin reaches up to fix his face mask before doing the same with yours, making sure neither of your headbands fell too low on your foreheads.

“Hm?” He hums, smoothing the thin layer of the sheet mask on your already smooth skin, smiling once your eyes meet. “Do what?”

“Your nails.” You nod towards them, catching one of his hands and bringing it to your lips to peck the back of it, much to his displeasure as the action moves the mask around your face awkwardly. Even so, he was so close to you on the tiny couch that you could feel his heart beating wildly, betraying his true feelings.

Hyunjin tries not to smile too brightly as he nods, fondness clear as day in brown eyes even in the dim light of the living room. “Knock yourself out, baby.” He was never one to reject you, no matter how silly or out of pocket your requests were. Hyunjin would move mountains for you, after all, if that meant you’d be happy forever and keep smiling for him until the day he took his last breath.

The tv ran idly in the background, a rerun of one of your favorite shows as you got to work, gently placing both of your boyfriend’s hands in your lap. His small collection of nail polish was laid before you on the coffee table, accompanied by a file, a bag of cotton pads and nail polish remover. Just in case, you know.

Gently taking one of his hands, you subconsciously intertwine your fingers together as you look over the bottles, brainstorming. Hyunjin takes this moment of silence as an opportunity to reach over and turn on one of lamps by the couch, providing you with more light.

“What are you thinking?” His voice is low, not wanting to disturb you, softly pulling his hand away to massage your palm instead.

“Ladybug nails.”

“What?” He laughs, scooting closer.

You nod, reaching for the bottle of red nail polish. Not like you had many options to begin with, Hyunjin’s palette was limited – something you’d never thought you’d say.

“Your nails are always so dark, I was thinking of doing a cute design for a change.”

He arches a dark brow. “You could use white.”

You pause, tearing your gaze from the bottle to stare at him blankly. “Ladybugs aren’t white.”

The laugh that escapes him has your heart double in size, feeling all warm and fuzzy as he throws his head back in genuine amusement, finding you even more endearing than usual. “Alright, ladybug, do whatever you please. I’ll stop interfering.”

And he keeps his promise, quiet as a mouse as you begin painting his nails, attention stolen by the tv and the snacks you’ve prepared for your weekly movie night. Hyunjin has mastered the art of eating with a face mask on, no crumb landing anywhere near and messing it up. There was nothing he couldn’t do, it seemed.

You’re almost done with his one hand when he slowly reaches to remove your face mask, joining his on a napkin on the table. Usually, he’d also massage the remaining serum into your skin but you could tell he didn’t want to bother you from your new favorite past time. A past time you weren’t particularly skilled in, the nail polish getting everywhere around his nail and even on your clothes, staining the material.

“Uh…” Hyunjin turns to you, wondering why you were sounding so disheartened. “I think I messed up.”

Bringing his hand to eye level, Hyunjin studies your work curiously, analyzing every brush stroke and the big, blotchy black spots that were supposed to be polka dots. The colors were everywhere, on his cuticles and even further down to his knuckles. You’ve mostly stuck to the area around the nail so he couldn’t understand how a black spot managed to go that far.

“Baby, are the ladybugs trying to escape?” He smiles, holding back laughter.

You pout and he leans over to plant smooches on both of your cheeks, trying to make you feel better. “Don’t make fun of me, I tried my best.”

Hyunjin nods, grabbing the black polish from your hand. “I can see that.” Without warning, he starts applying it down his index finger in a strange pattern, causing your mouth to fall open in shock. “And it looks great, love.”

You knew he was lying to try and make you feel better, there was no way he actually thought that.

Biting down on his plush bottom lip, he eventually puts the brush away and gets a hold of your hand before pressing the back of his onto yours, squeezing lightly. You’re so confused that no words escape you, wondering if this was his way of getting back at you for messing up his nails and getting his hand all dirty.

“Done!” He beams, looking so much younger with his hair all pushed back and bare face, cozy and cuddly in his soft pajamas. “Now we match.”

Looking down, you realize the pattern he drew on himself was now on your hand too, tiny lines and spots resembling even tinier footsteps. A ladybug’s footsteps. Or tracks, actually.

Forget beating, your heart almost bursts out of your chest and latches onto him, first his cheek and then plump lips, smooching the area before intertwining with his own and running away together like two forbidden lovers. Hyunjin brought so much needed light into your life, you could barely believe he was real and not a fragment of your rich imagination.

“The ladybug that ran away from my nail has found its way home to you.” He finally laughs, eyes two crescent moons. “It’s silly, please forgive me.”

“Silly?” You blurt out, dragging him by the hand just so he can fall into your waiting arms, hugging him tightly. “It’s only silly if you don’t actually draw a cute ladybug on my hand now.” His arms sneak around your middle, face hiding in your chest as yours move over his shoulders, breathing in the scent of him.

“Only if you do my other hand.” He murmurs, placing a linger kiss right above your beating heart.

You can’t help but grin, thankful for having such a kind person by your side. “Deal!”

[yawnderu]

Final Girl — Slasher!Keegan P. Russ x Reader (2/?)

cw: stalking, noncon. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

Your life was never meant to be a punishment.

"Are you listening?" The man in front of you asks the moment your gaze starts to drift off for the third time since you arrived at the office.

"Sorry. What did you say?" The dark circles around your eyes make you resemble a raccoon more than a human, the memories of your friends dying and their blood splattered all around the pale wallpapers. Images of nature that were supposed to be remembered as calming do the exact opposite, forever engraved in your broken psyche.

"Do you remember anything about the suspect?" The detective's voice is calm, laced with nothing but pure understanding and compassion, a man too passionate about what he does— and the man you're about to lie to, delaying the investigation of your friend's death just to save your own ass.

"Nothing other than what I've told you, sir. Everything is just so..." The pregnant pause makes him fidget with the pen in his hand, grey eyes focused on the way you look away from him, eyes squinting as you try to recall memories from that night, memories that are so painful he can see it written all over your face, making him feel a pang of guilt.

"It's okay. Call me if you remember anything else, yeah?" His warm hand rests on your shoulder after you get up, trying his best to give you a reassuring smile that is only met with weary eyes, making your way out without saying anything. There's hesitation in your steps, your heart almost beating out of your chest the moment you stop walking and look over your shoulder, briefly meeting his curious gaze.

“He had brown eyes.” Mr. Smith doesn't waste any time on adding the information to his notes, only making the guilt spread all over your insides like black mold, taking over what used to be your soul— it's all his now.

Your life was never meant to be a punishment, yet what do you call seeing the man who killed your friends everywhere you go? He's been taking over your entire life no matter how much you try to push the memories away, no matter how much you try to forget it all happened, only serving as a constant reminder that you didn't do enough.

Dreams colliding with reality isn't something new, yet your nightmares are so realistic that it almost feels like you were there. Even while you were hidden away in a dark closet, you can see your friends struggling against the much bigger, armed man, innocent bodies butchered while they were alive, a mess of limbs spread all over the rented cabin, blank eyes always staring at you, watching you run away and leave them behind.

Were you losing your mind? It all seems so real, to the point you're not even convinced you only saw your best friend die. Are you sure you didn't peek the kitchen the moment you cowardly decided to escape? The kitchen was blocked by a wall, and yet.

Cold water splashes all over your face, feeling the softness of your palm rub the skin, trying to come back to reality, to remind yourself that it's impossible to have seen the other bodies. The crime scene report is repeated over and over like a mantra, serving as a permanent reminder that you weren't there. No, not when only a body was found in the living room.

The person looking back at you in the mirror is a far cry from who you used to be. The dark circles in your eyes resemble more a dead girl walking than a real, healthy body, and perhaps that's what you are. If it weren't for the constant feeling of crippling dread and the tears spilling down your cheeks like a broken dam, you could've fooled a mortician.

The sound of your phone vibrating against the vanity brings you back to reality from your trip to Self-Pity Land, slapping some more water on your sweaty face before deciding to take a peek at the screen.

1:38 PM.

From: Ali💗

Almost there.

It's enough to make you scurry around the room, applying enough makeup to not make your friend worry, knowing that she wanted to get you out of the house just to give you a worthy distraction.

For what seems like the first time in forever, the corners of your lips tilt up into a smile the moment your friend wraps her arms around you, holding you close despite the odd stares you're getting from the people in the diner.

“Hey, you.” Her cheerfulness was contagious, to the point that even if only for a second, you get a sense of normalcy. A sense of community, despite your own feelings about the entire situation.

Your friend can talk for two. Something that you never noticed until now, listening to her ramble about anything and everything for the past hour. In a way, it gave you the chance to dissociate in peace, the words mixing together to the point they barely made sense anymore, completely entering one ear and leaving the other.

“He's looking at you.” Alina says in a teasing whisper, nudging you with her elbow. You give her a confused glance until she looks between the man and you, giving you the look.

Your gaze connects with a pair of baby blue eyes, forcing a sharp pain to cut through your soul. His eyes look too familiar, resembling the pair you see every single day in your nightmares. His entire demeanor screams ''cocky bastard'', manspreading on the seat of the table across from you, his arm propped up on the backrest.

“Awful timing, but I have to go.” Alina says with a small frown, though it quickly changes to a little smug smirk the moment she realizes the man is still looking at you. If she even notices your pleading gaze, it goes completely ignored as she gets up from the booth, giving you a strong, goodbye hug— and the stare from the man makes it clear that it might be the last one.

“Get some.” She teases in a whisper, quickly making her way out of the diner after paying for your drinks. You feel the urge to empty your stomach, yet there's barely anything there, only the slow-growing sense of pure dread the longer you keep staring at each other. Even when you force yourself to look away, you can see him staring at you from the corner of your eye, almost able to tell he has a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

Leaving a halfway done drink behind, you make your way out of the diner, hoping that being out with more witnesses can save you. Is that really him? You barely got the chance to see his eyes yet you never saw his face, starting to doubt yourself the longer your tired feet drag you around the street. He could be an innocent man falling victim of your trauma, simply looking to get laid— you could probably use that, too, yet his icy stare and cocky grin is carved into your damaged mind.

“Need a ride?” A deep, gravely voice offers, nearly giving you a heart attack the moment your eyes meet his. Your hand goes up to your chest, trying to calm your fast-beating heart even when he gives you a reassuring, charming smile.

“No, thank you.” Your tone is far too polite and kind, still wanting to give him the benefit of the doubt despite the fight or flight screaming at you to flee— to get away from the man you're now convinced is the same masked man who murdered your friends.

“Get in the fucking car, princess.”

The charming smile he was shooting your way is gone within a second, his icy gaze piercing through your soul now that he knows you saw through his bullshit. Your gaze drifts down to the hand lifting a part of his shirt up, revealing part of his dark, happy trail— and his handgun.

There's hesitation in your steps as you walk to the passenger's seat, already feeling the smoothie you drank starting to crawl up your throat, almost making you throw it all up, yet you do your best to hold it in, shakily getting into his car.

“… My house's up ahead.” You purposely give him the wrong address, trying to protect your family and yourself from the deranged bastard. The ride is eerily quiet, almost making you even more nervous than if he was trying to make conversation with you. There's no music playing, no humming— nothing, other than his fingers tapping against the steering wheel and his calm breathing.

“We're here.” Maybe you're reading him wrong, but there's hints of teasing bleeding through his deep voice, his eyes shining with mirth when you step out of his truck, making your way to one of the houses. You reach the front door after what feels like minutes, your hand shaking as you think of what to do. You can hear the engine of his car still behind you, not driving away even when you told him that's your home.

I don't want anyone else to die because of me. If someone opens the door, would he murder them too? He has a gun, and the way he brutalized your friends makes it clear that he's not afraid to get his hands dirty no matter the weapon. His loud laugh makes every single muscle in your body tense up, hesitantly looking back at him, the pure amusement dancing all over his face doesn't ease your fears in the slightest.

“Come back, sweetheart. I'll take you home.” And he stays true to his word, driving back in silence, his warm hand resting on your bare thigh. You don't dare look at it, simply staring out of the window, feeling every single callus on his hand while the scenery gets more and more familiar. The black mold in your soul spreads by the second, threatening to rot you from the inside out, bubbling up into a disgusting brew as he stops in front of your house.

Your eyes briefly meet his, his pupils starting to dilate the same way they did when he was done brutalizing your friends; just like a predator who has never failed to catch his prey. You never gave him your address— in fact, you didn't say a single word since you got back into his truck, yet he still found his way to your house.

It's all starting to make sense. Despite assuming it's all a product of your paranoia, you've been catching hints of the masked man everywhere you go, blue eyes always staring right into your soul.

“Not gonna invite me over for some coffee?” Technically, it is a question, yet you both know saying no to him is not even on the table.

“Sure… I can make you a coffee.” Perhaps inviting a serial killer is not the brightest idea, yet what other options do you even have? He knows where you live and the places you frequent, you're not safe anywhere. His hand drifts down to the small of your back as you open the entrance door, hesitantly letting him back into the only safe space you had, willingly allowing him to invade your life.

“Atta girl.” What should feel like praise from an older man only serves as additional mental torture, the sound of the door closing behind you making all hope of surviving him fade away.

“Come sit on my lap.” He walks to the living room as if it's his own home, not even asking for directions, simply being able to navigate his way around like he's been here before— deep inside, you know he has. Your nose starts to sting as he sits down on the couch and forces you to straddle him, your thighs around his, allowing you to feel all the muscle.

“Don't cry…” He taunts, only now making you aware of the hot tears dripping down your cheeks, your lips trembling as he pushes you closer by the ass, pressing your clothed cunt against his hardening dick. His face is buried on he crook of your neck, loudly inhaling your scent as his starts to grind against you, calloused hands roaming all over your pretty body.

“Wanna feel my cock?” The vigorous head shake you give him is enough to make him laugh, open-mouthed kisses planted all over your neck and shoulders, not caring about leaving any marks. You can barely register the sound of his zipper coming down until he's guiding your hand to his warm, hardening dick.

You're too shaky to even do anything about it, disgust and nervousness turning into a dangerous mix, yet Keegan is a patient man. A patient man who gently makes your fingers wrap around his shaft, guiding your movements to jerk him off, getting even harder underneath your touch. Low grunts and muffled moans are spilled right into your ear, clearly getting off despite your very clear fear.

“You're doing so good, princess…” He murmurs. Keegan's free hand starts to sneak his way inside your shirt, slipping past your bra, his thumb brushing past your hardening nipple. Your brain is able to recognize that fight or flight aren't options anymore, so just like a wild animal trying to avoid a fight; you freeze.

Your shaky breaths mingle together, only interrupted by the low groans he lets out, his hand leaving yours for the first time, leaving you unsure of what to do. Despite the tears falling down your cheeks and the muffled whimpers, your hand keeps moving up and down his shaft, not wanting to die by his dirty, blood-tainted hands.

Keegan's mind isn't broken enough to not know it's wrong, yet it has been broken enough to the point he simply doesn't care. Thrown away by his brothers in arms and the marines, he doesn't have anything else to lose. No life purpose, other than to bring others the same pain he has suffered for years.

A quiet whimper escapes your lips as he moves your hand away from his cock, using his tip to move your underwear aside. His free hand goes to the back of your head, encouraging you to hide your pretty, tear-stained face on the crook of his neck, fully muffling your cries the moment he penetrates you. His dick is way too thick for his own good— stretching you open forcefully, despite the way he's actually going out of his way to make it as painless as possible.

“Shh, it's okay, kid. Just enjoy it.” He whispers into your ear, running a reassuring hand up and down your back, starting to move inside you, as if what he's doing could be even remotely enjoyable. A low, throaty moan makes its way out of his lips the moment he manages to bottom out, your body responding to the forced intrusion by getting you wet, not able to register that you don't want it.

Breaking you apart is the closest thing to religion he's ever gotten. Keegan's lips crash against yours as his hips start to thrust up faster and deeper, growing more desperate by the second despite how wrong he knows it is. He shouldn't be enjoying this, yet he's just a broken, terrible man, the little sobs leaving your lips only making him fuck into you harder.

The human body works in odd, awful ways. You don't want this, yet every single nerve inside your cunt is being stimulated by his long shaft, sending signals to your body that make it feel much better after you got wet. The small moan that gets ripped out from your throat makes him break away from the kiss, amusement written all over his face.

Keegan's forehead leans against yours as his hips rock against yours, his breath hot against your face. From this position, you're able to examine his face, taking note of as many details as possible in case he decides to let you leave, no matter how slim the chances are.

Thick, black eyebrows, buzzcut, dark scruff covering his pale cheeks. High cheekbones, light blue eyes, no visible scars or moles.

You repeat it inside your head like a mantra, trying to use it as a replacement to keep your head occupied from the knot starting to tense in your stomach, tightening up more and more with each thrust. You know for a fact you're hating this, yet your body is betraying you, coating his cock with slick.

He pulls out only to slam himself back in, dragging more pathetic moans out of your lips the moment he hits your spongy cervix. The stimulation is enough to make you hide your face on the warm crook of his neck, biting your thumb hard to muffle your own sounds the moment you start tightening up around him, finally giving in to the stimulation.

Your teeth sink deeper into your skin despite the small whiny moan escaping your lips the moment your forced orgasm hits, barely conscious enough to register the cocky laugh above you, feeling his lips connect against your temple, his breath hot on your skin as he manages to pull out, shooting ropes of thick cum all over your stomach.

“See? It wasn't that bad, was it, princess?” You collapse against him with a loud exhale, not able to hold it together anymore.

“Why…?” It's all you can ask, and you're not even sure about the reason you're asking why. Why did he kill your friends? Why did he let you live? Why is he stalking you? Why did he force himself on you? Why is he caressing your body like you're made of glass, as if he didn't just destroy you into thousands of shards?

“Because I'm not right in the head anymore.”

Taglist: @h0ney-mushroom @bangtandaze @elentiyaiswriting @lollycotton @sleepydang @billiousserpent As always, thank you so much @moosch for the amazing art!! 💗💗 world-building with her has been so fucking exciting and I'm happy to finally be writing about Slasher!Keegan after we've been talking about it for months!!<333

[roosterforme]

Brighter Than a Supernova | Bob Floyd x Phoenix's Little Sister

Summary: Bob planned to simply stop by Phoenix's Hanukkah party for a few minutes before heading back home. He'd hang out with the guys for a bit, even though he never quite felt like he fit in with them, and he'd meet the little sister Phoenix often referred to as annoying. But he had no idea how bright and magical one night could be compared to every other night that had come before.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, feeling insecure, loss of virginity, smut, drinking

Length: 9000 words

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Phoenix's Little Sister (OC)

This was written for the Winter RomCom Challenge hosted by @bellaireland1981! Check my masterlist for more. Beautiful banner made by @ryebecca

"Bob, you're coming over tomorrow night, right?"

When he turned to look at his friend, Bob couldn't help the feeling of apprehension that washed over him. "I think so."

Natasha sighed and reached for his hand and gave him a little squeeze. He hadn't been at Top Gun as long as everyone else, and he felt like he didn't really fit in with them. Even now, the other guys were all hooting and playing keep away with Reuben's phone while Bob stood off to the side on the tarmac. 

"There's nothing to be nervous about. It's just a Hanukkah party," she whispered with a smile. She always seemed to be able to tell when he got lost in his own thoughts, and he would be forever grateful that she was the pilot he got to fly with. 

He shook his head and looked over at their Super Hornet. "I've never been to one before," he muttered. "And I'll probably just end up sitting quietly all night."

Now Natasha was squeezing both of his hands. "But we already drew names for our gift exchange. And you won't be the only one newer to the group. My obnoxious little sister, Nova, is coming in from New York, remember? She's graduating from college in the spring? She hasn't met any of the guys yet."

"But-"

"Bob, I really want you to come," she said firmly, looking up at him with her dark brown eyes. He trusted her in the air, he might as well trust her on the ground, too. 

"Okay. I'll be there."

But when Bob parked his truck in front of Phoenix's tiny house on Saturday evening, his hands were shaking slightly as he held the wrapped gift. He absolutely hated that he got this way around the guys. They hadn't done anything to make him feel this way, really. He just generally didn't fit in anywhere, something he was very aware of at age twenty eight. But he would do this for Natasha. 

He climbed out of his truck with the gift and a bottle of wine and walked up to the front door. Should he knock? Or just walk inside? It sounded noisy even out here, so after he tapped on the door a few times and nobody opened it, he just let himself in.

"Bob's here!" Jake called out from the couch, waving him over to where he was drinking a beer while Javy tried to spin two dreidels at the same time.  

"Bob!" Natasha practically shouted as she ran his way. He had to juggle the bottle of wine so he didn't drop it. "Can you help me make latkes? Nova and I have been peeling potatoes for what feels like hours, and now we're heating up the oil."

"I don't know how to make latkes," he told her, but his eyes caught on the woman standing in the kitchen laughing at Bradley. He could only see her profile, but she had long, dark brown hair just like Natasha. Only she was a little taller and a bit curvier, and when she turned to look over her shoulder, he wanted to run and hide. 

"It's easy, Bob. It's just a potato pancake. Nothing scary," Natasha whispered, trying to sound reassuring. "Come meet Nova, and you can help us cook."

He swallowed hard, realizing that the brunette goddess holding a potato peeler in one while she smiled directly at him was Natasha's little sister. The one she always referred to as obnoxious and annoying. This was... decidedly not what he had imagined. 

Bob didn't know where to look. Every part of her was so pretty. She was wearing black leggings and a cropped long sleeve shirt that was purple and said NYU on the front. He could see some of the soft looking skin just above her leggings, and his eyes dropped to the floor in embarrassment. She was barefoot with neon orange painted toenails that for some reason made Bob a little short of breath.

"Bob, this is my sister Nova," Nat told him, rubbing his back gently as his gaze wandered back up along her curves. His eyes landed on her face as Natasha said, "Nova, this is Bob. Please don't annoy him."

"Hi," she said with a little smirk on her face. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and reached her hand out to him. "I've heard a lot about you, Bob."

He was terrified that he would stutter or trip over his words, but he just said something stupid instead. "You don't look annoying."

She laughed as she shook his hand. "Oh, I can assure you, I am." Her eyes were the same color as her sister's, but they were looking at him playfully as she nibbled on her lip. It was easy to tell Nova and Natasha were sisters, but there were some differences, too. Bob had the fleeting thought that he wouldn't mind just looking at her all night until he identified them all. 

"Feel free to ignore her," Nat told him as she went to stand in front of the stove. "I usually do."

"I don't see how that would be possible," Bob murmured, and Nova laughed again before he realized what he'd said. He could feel his cheeks flush as he tried to look at anything besides her, but as soon as he did, Bradley dove for her attention. 

"So tell me all about New York CIty," he said as if he'd never heard of it before. This was fine though. Better even. Nova and Bradley could just flirt all night, and Bob could help cook and then probably leave soon. That way everyone would win. 

After a few minutes, he desperately wanted to ask Natasha if they could cook any faster so he could open his impersonal gift from one of the guys and get going. But he found that making latkes was actually pretty enjoyable. 

"That's too much egg," she told him, laughing at his messy hands as his glasses slid down his nose. "You need more flour." But her hands were a mess, too, and Bob was trying to adjust his glasses on his shoulder. 

When he turned to the side, he saw Bradley, Mickey and Jake all talking to Nova, but she was actually looking right at him as he very awkwardly shrugged his shoulder against his glasses. "I got you, Bob," she said, closing the distance to him and helping him out. She adjusted his frames on his face, and then she ran her fingers along his hair and behind his ears. "Better?"

He watched her pull her hands away and wished she wouldn't. "Yes," he whispered. "Thank you." Then he just stared at her as she made no move to back away. 

"You're welcome. Do you celebrate Hanukkah?"

He swallowed hard as he washed his hands and shook his head. "This is my... first time."

Her eyes lit up. "Oh! Perfect! You can help me light the candles, and I can teach you the prayers."

"Might as well light the menorah now," Natasha told her as she flipped some of the squishy looking potato blobs over in the hot oil. The kitchen smelled like fried food, and there was a huge box of donuts that the other guys already got into. Javy brought the dreidels into the kitchen, and he was currently spinning five at one time. This holiday actually didn't seem so bad. Especially when Nova reached for his hand. 

"Gather around," she announced with the kind of confidence Bob would never have, and all the guys followed her to the other side of the island. But she kept Bob right there with her and smiled up at him. "Here you go," she said, handing him the lighter. Then she stuck some candles in the menorah. 

"Don't you light them from left to right?" Bradley asked as he sipped a beer and ate a jelly donut while glaring at Bob.

"Yes!" she replied as she put the last candle in for the eighth night. 

"You want me to light them for you, Bob?" Bradley asked, and Bob was just about to hand the lighter over when Nova reached for his hand.

"I'm going to say a really pretty prayer in Hebrew about how Hanukkah is a time to celebrate miracles," she told him, seemingly ignoring the rest of the guys as Jake started whining that he was hungry. But Bob was transfixed. He was suddenly dying to hear this prayer. He could see the light smattering of freckles on Nova's cheeks as he stood this close to her. He never noticed before if Nat had freckles.

It would be a Hanukkah miracle if Bob could get through the evening. When she told him to light the center candle and then pick it up, he did. And then her hand joined his as they lit the candles together, but Bob wasn't looking at the menorah. He was looking at her face and the way her lips moved as she almost sang the prayer. Then he kept his hand on hers as long as he could, the warm candlelight making her face glow. 

When she dropped her hand to her side, Bob could feel her fingers kind of tangle with his, and he had no idea what to do about it. He was suddenly painfully aware that he'd never had a girlfriend before, and he almost wished she was paying this much attention to someone else. 

"Latkes are done!" Natasha announced, and Bob took a step away from Nova. He cleared his throat and then turned to leave the kitchen as everyone else made a dash for the food. When he retreated for the relative quiet of the powder room, he could feel dark eyes on his back.

Bob realized he'd been in the bathroom for long enough that someone might think he was sick, but he couldn't stop splashing cool water on his face. He had been prepared for something else tonight, but not this. Maybe Nova was just an annoying little sister to Phoenix, but to him, she was exquisite. He needed to leave now before he could embarrass himself more. 

After he dried his hands, he quietly opened the door, but then he paused. He could hear voices. Two female voices, and he could easily tell them apart as he stood there eavesdropping.

"Natasha, you lied to me," Nova whispered loudly. "You said Bob was kind of nerdy!"

Oh no. She must have thought Bob was extremely nerdy. Perhaps he could make a run for the front door, and maybe nobody would notice he'd gone.

"I mean, he is," Natasha replied softly. 

"No, he's not!" Nova hissed. "He's hot! You know I have a thing for glasses and biceps, you rotten liar!"

Now Bob was frozen in place. He was pretty sure they were talking about him, but there was a chance he misheard.

"Nova," Natasha snapped a little louder this time. "Bob is one of my best friends, and he's very kind. Do not toy with him."

There was a pause, but then Bob heard her soft response. "I wouldn't. You can tell how sweet he is from a mile away."

He looked in the mirror one more time before leaving the powder room. It wasn't that he was bad looking, it was just that he was awkward. Compared to the other guys, he was a joke. Maybe Nova somehow hadn't noticed that yet. He forced himself out to the small hallway where the two sisters were standing close together near the kitchen, and the way Nova looked at him just didn't make sense. 

"Grab some latkes," she said as he walked past. "I'll save you a spot on the couch for the gift exchange?"

Bob swallowed hard. "Sure. Thank you."

When he ducked into the kitchen, he heard her whisper to Nat, "He has nice manners, too."

Nat groaned. "I can't believe you have a crush on my WSO."

"Yeah, well, you shouldn't have kept this information from me."

Bob was anxiously piling a plate with more latkes than he could probably finish when Nova flounced into the room, picked up her half empty glass of wine along with an unused one and winked at him. "I'll be in the living room, and I have a glass for you," she said.

He looked down at the potato concoctions on his plate, and they looked good. He tried a bite, and it was delicious, but he'd lost his appetite. Nova Trace had a crush on him, and now he had to go sit with her and drink some wine without looking like a moron. 

After a few more bites, he pushed his plate aside and headed to the living room where she was sitting right next to Bradley. He had his arm draped across the back of the couch a little possessively, and Bob froze, blinking at the scene before him. He had the undeniable urge to remove Bradley's arm and wrap her up with own. 

"Bob," she called, scooting away from Bradley and patting the cushion. Once he squeezed in between her and Bradley, he realized he was touching her no matter what he did. And then she took his arm and draped it around her shoulders, leaning back against his chest a little bit. "It's a tight fit," she said, handing him a glass of wine. 

"Seriously?" Bradley grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head. Bob wasn't sure what to say as he had an armful of the cute girl who was in demand. This was all new to him. So he just drank all of his wine and pretended to watch everyone open their gifts. 

When he set his empty glass down on the table, Nat handed him a small box wrapped in silver paper. He didn't recognize the pretty handwriting that said To: Bob.

"Oh," Nova whispered, reaching for it. "You don't have to open it."

"It's from you?" Bob asked, and she looked up at him over her shoulder, face just inches from his.

"Yeah, but it just seems kind of dumb now," she muttered, playing with the hem of her top. "Nat made it seem like you were super nerdy or something," she laughed. "And clearly that's not the case. You're hot."

Bob chuckled; this whole entire night was completely absurd. "I've never been called hot before."

Nova rolled her eyes. "You know what? Just go ahead and open your present," she said, shoving the small box closer to his chest while she blushed. 

Bob started to carefully tear into the paper when Bradley leaned across Bob and asked, "I'm sorry, Nova, but did you just call Bob hot?"

"Yes," she replied immediately. 

Bradley stood and grunted while he put on the hat that Javy just gave him that said 100% Certified Fuckboy. "She picked Bob. Nice work man," he said, patting Bob's shoulder. "Who needs a beer?"

"I do," Nat told him as she eyed Bob and Nova together on the couch with curiosity. Bob wasn't sure what he should even say to her. It wasn't like he was going to date her sister or something. She lived in New York.

"Open it," Nova whispered. "Just open it so I can get my embarrassment over with."

Bob couldn't believe she seemed more embarrassed about the gift than she did about announcing to the room at large that she found him attractive. When he took the lid off the box and looked inside, it was filled with a set of sky blue dice. 

"I'm sorry," she said with a laugh. "Nat said you play Dungeons and Dragons, and I found the dice and thought they were pretty, and now I'm noticing that they're kind of the same shade as your eyes." She took the box from him, put the lid on and set it aside.

"Wait," he said, reaching across her to pick it up again. "I do play. And light blue is my favorite color. How did you know?"

"I didn't," she said, cheeks pink. "It's my favorite color, too."

He could see her freckles again as she grinned so close to him. Bob suddenly realized that the living room was getting loud as he held the box between his body and hers. "Thank you. I really like them. I was a little afraid to see what the guys were going to buy for me, so I'm glad it was from you."

"Nat dropped down on the couch on the other side of Bob as she spun the keychain around her finger that Bob got for her. "Thank you," she said, kissing him on the cheek as the airplane charm hit her palm. The guys were spinning as many dreidels on the coffee table as they could while fighting over the mound of chocolate candy coins. "You know, if it's a little too loud, you could always step outside for a minute," she told him, patting his thigh before joining the guys. 

"Let's take a break," Nova said as she stood and pulled him to his feet. Bob felt like Nat had just given him some sort of permission. But for what? "I could use a break as well. It's hot in here." 

She opened the front door and slipped out into the darkness on the small porch, and Bob joined her, closing the door and stifling the sounds inside. "Aren't your feet going to get cold?" he asked softly, looking down at her neon toenails.

"Good call," she replied before wrapping her arms around his neck and standing on the tops of his shoes. Bob's hands went to the soft curve of her waist immediately, startled by the sudden turn of events that had Nova's body pressed to his. "Is this okay?" she asked casually, looking up at him as she let her fingers trail down his neck.

His body was throbbing in delight as his brain cried out in terror. "Y-Yes. It's... very okay. You're very pretty." His eyes went wide as she laughed, and it sounded too intimate this close. He could feel her bare skin against his fingertips, and it was so soft. Softer than anything. He couldn't help the way he let his palms spread out on her back, as he blurted out, "I like you."

He noticed her soft smile first, and then her eyes closed. Bob was admiring how her eyelashes brushed her cheeks as she said, "I like you, too." And then she kissed him. She just kissed him. It was suddenly time for kissing. And then it was over before Bob really got to enjoy it. Nova was looking up at him like she was trying to gauge his reaction, but he just stood there trying to figure out what to do next. 

Her fingers stilled on his neck before she released him and tried to step away, her face falling into a much shyer look. But he kept his hands on her back. Her lips were softly parted, and Bob wanted them on his again. Even though he wasn't quite sure if he was doing any of it right, he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers a little too hard at first. 

She moaned softly as she brought her hands back up around his neck, and Bob eased himself back a little bit, making the kiss softer. This felt good. She had smooth skin and eager lips, and now her fingers were in his hair as her cheek bumped his glasses. He felt like he was getting the hang of things when she parted her lips and tasted his tongue. 

Bob's hands slid down to grab at her hips through her leggings, and Nova laughed softly as she tasted him again. The soft vibrations against his lips had him more aware of his body than he ever had been before, but not in a bad way. He seemed to be making her feel excited as she wiggled her curvy hips back and forth slightly in his hands. 

Nova broke the kiss and raked her fingers along his forehead and back through his tidy hair. "You smell good," she told him, leaning in close again and running her nose along his neck. "Like... something outdoorsy mixed with a fried potato."

He couldn't help but laugh as she kissed the spot next to his Adam's apple. "That sounds like it would smell bad."

"It doesn't," she reassured him with a giggle. "It just makes me want to taste you." Bob had to press his lips together and count to ten in his head as Nova ran her tongue in a slow and steady stripe up his neck to his ear. When her lips met his earlobe, his hands on her hips were pulling her body closer to his as she said, "I could eat you up."

She was still standing on the tops of his feet, but now Bob had her back pressed against the doorframe. They were making out, and it was all coming pretty naturally for him. She kissed his neck and told him something sweet, so he decided to go ahead and try the same thing. "I think I love kissing you," he said, his voice raspier than normal as she tipped her head back.

Nova was moaning his name as he kissed the front of her neck, and she pressed her thigh against him. And oh no... Bob had an erection. She didn't seem bothered, but he pulled himself a few inches away from her and looked down at her pretty face. "Do you want to go back inside?" she asked, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. 

"Should we?" he asked softly, sliding his hands back up to her waist as she shrugged. 

"Probably. But I'm sure they all know exactly what we're doing out here."

His eyes went wide. "They do?"

She smiled and ran her fingers along his cheek. "Yeah, I'd venture to guess they know we were making out, Bob."

How was he supposed to go back inside now? He thought about just leaving; his truck was parked right there on the street. But he didn't want to go without his new dice. Or Nova.

He cleared his throat. "Yeah... maybe we should go back in."

"Okay." But first she wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck and pressed one more soft kiss to his lips. "Just let me know if you want to take another break, because I'd be more than happy to tag along."

Then she opened the door, and the bright light and loud laughter coming from inside were enough to have him reaching for Nova's hand as she stepped down from his feet and onto the living room floor. She looked back at him with a coy smile as she laced her fingers with his. It was so obvious that they had been kissing. Bob knew he was blushing, and her lips looked a little puffy from the way he'd been enjoying them. When Jake fist bumped him as they walked past, Javy winked, and Bradley was on the couch with Nat pouting. 

But Nat smiled and shook her head as Nova led Bob into the kitchen. "Want some more wine?" she asked, pulling a bottle from the refrigerator. There was something about the way she looked in the semi darkness as the candles from the menorah burned low. Her face was cast in warm light as well as shadows, and Bob found that leaning down to kiss her again was the most natural thing in the world. 

The cold bottle was pressed to his arm, and she kissed him back. When Bob opened his eyes again, his glasses were crooked and two of the candles had burned out. The kitchen was even darker now as she pecked his cheek and then strolled out into the living room. He took a few seconds to consider that now he'd initiated more kisses than she had. The desire to follow her and kiss her again was so strong, he almost tripped when he thought about her going back to New York. Had he ever felt this way about a girl after a few hours? No. Absolutely not.

He knew he should have found another place to sit in Nat's tiny, loud living room, but when he saw the spot on the couch next to Nova was empty, he couldn't force his steps in any other direction. She tracked him with her eyes, clearly feeling no shame about what was happening here. 

"How much have the rest of you had to drink?" she asked the guys. Jake was laying on the floor laughing while Javy tried to spin a dreidel on his nose. Bradley's cheeks were bright red, and he was half asleep at the other end of the couch. Mickey actually was asleep in the armchair. The only one who looked okay was Reuben. 

"A lot," Javy said. "We turned dreidels into a drinking game, and clearly Nat is better than the rest of us." Nat winked at Nova who winked back. "And Mickey can't hold his liquor for shit."

Nova laughed at him in the armchair. "Is that a WSO thing, Bob? Or can you handle another glass of wine?" she teased. 

"I can handle what you give me," he replied before he could consider how that might sound. She gasped softly and kind of nodded as she poured some more into his glass from earlier. 

"I guess we'll find out."

She tapped her glass to his, and they joined in the game with the others. Bob had never played before, but he was a quick study. It certainly didn't hurt that Nova kept touching his hands as she taught him what to do. And two glasses of wine later, Bob felt lighter and more carefree. His right hand was resting on her lower back, and she leaned in to his side as the game progressed. And the best part was, Nat seemed more than okay with this.

In fact, as midnight was fast approaching, Nat stood and stretched. "I'm beat. I don't care who stays over, but Nova is in the extra bedroom, so the rest of you can fight over the couches."

Bradley and Mickey both snored in response while Reuben started to gather Jake and Javy off the floor. "I'll drop the two of you off," he said. "It was nice to meet you, Nova. Thanks, Nat."

"Thanks, Nat," Javy and Jake echoed as Nat waved. Nova blew them each a kiss. 

Once they were gone, Nat started to gather up the empty wine bottles to take them into the kitchen, and Bob figured he should get ready to go as well. "Do you need help with anything?" he asked his friend, but she just waved him off. "No, I insist," he added.

He picked up some more of the trash the guys left, and as soon as he and Nova both stood, Bradley stretched out on the couch. "Just leave the rest of the mess. It's honestly fine. We can clean it up tomorrow," Nat said as she looked at her sister. 

Nova nodded. "Yeah, I'll help you clean everything when we wake up." 

They carried the trash they had already gathered in their arms to the kitchen, and then Nat hugged her sister before kissing Bob's cheek. "I'm assuming I'll see you again quite soon," she told him with an amused expression before she headed for the stairs. 

Bob wasn't sure exactly what that was supposed to mean, but he wasn't going to dwell on it. Right now he had to figure out a way to say goodbye to the woman in front of him. He wondered if there was some way he could tell her that the few hours he spent with her somehow meant something to him. If she lived in San Diego, he thought he would very much like to take her to dinner. Maybe he could figure out a way to say so without completely ruining the moments they'd shared tonight.

"Nova, I-"

It was time for more kissing. She didn't hesitate at all, almost like she felt as comfortable with this as he did. Her hand found the bottom of Bob's tee shirt and eased the fabric up so her palm could rest flat on his abs. She nibbled gently on his lip before she let him taste her tongue. She was sweet like wine. Then his hands were back on her hips again as she eased his shirt up a little further. 

"You had a lot to drink," she whispered with a wink, rubbing the tip of her nose against his. "Maybe you should come upstairs with me?" Bob wasn't drunk in the least, and he thought he knew what she meant. When his posture stiffened, she looked up at him. "It's just a twin bed, but we can both fit. If you want."

"You mean to... sleep?" he asked, embarrassed that he had to confirm instead of just knowing how to do things. 

Her hand glided down to the top of his jeans, and she laughed softly. "We don't have to mess around," she said as she kissed his lips softly. "But I don't think I can keep my lips away from yours."

When Bob nodded in agreement, heart pounding rapidly, she took him by the hand. Mickey and Bradley were both sound asleep in the living room where Bob made sure to grab his box of dice. Then he let Nova lead him upstairs. 

She looked back to smile at him a few times and tugged on his hand when he started to fall behind. Once they were in the extra bedroom with the soft lamplight and the door closed, Nova seemed a little more hesitant.

"Well, there's the twin bed," she said, gesturing toward it before putting her hands on her hips. Then she crossed her arms over her chest and laughed as she looked at the floor. "And I mean, obviously this was all a ploy to get to spend more time with you. But also, I don't think you should drive home after drinking so much wine." She paused before adding, "But mostly I just kind of thought maybe you and I could keep talking and making out."

Bob smiled when she looked up at him. "Yeah, I would like that."

She bit her lip, and Bob swore he had never in his life seen a woman who was so eager to be around him. He toed off his shoes before reaching for her hand again. And then he decided he was going to go for it. He was going to say what was on his mind as they both sat down on the edge of the bed together. 

"Hey, Nova? I..." he paused as he looked at her pretty face, and he had to clear his throat before he kept going. "You're really... I like you a lot, and I just wanted you to know that if you lived in San Diego, I would ask you on a date."

She scooted a little closer and let her hand come to rest on his thigh. "Where would you take me?" she asked, pressing her lips to his jaw as he stuttered.

"I would... I'd take you to um, a restaurant that I like called Starlite. It's in the city. It's really pretty inside at night, and they have fairy lights and champagne. And I think you'd look beautiful sitting at one of the tables with me."

"Oh my god," she moaned against his jaw, and Bob had absolutely no control over how his body was reacting to her. "Tell me more."

He tried to keep talking as she moved her hand further up his thigh, but he wasn't sure he was making sense. "I'd get you whatever you wanted, of course. But the steak is really good, so I'd ask if you wanted that. And. And I'd be hoping the waiter was really slow, because you'd look so pretty with the soft lights all around you. I'd want to keep you there with me as long as I could."

"I want to go," Nova whispered, kissing his ear. "I can practically picture it."

Bob closed his eyes, willing his cock to stop having a mind of its own as her fingers went as high as the bottoms of his boxer briefs. If she kept this up, Bob would have to excuse himself, and he really didn't want to leave her right now. Then she straddled his thighs and wrapped her arms around his neck, and Bob's arms were full of her. 

"I wish we could," he whispered, unsure what to do with his hands. "I'd take you there tomorrow, but Nat told me you're flying back east in the evening." He finally let his hands settle on her waist as she nodded sadly. 

"I am," she said as her lips brushed his. "But just humor me. Would you kiss me at Starlite?"

"I'd have to," he replied immediately. "It would be mandatory. All the light and shadows on your face... you'd be ethereal. And if you were looking at me, I wouldn't be able to help myself."

"Bob," she moaned against his lips, nibbling on him softly as her fingers went to his hair. "And where would you take me for our second date?"

He laughed as she licked his tongue. "You'd go out with me a second time?"

"You're joking right?" Nova asked, pulling back a few inches as she played with his hair. "This is all hypothetical, and it's still the best date I've ever been on."

"Okay," Bob replied, and he couldn't help but smile as she nodded for him to go on. "For our second date, I'd take you to the Mission Hills Rooftop Theater."

"What would we watch?" she asked, smiling as Bob let his hands drift up a little bit under her shirt. 

He shrugged. "Probably a foreign film. You'd think it was cool, but I'd just be watching the way the colorful lights flickered across your face."

She squeaked softly. "Can we pretend we're at the theater now?"

"Sure," he whispered with a smile. "We're at the theater. You look beautiful, reading all the subtitles. But I lost track of the plot of the film already."

"Why's that?" she asked with a grin.

"Can't pay attention to anything except you."

She pushed on his chest until he was laying on his back, her long hair brushing the side of his face as she leaned down to kiss him. She was rubbing herself against his hard length through his jeans and making little sounds that he'd never heard before. His hands were stroking higher, and he could feel her bra with his fingertips. He didn't want any of this to stop.

"Now you seem like a respectable guy, Bob," she murmured. "Would you take me home with you after our second date or make me wait until our third?"

Oh no. Bob loosened his grip on her as he went silent. Nova was still kissing her way across his cheek to his ear when her movements slowed. She eyed him curiously before nudging the rim of his glasses with her nose. 

"Bob?"

He swallowed hard and closed his eyes. "I don't know. I've never... taken a girl home before."

She looked down at him with a soft smile on her lips. "What?" she asked as she pushed her fingers back through his hair. 

Bob was terrified that she would stop touching him as soon as he said the words. She was so lovely, gravitating right to him all night just the same way he subconsciously felt like he wanted to be near her. He already recognized that he could fall for his friend's little sister. Maybe he already had. 

He took a deep breath as he adjusted his glasses. She was waiting for him to respond, and there was no point in lying about it now. "I'm a virgin."

Nova's brow creased, and her lips parted wordlessly. She examined his face, probably trying to see if he was lying, because there's no way someone his age shouldn't have lost his virginity by now. And it was a million times worse for a guy than for a girl. He knew that. It was all so very embarrassing. 

She didn't laugh, rather she kissed the corner of his lips and simply asked, "How?"

Bob shrugged. "I'm awkward."

"No. You're hot," she replied, shaking her head. "That's not it."

He tried to turn his head and look away, but she followed his gaze until he returned her soft smile. "I'm not really sure," he whispered. "I got close a few times, but it just didn't seem right. That sounds dumb."

"No, it doesn't," she replied, surprising Bob as she kissed him again. "Are you picky?" she asked between each soft press of her lips to his.

"Yeah. Kind of," he told her honestly. "Always have been. Picky about who I spend time with.

She brushed her fingers back through his hair again, and Bob melted at her touch. "That makes sense. A guy like you should be picky."

Somehow Nova was making him feel a lot more normal about this as she wasn't shying away from him. "Picky," he confirmed. "And the timing was never right."

"That's important," she said with a smile. "You have to do what feels good to you."

Bob swallowed hard. He was picky, but he really liked Nova. And for some reason, tonight out of all nights kind of felt right. He could easily blame Nat's Hanukkah party and the soft glow of the menorah candles on Nova's face for getting him to this point. She was on top of him, still kissing him, and he didn't want this to end. 

"This feels good to me," he blurted out, reaching up to push his fingers through her dark hair. "Tonight feels right."

She nodded, smiling as she crawled off of him, leaving Bob a little cold as he missed the feeling of her immediately. He sat up on the bed as she crawled up to the pillows and whispered, "Come here." She coaxed him along until she was laying on the pillows and he was on top of her, bracing himself with his arms so he didn't hurt her. 

"Okay, so, we already went to Starlite for dinner and then to the Mission Hills Rooftop Theater. I'll give you until our third date to make your move," she whispered, grinning up at him as she ran he hands up his biceps. "Where are you taking me?"

He took a deep breath; now was not the time for this wave of confidence to falter. "Cliffs beach. I'm packing a picnic, and we can sit in the bed of my truck and watch the sunset while we eat."

Nova moaned again and hooked her leg around Bob's thigh, pulling him impossibly closer. "Dinner was perfect. But now that the sun went down, I'm a little chilly."

"Well, I could keep you warm." He kissed her. "I'd hold you as I tried to work up the nerve to ask you if you wanted to come back to my place."

"I'm wrapped up in your arms, patiently waiting for you to ask," she replied with a smirk.

He nodded, and he knew he was blushing. This whole thing was kind of silly, but it just made sense. "I really like you. I could probably fall for you. If I let myself," he whispered, and she whimpered softly. "Do you want to come back to my place, Nova?"

"Absolutely."

Her hands were all over his face and in his hair, and eventually she took his glasses off and set them on the nightstand. She kissed him slowly as she rolled her hips up against his, and Bob blushed as he got hard again. When she carefully pulled his shirt off, she set it next to the pillow, and then she explored his body with her hands. But as soon as she pulled her own NYU shirt off and was laying beneath him, she arched her back. 

Bob reached beneath her, and he fumbled for a few seconds before he unhooked her bra. As he pulled the black lace away from her body and looked down at her breasts and her confident face, he marked this as the furthest he'd ever gone with a woman. She seemed to sense he needed a moment as she ran her fingers through his hair as he stuttered, "You're gorgeous."

Nova looked up at him with her playful dark eyes, but right now they seemed a little more serious. "I could probably fall for you, too."

Then his lips were on hers, and his hands went to her breasts gently stroking each soft handful. He could fall for this, he was sure of it. He wanted to take her on all of those dates, and he would have if he could have. He was charmed by her, and she seemed equally interested in him. 

"Bob," she moaned, breaking the kiss and tipping her head back as he pushed himself against her core. He brought his lips down to taste her breasts, and soon she was rolling her hips a little faster. "That feels good," she whispered as she looked up at him. "I like that."

Nova responded just like that to everything he did. When he kissed the side of her neck, she blushed a pretty shade of pink. She shivered for him when he ran his fingers down her side. When he paused with his hand just above the top of her leggings, she whispered, "Bob, you're making me kind of crazy."

She guided his hand down a few more inches with her own, but she didn't get annoyed when he took his time pulling her leggings and underwear off. His heart was pounding as he looked at her, completely naked. Maybe she could sense his hesitation, because she sat up, too, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I'll tell you if I don't like something, okay? And you do the same?"

He nodded. "I like everything so far. I just don't want to mess this up."

"You won't," she promised, taking his face in both of her hands and kissing him softly at first. Then her lips became more demanding, and Bob wrapped one strong arm around her, pulling her on top of him. She giggled against his lips before swiping his tongue with her own. 

Her fingers roamed his bare torso and found the light trail of hair below his belly button. "I'm going to take your jeans off," she whispered, carefully unbuttoning and unzipping them. Her hair was already kind of a mess, and he knew his must have been as well. But then all thoughts left his mind as she started to pull his pants down. Bob wasn't dumb; he knew he was at least average size from the amount of time he'd spent in naval locker rooms. But he was surprised by her soft gasp when she pulled his underwear down far enough that his erection sprang free. Then his jeans, socks and underwear were in a pile at the bottom of the small bed, and he was naked, too.

He grunted as she wrapped her hand around him. This was the best thing he ever felt. Until she kissed him there. "Oh god, Nova. Wait," he moaned, and she looked up at him with wide eyes. "Don't we need a condom?"

She responded by licking his length before crawling up his body to kiss his lips. "I can go ask my sister if she has any if you want to use one." 

"No!" he gasped, nearly headbutting her as he sat up. "No, don't do that." Bob wasn't sure that Natasha would respond kindly to that question coming from her sister. "Please don't."

But Nova was all smiles as she straddled his waist. "Okay," she whispered as he braced himself with his hand behind him on the bed. "I won't alert Natasha to the fact that we're about to have sex."

Bob sighed in relief and reached out to push her hair behind her ear. "Actually, if you could not mention her again right now, that would be great." 

Now she was laughing softly as she scooted up until Bob could feel her wet pussy rubbing his cock. "Promise," she confirmed as he looked up at her face. When he glanced down between them, all he could see was her perfect body and his cock jumping against her in excitement. "I'm on birth control anyway," she whispered, kissing along his jaw. "And I know you're a little nervous, but so am I."

"Why?" he asked, surprised by her words. 

Nova hummed as she kissed her way back to his lips. "I want this to feel good for you." She wrapped her arms around his neck as she slowly rolled her hips against him and made the softest sounds. His heart rate picked up as she added, "I want you to think about our hypothetical dates after I'm gone."

He was sure he would be thinking about Nova for a very long time. She was all gentle fingers in his hair and confident smiles. She was beautiful, and Bob could easily get addicted to this. 

She guided him to lay back on the pillows as she asked, "You ready?" 

"Yeah." His voice sounded hoarse as he looked up at her and pushed her hair over one shoulder. When he let his hands trail over the soft skin of her shoulders, breasts and sides, she shivered as she kissed him. Bob could feel her hand around his length, and then his head tipped away from her as he moaned. "Does that feel good?"

Good. That didn't seem like the right word for it, but now his brain felt a little hazy. Nova's lips ghosted over his as he moaned again. She felt tight and inviting, and when she rolled her hips with him inside her like this, Bob gripped her hip a little tighter. His other hand ended up tangled in her hair as he traced her freckled cheek with his thumb. "Nova," he gasped against her lips before devouring her. 

Her soft noises got a little louder, and each roll of her hips had Bob praying that this would never end. Every passing second was better than the last. Every time she whispered his name and tasted his tongue was too exciting. When she ended up on her back, looking up at him with wide eyes and parted lips, he kissed her neck and pushed himself deep inside her.

"Oh," she moaned, and he had to slowly shake his head to keep his focus. Her leg was hooked up around his hip, and he was suddenly very aware that he didn't know how to make her orgasm. 

"Nova?" he gasped as she reached for his hand. But he should have known she'd be willing to help him with this as she showed him where and how to rub her. 

"Fuck," she whined, taking a few gasping breaths. "That feels so good." He kept moving his hips, too, and a few seconds later, as she was nibbling on his lip and whining, he felt her squeezing around him. "Bob. Bob. Bob!"

Her back was arched off the bed, and her breasts bounced with every wild breath she took, and then he had no idea it would all happen so fast for him. He tucked his face against her neck and shoulder as he bucked into her without finesse. He couldn't control it. He came so hard, his vision looked like a kaleidoscope of colors when he opened his eyes. But she was right there, and she was perfect.

He half collapsed against her chest as she played with his hair, and it felt like it might have been a long time before he moved. Bob wrapped his arms a little tighter around her, and even though he thought he should feel timid, he didn't. He felt so relaxed and almost loved as she touched him like this. When he tipped his face up to look at her, she was smiling. 

He was picky, and the timing never felt right before now. But Nova was lovely, and tonight was the right night. "My Hanukkah wish is to go on all of those dates with you," he whispered, and she closed her eyes as she blushed. "And see how pretty you'd look with the sun setting and all the fairy lights."

She leaned up slightly to kiss his lips. "I wish we could."

As she laced her fingers with his, Bob whispered, "Maybe we can trade phone numbers? And talk until you get tired of me."

She nodded and asked, "And what if I don't ever get tired of you?"

Bob studied her face as she ran her fingers through his hair and down his neck to his shoulder. "Then we'll go on the dates for real."

Eventually they fell asleep around four in the morning after talking and having sex again. When Bob woke up at nine, it was to Nova's lips on his neck and her voice in his ear. "Morning, Bob." 

He just held her a little tighter. When they went downstairs, nobody was surprised they'd spent the night together, not even Nat. She greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, and he ended up staying all day, even after Bradley and Mickey both left. He just wanted to be around Nova for as long as possible, but eventually he had to leave so her sister could take her to the airport. So she could go back to New York.

"I'll miss you," she promised when she walked him out to his truck. She took his phone and saved her number for him. 

"Should I text you now? So you have mine, too?"

She wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered, "Fair warning, once you text me, I'll write back and probably never stop."

Bob laughed softly and quickly typed up a text to her while she kissed his neck. 

I miss you already, and I didn't even leave yet.

Then he kissed her back until her sister started yelling out the front door about going to the airport. "Bye, Bob," Nova whispered before kissing his cheek and bounding back in the house. As he drove away, his phone lit up in the cup holder with a series of texts from her, and he hoped she was telling the truth when she said she wouldn't stop.

----------------------------

Five months later...

"Are you really this nervous to see her again?" Natasha asked him as they walked through JFK airport together. "You've talked to her everyday for months. Hell, you flew out to see her for a weekend in March."

Bob blushed as he thought about those three days when he'd been here during a late winter snowstorm that kept him and Nova inside her apartment for most of the weekend. She'd hardly let him out of her bed. And while they weren't dating, not exactly, Bob knew he wanted to be.

"Yeah, I'm a little nervous. She has no idea I'm here for her graduation. Do you know how hard it was to lie to her?"

Nat laughed as they walked outside in the May sunlight to get a cab to Nova's apartment. Bob was slightly afraid she'd be upset when they got there. Or maybe there would be evidence of another guy. It might break his heart, but he'd have to accept it. But he just couldn't get past that night they spent together during Hanukkah, and he'd been falling in love with her since then. Even over the phone.

"I'm sure she'll be happier to see you than me," Nat told him. It seemed like no time passed at all before they were pulling up to the building he'd only seen once when it was surrounded by a layer of snow. 

He got out of the cab and stood awkwardly on the sidewalk as Natasha got her phone out. She looked up at him with a smile as she called her sister. "I'm here," she said before looking at the blank screen. "She screamed and then hung up."

Bob laughed nervously with his backpack on and Nat's hand rubbing his arm in a soothing circle. "If she's not excited to see me, I'll just get a hotel room or try to exchange my ticket for something earlier," he mumbled. 

But the next thing he knew, Nova was throwing open the door to her building. She barely looked at her sister before she gasped, "Bob!" and launched herself down the stairs and into his arms. 

"Hi," he whispered as she clung to the front of him and shamelessly kissed his lips and neck right in front of her sister. "I missed you."

She moaned softly and wrapped her arms around him as she let her cheek rest on his chest. "You brought me Bob? Is he my graduation present?" she asked Natasha as Bob ran his fingers through her hair and chuckled.

"Something like that," she replied, reaching for the key that was still in Nova's hand. "I'll meet the two of you inside." 

As Nat let herself in the building, Nova looked up at him. "You lied to me. You said you had to work this weekend."

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'll never do it again." She was melting into his touch as he cleared his throat and added, "I know you're still going on interviews and trying to decide on a job, but I took next week off just in case I could persuade you to come back to San Diego for a bit."

She smiled. "Now why would I want to do that?"

Bob shrugged. "I just really think we should go on those three dates before I ask you to be my girlfriend."

"Starlite. Mission Hills Rooftop Theater. Cliffs beach," she said softly.

"In that order," he confirmed. "But I'd be taking you home with me after each one."

"Then yes."

---------------------------

Happy Holidays! I'll be thinking about Bob and Nova through the New Year. Thanks to @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls and @ryebecca

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[appleblueberry-pie]

yandere miles 42 when a guys asks you out to prom yk like where they make a whole scene a cardboard box cut into a square and it has will you go out to prom with me 😭😭 and says the most cheasy thing making you cringe and a large group of ppl are surrounding you two but we reject them and they get mad and you tell miles all abt it ^^ i love your posts btw🙏🏽

[Come back home to me.]

You knew something funny was gonna happen when people were smiling your way, giggling and whispering about you. And the further you trekked down the hallway, the more crowded it was. You tried to keep your eyes to yourself as you slithered through the crowd. Clutching your backpack straps harder. Phones were out and on you, you felt a little nervous. This day has been hard enough for you. Long, grueling hours in class, people chatting up a storm in your ears, a mind-blowing headache that you've had all damn day that you could only take medication for just 30 minutes ago. You were tired.

"Hey, Y/n!" You tense up before sighing, shoulders dropping. How much happier would you be if you just ignored the call of your name and dealt with the backlash tomorrow, instead? You recognized the voice, and knew that if you ignored him...you'd be dealing with the consequences forever. You decided to turn around.

There goes Travis. His dark brown complexion and well-maintained dreads make him stand out. They were pulled back into a low pony, probably because he knew these videos would be the talk of the school for a while. He always loved the spotlight. A junior, like you, giving you that smile that all of the girls bothered him to give to them. It's directed right at you while he holds a beautifully made sign. It's humongous. And pink. And purple. Colors that you don't remember telling him were your favorite. Your head begins to hurt again when you notice your name drawn in amazing detail and care, followed by something among the lines of "prom" and "love of my life."

Somehow in the time span that you scanned your eyes over the sign that determined your possibly inevitable doom, a perfect circle was formed by the students who stood and watched you two like hawks. The flash on phones made you calculate that these videos wouldn't leave the internet for at least a month. Great. A month of reminders. A month of prodding and picking at your sanity from a place you have to go to damn near every day for an education. And a month of replays of a rejection.

You're not telling him yes.

Travis's homeboys hoot and holler to encourage him. "Y/n..." He starts, taking a step closer to you. A fake smile wobbles onto your lips and you stare up at him. "......yes...?" Everyone suddenly goes silent as you two begin to converse.

The way he stares at you makes you feel like....what he's looking for in you isn't something you'd give up for any high school boy anytime. Because what he wants, you know it isn't genuine love. So it makes you nervous the way he seems to tower over you during his, so called, "profession of love".

"Your beauty and smarts is something I've always wanted in a girl." His voice is loud and clear. It echoes throughout the hallway, like he wants everyone to hear. You don't think the halls have ever been so quiet. "Everyday, I'd pass you in the hallways while you carry your textbooks and wonder what it'd be like talking to you every morning before class. What it would be like to love you the way you deserve to be loved." His vague explanation of his love towards you had you wondering if anyone else also realized how fake this whole thing was.

His dark brown eyes never leave your face and he's right in front of you now. "So, I made this sign...to show you how much I love you. And how much I want to be with you. So, if it isn't so much to ask," Travis slowly puts the sign aside and drops to one knee, taking one of your hands into his, holding it carefully. "would you please go to prom with me? And let me be your man?"

The longer he watched the live feed, the harder it was to not burn his work space to the ground. The longer he listened, the harder he tweaked his claw he was attempting to fix. He was trying. He was trying so hard to stay calm. Because it's not like you'd say yes. But at the same time, no matter how often he kills or beats niggas up, "They just keep fucking touching you, puto cabrón!" He swipes the table, his tools and broken claw flying to the ground. Miles takes deep breaths, holding his head in his hands.

He stands up, turning off his phone and begins pacing. He didn't wanna see the rest of that. Why does he have to keep doing this? Don't they understand your his? Just his??? Yes, you're the shining light that keeps Brooklyn alive, yes, yes, this isn't news. But he's always with you. So why do they keep bothering you?

It doesn't matter because he's gonna keep killing them until they get the message. The more roaches he brings into the light, the better. He suddenly rushes to his phone and quickly dials your number, chest heaving as he tries to calm himself.

Your phone silently vibrates in your back pocket and your heart drops. It had to be Miles. Because he wasn't at school today and this definitely wouldn't have happened if he was here. You're so fucked, you think to yourself as everyone cheers at Travis's speech. And it goes silent again as they wait for your answer.

Suddenly, Travis is so hard to look at. You didn't want to be stared at like that when he's gonna die in the next few hours. Miles was gonna get him and it'd be your fault. He always said it wasn't and would caress your face as reassurance, but there's no excuse when he only kills these guys at school because they talk to you. And not for any other reason. You always have to be where the line is drawn.

"No, I can't go to prom with you." You say, chest lifting of the thousand pound weight that held it down. Travis didn't even look sad, he still had that adoring look in his eyes. And you then knew that he was faking all of this. "Why not? Is it because of Miles?" He stands, still holding your hand and shakes his head. "If he's bothering you, I could....get rid of him if you want. Cause that nigga, he a fucking weirdo. And he clearly, like, has you hostage or something, cause he ain't nothing special. Any one of us is better than him." He scoffs at the mention of him and his friends laugh with him.

You shake your head and take your hand away. "No, sorry, Travis. I just....don't wanna go." He rolls his eyes and smiles at you, picking up his sign. "Whatever. That's aight." He tosses it in the nearest trash can. You wonder if he even made that himself with the way he tossed it with zero regards. He turns back to you one last time and nods. "I'll holler. Let me know when you get rid of yo little guard dog. He be stinking the halls anyway."

And everyone dispersed.

You let out the breath you didn't know you were holding. You think this city is going to be the death of you with how many times you've gotten unwanted attention based on your looks. You tense up once more when you remember that Miles was calling you. The sudden silence after multiple calls was never a good thing. You yanked your phone out of your pocket and saw the 20-something missed calls and whispered to yourself in fear.

Immediately, you began your journey to his place.

His room was dark and cold. Only the light from outside his window illuminated it. You softly dropped your backpack into the usual corner and backed up to sit on his bed, but your back softly collided with a warm wall that also wrapped it's arms around your torso. You flinched as Miles exhaled in your ear, his head resting on your shoulder. "Miles, what the hell...."

He squeezes you a little and backs you both up, until he brings you to sit on his lap on his bed. He shifts you, so that you're facing him, his hand caressing your face and rubbing your back. "Hermosa como siempre, mami. How was your day?"(Beautiful as always, mami.) He whispers it to you, to calm you down. You're visibly nervous at his actions, expecting him to explode any minute.

"Um...it was alright. I did my project in 3rd period and got a coffee drink with my lunch. And..... I got asked to prom." You stare down at him, watching him scan you up and down, and let him 'check' your pockets before resting his hands on your waist. "Yeah? Who asked?" He already knew the answer, but wanted to hear it from you.

You severely struggled to tell him it was Travis. You were tired of him killing people. You were tired of the apologies from men who were beaten half to death because of you. You scrunched your eyebrows as your throat began to close.

"Hm?" He asked. You hated how calm he was about this. How he held you so dearly as you fidgeted with your uniform skirt. Tears built up in your eyes and you shook your head. Miles pulled you closer, immediately wiping your eyes. "No, no, por favor no llores, nena. No estés triste. I just want you to tell me who did it, that's all."(No, no, please don't cry, baby. Don't be sad.) You break into full out sobbing and wipe at your eyes.

"I don't- don't want to because you're gonna kill him!" You stutter and manage to spit out your words, voice wobbly. Miles shushes you and rocks you back and forth, resting your head on his chest. His voice rumbles in your ears when he speaks. "You don't have to worry about a thing when I'm here with you, N/n. All I want is for you to drop his name, and everything else doesn't matter."

He kisses your forehead sweetly, letting his lips linger for a few seconds. "Okay?" You nod and try to take deep breaths. You couldn't win against him. He probably already knew who proposed to you, and Travis's fate still wouldn't be unavoidable. "Travis." You felt immense guilt and despair the moment you dropped his name.

"Travis...." Miles repeats. Just putting his name in the air made him pissed all over again. He stays silent for a few seconds before tilting his head to the side. "I just realized why that name is so familiar," He starts. "That's that nigga who robbed and threatened you last year, ain't it?" Miles scoffs and turns to look at you. "Is that why you didn't leave when he brought up that sign? Cause of what he did to you?"

You scrunch your eyebrows at his words and sit up. "How do you know about that?" You didn't meet Miles until a month after you were robbed by Travis in your sophomore year. So, him knowing about that was weird, especially since you never brought it up to him before. Miles ignores your question and continues. "I should've known some shit was off." Miles places you on the bed and gets up, grabbing some clothes to change into.

You rush to stand in front of him to stop him. "Miles, wait! Please- please don't do this. He didn't even do anything to me. All he did is ask me out. I said no. What's wrong with that??"

"What's wrong with that is that nigga is gonna keep fucking getting at you until he can get into your pants, baby. I'm not stupid. These niggas know what they doin' riling you up and sending you back home to me crying and shit. Ain't you tired??" Miles begins to size you up, backing you towards his bedroom door, clothes clutched in his hand as he stares down at you.

"I am fucking tired. And I'm also tired of you ruining my life by making more rumors for niggas to spread about me. Nobody wants to be near me because of you, Miles!" You jab your finger into his chest and he grabs your hand. "You don't need nobody else." You hear his breathing speed up and realized you should've kept your mouth shut.

It's too damn silent for your liking. All you can hear is him and your heartbeat in your ears. "When the fuck have you ever needed anyone else besides me?.....I take care of you. I feed you, I do your fucking hair every morning, I walk you to and from school, I protect you. Es que no es suficiente?(Is that not enough?)" You don't respond and stare up into brown eyes that glare down at you. "How 'bout I show you how good you got it?" You try to pull your hand back, but his iron grip isn't letting up. "What.....? Miles, let me go."

"What's wrong, mi corazón? Don't wanna see?" Miles almost jokingly asks about your sudden concern. He steps into your space once more and firmly grabs your face. "Look at me when I tell you this,"

He shakes his head. "You don't know how to protect yourself. I'm the only one who knows how to keep you safe in these fucked up streets. When was the last time you felt protected before you met me? Huh? Cause I know you haven't. I'm meant to be here with you! I'm protecting you from the horrible fucking things that are happening out there that could've been happening to you, baby. You heard?"

You struggle to remove his hands from your face and he makes no move to stop the distress he's putting you in. "Okay, okay, Miles. Just...please stop."

Miles places a kiss onto your forehead before holding you in his arms. You sigh relief at the release of pressure and let him hold you. "Volveré pronto, okay? And then we can do whatever you want."(I'll be back soon) You allow yourself to relax and your eyes flutter shut. Sometimes you wonder how much it'll take for him to stop taking his obsession out on Brooklyn.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Playing With Fire

24/12: A Fancy Party & Praising - modern!Aemond Targaryen Word Count: 2.1k~ | Warnings: raunchy texts, pussy slapping, public sex, p in v sex, praise, dirty talk A/N: missed these two??? It's our Perfect Score duo!

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

She hates these events. Hates the pomp and ego. Her situation has changed but the figure skating business certainly hadn't.

Since returning to Singles, Rhaenys had encouraged her to get involved in it all again, as much as she knew she loathed it. Connections were everything after all. And she supposed it was an excuse to have a glass of bubbly.

Rhaenys was in her usual flawless getup. A floor length pale blue, with the corset littered with sparkles. Except this time, instead of dragging her around by her forearm, she'd bought her doting husband, Corlys, and was dragging him around instead.

She gravitated instantly to Baela and Rhaena, dressed in matching blues. Baela wore a skin tight dress without sleeves and it was such a dark blue that in some light, it could've been black. Whereas Rhaena matched her blue to Rhaenys, bar all the sparkle, since she insisted it was 'tacky'.

She'd rolled her eyes at that.

Some things never change.

"Hello, you", she turned to find a familiar face, voice and mop of curly brown hair.

"Jace!"

He gave her a tight-lipped smile and a friendly hug somehow without really touching her, "nice to see you out on the ice again."

"Oh, you know me, can't keep away", she smirked, throwing a lock of waved hair over her shoulder.

Yet another familiar face poked from the shadows, "miss me?"

Both Jace and her smiled brightly, "Cregan, nice to see you!"

"You too," he smiled, "fucking hate these things."

She gave a dry laugh, "yeah, me too. Just an excuse to have some fancy food really."

Cregan laughed, "at least you're honest."

As the glasses of bubbly began to work their magic, her head swirling pleasantly, she watched Jace and Cregan laugh with each other, and then Baela and Rhaena alike.

There was a full ache in her chest, tapping her fingernails against the glass flute, wishing that a certain person was also here to accompany her.

She had respected Aemond's decision to not attend events such as this.

He would support her at matches, cheering from the sidelines, even watching when she practised, sometimes joining her, but he couldn't for the life of him force himself to go to an event where he might catch a glimpse of Alys Rivers.

He'd get no judgement from her for that.

Besides, if Alys Rivers ever dared to show her face in the same building as her, she'd face her wrath.

She finds herself, absentmindedly sipping the tart prosecco, her third she notes, listening to Corlys Velaryon harp on about how amazing Rhaenys was in her day. How sensually she moved, how she used to wink at him from the sidelines and-

“Okayyy…I think I've heard just about enough.” She says awkwardly. Without that he might have gone on forever.

“Apologies. I can't say enough things to describe her.”

She nods, “I'm lucky to have her as a manager, certainly. Excuse me.”

She blinked a few times as she slid away, through the brilliantly dressed people, downing the rest of her bubbly as she pushed the glass doors towards the back of the hall to get some fresh air.

She fanned herself with her hand, feeling all hot from the humid air vaped off everyone’s bodies inside. Her phone illuminates her face as she pulls it from her clutch, a smile rising to her lips to find Aemond’s name as the most recent contact to have sent her a message.

She laughed quietly, her thumbs moving quickly to reply, heart all aflutter.

There’s a long quiet. Those three lines to say he’s replying come on, then off, then on again.

Um.

What. 

Okay. What the fuck.

Her eyes were like saucers, the cold blue light bouncing off them as she stared at his response.

Gods, what the fuck was Aemond on??

She found herself looking around briefly.

Aemond hadn't known what she'd worn. How could he have?

She was stunned for a moment, her thumbs unmoving as her eyebrows furrowed at her screen in confusion.

It was a good job she was outside, the squeal she let out bounced off the walls when she felt two hands sliding around her waist.

If she were a different person, she'd have used her clutch as a weapon, it was certainly heavy enough.

But in the end she's glad she didn't as she whips around to be greeted with the familiar smirk, platinum tied-back hair and mismatched eyes of Aemond.

Her phone nearly falls from her hands in shock, "Aemond, what the fuck?!"

He chuckles breathily, "Nice to see you too, princess."

"What the hell are you doing here?" she asked, gaining her breath back slightly, her chest feeling hot but at the same time, a smile rising to her lips at his presence. Stupidly, seeing him is just what she needed.

"Thought I'd come and see my girl, only to find that yet again that cunt Northerner is trying to get into her pants."

She swallowed at the way he'd said it, all low and halfway between flirty and angry. And ashamed as she is to say it, a warmth drifts between her thighs, her insides clenching around nothing, remembering perhaps the borderline dirty words he'd typed over text.

"I was...just being nice-"

"Oh were you now?" he drones, leaning forward impossibly close, a platinum strand falling from behind his ear to frame his sharp features. His hand on the wall on one side of her head feels close, half caging her in and the anticipation of his proximity is suffocating.

His gaze drops to her outfit, akin to the one she wore when her and Aemond had to attend their first shmoozing event back when they worked in Pairs.

"You do look gorgeous," he starts, humming appreciatively, "I remember you wearing something like this back when we hated each other."

"We didn't hate each other." She rolls her eyes, not able to help the smile that quirks at her lips.

But Aemond cocks his head, narrowing his gaze, "Uh huh, sure. Well you hated me then," he grins, "in any case, princess, I'm not sure I can wait for us to ditch this place."

Her lips part, unsure what he means until he has her pressed to the wall, his tall, broad form easily framing her in to trap her, rather enjoying the lost, dumb look on her face as his fingers trickle down to the hem of her dress.

"Aemond!" She whisper shouts, looking around as her face burns at the thought of being so brazen out in public like this. If anyone came through those horrendous glass doors... the thought has her core throb with danger and her skin alight with nerves.

"What? I promised, didn't I?" He muses, his lips descending to place open-mouthed kisses on her neck, below her ear, "I said I'd fuck you stupid."

Yes, but I didn't think you meant here, is all she's able to think.

But her mouth fails to move as he rucks up her dress to her middle, surprised in himself to find there was nothing beneath.

"Trying to impress someone?"

"Can't wear underwear with this dre-ah!"

She has to cover her mouth when Aemond slaps her harshly right onto her hot core, throbbing with want for him by now she's sure. The action, so lewd and exciting, has her clenching around nothing.

"Yeah yeah, don't want your pathetic fucking excuses, princess," he utters darkly, his tongue running over the bit of skin he'd just bitten lightly, and she mewls, turning into a choked moan the second he eases two fingers into her.

She's not as wet as she would be with some preparation, but right now that's half the thrill. She's still excited enough from his words over text alone that there's no pain but only the stretch of his fingers as he crooks forwards, brushing that spot inside her that has her toes curling in her heels.

She grabs his wrist, "fuck-Aemond-"

"There it is. Such a dirty fucking girl for me, aren't you."

She nods feebly, not even really listening, too focussed on tightening her grip on him as he pistons two fingers into her, the tightness in her belly beginning to crest as Aemond brushes her sweet spot with every push inside.

"Fuck-I can feel you tightening around me you little slut."

He punctuates it with yet another wetter slap as he pulls his digits from her, making her let out a muffled squeal.

She barely has time to crack her eyes open before Aemond is pressed up against her, his hands grasping her thighs to pull her up the wall against him. He only really needs one hand to do it, his chest anchoring hers to him as his other fumbles with his belt.

"Tell you what, if you can be quiet for me, I'll let you cum." He breathes against her lips, his jaw all tense like this is all he's been able to think about since he saw her.

"Aemond, wai-"

He doesn't.

Both of them have to stifle a sort of relieved moan as he slides into her, the stretch of him never failing to steal the air from her lungs. Her arms tighten around his back, all ideas of being caught or the fact that there are several dozen people inside the building next to them right at this moment, is completely distant.

The first genuine thrust he gives makes her want to cry out, but she thinks better of it and presses her lips together, each movement of himself inside her making that task ten times harder. But the prospect of not being allowed fulfilment is the thing that keeps her from it.

"That's my girl - that's my good fucking girl - doing so well-"

She's ashamed to say how the praise shoots straight to her core, tightening around him so impossibly much that she swears Aemond fucking whines when he tries to push inside her again.

"Aw, did you like that, baby? - do you like being my good girl?"

She's not sure if she nods or if it's the force of Aemond's brutal thrusts that is making her head move, but he takes it as confirmation nonetheless.

"Fuck - I could stay buried in your pretty little pussy all fucking day -" he muses, his voice all strained the longer he continues his rapid pace, his skin that pokes out from beneath his shirt meets hers with a soft slap, her face heating up when she feels that her slick is beginning to come away on him each time.

And she knows she's done for as soon as his hand drifts down between her legs, his thumb playing with her pearl with the aid of her arousal.

And he expects me not to make a sound or cum? she thinks to herself.

She keeps herself together through sheer stubbornness if anything, the two overwhelming pleasures at once threatening to have her topple over the edge at any moment.

"My perfect girl - come on, I can't wait any longer, want you to fucking soak my cock, come on-"

He almost sounds impatient, and if the needy tone of his voice doesn't propel her into rapture, the way he presses his thumb against her clit certainly does. And she falls over the edge with a muffled whine into his neck, near sobbing with pleasure as Aemond doesn't let up, fucking into her with abandon to chase his own when he feels the way she clamps around his length.

She lets out another moan to chase the last as she feels Aemond's shuddered breath and the warmth fills her as he hits his own high. Staying like that for a brief, warm moment, before he sets her down on wobbly feet.

He grins at the exhausted look on her face as he pulls her dress down, not missing the way he's already started to leak out of her. But he can't talk, he's all flushed in the face as well, tugging his trousers back over his hips.

She adjusts her hair, all frizzy from the moisture in the cold winter air.

"Come on then." He grins wolfishly.

He walks the opposite direction she expects. And her brows furrow in confusion as Aemond heads to the glass doors, to go inside the venue.

"Where are you going?"

"Can't go without at least saying hello to everyone, now can I? Maybe I'll speak to Cregan Stark."

Her mouth hangs open in shock, "Aemond-"

Your cum is running down my thighs. She wants to say.

And he seems to understand, based on the way he smirks at the warmth that graces her cheeks in embarrassment, "Come on, princess, don't be rude now."

She bites her lip in annoyance, hooking her arm into his.

If she didn't love him, she'd kill him.

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blairfox04 @buckybarnesb-tch @castellomargot @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @mochi-rose @natty2017 @nenelysian @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @thelittleswanao3 @theoneeyedprince @thetrueblackheart @tsujifreya @urmomsgirlfriend1 @valeskafics @virtualsweetsqueen @watercolorskyy @fan-goddess

[buckyhad]

Forever

Pairing: Dark!Carlos Sainz x reader

Warnings: NC thats it, based on this request!

Carlos was the sweetest boyfriend you have ever had, caring, tending to your needs, loving.

Until he got jealous, every little interaction between you and another men was a reason for him to lash out at you. Nothing serious, it was normal for your boyfriend to feel that way sometimes.

Except that time went he took it a little too far.

"That's the dress you are wearing tonight?" Carlos asked furrowing his brows.

"You don't like it?" You asked a little bit sad, tonight was another gala with the drivers about something you didn't remember anymore, choosing a red long dress, with a low cut and a high slit that you loved.

"Yes, I like it, but you are showing a lot" he said.

"Its just a part of my leg".

"Whatever" you knew he was already working himself up so you just decided to leave it there, thinking that going to the gala and getting some drinks in his system would help him calm down.

But you were so wrong.

You two arrived at the place an hour before, Carlos got some strong drink while you choosed some water, Carlos hated when you drinked.

Alone in some corner while Carlos was at the bar again, waiting for his order, when Charles, Carlos' teammate went to say hi to you, making Carlos start to march where you to were happily chatting, getting there just in time.

"I really like how that dress looks on you" Charles said touching the strap of your dress.

"Thanks you, I love the colour a lot" you said blushing a little bit, taking a step back from the monagesque.

"I know, she looks so nice" Carlos said with his hands on the pockets of his pants "We are going amor, grab your things".

---------

"That's why you used that dress? So you would get compliments from Leclerc?" Was the first thing he said when you got to the hotel.

"No! I really liked how it looks on me!".

"Stop lying!" He said grabbing your arm.

"The fuck is wrong with you" you screamed at him trying to get of his grip.

"You know how much I love you, why do you need to flirt with other guys?"

"I wasn't flirting" you whispered "I'm going to go now, let me go, please".

"I'm sorry amor, I didn't mean to grab you, I'm just so mad" he said looking at you with those pretty big brown eyes "Please, no te vayas (don't go)".

"I just need some time, to think you know".

"Te amo (I love you)".

"I know" you said closing the door and making your way out.

-------

You rented a small apartment on Spain, wanting to be alone for a week, not talking or seeing Carlos.

But he had other plans, leaving at least 50 missed calls per day and thousands of unread messages.

-----

By the fifth day without knowing anything about him, someone knoked on your door, being as tired as you were lately, you just opened the door without looking.

Feeling a hand on your mouth while the person closed the door you felt their breath by your ear.

"You need to be more careful, someone could hurt you" Carlos said.

You tried to take his hand off while he was pushing you towards the table.

"I'm going to take my hand off, you better not start screaming" he said and chuckled "At least not yet".

"What are you doing" you started crying, feeling how his hand pushed your upper half onto the table, and hold you there, while his other hand pushed your dress up and your panties down.

"Read your texts with Charles, 'I'm so sorry that you fighted with Carlos, I'm here if you need anything'" he recited while starting to get his tip wet with some spit.

"Please, he just wanted to be nice. You've lost your mind" you cried feeling how he pushed inside you "Carlos you know I'm not in anything, pull out. Please" got out between sobs.

"Well, you would be mine forever now".

A/N: I'm sososo sorry this took so long, I've been studying for an exam (went sl fucking wrong) and now I've another one, anyways, FORZA FERRARI SEMPRE, happy Carlos won today, sad how they didn't listen to Charles AGAIN

[lesbianloml]

my babysitter au

the first kiss

types of piece(s): imagine, oneshot, drabble, series

type(s) of writing: smut, angst, fluff, dark (the story will contain all of the above)

pairing(s): milf!dom!dark!wanda maximoff x innocent!sub!immune!witch!fem!reader

warning(s): legal age gap (wanda is 33, reader is 21), obsessive wanda, sorta pervy wanda, maybe?, nothing mostly fluff and plot shit

summary: wanda met you for the first time three days ago. when she runs into you again at the bake sale at the elementary school, she is thrilled. but wanda is overjoyed when the two of you make a deal that will let her see you everyday.

a/n: I know I've been gone FOREVER but I'm back with part 2 of this series. I hope you guys like it, and if you have any ideas or requests, let me know!

you groan as you lean over and press snooze on your alarm. 5am is way too early to wake up, but you need to finish baking and packaging all the treats for the bake sale this afternoon. you sigh, before climbing out of bed and beginning your morning routine. you shower, put on a cute brown mini dress before heading to the café. you sigh as you look around the empty shop, before pulling on an apron and starting your work.

*hours later*

you startle awake at the sound of your phone ringing. you gasp as you check the time. its 3:30pm, the bake sale starts in 30 minutes, and you haven't even begun to load everything up and set up your table. you check the caller id. dottie. you sigh heavily before answering the call. "hello?" you ask, your voice sugary sweet. "y/n y/l/n! where in the world are you? you were supposed to be here an hour ago to help set up! you're 21 years old, you should be more responsible than this!" as dottie rambles on and on, you sigh. "dottie? give me 5 minutes, I'm on my way." you hang up, ignoring her protests as you quickly load your car with the wrapped treats from the bakery, all made by you.

you speed down the road, and quickly turn into the almost full school parking lot. you scramble out of your car and as you close your door, you turn to be face to face with wanda. "wanda! you scared me!" wanda smiles at your expression. "sorry, detka. you're here for the bake sale right?" wanda asks, looking at you with a look you're unable to read. "yup thats what im here for." wanda turns quickly as two boys come speeding around the parking lot. "billy, tommy! come here. I have someone i want you to meet." you gasp as the boys come speeding past you, a silver blue blur before coming to a halt in front of you.

"y/n, this is billy and tommy. billy and tommy, this is y/n." you smile, looking at them both kindly. "which one of you is super speedy?" you ask. "I am!" tommy pronounces proudly. "would you two like to help me set up my booth?" "we would love to, y/n!" billy says. strangely formal for a 10 year old, but you don't question it. for the next 15 minutes, you spend with the boys, laughing and giggling at tommy's antics as they help you set up your booth. it gets done much quicker with the maximoff's help then it's would've if you had done it alone.

you smile at the sight of your booth, ready just in time as all the parents and children begin filing in. "as a thank you for your help, you three get first pick of the treats." you say, gesturing to the variety of sweet treats you have set out on your table. tommy immediately goes for a huge triple chocolate cookie. you laugh, sharing a shy glance with wanda. billy walks slowly over to the table, and carefully surveys his options before choosing a cupcake with sprinkles. wanda walks over to the table after the boys scatter to go say hi to their friends. wanda grabs a cinnamon pastry and pops it in her mouth. her eyes brighten as she chews slowly. "did you make all of this on your own, y/n?" you smile sheepishly. "yes, i did. do you like it?" you ask, subtly asking for her approval. as wanda finishes chewing, she lets out a soft moan of satisfaction. a faint blush coats your cheeks at the noise, your eyes drifting to places they shouldn't.

"y/n? did you hear me?" wanda asks sweetly. people are beginning to drift over to your booth, the wonderful delectable smells drawing them. "sorry wanda. what was that?" you turn your attention to her for a moment before beginning to serve the customers in front of you. "i would just like to speak to you after the bake sale, ok darling?" dottie approaches the table, eyes on wanda to drag her off somewhere. "of course wanda! ill meet you in a little while" you say, flashing her a sweet smile. you continue serving the lengthy growing line in front of you, your attention drifting back to where it needs to be.

wanda's jaw drops as she sees you in your car speeding around the corner. wanda walks swiftly over to your car, standing behind your car door. "wanda! you scared me!" wanda smiles at your face expression. just you saying her name in your pretty little voice, it slipping out your plump lips. it makes her want to bend you over right here and make you scream it. "sorry, detka. you're here for the bake sale aren't you?" she mentally curses herself. what a stupid question, of course that's what you're here for. she feels like an idiot, but you don't even seem to notice. "yup, that's what i'm here for!" wanda hears tommy and billy giggling, and she wants you to meet her sons more than anything in that moment. if her plan works, soon you and her sons were going to be well acquainted.

"billy, tommy! come here, i have someone i want you to meet." wanda smiles when you gasp as the boys come speeding past you in a silver blue blur. "y/n, this is billy and tommy. billy and tommy, this is y/n." wanda watches as you smile widely, then give them a teasing look. "which one of you is super speedy?" you ask. "i am!" tommy pronounces proudly. "would you two like to help me set up my booth?" "we would love to, y/n!" billy says. wanda chuckles softly at billy. so formal, so sweet. for the next 15 minutes, wanda and her boys spend time with you, laughing and giggling together at tommy's antics as they help you set up your booth. wanda is thrilled at how well you, billy, and tommy are getting along. you guys almost seem best friends already.

wanda watches you smile at the booth setup, happy that you like it. "as a thank you for your help, you three get first pick of the treats." wanda's smile widens as tommy immediately goes for the huge triple chocolate cookie. he's so predictable. you laugh, and wanda shares a glance with you. you're so shy, so beautiful it makes her want to scream. billy walks slowly over to the table, and carefully surveys his options before choosing a cupcake with sprinkles. utterly predictable. wanda walks over to the table after the boys scatter to go say hi to their friends. wanda grabs a cinnamon pastry and pops it in her mouth. her eyes brighten as she chews slowly. it is incredible. she's almost shocked. "did you make all of this on your own, y/n?" wanda asks, her voice filled with wonder. you smile sheepishly. "yes, i did. do you like it?" you ask, subtly asking for her approval.

how cute. wanda knew you would be the perfect wife for her. as wanda finishes chewing, she lets out a soft moan of satisfaction. she knows what she's doing as a faint blush coats your cheeks at the noise. she watches your eyes drift to the places she wants them to be glued to the most. "can i talk to you after the bake sale?" wanda asks, but notices your attention trailing. "y/n? did you hear me?" wanda asks sweetly. people are beginning to drift over to your booth, the wonderful delectable smells drawing them. "sorry wanda. what was that?" your attention is on her for a moment before you begin to serve the customers in front of you. you're so sweet. wanda thinks so many dirty thoughts about you, that she wants to say to you now. she restrains herself, not wanting to scare you away. "i would just like to speak to you after the bake sale, ok darling?" wanda almost lets out a groan of dread when dottie approaches the table, her predatory gaze fixed. "of course wanda! ill meet you in a little while!" as dottie drags wanda away, wanda's gaze is fixed on you the entire time, hearts in her eyes.

after the bake sale, you and wanda meet up in the parking lot. the boys are konked out in the back of wanda's suv, their sugar high short lived. "what did you want to talk about wanda?" you ask, shivering as the fall chill falls over you. wanda immediately removes her jacket, offering it to you. "here detka. wouldn't want you to be chilly." wanda waits for you to slip it on before speaking again. "i wanted to offer you a job. i've found a job downtown, and I was just wondering if you'd like to start babysitting billy and tommy during the week or whenever I need it. my job requires a lot of travel. and of course, I would pay you double what you make right now at the café.." wanda rambles, but her breath catches as you lay a sweet hand on her arm. "oh wanda, I would love to! I already feel so close with billy and tommy, like I've known them for years. maybe we could meet up sometime over coffee and talk some more? i'm sure you're eager to head home." you say, nodding to the boys sleeping in the back of wanda's car.

wanda nods. "of course. that would be perfect, sweetheart. here, ill put my number in your phone. ill text you, okay?" you smile, handing wanda your phone. wanda enters her number, and hands your phone back to you. you stand there for a moment, your thoughts conflicting. you make up your mind, and quickly lay a light kiss on wanda's cheek before walking to your car. you will never know how that single kiss rocked wanda's world, and how it would soon lead to yours being turned upside down.

remember, asks and requests are open! i love to hear from you guys! <3

[0xstarzx0]

DARK RED

Rafe Cameron S3x Reader

CLOSE COMMAND

[English is not my native language❗️❗️]

SYNOPSIS: Rafe found you and he’s planning on keeping it with him forever.

TW: toxic behavior, manipulation, control manipulation, threats, violence mentions, victim’s reprimand. !The reader is considered a weak-minded person, which explains her behavior towards Rafe! Mention of abortion. Insult

______________________________________________- [PT2]

6YEARS LATERS 

You watched your sons play happily in the streets of Chicago. You no longer lived as a kook, but you were happy with your children.

Music echoed through the streets as the boys were with their friends while you sunbathed peacefully.

"Mom, look what I can do!" said Elijah, making animal shadows with his hands.

You laughed and applauded, Dean coming to sit next to you.

Dean and Elijah are twin brothers.

Dean physically resembles you a lot. His eyes are just a little lighter than yours and his hair is not as wavy as yours.

Elijah strongly resembles Rafe, with the same hair, eye color, complexion, smile, EVERYTHING.

But in terms of character, they are completely different. Elijah inherited your character, while Dean has Rafe's character.

They are too young for you to say which one reminds you more of Rafe, but either way, you do your best to make sure they don’t become like him.

"When is Harper coming?" asks Dean with hint of frustration in his sad expression.

"She's coming at six-" Dean cuts you off. "How late is she staying with us?" You shrug your shoulders.

Tonight, you're working as a waitress for a high-end event in the north side of Chicago. You don't know what time you'll be home as these events can go on sometimes until three in the morning.

"I don't know Dean, but I'll make sure to come home as soon as possible," you say, gently stroking his hair.

"You always say that, but you come back super late!" The little blond puts his head against your shoulder.

It pains you to hear that because it’s true; sometimes in order to make sure you can make ends meet, you find yourself working overtime.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Dean hugs you with his little arms. "I love you, mom." You stroke his back. "I love you too, baby."

✯

The event had been going on for over an hour now, and the floors in the luxurious hotel where you were at began to fill up.

You stood up straight and tried to be as pleasant as possible. The atmosphere is enjoyable for the guests.

Each of them flaunts their wealth or talks about business. You recall the parties of this kind you used to attend with your family.

None of them were missed by you, you greet a woman as she starts talking to you.

She's quite attractive, with her medium-length black hair and her brown almond-shaped eyes. She acts as if you were the best friends in the world.

However, she doesn't do anything except talk about her life, there’s no coherence in what she’s saying, but you say nothing.

You hope to get at least a tip of $150 at this point.

She looks away from your eyes for a moment to look over your shoulder and smile. She waves her hand, probably attracting someone.

You begin to turn around to leave when you freeze. Bad memories come back one by one to the surface. Your heart beats so loudly in your ears that you can no longer hear.

You apologize and head to the bar, setting down your tray and run to the bathrooms. Rafe was there, he was right in front of you.

He still looks as charismatic and threatening as before. You walk to the sink and splash some water on your face.

And if he had recognized me? Will he make me pay? Will he be angry that I've deprived him of his children for so long? No, impossible that he’s recognized me.

You lift your head and find yourself face to face with him in the mirror. A satisfied smile on his face. You swallow hard and look at him.

His blue eyes are still as beautiful as ever, his shaved hair gives him a charm.

"It's been a long time." He says, locking the door. He advances, and you back away.

He straightens his tie and looks at himself in the mirror. "How's my child?"

You freeze in fear, the stress is at its peak. "I had an abortion." You gasp for air. He chuckles and looks at you. "You ran away just to have an abortion?"

You look at him angrily. "What do you want Rafe?" You tremble and he finally looks at you. "I know my children are somewhere in the streets of Chicago. Judging by your appearance, they must be in the South Side."

"Fuck off, Rafe!" You yell at him in anger. Rafe comes closer and looks at you with anger. "There are people who have disappeared for less than that Y/N. I suggest you lower your damn tone."

Rafe leans forward and tilts his head slightly. "I missed you." He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. You shudder at his touch.

"You broke my heart by leaving. How could you do this to me after everything I did for you." He grabs your chin and forces you to look at him.

There was a time when you would have apologized on your knees, but not anymore. "You were violentwith me."

He shrugs nonchalantly. "That happens in every relationship, it’s nothing serious." You look at him, shocked.

"How did you call them?" He asks, folding his arms across his chest. You furrow your brows. "What?..." he massages his temples. "The twins, what have you named them?" You tremble, how does he know?

"I don’t know what you mean." Rafe sighs loudly. "Do you really think I’m here by accident?" You frown, he takes out his phone and unlocks it.

He puts it on the sink, for the past five months he'd known where you live, your job, your friends, and most importantly, where his children were.

"I don’t blame you for leaving, Y/N, I’ve spent every day for the past six years thinking about you and the kids." He grabs your chin and forces you to look him in the eyes.

"I’m going to change, I promise, just give me one more chance to show you how I can be a good father for our kids." He caresses your cheek. "For our family."

You would like to scream at him, tell him to leave, but Rafe isn’t stupid. He knows that you won’t because you feel too guilty that the twins don’t have a father.

"Alright..." You say, looking into his eyes. "One and last chance." Rafe smiles and kisses your forehead. "Promise."

Rafe hugs you tightly and gently runs his fingers through your hair.

Rafe knew you were going to say yes, he was sure of it, and anyway, if you had refused, he would have made sure you wouldn’t be allowed near the children anymore.

Having money works that way.

Rafe knows it will take some time for you to no longer be afraid of him, but he will wait because that is what soulmates do. 

They always forgive their other half.

______________________________________________

Hello everyone!

And yes, after several months without news about this fan fiction, I finally write the end!

I'm sorry if the end hasn't pleased you, I don't like it too much either but I tried to do what I wanted the most. If you have any questions don't hesitate to ask them to me in private or in request, I'll answer with pleasure <3

taglist 🏷️ :

@rafemotherfuckingcameron @macchili18 @devotedlyelectronicartisan @julesandro

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[imnotjaesblog]

Part Four: The Gryffindor

Mood: "I miss your presence in my life. I miss you talking with you. Laughing with you. Crying with you. I miss my best friend,"

Starring: Lee Jeno

Warnings: None. This part is just angsty

Words: 9k

Enjoy ;)

"There is nothing to talk about," you told Jeno trying to move your way past him. He blocked your path. You huffed shutting your eyes for a moment in annoyance. The night was going so well. Why did Jeno have to come and ruin your mood?

"Jeno move I have nothing to say to you," you spoke sternly.

He placed his hands on your shoulders. You eyed him. He let his hands fall from your frame. He kept the same desperate stare in his eyes. "I just want you to listen," he said pleadingly looking into your eyes. "If you don't like what I have to say you can walk away and I'll leave you alone, forever," he babbled but kept a sincere tone. You sighed looking around the room.

"Fine. But I better not regret it," you warned. You walked over to the dark brown couch placed in front of the fireplace. Jeno followed sitting beside you. You both turned your bodies to each other. You both sat there awkwardly staring at the other.

"Well," you motioned to the silence that surrounded you.

"I apologize. I didn't think you'd agree," he spoke quietly. He adjusted himself clearing his throat. He rubbed his sweaty palms on his sweatpants. You sighed again hand meeting your forehead. He licked his lips.

"I do not know where to begin," he spoke unsurely.

"How about at the beginning," you sarcastically suggested.

"I didn't mean to kiss her," he stated. Your eyes roll and your head falls back. You were in no headspace to hear any of this nonsense. You shook your head and Jeno continued his rambling. "It just happened," he trailed seeing the sudden change in your face. A moment ago you were calm and now you were angry at him. It confused him.

You stood up from the couch. Jeno turned his body in your direction standing up to follow you. "It does not matter to me who you kiss Jeno," you stressed. He was not convinced. You had completely cut him off after the kiss he shared with Samantha. He understood how it could hurt your feelings, and even make you jealous.

"Is it not the reason you do not speak to me?" he asked. You stopped walking letting out a huff nostrils flaring. You could feel the heat rise from the pit of your stomach to the back of your neck. You turned to him hands balled in a fist.

"The reason I do not speak to you is not because of some kiss," you argued back. His face flushed and frame open to you. "So what is it then? Are you jealous of her?" he spoke quickly the questions desperately trying to escape his lips. His eyes bore into yours begging for a response. It did not matter if it was what he wanted to hear. He wanted to see you sad, angry, even mad. He wanted you to feel something towards him and then continue to treat him like a ghost in the hallway.

"I am not jealous!" you said shouting a bit. He was frustrating you. The more he spoke it ignited your body in flames. Your jaw clenched as you stared into his eyes. You felt your body shake. "I am not jealous of her. I never have been. But I will not sit here and listen to you try and make it seem like you have done nothing wrong. You were my best friend Jeno. You kissed me and then let me go like it was so easy for you. And until I've heard you admit to your wrongs there is nothing for you to say," you let the words sadly fall from your lips.

He went to speak but you stopped him with your hand. You shook your head. "I do not wish to hear your voice again tonight. Or ever until you've owned up to your wrongs. I do not wish to hear you explain yourself any longer," you said grabbing your belongings. Jeno did not follow you as you walked away. Instead, he watching feeling his heart get crushed by you, again.

The overwhelming feeling inside you rises higher than any flame. Between Renjun's growing stares of confusion about the relationship between the two of you and Jaemin's change of behavior with you started to become too much.

You sat at your desk in your Potions class. Letting out a soft sigh preparing yourself for the project you be presenting alongside Jaemin. Your professor welcomed the rest of your classmates. You turned and saw Renjun on his sitting at a few desks in front of you. You looked away feeling someone sit beside you. Thankfully Yeji had taken the stool next to you.

"I hope everyone is ready to present their Amortentia," he said with a smile. Most students still wore the early morning on their faces. The professor huffed defeated by the low sounds of enthusiasm. "Okay. Let us begin with the first pairing," he spoke pulling out his list of names.

"Ah! Nathaniel and Elenia. You two are first," he spoke smiling in his eyes. The two stood up hand and hand walking to the black cauldron. The two successfully performed, receiving a few claps from the students. "Well done!" he cheered the pair. "Now what do you smell?" he asked them.

Their presentation felt distant to you. You played with the end of your textbook peeling the fabric of the stitches on the old cover. Your head in your chin lips pouting. "Y/n," Yeri called just above a whisper. You hummed at her. "Jaemin is here," she said. You shrugged, "He's late," you responded. Yeri paused for a moment. "I thought you two were together?" she asked. You shook your head. "We're not. I'm not sure what we are," you said back glancing at Jaemin before looking away.

Yeri couldn't deny how she felt about Jaemin. She disliked him just as much as you did. It didn't matter that the two were cousins. Once he got here he had changed completely. Acting as if he didn't even know her. At some point she found you, seeing you had gone through something similar with Jeno.

"Jeno and Samantha," your professor called. You and Yeri both looked up at Samantha walking just a bit ahead of Jeno. A wide smile on her face. Yeri sneered at Samantha who was a few more happy steps from skipping to the table. Jeno walked behind her looking the exact opposite. Unable to match Samantha's excitement and instead miserably walked his way to the table.

They performed the spell. Samantha stepped to smell the Amortentia. She pushed her hair back. Closing her eyes and leaning forward the green aroma passed her cheeks. She inhaled a hum leaving her lips. A smile crept on her lips.

"What do you smell?" the professor asked her softly. She took a moment smelling the caldron again.

"I smell fresh grass, sweat, and wooden chips like one off a broom," she spoke dreamly. It had caught the attention of a few who recognized the last description of the scent she smelled. Even catching Jeno's. Yeri placed a hand on your shoulder seeing the widened eyes on your face. You looked over at her who remained frowning at the sight.

Samantha reopened her eyes and the professor smiled. "Well done. Now you Jeno," he ushered. Jeno snapped out of his thoughts. He walked over to the table, and Samantha stepped aside. He leaned close to the cauldron-like he knew what he'd smell.

"What do you smell?" he asked. Jeno sighed debating whether or not to share. He looked over at you. Seeing you sitting there watching like everyone else. He chewed his lip nervously.

He sighed "I smell," he began. This would be the perfect time to tell you everything. Everything he wanted to say last night. Everything he had been waiting to say to you. This would be his chance to get you back. He could feel the hope that slowly filled in his chest mask the nerves. Until he turned around to see Jaemin staring in your direction. The sight made his nails flick against his other fingers.

He huffed. "I smell," he began. "I smell sweet Jasmine shampoo," he said quickly. Samthna almost fell to the ground from happiness. That was her exact shampoo scent. He stepped away from the table glaring at Jaemin who remained just as confused as you. Yeji also looked confused. Then when she looked over at Samantha who had to fan herself back to Earth it clicked in your and her brain that Jeno had just confessed his love to Samantha.

Yeri turned to glare at Jeno but was met with Jeno staring hard at you. You kept your back turned, not sparing him a glance. Yeri turned away looking over at you. The professor hadn't noticed the tension rising between Jeno and You. Yeji and Jaemin could feel the tense energy that rose.

Once class ended you rushed out of the classroom and Renjun who watched from the back saw this as his chance to stand. He found you outside in the courtyard alone by a tree. You sat there attempting to read a book.

Renjun made his way to you placing his bag on the trunk of the tree. You barely looked at him. Renjun sat beside you on the grass. His eyes squinted from the afternoon sun. Gentle breeze brushing some of his hair back. He fixed his glasses as he looked down at your book. He smiled softly.

"What are you reading?" he asked. You folded the corner page. "I'm trying to read Emma. It was one of my favorite books and now I can barely focus on the first few chapters," you said closing the book. You let out a breath trying to calm your rising emotions. The scene of him confessing replays in your head like a broken record. You tried to escape in your story to distract yourself from the fresh memory but found the Amortentia spell the most distracting.

"Renjun why did he lie?" you asked. You had never talked to Renjun before about your love life. No one ever had. He felt a bit caught off guard. Normally any other man who would hear the women he slept with asking about another man would surely weird them out. But Renjun had realized he was beginning to adore you as his friend. He didn't wish to ruin such a beautiful relationship. And since you needed your friend that was exactly what he'd be.

"How do you know he lied?" he asked. Making sure you weren't just coming to such conclusions because you were upset. He didn't want to mention it but this was the same man who stood you up at the Yule ball. You shook your head. The thought of Jeno lying made the anger and frustration in you continue to foam together. After all this time he still couldn't be honest.

"I know him very well. Something pissed him off," you said proving how much you understood Jeno. Renjun sighed shifting the leg that he sat on to the other. "Maybe he is shy," he suggested. But you shook your head your book falling onto the grass. "Jeno is not shy. He is many things but shy is not one of them. Normally he is very bold," you said confidently.

"Then I assume he is just scared," Renjun attempted at another conclusion. One that made sense to you. You nodded, "I assumed the same thing. I just don't know what he could be scared of," you said. Renjun raised a brow.

He chuckled. "Forgive me Y/n but you had not been very approachable," he said. You frowned, "How am I not approachable?" you asked biting back a smile. Renjun looked at you up and down with a scoff. "Maybe to the other students here, yes you are approachable, but picture Jeno right now. Every time he has made some sort of effort to talk to you. You shot him down. If you want an answer to your question you have to talk to him," He said.

You sneered at his truths. "I hate that you are right," You said picking up your book. You stood up from the grass Renjun following. He dusted himself off watching as you placed your book away. "I am always right," he said with a smirk.

"Tell me again why am I your friend?" you joked. Renjun just chuckled as the two of you walked off to meet Yeji for the Quidditch match.

“This is gonna be a fair game. I don’t want to see any foul moves,” the referee spoke eyeing Jaemin. Jaemin held his hands up in defense. “It’s not my fault I get bored,” he retort. The referee rolled her eyes looking away from the boy.

Jeno gripped tightly onto his brown stick glaring at Jaemin. Jaemin hadn’t even noticed Jeno until he happened to be in his line of sight. When the two made eye contact Jeno clenched his jaw.

Jaemin smirked at him flying his way. He raised a brow. “Jeno I know I am handsome but must you stare at me all day? First Potions and now during a Quidditch match?” He chuckled head falling back in that annoying asshole way. The two Slytherin boys next to him laughed.

Jeno huffed angrily. If there weren’t an arena of people watching he’d punch Jaemin so hard off his brown he’d hit straight to the ground. “Am I distracting you?” Jaemin asked dark gleam in his eyes.

“Nothing that you do matters to me Jaemin. You’re just an obstacle in my way. Once someone knocks you off your high horse you will soon realize that no one cares what you do,” Jeno mocked. Jaemin chuckled sneering at the captain. Jeno felt proud for a moment. But Jaemin never being able to keep shut had to get the last laugh.

“Nothing I do may matter,” he tilted his head a bit motioning to the side. Unbothered by Jeno’s insults.

“But maybe what she does well,” he taunted. Jeno turned following the line Jaemin formed with his eyes that pointed straight to you. There you were sitting between Renjun and Yeji. Chatting with them and every so often glancing over sending heart eyes to Jaemin. It made his stomach turn seeing that out of all the male students at this school you chose Jaemin.

“You see,” he began. Jeno turned his head back to him. “She’s here because I invited her. She told me about the chat you two shared last night. You do have a way with words,” he spoke softly to Jeno. It made his inside rise in flames. He gritted his teeth as he spoke. Jaemin who remained calm was secretly enjoying every minute of this interaction. Seeing Jeno’s eyebrows twist and lip snarl at him like an angry dog made today’s match so much more worth showing up.

“Let’s see how well you play today,” he derisive. He flew back to his side along with his friends to begin the game. Jeno tried his best to not let Jaemin get to him. But the truth couldn’t leave his mind. You were here for Jaemin not for him. You were supporting him. You were spending time with him.

Jeno decided he wouldn’t let Jaemin off that easily. He knew beating him in a Quidditch match would mean absolutely nothing to Jaemin. Jaemin was only on the team because his father forced him to. Jaemin couldn’t care less if he won or lost.

He needed to get you back. He just didn’t know how.

To no one’s surprise, the Gryffindor team had won. All the Gryffindor students cheered celebrating another victory. Jeno and his team walk through the crowd collecting high-fives and congratulations. He smiled brightly as he made his way through the crowd. The winning glow was evident on his face.

Once he finally exited he walked into his tent to change. He was halfway changing when he heard someone call for him outside. He could see the shadow of a girl. Probably Samantha he thought with a small frown. He walked over opening the tent only to be met with you.

Stunned would be a lazy way to describe the look on his face to see you standing there. While he remained holding the tent opening back standing in nothing but slacks and a pair of sneakers. His torso is exposed to you and glistening in the sunlight. Water droplets from his hair hit the grass. A few droplets even glided down his chest. Sliding straight down his abs. Few even resting in the waistline of his slacks. You almost covered your eyes but your hands didn’t let you.

The words “I’m sorry” barely fell from your lips as you stole another peak from his chiseled frame. You cursed at yourself. Jeno feeling a little shy scratched the back of his head hair slightly bouncing. You cleared your throat trying to keep your cool. The two years apart treated him well you thought.

“Y/n,” he began. “I didn’t know you’d stop by,” he spoke keeping his eyes on you. You were making every attempt to avert from his gaze and nodded. “I didn’t either. I was looking for,”

“Jaemin?” He questioned. You nodded slowly eyes hesitantly scanning down for a moment before quickly looking away. For some reason, you felt nervous around Jeno. The sound of students running past distracted you for a brief second before Jeno spoke. “Would you like to come in?” He asked. You felt the dryness in your throat. The best you could answer him back with was with a nod.

He moved to the side allowing you to step in. You looked around the tent. You had always seen it but had never been inside of it before. You looked around the large tent which from the outside was deceivingly small. While you looked around Jeno pulled a shirt over his frame. A few strands of hair stuck to his forehead.

You turned to Jeno. “This is very large compared to the outside,” you observed. He nodded hands in his pockets. “It is a simple spell. Taught by someone I know well,” he spoke small smile on his lips. You knew he was talking about you. You hid your smile turning to look around at the stuff he had. A few broomsticks and medals from past sports he played.

You walked over to a small table in the middle of the tent. On it were a few books and crumbled papers. But something was peaking underneath a Spells textbook. You picked it up. Lifting it to get the picture underneath. It was a photo of both you and Jeno. From your first year here when he tried out for the Quidditch team. You smiled fond of the memory. Jeno was so nervous. You had to talk him out of the bathroom stall, for him to almost miss tryouts.

Jeno leaned over your shoulder looking down at the photo too. “I remember that day,” he spoke fondly of the memory. “I was so nervous I felt like I was going to throw up,” he remembered laughing a bit. You motioned him watching the way his eyes formed crescents. Your chuckles died down. It was a beautiful time but that was the past. Your smile fell and you placed the photo back down.

“I should,” you cleared your throat. “I should probably get going,” you said moving past him. He looked away from the photo and at you concerned for the next time he’d see you. He followed you to the opening of the tent. “Must you leave so soon?” He asked. You sighed wishing he’d let you go. “Yes,” you said trying to leave but Jeno didn’t let you. It would be better for you if you left.

“Why?” He asked. “I thought we were sharing a moment,” he hinted at a small smile on his lips. You shook your head letting out a huff. “I’m sorry if I give you the wrong impression Jeno. I didn’t mean to come in and touch your things. I am sorry for that,” you apologized. You sounded completely robotic. The tone and words coming from your lips are so foreign.

Everything in the room was yours so long as it was his. The tent was yours, the photo, the book, and even himself. He let out a defeated sigh. There was nothing left for him to say or do. So instead he let his frustration show.

“I do not know how else to please you,” he spoke making you pause. “Please me?” You questioned. His hands rose frantically as he walked away from you too upset to even bother to ask you to stay. You wanted to follow by you stood at the opening. That was what was best for you, you thought.

He nodded holding the photo of the two of you in his hands. He stared longly at the picture. "Why did you come in here?" he asked. Taken back by his question you swallowed thickly. "Because you invited me in"

He shook his head. His sudden change of tone made you feel small. His back tenses underneath his shirt. He turned to you confusion in his eyes. "That is not why and you know it," he stated. Your eyes were wide. Similar look to a child who had gotten caught stealing candy.

"I don't know," you responded. "I guess I just wanted to," you said quietly.

"But why?" he asked. You huffed hand falling in frustration. "Y/n," Jeno called to you as you walked towards the tent opening. Your hand swung to open the tent. Only to be confronted by Samnatha. She was just about to walk inside. The wide smile on her lips until she saw you. Stunned her smile fell. She cleared her throat lips pursing. Her head fell a bit.

You turned to him ushering to Samantha. "This is why," you said a shudder leaving your lips as you walked away. Leaving Jeno standing there alone just as confused as he was last night.

You marched down the grass quickly searching for a way out of this field. You had thankfully found Yeri talking with Renjun by the exit back into the school. You walked over to the two of them greeting them with smiles.

"Y/n are you alright?" Yeri asked. You nodded gently touching your face. It was warm, and a bit sweaty. "I'm fine," you hushed. Yeri not convinced but not wanting to push you just nodded a small frown on her lips. Renjun sent a concerned glance to Yeri who shrugged. Renjun assumed it had something to do with Jaemin.

Days had passed since you last spoke with Jeno. It seemed Jeno tried his best to avoid you at all costs. At first, it confused you. He had tried so hard to get your attention. Now the same boy was leaving rooms when you entered, or turning his back to look away from you.

Yeri had noticed the energy shift the same way you had felt it. You decided to not put your mind to it. But it was hard. If Jeno wanted to fix things between the two of you then why did he lie? Why was he avoiding you? It hurt to know that the same boy you once called your best friend. The boy whose shoulder you cried on when Jaehyun left. The boy who fought Jaemin more times than you can count because he teased you. Was treating you as if he didn't even know you.

It made you feel like shit.

You wanted to ignore it. It was easy to ignore him. It was hard to ignore your feelings. Which made it difficult to hide the emotions on your face in the rare moments he did look your way. But the much-needed Holiday vacation would be the best distraction from Jeno. You had said goodbye to Yeri and Renjun when you reached the station. Watching as Yeri ran to her mother. Seeing, who you could only assume was Jaemin's mother, standing next to her.

Yeri came to your side. She wrapped her arm around yours. "I want you to meet my mom," she smiled. She walked you over and introduced you. Jaemin came to your side introducing you to his mother as well. You were very surprised to see such a difference between him and his mother. She was so kind. And Jaemin was Jaemin.

You made your way to your parents after wishing the pair a Happy Holidays. Your parents both waiting for you with open arms.

"I want to know everything," your mother said flopping onto your bed. You rolled your ears playing with the ears of your old stuffed bunny. She chuckled waiting for you to tell her all about your time spent away. Your head fell back shutting your eyes for a moment. You whined, "Do I have to tell you everything?" you asked. She nodded, "Yes. Unless it's something I don't want to know," she joked.

You opened your eyes and saw she was still staring at you. Waiting for you to talk. You huffed, "Fine," you said letting out a sigh.

You told your mom about your studies. Time spent with Yeri. You told her you and Renjun worked out your differences. You told her Jaemin wasn't bothering you much anymore. Leaving out the parts where you hooked up with them.

Your mother noticed quickly when your energy shifted. The smile on your lips fading. There was something you weren't telling her. She decided to ask to see if her theories were true.

"And Jeno? This is a big year for you guys. Are you still not friends with one another?" she asked. You sighed placing the bunny to the side. You shrugged pulling at the loose stitches on your bed sheet.

"No," you responded. Your mother kept her bottom lip between her teeth listening to you closely. "He doesn't talk to me anymore after he confessed his love to Samantha in front of the whole class," your words dying down quietly. She widened her eyes confused. She shook her head. "Wait. I thought he liked you," she said in the form of a question.

You sighed, "I thought so too," you responded. Your mom paused watching you.

"Do you like him Y/n?" she asked. You shrugged. "I'm not sure," you said back. "Then why does it bother you so much? This Samantha girl," she asked. "Because I thought I liked him. Last year I did. But," your words faded.

"But?" she asked.

You let out a breath wishing you could avoid this question. Your mom waiting for you to finish. "I got close with Renjun," you confessed. She sat back a bit. "But didn't you two no get along? I mean I know you fixed it but already?" she asked. You shook your head. Trying to figure out where everything changed. You were just as confused as her. "We're friends. He's a nice guy," you said. She nodded, "Okay," she responded.

You bit your lip. Your mom watched you. "Y/n?" she questioned a nervous look in your eyes. "Is there something else?" she asked. You nodded.

"What?" she asked. "I like Jaemin too," you confessed. Her jaw dropped. She sat back surprised. "Jaemin? I can understand Renjun. But Jaemin? Doesn't Jeno hate him? Don't you hate him?" she asked trying to figure this entire situation out. "How did this even happen?" she asked. "He was there when I needed someone. He knew the right things to say," you said pleading your case a bit embarrassed by having to say this all out loud.

She blinked a few times. "That's it?" she asked. "Don't judge me," you said back. She nodded, "I'm sorry," she said placing a hand on her chest. "Forgive me. I'm just trying to figure this out," she said.

"Me too," you said letting out a tired sigh. You flopped back on your bed. Head landing on your pillow. Your mom rubbed your arm gently. She sent you a half smile. She worried for you but she knew something like this you'd figure out. She's always known how smart you are.

While spending time at home your parents let you work at the Flower Shop to earn extra cash. Christmas was a busy time of year for your family's shop. Many men come in to buy flowers to propose to their girlfriends on Christmas. Poinsettias were your most popular flower, especially with all the Holiday dinners and parties many people were hosting.

You smiled as you finished wrapping a bundle of Hellebore. You handed it to the young man. He thanked you and left. Once he stepped out of the shop you heard the bell above ring twice. Looking up you saw the familiar face you had seen through most of your life. Jeno's mom stepped into the flower shop holding her purse close to her. She admired the flowers as she stepped inside. Her observing eyes met yours. She smiled walking over to you.

"Y/n hello," she greeted. You smiled at her standing behind the wooden counter. "It's good to see you," she said excited smile on her lips. You nodded in agreement. "Likewise," you responded. "How's school?" she asked. You sighed trying not to think too hard of an answer. "It's good. Sad it's ending," you slightly frowned. She chuckled lightly. "I would be sad too if I attended a school for wizards," she responded.

There was a slight pause before she spoke again. "How's Jeno been doing?" she asked curiously. "He doesn't tell me much," she said a hint of sadness in her tone. You weren't sure how to answer her. You tapped your finger on the counter. "I'm not too sure. We don't speak much anymore," you said back. Her lips scrunched to the side as he nodded. "Yeah, that's unfortunate. You guys we're close. I enjoyed seeing him happy," she said with a smile. You could see the change in her face. Her mind brings her back to the fond memories of you and Jeno together.

"He's still being an ass isn't he?" she asked. Taken back by her description of her son you didn't respond. She brushed it off. She shrugged. "Is he?" she asked. You decided to just nod. She pursed her lips shaking her head. She rested her arm on the counter loosening the grip on her purse.

"What am I gonna do that boy?" she questioned out loud the billing dinging as she finished. Jeno walked inside dressed in dark jeans and a black jacket wearing a hoodie over his head. He walked in acting as if the two of you didn't create chaos in this shop. You shifted your weight over to the register trying to distract yourself. Jeno's mom turned at your sudden change of attitude seeing her son walk inside and towards her.

"Jeno," she said a bit surprised. "I thought I told you to wait inside the car," she responded. He shrugged, "You were taking too long. I came to see what was wrong," he said eyes briefly meeting your frame. You scoffed grabbing both their attention. His mother didn't react much to you. Understanding why you grew quickly annoyed. He was being an ass, again.

"Problem?" he questioned. You huffed, "No," you responded trying to keep your control. "Doesn't seem like it," he argued back. You poked the inside of your mouth with your tongue shutting your eyes for a moment. "There's no issue," you said back. He shoved his hands in his pockets. "Then I don't know why you sound like there is," he said back. His arm hit him in the arm to stop but he didn't.

"I'm not Jaemin, Jeno. Your poor attempt of coming in here and getting me to react is not going to work," you said opening the register and counting the money inside before you closed it back up. His mom looked over at him. Now annoyed with him as well for embarrassing her and himself. She tugged at his arm to leave but he remained still. "Jeno come on," she said pulling a bit harsher. He didn't budge he just stood there staring.

"I bet you'd like for him to be here," he said back. You kept your focus on tending the flowers behind you. Your back now facing him.

"You know he doesn't like you right?" he said a chuckle leaving his lips. "What's it to you if he likes me or not? You are in love with Samnatha. Remember?" you asked. Jeno huffed lips forming a tight line. Your back was still facing him but you knew the effect your words had on him. He gritted his teeth. His mom was not watching the two of you, trying to pull Jeno away. She knew the two of you were moments away from saying something to destroying the last saving bits of your relationship.

"You're right. I don't care whether Jaemin likes you are not. I could care less," he said back. "So then why are you still talking about it like you do?" you asked throwing everything back in his face which he was tired of.

"I don't," he said back. "Sounds like you do," you argued back. The two of you bickering like children.

"Enough!" his mom shouted. She grabbed Jeno's arm this time successful in moving him away. "I'm sorry Y/n. Well see you at the Party," she said as she left. When the door shut you felt bad. You genuinely liked his mom. It felt embarrassing to argue in front of her. To show her that side of yourself.

Once the guilt faded the pit in your stomach of the party tomorrow remained.

"Why me?" you asked out loud frustratedly.

The few days you spent in your home city were filled with family, celebrating the Holidays, and more unfortunate and irritating interactions with Jeno. It didn't help Jeno lives across the street from you. You could see him on your way to the flower shop every morning. Shoveling snow off his front yard. He'd look up in your direction. Adjusting his hat that fell over his eyes. Watching as you entered your parent's car. Place your coffee inside first before you sit down.

He watched you wipe off the side of your window and then start the car. You pulled out of the driveway driving away from your house and to the flower shop. Jeno scrunched his nose and upper lip turning up as he turned away. He dug the shovel hard into the snow. His cheeks were bright red from the cold. He shivered cool air leaving his lips. He went back inside once he finished.

Stepping into his empty house he removed his shoes. Placing his coat on the rack by the door and leaving his sweater on. He stepped towards the kitchen to make something to eat when he found something on his kitchen table. He walked over to it finding a folded piece of paper laying, folded with his name written on the front. A hellebore flower lying on top. He picked up the flower. Turned it in his fingers. He smiled for a moment.

This was one of your favorite flowers. He knew everything he could know about this very flower because of you. The memory soon faded from his mind when he remembered a note was still waiting for him on the table. He picked it up gently placing the flower down.

He opened the note reading the few lines written down.

Meet me at the Flower Shop.

There are things we have to discuss.

He held the letter in his hand. Frown forming on his lips. He wanted to meet you but he had just confessed to Samantha. A false confession but still he couldn't do that to her. He held the letter in his hand a painful feeling in his heart. He crumbled the note. Tossing it away. He would go to see you but only to end your relationship for good.

When he walked into the Flower Shop you and another worker both looked up at the door at the sound of the bell. Seeing it was Jeno you sneered turning back to your phone hoping he’d go away. But he didn’t. He walked to the register waiting for you to look at him. You could see him. Moving your eyes up but not your head. When he remained just standing there tapping his fingers on the wooden table you sighed.

You put your phone in your green apron giving Jeno a fake smile. “How can I help you?” You asked him. His fingers stopped tapping. Coming together to make a small fist. “I need to talk to you,” he said lips forming a thin line. You shrugged, “Too bad. I’m busy,” you responded.

He huffed shaking his head annoyed. “I’m serious,” he said but you ignored him. Hoping an actual customer would walk in. His fist unfolded. He sighed deeply his nostrils flaring. You ignored him. “Y/n I got your note this morning,” he said hoping a calmer approach would get you to talk.

You raised a brow looking over at him. “What note?” You asked. Jeno scoffed, “Don’t act confused. I know you wrote it,” he said sure of himself. You shook your head. Jeno now growing quickly frustrated with you brought his fingers to his temples. Why were acting so lost? It was clear the note was from you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He asked the tiredness in his tone. “Because I have no clue where you’re talking about,” you responded now leaving the register. You picked up a watering pot walking over to a few flowers. Jeno followed behind you.

Your coworker quickly left to attend to the flowers in the back.

“Let me make it simple then. You wrote a note. Then somehow left it on my kitchen table. Simple,” he said fake tone and smile on his lips. They both feel quickly.

“And let me make this simple for you. I didn’t write the note,” you said back almost slamming the watering pot down. You placed a hand on your hip annoyed. “Now leave. If you stay here any longer you’ll scare off the customers,” you said turning away to attend to a few more flowers.

“Then who wrote the note? Because I have a hard time believing it wasn’t you,” he continued. Your head fell back growing tired of him chasing you around like this. “Jeno I already told you it wasn’t me,” you said back. You’re back facing him. You turned to walk away again.

“There was a Hellebore beside it,” he said eyes watching you closely to see if you’d finally slip. He watched as you shook your head. “I’m telling you Jeno it wasn’t me,” you responded now confused. Who would write a letter from you to him? You tried your best to think about the situation. Unlike Jeno who still sat there waiting for some confession.

“A Hellebore?” You questioned out loud. He nodded. You focused zoning in on a few Hellebore’s in the shop. You tried to put some of the pieces together. Your mind led you to yesterday. Yesterday you had a few customers. None of them picked up hellebores except Jeno’s mother.

You sighed looking down. Jeno thought you were finally gonna confess. You turned around as he waited arms resting over his chest. “You remember when we were eight and we got into that fight by the pond? The one in the park where our parents had that picnic so my mom could watch the Tulips bloom,” you asked. Jeno only nodded in response.

“Remember how we didn’t want to talk to each other afterward so your mom told me you were waiting for me by the slide? Then she told you I was waiting by the slide as well?” You asked hoping he’d start to realize where you were going with this. You waited for a moment giving him time to process. Then his eyes changed. The realization on his face. He poked the inside of his cheek. He shook his head.

“I can’t believe my mom did it again,” he said with a chuckle. You chuckled too both of you smiling. If anyone else saw you’d look close. For you two this moment felt normal. Even if he was chuckling out of anger. You had missed the sound of his laugh.

“Me either,” you said back small smile on your lips. The laughter between the two of you died down. Replaced with a similar tension as before. Your eyes met Jeno’s. His eyes wandered. Looking everywhere but yours.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said. His hands dug into his pockets. His black boot gently kicked the wooden flower. A few leaves on the ground kicked away from the air of his boot. “I shouldn’t have barged in here and accused you. I should have known it wasn’t you,” he said the guilt in his tone.

You sighed shaking your head. “You couldn’t have known. What did the note say?” You asked. Jeno looked up at you. Not all the way. He just picked his head up a bit. “It said to come here. That we had things to discuss,” he summarized.

You nodded. “So,” you started. Your hands fiddled around the watering pot in your hands. “Do we have things to discuss?” You asked. Jeno swallowed shaking his head. “No. Not that I know of,” he said. He inhaled sharply exhaling as he turned to leave. You followed behind him placing the pot down. “Jeno,” you called. He sighed back facing you.

“Y/n please,” he spoke quietly.

You stood there eyes facing his back. You were tired of running away from your problems. Jeno was here now and even if you weren’t going to get answers you liked. You had to confront him. Now was your chance. “Jeno,” you called again. He sighed back muscles tensing up. He refused to turn to you. It hurt you but you brushed it off. Telling yourself it’s only because he didn’t want to face the truth.

“Jeno you can’t keep walking away. Especially not upset. Not when you’re prone to stupidity,” you said causing him to scoff. “What is that supposed to mean?” He asked. You shook your head. Tongue poking the inside of your mouth. “Not important. What’s important is we talk about everything that’s been going on. The way you’ve been acting with me,” you said. Jeno continued to focus his anger on you. You could feel the tension rise the more Jeno tried to pull away.

“Look there you go again,” you waved your hand.

“Shutting me out like you always do. A couple of weeks ago you would have begged me to talk to you. Now I’m standing here telling you I’m ready to talk and you just want to walk away,” you argued.

“Well, I’m prone to stupidity, right? Isn’t that what you think?” He asked still hurt by your comment.

“Well you haven’t done a good job at proving me wrong,” you spat back. There it was again. The back and forth. You two would never get anywhere if you continued to fight like children. Fighting to avoid talking about the issues was better for Jeno. It meant he wouldn’t have to own up to what he did. You weren’t having any of it. You weren’t going to apologize for anything. Not until Jeno straightened himself out and dealt with the issues at hand.

“Oh really? How have I done that?” He asked now turning to argue better with you. It was easier to look at you when he was pissed. He didn’t have to focus on the small details of your face. He couldn’t act like you weren’t even there. Like he was arguing by himself. Until you respond. He wouldn’t admit it but a part of him liked it when you argued back with him. For the same two reasons. One it meant he got under your skin and two it meant he got to hear your voice.

“I don’t know. Maybe when you told Samantha you were in love with her,” you spat like venom. Jeno froze but only for a moment. “I didn’t tell her I was in love with her,” he huffed out. The level of his volume is rising. “So describing to the class what she smells like after smelling a potion that makes you smell the scent of what or who you love isn’t a confession. Jeno do you think that I am stupid?” You questioned now irritated beyond return.

“I mean how could you sit here and lie to my face? Act as if you have done nothing wrong,” you said voice cracking a bit. You could feel the pit in your stomach form an uncomfortable knot. Jeno bit his cheeks. He was just as upset as you. His fist balled together, knuckles a bright shade of white.

“Why does it even matter?” He asked.

“It matters to me,” you spoke back stepping closer. “Why?” He raised his voice a bit. The both of you getting louder. Your coworker even flinched at the sound of Jeno’s voice.

“Why does it matter to you who I love?!” He asked yelling.

“It just matters!” You shouted back feeling the heat in your face rise.

“Well, it shouldn’t!” He shouted back turning away and knocking down a flower pot. You both ignored it. He walked outside in the snow. The snow coming down hard. You followed dressed in jeans and an apron. Jeno took one look at you and ushered you away.

“Y/n get back inside,” he spoke trying to back you to the door. You shook your head crossing your arms over your chest. You could feel the snow on top of your boots. The cold winter wind hitting your cheeks. You shuddered air leaving your lips. You ignored it. Tears from the strong breeze appeared in the corner of your eyes.

“Y/n get back inside!” Jeno shouted over the wind. You two were the only ones on the street. The rising blizzard keeping everyone at home. You shook your head. “No. Not until you tell me why,” you stood there stubbornly. He huffed kicking the snow. The air left his lips.

“Go inside!” He yelled frustratingly. As the temperature dropped he became more and more worried for you. And your stubbornness was pissing him off even more.

“I’ll go in once you answer the question!” You shouted back. The cold air started to hit your cheek. It hurt but you didn’t move. Jeno huffed angrily kicking some more snow. He marched his way over to you grabbing onto your shoulders. He tried to move you but you held your ground.

“All this just to avoid a question!” You yelled at him. He continued but you fought against him. “Y/n just fucking go inside,” he cursed lips a bright red followed by his cheeks. Your lips formed a tight line as you used all your strengths to fight against him. “I won’t,” you responded. He let go of you causing you to move forward a bit. He put his hands up.

“Fine. Stay out. I don’t care,” he said as he started walking away.

“Coward!” You shouted at him. He stopped in his tracks. He turned to you now even more pissed. Coward? A coward for what? Letting you go inside? Leaving you alone. Isn’t that what you have always wanted? He was giving you what you wanted. What he needed if he was ever going to try and live a normal life without you.

“What?” He asked now closer to your face.

“You heard me. You’re a coward,” you said back looking him dead in his eyes. “If I’m a coward so are you,” he said back gritting his teeth. Your arms found their way over your chest. More of an attempt to keep you warm than holding your guard. “How so?” You asked him a bit of sarcasm in your tone.

“First you get close to Renjun avoiding me. Then Jaemin? How many more guys are you going to befriend before they all lead you right back to me?” He asked. Now he was being a dick just to piss you off. You scoffed. He hoped that would make you go inside. But instead, he was met with your hand flying across his cheek before you walked away. Now he had to follow you in.

The bell dinged and then it dinged again when Jeno came in. Your entire body was shuddering. Your teeth with chattering as you walked behind the register. Your whole body felt ice cold when Jeno tried to reach behind you and touch your shoulder. You reached up for your sweater. Slipping it through your arms and wrapping it around your body.

“You can go,” you said to Jeno nasty tone in your voice. Jeno had no time to process the slap. He knew he crossed the line, again. “Y/n I…” he started but you ignored him. You reached for a tea bag placing it in a mug. You held the mug walking to the sink. You filled it with water and headed to the back where your coworker was. You looked over at him.

“Go home for the rest of the day. There’s a blizzard, I’ll close,” you said. He stood up quickly grabbed his belongings and left. You used your wand hidden in your sleeve to close the doors.

“We’re not allowed to use magic,” he began. You walked over to the microwave placing the mug inside. “Yes, we are. You have to be seventeen. You and I are older than that,” you said back placing the microwave to a minute. “I just can’t do magic when John is here,” you said watching the numbers go down. You looked over at Jeno who was still standing there.

“Goodbye,” you said annoyed on your face. He sighed moving closer to you. You back up a bit. He picked up a blanket and lay on the couch nearby. He walked over to you placing it over your shoulders. You shook your head walking over to the couch and sitting down. “This doesn’t change anything,” you said. He nodded sitting beside you.

“I know. But I’m sorry,” he said. You huffed turning away. “I should have gone back inside,” you said after a few moments of silence. He looked over at you. He went to speak but the microwave went off. He got up before you did bringing you the hot tea. He placed it on the table in front of you. You picked it up. The steam lightly hits your face. The warmth felt good.

“I shouldn’t have followed you out,” you said.

“But you did,” he said back. “I would have followed you too” following up. You shook your head. “Would you? I mean this whole time you’ve been acting like I don’t even exist,” you said a hint of sadness in your voice. “Am I that bad?” You asked feeling all the hidden emotions start to come out in and out of you.

He shook his head turning to you. “No no. It’s me,” he said lightly hitting his chest. “I’m the reason you’re freezing right now. I’m the reason why you’re hurting. I’m sorry,” he apologized again. You sipped your tea before you placed it back down.

“Is it easier to apologize for that?” You asked. Jeno raised a brow. He didn’t understand where you were going with this. “I’m not following,” he said.

“It is easier to apologize for being a bad friend when you know deep down there’s something else you want to say?” You asked. You turned more to him. “Because Jeno this goes beyond being a bad friend. You lied to me. Not just by confessing to Samantha but back at the Yule ball when you were with her,” you said all the same feelings you felt that night coming back. Jeno’s eyes widened a bit but he continued to listen.

“You’re right. It doesn’t matter who you date because we’re not together but, you treated me like I meant more to you than your friend. You made me believe that to you I was special,” you said.

“You are special to me,” he tried to say but you didn’t let him. “Not in that way. Not in the way I wanted to be. I liked you Jeno. There were times when you were all I could think about. Will he notice the pin on my cloak today? Will he compliment the new spell I learn? Will he be at the party tonight? How will he look? Will he think I’m beautiful? My heart burned for you Jeno and you put out the flames the minute you kissed Samantha,” you said tears now falling from your eyes.

Jeno felt terrible. It felt at this moment he didn’t describe you, not even to see you cry. Even if you forgave him he didn’t deserve to be your friend. He had disrespected you and it hurt him. His whole life with you was spent protecting you from all the assholes in the world and here was, just like Renjun and just like Jaemin.

“I’m not in love with Samantha,” he said almost whispering it if he spoke any lower. You tilted your head. “I know,” you said. He sent you a half smile. Now his eyes turn a bit red. A pink shade formed on his cheeks. “That’s part of the reason why we’re here,” you said back. His sad eyes looked at you waiting for you to continue.

“Before Samantha, you had an entirely new friend group which was fine. I wanted you to find people who enjoyed the same things as you. I know I’m into Quidditch like you. I wasn’t even into football when we were younger and you played,” you smiled a bit at the memories. The curve of your lips started to fall and quiver.

“But then they replaced me. They replaced us. You stopped caring. You didn’t come to my matches anymore. So I stopped going to your games. You’d ditch me in the garden to go to some party every time. And I never said anything because I wanted you to have fun. But then you stopped coming,” you said the words finally leaving your mouth. You licked your lips a taste of salt on your tongue.

“Then you asked me to the dance,” you smiled a bit feeling yourself get upset again. “I was so excited. I asked Yeri to help me find a dress. She helped with my hair and makeup. I felt so pretty. Then I saw you and my night was ruined. I just didn’t understand why. I think that’s what hurt,” you said a few more tears falling. You felt your heart squeeze in your chest.

“Knowing that it was so easy for you to hurt me. When even now,” your hands fell slapping your thigh. “It hurts me to see you upset,” you confessed. Jeno took a moment to think about everything you said. He couldn’t stop his tears from falling. He felt like such an asshole. He wanted nothing more than to hold you. Tell you he’s sorry as many times as he could until you forgave him. He wanted to go back and time and change what he did. But he couldn’t.

He looked at you again. Seeing the pain all over your frame. The sniffles that left you and your hand squeezed your apron. Your knuckles are a bright white. He chewed on his lips. He couldn’t forgive himself for hurting his best friend.

“I’m sorry Y/n. There is no excuse for what I did. My friends were teasing me about taking you instead of Samantha and like an asshole I listened. I should have taken you. I shouldn’t have listened to them. I will forever be sorry for that. I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it. I’m sorry for being such a terrible friend. I’m sorry I didn’t treat you the way you deserved. I should have been a better friend to you,” he said hand reaching out to touch yours. The warmth of his hand made you flinch a bit before you relaxed into his touch.

“I should have loved you like you loved me,” he said causing you to look up into his eyes. His face is inches away from yours and red. “Y/n,” he spoke looking deeply into your eyes.

“I’m in love with you,” he confessed.

You felt a huge weight rest on your chest. More tears formed in your eyes. Your lip quivered. Your eyebrows furrowed and your eyes fell heavy. Your chest filled with heat. You felt all the pain and heartache resurface.

“Jeno,” you spoke. You could see the hope swimming around in his eyes. His hand let go of yours. He wore a gentle smile on his lips. He looked as if he knew what you were going to say. So he leaned in close closing the gap between the two of you and placing his lips on yours.

The kiss was soft. He gently placed his hand on your cheek pulling you close. Afraid if he'd let go you'd run away. When he pulled away the both of you sat there silently. The only sound is your shared breaths. Both of you looked each other in the eyes.

Jeno instantly pulled you back in a much more passionate kiss. He pulled you close to him. The blanket quickly slipped from your shoulders. His hands gripped the back of your head pulling you closer to him. You kissed back hand cupping his jaw and the other on his chest. Jeno was the one to pull back. Both of you panting. He shook his head sitting back.

It made you worry. He noticed the look on your face. Shaking his head he took your hands on his. He licked his lips. They still tasted like the tea you had drank. “I want too. I really do baby but not like this,” he said motioning to the break room of your parents flower shop. You nodded feeling a bit more relaxed. Jeno chuckled finger lightly grazing your cheek. He leaned back, shutting his eyes and placing a soft peck on your lips. He slowly pulled away eyes still a bit closed.

“What was that for?” You asked small laughter leaving your chest. He shrugged the pad of his thumb still resting on your chin. “Because it felt so good the first time,” he said.

He pulled back standing up. He raised his hand out to you. You looked up at him. You let the blanket fall and you took it. He lifted you off the couch.

“Let me take you home. We have to catch the train tomorrow,” he spoke softly as he walked you out. Hot tear stains on his cheeks. And voice shakey as he walked you out to his car slipping his coat onto you. Then he drove you home.

The car ride was silent. When the car reached your place he waited for a moment. He stopped tapping on the wheel. He looked over at you eyes glowing. “Want to take the train together tomorrow?” He asked. You nodded.

A smile formed on his lips. “Thank you for the ride. Goodnight Jeno,” you said. You turned to exit the car. Just as you were about to exit Jeno’s hand touched yours. You turned to him and he leaned forward placing his lips on yours. You kissed him back. He smiled into the kiss and you did the same. Hand reaching to graze his soft features.

He leaned his forehead against yours. A while ago you would have dreamed of this moment. And it was finally coming true. But when your hand fell from his face and you left the car. Watching as he parked it into his drive way. You could feel your heart swell. The notification that popped on your phone didn’t help either.

You took it out your pocket seeing a message from Jaemin, then Renjun.

Jaemin- Sit with me on the train? Darling.

Renjun- Would you like to sit beside me tomorrow?

Once you stepped inside your house. Closing the door and leaving the rest of the world behind you let out a breath. The rest of the school year was going to get a whole lot more stressful. Especially now when it’s obvious to you none of the guys are going to give up.

You just have to chose which one you want.

To Be Continued….

This felt like a right place to end. I really love this storyline but I can’t give to much before the final part. I’m excited and sad to see it end. I really enjoyed writing this small series and plan to do more Harry Potter stories in the future.

I want to make the next part a bit more interactive so stay tuned!

Until then see you soon;)

Tags: @kodasity @girlwholoveslpreppyattire

[freelancearsonist]

el chico del apartamento 512

➔ Frankie Morales x gn!Reader - 1.6k

➔ There's a rumor going around your building about the resident of apartment 512, and you're eager to investigate.

➔ Rated PG-13 for allusions to sex but otherwise just some plain old fluff and fun. post movie canon wife and kid erasure sorry, takes place in colombia, both reader and frankie speak spanish and everything is translated.

➔ this is my entry for the Selena Drabble Challenge hosted by mi esposa @fhatbhabie <3 sorry i've been sitting on this forever hehe but i hope you enjoy

Frankie barely manages to pull himself out of the slump he’s in for the first year or so after the absolute disaster in the Andes.

He misses his family, misses his friends, misses his crew–his brothers. He tries to convince himself that it’s for the best, that it’s only a matter of time before those assholes who were in cahoots with Lorea come after him–that the people he loves will be safer and happier if he’s not around them when it happens. And most of the time he can block all that sadness and pain out by throwing his whole mind and body into the earnest construction job he picks up in this new town within this new country. But it catches up to him late at night in dreams and quiet whispers of intrusive thoughts; that he’s a coward for abandoning the ones that needed him most, that he could’ve done more to make that damned mission less of a disaster. That he could’ve come out of it rich and happy if he wasn’t such a fuck-up.

He wakes up screaming in the middle of the night, an ache so deep in his chest that it feels like he’s been shot. He clutches at his sternum and tries to catch his breath but he can’t. His body wracks with sobs and he knows he’ll never be okay again.

But somehow, he ends up okay anyway. Somehow, he falls back to sleep just to repeat the cycle the next day.

There’s a rumor going around amongst your neighbors that apartment 512 is haunted.

People hear things–weird things. Screaming, crying, banging–and always at the dead of night. And everyone swears up and down that they’ve never seen the guy who supposedly lives there. The people who say they have seen him get more dramatic with their descriptions every time–toweringly tall, shoulders that could stand up to a wrecking ball, hauntingly sad eyes and gaunt face. It’s like he’s a thing of legend–a story they tell their kids to make sure they behave. “Don’t run in the halls or the guy from apartment 512 will get you.”

You figure he’s probably just some guy who works long hours and likes to watch horror movies to unwind or something–not a monster or a ghost, just misunderstood. You haven’t seen the guy yourself, but you kinda like him anyway. The building’s certainly been a lot quieter since he moved in… well, everywhere except his own apartment, at least. 

You find yourself keeping a more vigilant eye out, alert to any face in the building that doesn’t look familiar. It seems kinda silly to want to see someone you don’t know, but you’re a little nosy and a little more than curious. If there’s some truth to the rumors that have been going around by the people who claim to have seen him, you want to find out for yourself.

It’s a completely ordinary night when you notice an unfamiliar face in the mailroom, and you have to do a double take. This stranger is handsome–tall and dark with shaggy brown hair and an even shaggier patch of stubble across his jaw.

He’s just standing there, staring blankly at a row of mailboxes, looking so… foreboding. You approach slowly, cautiously; part of you thinks you should just walk away and let this man do whatever he’s doing. But there’s a large, louder part of you that approaches with curiosity. There’s just something about him that draws you in, that makes you put on your best smile and ask, “Señor? Necesitas ayuda?” (Do you need help, sir?)

He blinks slowly, heavily, and then dark brown eyes flicker towards you.

“Oh!” He clears his throat and it’s like he’s coming back from an out of body experience–the color returns to his face, his eyes lose that glassy sheen, and his posture loosens a bit. He looks friendly now, sheepish even. He wrings his big hands and shifts on his feet, as if he’s been caught at a vulnerable moment. “Lo siento, estaba en la nube.” (Sorry, I was spacing out.)

“Está bien,” you tell him with your most disarming smile. “Andas buscando algo?” (It’s okay. / Are you looking for something?)

“No, solo estoy recopilando mi correo,” he rumbles before flashing you the most charming smile you’ve ever seen in your life. (No, I’m just getting my mail.)

He fishes through his pockets and finds a small silver key–and then he inserts it into the box labeled “512”.

“Tú vives en el apartamento 512?” There’s a strange air of reverence in your voice despite trying to hide it. This is the guy everyone’s been talking about, and he doesn’t seem nearly as monstrous as everyone tried to make him sound. (You live in apartment 512?)

“Uhhh… sí?” He chuckles and looks over to you, and you can see the way his brow furrows at the look of shocked surprise on your face.

You realize you’re actually gaping open-mouthed at the poor guy, and you snap your mouth closed as soon as you see the little crease between his brows deepen. Not soon enough for it to go unnoticed, though–the corner of his mouth flickers up in a pseudo-smirk, and god he’s handsome.

“No hemos tenido la oportunidad de conocernos aún.” You look up at him and give your best, winning smile as you give him your name. There’s a strange, fluttery feeling in your stomach as his dark eyes meet yours–have you mentioned how handsome he is? (We haven’t had the chance to meet yet.)

“Mucho gusto,” he says with a smile. “Soy Frankie. Supongo que vives en el edificio también?” (Nice to meet you. / I’m Frankie. I’m guessing you live in the building too?)

“Oh, sí,” you say with a slight laugh. “No soy ningún tipo de acosador, vivo en el apartamento 526.” (Oh, yes. / I promise I’m not some kind of creep, I live in apartment 526.)

And then you catch his eyes dragging along your form, not even the least bit subtle, and you try your best to be nonchalant about the way you have to lean against the wall to avoid melting into a puddle on the mailroom floor; especially when you see those full lips of his curve into a smile, and you know he’s liking what he’s seeing.

“Nah, no creo que seas un acosador,” he hums–and there’s that damned smirk again. If you don’t get out of here you’re going to start drooling. (I don’t think you’re a creep.)

He grabs two letters from his mailbox, examines the envelopes, and then unceremoniously dumps them both into the trashcan in the corner with a mumbled, “Malditas estafas por correo.” (Damn junk mail.)

“Eso es lo único que recibo ahora también,” you tell him sympathetically. (That’s all I get anymore too.)

He brushes past you slightly as he moves to the door, and you get a whiff of distinctly woody cologne that makes your heart pick up a beat. You try to act normal and go to open your own mailbox, but he stops in the narrow doorway and leans against the jam to look at you.

“Te volveremos a ver aquí?” (Will I see you around again?)

You think the rumors about him were right, at least a little bit. He’s towering and imposing–he fills the entire doorway with ease. He’s firm and broad and sturdy and big. Maybe he would be intimidating to someone else, but all you can think about is climbing him like a tree.

“Sí. Puedes verme cuando tú quieras.” (You can see me whenever you want to.)

His eyes flicker indecisively for a moment, and then he draws his bottom lip between his teeth. “Qué tal viernes por la noche?” (What about Friday night?)

You try not to focus on how you want him to bite into you like that as you tell him, “Sí, eso sería perfecto.” (Yes, that would be perfect.)

“Perfecto. Te veré luego.” And then he flashes you that damned adorable boyish smile again before he retreats from the mailroom. You think he’s going to be trouble for you. (Perfect. I’ll see you then.)

The monthly building meeting is Saturday morning, and you’re glad to see Frankie’s decided to join in finally. Everyone throws curious looks his way as he walks through the room towards where you’re seated, but no one is curious or brave enough to ask who he is.

“Buenos días, querida,” he murmurs, discreetly ghosting a kiss against your cheek as he drops into the seat beside yours. There’s a hint of amusement in his eyes as they trail over your outfit: the same one you wore to dinner last night, the same one you picked up off his bedroom floor this morning and shoved on hastily to get to this meeting in time. (Good morning, dear.)

Before you get a chance to respond, your neighbor from across the hall plunks down in the seat on your other side.

“Escuchaste ese ruido anoche?” She asks, sounding more amused than annoyed. (Did you hear that noise last night?)

“Qué ruido?” You ask with a raised brow. (What noise?)

She smirks with satisfaction, like she knows something you don’t. And then she looks pointedly between you and Frankie. “Suena como si nuestro fantasma en el apartamento 512 hubiera conseguido un socio para él.” (It sounds like our ghost in apartment 512 got himself a partner.)

You nearly choke on your own tongue, but Frankie just chuckles raspily and wraps an arm around your shoulders. He learned all about the rumors from you last night over dinner, and he thinks they’re hilarious. Besides, they’ll die out soon enough anyway–he’s never slept quite as peacefully as he did last night in your arms–if he doesn’t feed them a little bit. And if feeding the rumors means keeping you moaning and groaning the way he did last night, he can’t say he minds it one bit.

➔ beta: @shakespeareanwannabe; dividers: @saradika-graphics

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