#if nothing else I feel like I have to return at the end of march when succ starts airing again bc succ night on tumblr is the best

[lesbian-helen-gansey]

God I miss tumblr so fucking much

[astralnymphh]

The Sweeter the Wheat

# pair: post-seattle!jackson!ellie x reader

## summary: There is no better birthday gift than loving her.

### reader discretion is advised: romance angst, fluff, bit suggestive towards the end, alcohol consumption, jesse is alive (he thought ahead this time), loser!ellie, sometimes!awkward!ellie, sometimes!cheekyandflirty!ellie, reader is sickenly envious and a bit nosy, but aware, ravenous and tipsy makeouts, sappy shit. #### a/n; listened to "to all of you" by syd matters + "cardigan" by taylor swift while writing parts of it.. got a love/hate relationship with this fic but it slaps i guess

WC: 7.7k+ | DON'T BUY TLOU | PALESTINE MASTERPOST | MASTERLIST | ART BY @trackinglessons | DISCORD SERVER

SPRING SUN

 

 “At least we got back before her birthday. Psh���‘magine that sweet tooth havin’ to commemorate her twentieth with nuts and jerky.”

Jackson tholes the bright spring against countless heavy hearts, numb from the death groans of winter. Under the melted snow, came old meadows, but nobody returned to comb through them. Only to pluck them bare of flora for a sole reason—a sole person—and not in the name of beauty. 

Some meadows were stabbed through. Pierced into, made into a final home for the dearly departed he.

Time slipped slowly.

“Huh?”

Jesse sits at the tail of the bar, mumbling somethings that fly right past your ears. The diner is packed and the jukebox softly plays, but that of joy and conversation rules, so all nearby speech that is spat has become hodgepodge, herding your brain to run where the world is quiet. Given that, and the subtle significance in the day around you, you feel less than yourself. Immaterial.

There's a rightful wager that you didn't hear Jesse at all. Something about birthdays, maybe.

You pull yourself from the stars with a head-shake, having to retire the tiny notepad in your clutch. “Sorry, I completely tripped out just then. Why are we talking about birthdays—whose birthday are we.. talking about?”

Jesse appeared to be in doubt that your star-scaping moments were over; his features contorting more and more into disbelief as you gave him that barely curious squint. Poor him for having to be offended for somebody else.

A special somebody else at that!

His drawl comes in handy, “Come on, man. Four years strong and now you wanna forget that girl's birthday?” a voice so versed in pettiness, you could smack it right from his clever, grinning lips.

At whim, you almost do. But then his words fall into perfect place; that subtle signifigance makes all the more sense.

Spring: dappled in sunlight and vigorous in the trees, seems lovelier than it would in March or May. Seas of crimson and clovers thrive in the middle of April, and so does the red in her hair—soft, auburn tines—and the meadows in her earnest and shiny eyes. Recently dim, bruised and disheartened. But there, and unplucked at least, above the freckles you least regret missing when vengeance and a clue drove her out of this large, timber sanctuary. Home.

Every year on this day, the sun is relentlessly beautiful. No wonder, you think, now that you remember.

It's Ellie's birthday.

“Shit,” you curse, chewing at your guilty lip. “Is Ellie hiding out today as well? Haven't noticed her walking the thoroughfare at all.” Through the idle-talk, your hands find stray porcelain to retrieve and pile in the sink, scoffing at the liters of coffee that inevitably go cold in forgotten mugs.

“Do you notice anything working behind that counter?”

“Duh, dipshit,” you spout, back-talking him shamelessly, “I noticed you ambling towards the window earlier and knew my ears were in for a grating punishment.” Minding your eyes on nothing but the various plates you grab, the clutter clears fast. Like a damn robot.

He raises his hands in defense. “Hey, not my fault patrol’s been on cruise control this week.” With a part of the counter graciously tidied by your speedy work, he reclines in the barstool and claims that space with his lower legs, off to the side. Blissfully permission-less. “Can't say the same for here, though.” 

You draw in a prefacing breath, tilting a cup at him. “You could if you hel—”

“No chance.”

“Fuck you, Jess,” you reply wielding a nickname given for occasions of defeat, little knives glaring from your eyes. “Thought this friendship had a no-questions-asked sort of thing. You've disgraced me.” Cueing that age-old love for drama, you gild the lily; mock a drama-queen. Hand to your heart and a pout to your mouth.

Hating Jesse is out of the picture, and hate is an easy pill to swallow. Sure, you two bark blank insults from time to time, but it's all in good humor. You just get each other too well. A hitch fated to click. A shoulder to violently sob into.

Jesse tuts at you, rolling a smug pair of eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Diners just aren't my thing, as infected aren't yours.” He reaches and grasps his mug of coffee that'd been basking there ever since you whipped up his usual, content in keeping his gob flat for the ‘noon.

And you're content in the casual peace and company. Always are. It coerces you to fulfill orders quicker, you would say. Here you stand, in perfect function, machine of the cogs.

That's how all days streak by here. A warm sun arises, and the hustle and bustle of human nature crowds every faded red booth in here, as your kin would have you sustain, and you sustain it fine enough. Even with the latching, mostly silent presence of your best bud Jesse to keep boredom a stranger and insanity a myth. Peckish lips, thirsty throats; everybody. All famished faces of Jackson, satisfied in the wake of your work. All, save one. 

Ding!

At the entrance, you hear the jingle of the tiny, golden bell topping the door, and it doesn't intrigue you to investigate. Everyone is a frequenter, and you're basically omnipresent; sensing who it is and where they're routed to before they even sit. Call that perfect function.

Abruptly, the vintage magazine Jesse blankly browsed through is smacked back in place, and his throat clears. “First customer to break the hour-long streak. Let's see who—” he trails, and a dramatic pause thickens the air. Surprise loudly ensues. “Oh, ain't that funny. Look what fate dragged in.”

“Is it not a regular?” you ask, and at last perk your chin up. Intrigue clasps you now, as Jesse thought it atypical enough to point out. 

Turns out, it isn't a regular at all.

Fate was a scary portrayal, as fate—and unfinished threads—would have you snuck into a corner and stranded for her to find. Plaid and blue, stood Ellie, lost as a doe in tangled woods, yet tall with purpose in front of that swinging glass door. From here, you notice her right arm supported in a white sling and twisted into her chest, right off the bat, as you did the night of return. Changes were made, obviously, sprigs of marker detailing the canvas-color of it, no doubt produced by those pesky kids in-town. Her tattoo is sorely invisible behind the bandages too; you've always liked that thing. 

She's a bona-fide crush. A red-headed angel.

There and then, you recall why your heart reawoke into a prance that night she returned head to toe in dry, aged blood. You felt the revival of an inner-warmth, tracing fingers over the stitches in her back as she hunched in repressive quietude. Felt the moon evaporate off your skin, felt her wrist tensen in your palm as you dressed the wounds in hers. Felt the elusive moment staying became going, as it wasn't right.

You went straight home and threw right up, that very night. Her cold, marred skin was as deathly-like as the skin of a corpse. And you trailed your fingertips, all over it. 

Strange. In a week, her flesh has been suppled of life. Hale, blushing and glowing as in younger days.

In your heart: a tremor. It reaches up every time you swallow, and blooms its beat, pounding at the pit of your throat. You don't feel real, you feel light, you feel fright. You feel the past, waking from a slumber in you, emerging breathless beyond the surface. So many things.

You feel fourteen again.

“Guess her ears were burning,” mumbled Jesse, polite enough to not transform your shared scrutiny into a scene, only so he could leave it in your hands. His head carefully turns, speaking softly, “You spoke to her at all, recently?” 

“No,” a weighted breath departs you, and your shoulders repose. “Only the night she returned, while I tended to some of her travel wounds. Conversation wasn't easy to digest.” Shunning her very blatant presence, you pick your wash rag and begin again, foraging distraction.

“Bet not. Shit got hectic on the route Tommy picked,” he hums, and his eyes pursue once more to secretly follow her walking the opposite direction. Eyes you expectantly the second she slips into a booth. “Gonna take her order?”

You glower at his smug stare, knowing full well he intends to badger you into jumping the gun. Well, you're employed to do that, but, fuck fate! “Uh, duh? Di—”

“—Ipshit. Stop stalling.” He aims his hand, escorting you. “Birthday girl awaits.” 

“Yeah, hold that smile. See what happens later.”

“Mhm.”

EXTRA SYRUP

 Spectral hands suffocate your heart, and now your chest is tightened. Gut nervously sickened. There, she sits, seemingly absorbed by the air, and the sun that ripens with it. Thumbing at her nails, but not anxiously. Blowing at her lip, but not boredly. Hair dark ochre as the earth, yet fiery as the flaxen ray that pours into it. Tucked into a neat bun, as it was in December, January, and every paving year before. You like her hair that way.

She halved it up when Joel passed, and Seattle howled her name. 

A lot about Ellie changed, really, but that is the perennial nature of water. Ellie is Neptune; a late-teenage girl experiencing a crucial shift into a new, individual season. Ones so seldom—they're cataclysmic, but temporary. 

So much of her is eclipsed to the naked eye. Buried to make burrowing space for others. Just not you, it seems.

Every now and then, she glances as you intricately work your way over, a fist cupped to itself as if it alone safekeeps her deep and untold intentions; the warrant for sitting there. And you too, glance when her eyes smoothly retreat, dedicating pockets of this single, cherished minute to drink in little glimpses of her face. Trying to read her, read the shapes on her face if they indicate trouble, or truce. Last time you talked, you declared your resentment for being left worried and sleepless in Jackson.

Was it out of love?

Through the fair-haired light, that scar-heavy look on her features has noticeably abated, recapturing the tender warmth that gave her face the kind, puppy-browed ambiance you hesitated the world for. Gently laid brows, scarred the same as ever.

Those fucking freckles, too; a constellated map. Hidden miles and miles away for one sun and moon too many. 

Not a mile bridges you both apart now, not anymore.

“Hey, Ellie,” you chime in, frail in respect of the one-mind conversation her idle stare partakes. Just her, and the spring sun. Sweet wheat skin is taken from its aerial shine as her head heeds your voice, a loose twine of auburn falling from place.

Your somber greeting fine-tuned the focus in her eyes, softening into a shape less spacious, more devoted.

And though away from underneath the boughs of sunlight, her eyes found a disembodied source. Dried moss, gleams into a violent sea glass, pupils taking in how you hold that notepad firm in thumbs and pointers.

For the first time in an age, you too, have changed.

The corners of her lips crease into her cheek. “Hey,” her reply mirrors the breathiness of yours, and her left arm low-arcs up to rest on the booth seat, body facing you head-on. Totally relaxed. “How come you didn't mention the job switch? Was lookin’ for you,” she asks curiously, a tinge of that sweet-talk peeking through her wide grin. 

Now that you've stepped closer and garnered her attention, you can see and feel every notched nicety of her face on yours. You can only imagine how a swollen, sliced lip feels, and the continual migraines a fractured nose brings. Weeks of healing have swept by, but her afflictions in particular weren't petty.

“Guess it felt irrelevant to bring up when you got back. But you're here now, and you found me. So?” your tone edges on.

“Well, yeah,” she chuckles. “Did you not miss me?” She feigns offense; brows quirking and her tone pitching slightly.

You did. 

A sigh starts in you, “Hard to not miss and worry for somebody when you picked up their slack in every patrol dating way back.” Barely nipping what you really felt with a snarky tease. “Oh shit, that rhymes,” you glance off and whisper to yourself, still loud enough to inspire mirth.

And it does; her forehead pinches and her voice rises in mirth, laughing casually and shifting in her seat to lean one elbow upon the table. “Ha— yeah,” she admits defeat. Ellie is undeniably cute when she does, always shrinks into herself and sinks into thoughtful conference, thinking of something—anything smart to knock you back into that corner. “Guess you're right. Hm, always were on my ass about that, huh?” 

You tut, “Mhm. Missed my scolding in Seattle?” crossing a leg and bearing weight upon it.

“Nah,” she confesses briefly, and you barely believe it. Wringing in doubt at that sly smile she tries to conceal from you. “I learned my lesson this time.” Ellie glances up, a prayer written on her face asking you to hold your scolds. “Trust me.”

“Hurt enough this time?”

“Fuck you!” She punts you playfully in the ankle and begins a laugh again. “You’re not allowed to point that out!”

That was the way of things; Ellie would charge into a fight wearing her life on her chest, slackening the rules, and you had to reel her in. Tug the leash. It had you suspecting her to have a foolproof reason as her backbone, like she was daring the devil with eyes fearlessly open. Steadfast intent. She would lure runners to her, grapple them from you, or push you away beyond safety. Leave you to watch an animalistic vigor fill every bind in her body until you're convinced she’s either coming out bitten or scathingly torn.

You wish she saw how worrying she truly looked; a sweet face splattered hair to chin in the blood of infected, catching her breath and shaking the arm of the croaking infected she just slaughtered off her ankle. Being way too blithe-hearted for the sacred sake of everyone involved.

“Don't worry about me.”

One day, when she asked you with her solemn eyes to be afraid, you thought she finally trusted you to handle yourself past her overprotective nature. Then, one clicker got too close for comfort, and she retracted the pact of fighting equally. Losing more than what her blade owes the earth would prove her fears to be a product of her unsacrifice.

Ellie figured it was half the reason you quit patrol duty, but not that it was fully the reason you anguished over her leaving for Seattle later on; her appetite for violence.

She accepts it so easily. But even when you had sworn she had place in something as simple as retiring from patrol and nothing else, she smelt the sugary scent of a white lie. Joel did it before. She never accepted it under a gentle radar. Instead, it had her wondering if she had upset you, if you would forgive the crimson melodrama and still take her up on breakfasts at ten when she returned. Regardless if you painted the full picture in the end, apologies spilled alike to winded waters out of this girl; sorry that she still could not stomach you tagging along for vengeance. Never-ending sorries, and you lapped each one up. Brought gaping arms around her and absorbed all the ugly and hopeless sounds. You wanted to prove her fears wrong, but perhaps it was time fear let you be the lamb. Live and let live.

Then, Dina would step in, and Ellie would be wrapped around her finger in sudden laughter. Happy and unhurt. Couldn't even remember what occurred before her sun entered the room, and dried those tears.

Crimson melodrama is all you preserved when abandoned, and is all you could look at her with when in longing.

The winter dance had your guts up to your throat.

Seattle, inexplainable.

You don’t hate Dina; your envy lies with the disconnection of it all.

“What do you recommend?” she questions, and her eyes anticipate you to be the ultimate apocalyptic-dining expert. Locked and attentive. She then begins to shake her head in gesture, planting the menu down. "I don't— I don't usually go to these kinds of places, so.. What do you think?" she awkwardly giggles, tapping the menu's plastic sleeve.

Tension presses a smile onto your lips at her inelegance. "Nobody does, not even people who went to these places before the outbreak," you opine, swapping the notepad to one hand and sliding into the booth. "It's okay. I mean.. hmm, what do you prefer? Sweet or salty?"

Her eyelids flick down, fingers coming to lace together as her eyes traverse the options. "Uh, I guess I— wait, wait," she interrupts herself. A swift finger draws you to look down at the menu, "You guys make pancakes here?" green eyes gaping at you with pupils more voracious than her stomach—or her sweet tooth.

"Yeah."

"I'll have that then."

It was a steadfast verdict. The sweet honey pancakes, she shall have, at the cost of a couple minutes and a couple ingredients. But it isn't traditional for birthdays, so you weigh in. “Just pancakes? I mean.. Faye is back there if you want something a little more celebrator—”

“—I'm not really a blow-the-candles-out and make-a-wish type of person,” she corrects you, brows cinched in as she rambles. Then, her free hand scoots the menu forward. “But you already knew that, you just insist otherwise,” she chuckles, unable to meet eye and eye.

True. Your soft insistence dawns from wanting nothing less than heaven inside everything for her, and maybe a dash of that sweet-sweet crush on her. But, Ellie is so staunch in being the humble girl that doesn't glorify every recorded happening with string lights and a wish hurled into the uncaring universe bent upon nurturing demised, late lights young girls reach for. She kept everything low-key: a small garage get-together on her last birthday, the one before that, and the one predating those two. Alcohol in your palms and movies playing back to back. Budding distorted laughs and tumbles into each other. Birthday things.

The remnants of her fifteen-year-old mind hangs aimlessly inside that museum. Dangled and stretched into archaic bones. On the day of return, she arrived happier than a sunflower drunk on the sun. Broad smiles and whatever else.

Wasn't for long.

“Forget you're so down-to-earth and reserved about all the fun things,” you snarkily deliver, retiring that still empty notepad behind your back. Memory shall serve. “Will that be it then?”

“Are you saying I'm not fun?” 

“I'm saying you need more of it.” You emphasize with a tiny bounce-up on your calves, tilting your head north. Though, nothing she uttered was wrong and so your voice silkily drones on, “And that.” You act the lack of a ruder way to insinuate. “But yeah, okay. One order of pancakes coming up.”

“Cool, I'll uh—have a 'celebratory' drink in the meantime?” She nudges the menu towards you once again, irises pulled thin on themselves. Thoroughly staring; your reflection in a bead of black.

You have to laugh, kindly laugh. “No alcohol here, dumbass.”

“Oh. Right.” Her doe-stare only crescendoed from there, shying away at the result of her asking. Something reluctant is lodged in her pale throat, stumbling out only when it feels imminent as you turn away. “D-Do you wanna chat, afterwards? There's so much bullshit surrounding Seattle I have to catch you up on and I-I didn't before, so.."

Swinging your head back, you gauge that mercurial girl there. Tripping up her request like it couldn't escape hibernation from her head any quicker than insult does.

Faye shouldn't mind. “'Course, I was left to wonder about everything since that night anyway.” Your boss might even encourage it; knowing that your long-standing crush for her—heartbreaking to fathom, beautiful to feel—never swept you from rambling Ellie into some fairytale, so she would use it to psych you into asking her out. Jesse, too. Damn the nosy ones!

But it's the one thing that keeps you worried now.

“Cool, cool. Oh, hey, add extra syrup will you?”

What does Ellie think of you?

“Mhm,” syrup is nowhere as sweet as your hum. “Got it.”

Does she think of you at all?

MOUTHS ALL-CONSUMING AND DEPRIVING

  Minutes in, minutes out, wallowing at that ruby-red booth fed the realization to Ellie that the nerves feeding off her anxious chest could not combat conversation alone. She needed an aid. Liquid courage. Velvety smooth and robust.

Fortunately for betting gods and heaven-watching anyones, leftover whiskey from the last bonfire made stock in her cloistered, chaotic cabinets. So it founded no surprise that it whirled to mind after the celebratory-drink fact; leading you here, in her bedroom, on her bed. She pours whiskey into stubby glasses, One for her, one for you, and a lucky extra two for further along this unexplored line. Nothing overflowing limits.

But, oh boy, did it make you all lovey-dovey.

Her lips move and they dance over words, but all you hear is your own enamoration of how heart-shaped they are. You see, but fail to hear and comprehend. Floating aimlessly into those freckles, again. Something a fourteen-aged, sanguine mind would do.

Ellie was relaying Seattle to you, she prefaced. Prefacing didn’t aid you in paying attention, though. Today is not your sharpest, it dates to be your most absentminded. Not your usual, at all.

Nods are swayed to every shock-value word that you manage to understand, but the star-crossed rest, you miss, and replace with whatever story her pupils trace. They flit to read your face after each end of her sentences, so it has you thinking too much of her time has slipped without the company of a listener, and now that her time slips into you, she can use it to stretch your expression with whatever witty remark she makes. 

She did one day blurt that your laugh compliments your smile—or however that fucking flirt threw it over the crackle of that bonfire.

In fact, when you begin to let parts of her body neck-down from her face distract you, only then do you decipher how much she has grown in a month.

She pitches her drink to sip, and your eyes are hot on that glassy trail, artistically concerned with the way she swills down whiskey: fluently gulped, throat bobbing, the scar on her lip licked clean. Her brows too, have thickened, much so as her leathered skin, her callouses. She traces her thigh in circles repeatedly—a fidgety habit—and her lips purse and tug and wrinkles hug and press said lips when they are prettily wide. 

Every high noon or low point of her body was different, and you have missed a great many things you care too much about to not appreciate every brink and midst. You don't want her to be lost to otherworld winds without studying her presence harshly. She is in your scrutiny, now more than ever.

“So, do I get to see my pancakes yet, or?”

“Oh, oops.” You snap out of your woolgathering, wagging your head left to right. Then briskly as you assented her invitation, you slide your knees under you, reorganizing your seating. “Can't blame me for being so invested in your epic tales. Could totally be a comic narrator for the school in town.”

Ellie had already been sat skyward. Sprawled at one leg and tucked at the other, arm in her lap, where her whiskey is nestled. “Oh, sure,” she says with a sarcastic edge. “Those kids are a bunch of little shits. They would probably interrupt me with fart jokes or make actual fart sounds than sit still and pay attention for thirty minutes.”

“Hmm,” you hum, short and atonal, peeling the corner of the plastic lid back. “And who do you think taught them those terrible jokes, huh?”

Soft lids narrow together to sharpen her gaze; glaring at your clever comment, lips propped slightly open. “Terrible?” An offended, toothy smile pulls on her lips. All sentences she could possibly muster up come crashing into each other; an agglomeration, “I—They aren't bad jokes—and they're puns, really, so they're actually pretty fuckin' smart,” she boasts with brows raised. “And It isn't my fault that every annoying kid picked them up and started repeating them.”

It most certainly is her fault. Hell, even you catch yourself reciting them at the crest of nightfall, giggling into your palm. Although, why she's trying so rigorously to plead her pun-enjoying case to you, might just be funnier. “Are you seriously trying to explain puns to me?”

“God,” she surrenders in a chuckle, and bows her head to introduce another quick sip to her parched lips. Ellie then eyes you for a blank second thereafter, tugging the plump of her lower lip through her teeth. Like contemplation has her hindered.

Around you, the lungs of the garage’s foundation inhale, and exhale; creaking and settling.

She dashes a huff. “You basically asked,” Ellie reminds you, her tone and eye-roll implying obviousness. “Can I eat my pancakes now? M'hungry.” Her face sutures into a pseudo-frown and encloses herself to a crisscross, impatiently behaving.

Now, as for the pancakes. Fluffy, biscuit brown, star-shaped, bountifully rivered in unrestricted syrup, topped off by a definitely-melted, humbled ingot of butter. Needless to say, you're pleased by what boredom and intact cooking-books taught you, and she hasn't even seen them yet.

The ask for a carryout-container was already in order the moment you set pace for her table, because you wound up in a near-catastrophe as she sought you out around the kitchens like a lost pup and maundered right into you. Thank patrol for instincts; it's the one thing you held an undying clutch to. And the sweet pancakes you proudly plated, making refuge on the counters as you cross-examined Ellie in case you injured her arm more.

Lucky girl was all fine and peachy, of course.

She only knocked you two right into that near-injury mess to invite you here. Persuasion sat readily in her throat incase you questioned her motives—most of her ideas turning out to be a little friend-group antic, never anything serious or singular—but you agreed to it in double-time. 

“Think you might just be one of those kids at this point.” You gingerly tweak the rim of the plate you kept the pancakes on and lift it outside the container, planting it between all four knees.

“Eh, you're not so innocent yourself,” Ellie contends before she even casts her first peek at the hillock of starry sweetness, totally taken aback when she does. “Holy shit,” she awes, just as if she were a young teen again, “Are you kidding me?”

Labor-intended nights never slip soft through the gaps of your fastened fingers, not even days where your work period is abridged, but hey, strange, space-brain girls are far beyond ordinary exception. Hell, Ellie is vital! Commemorating the red angel you worship in the patterned and soapy act of cooping up on her bed, toasting to the moonlight and letting her talk your ear off for old times' sake is your approach to telling her you love her.

“Know I'm not a pancake-connoisseur, but I gave it a unique whirl. Just for you.” You held a fork out, gracing her with first honors. “Don't blame me if it gives you a stomachache,” your forewarn is a doubtful one; in your mind, morningtime will arise with an extra punch to her gut.

Ellie, however, stares right into the baying eyes of a challenge, snatching the fork from you. "Hey, if it's good enough for my tongue, then it's good enough for ma' gut!" and promptly after exclaim, gashes and tears her fork into the sweet, airy texture of the pancake, popping it past her sweet, berried lips. “Mhh—and I will blame you. So you end up feeling sorry n'take care of me.”

God, whatever souls you would sell to spend paradisal afterlife with this fool. Talking with a gob flush of the birthday project you're humiliated to be proud of. You scoff, “Asshole,” lightheartedly scornful as can be, and it snaps something to mind. Head tilting eye-to-eye, “Dina wouldn't be the one to?” you ask, right after she swallows.

That particular question seemingly struck a chord as her brows cinched together, eyes dropping with allusion. “No,” she says meekly, soft in the sound, but you can tell it came up heavy. Shadowed by a sigh, and an untimely chuckle. “Do you want to know?” She throws on a shrug that ripples through her head, sending it to hang lopsidedly. As the stout willow grows.

“Guess so,” you agree temperately, not wanting to seem too eager—even though with this topic, you just might be. Camouflage those old, foul feelings of envy. “Did Seattle have you kicking more ass than just Wolves and infected? Couldn't have been a very romantic tr—”

“Dina's pregnant.”

Silence carves it's way after that. Thick, tense and unyielding. You had words lined up but like a shot in stark night they've just—vanished, sunk back into the chamber. Nothing prepared you to hear that, “Pregnant?” lowering a hand to your belly where you swear your heart has pummeled to.

Ellie glances up, once at your widened face and once at your hand. A bite of humor works it's way above her chin; smugly smirking. “God, don't tell me you're pregnant now too.”

“What? No!”

Damn idiot. Should punch her right in the—nevermind.

Ellie is way too quick to make serious things unserious. “You're a damn menace,” you unapprovingly giggle.

“Am I?” Amusement raises her brows, tearing into the pancake with her fork for another bite. “Cause you seem to like menace.”

You adjust onto propped elbows, “Do I?” playing all nonchalant. “I mean, what do you mean by that?” your voice dims, expending for the small space that separates you and her.

“Mhh,” she contemplates with a purring sound, and shrugs. “Dunno.” Ellie retreats those eyes downward where you won't compel her to smile. You can tell she battles the letch to look up again, which—as proven in her case—doesn't fucking work. She shoots up carefully, and it's a conflicted gaze this time. “Not with Dina anymore, though. That’s the other thing.”

And we're back.

Having reconciled the chance, you retrace. Look at her with somber concern. “Did something between the two of you happen?” It's a gentle question, reinforced by the bulletproof stare you offer her to unwind in.

The air in her voice softens, “Sort of,” and the meridians of your body then become easier to look at as she continues, wrinkles in her brows. “Said some things I shouldn't have, and we.. figured it best to leave it at that. For now.” her explanation sounds desolate and attemptless, like she has sat in shadow and vigil accepting this fact and has given up on hope. Crestfallen and quieter; this isn't like her. Bent at her wrist, dangling that glass above her crisscrossed lap like a sad child pokes at the food on their plate.

“For now?” You hate that you pry, but that sick greed in your gut from times before haunts with a hunger for knowledge. Your envy that is enlightenment. Still, you hesitate to seem nosy, wanting nothing than to possibly just console your friend in need. “What's holding you back from.. calling it quits? The pregnancy?” You crane your body upright slowly.

“Just still feelin' bad.” Her fingers begin a tap-dance at the glass' rim. “I'm an asshole.”

You duck at the neck, searching for her downcast eyes. “Come on, El. I've only ever seen you rant and rave at middle-aged grumpy men and infected, no way it was that bad.”

“You weren’t there,” she insists otherwise with an earnest voice, inciting a refreshed sigh as she swigs her whiskey.

“Well, what did you say?” You are relentless. No, normally you would not condone it, but tonight, tongues are loose and boundaries are blurry. You miss your happy girl. “I could talk to Dina, if it helps.”

“Wouldn’t change shit.”

“If you love her, you would try.” Even if it sickens you.

Ellie slots her drink in her lap, and grouches. “Dude.” She pinches the bridge of her nose and stifles a groan, frustrated. It draws out in words without proper footing, “It's weird. We just don't know what to say to each other—I don't know what to say to her, it.. it's just how it is—it was a mutual agreement. None of your business, really.” 

Her own tongue is a very obvious byproduct of nerves, whiskey, stress, by and large a lot of things. Being goaded, definitely.

How it is, is how it will be.

“She broke up with me.”

You didn't mean to goad her, but curiosity—and a kiss of alcohol and envy—ate your refrain. The lack of any eye contact or movements to stray from you thereafter her word is telling enough. That it aches her head, and a cold, guilty sweat crosses over your skin. It was a stupid thing to blurt. You feel fucking stupid for even saying that.

Fuck. 

Her dry sniffle is noisy on your shortcoming, and has you scrambling to think. “Sorry, just been worried for weeks.” But you shrink into a ball of abraded arms and legs, conserving yourself into a shy, spotted egg of curiosity that clads no hatching cracks to be convicted of. “Thought you two finally getting together would be the dream to end all dreams.” What the fuck do you know anyway?

Her eyes watch through you, into you like water; she notices, and the pancakes are slid to the side. Shuffles of fabric clamber closer as she eats the inches between you two, her breath brushing your forehead. “Hey, hey. I didn't mean anything by it. It's fuckin' great that I got somebody I can drink with and mope to. Really. Just been shitty all around—Tommy? Fuck, he's been the worst lately.” 

Everything ascends in temperature once her hand plants on the side of your neck, every nerve petrifies; unheard-of touch. She can feel the gasped tension in your throat, thumbing the muscles down. 

“Don't worry about it,” she says, and her saying that amuses you.

A moth-eaten phrase in particular is what was said. You scoff at it, plopping your legs back out. “Dude.” You bite a smile into your lips. Sucks that such a hackneyed thread of words does so; you're really chewing back the urge to call her any byname of dumbass, per usual. But damn that sincere face on her face that sweetens the teasing deal for you. You settle for low-hanging fruit. “You always say that, Ellie.”

“Ugh,” she seconded a scoff back at you, grimacing coyly. “Don't you start.” Ellie drags her hand off, not intending for it to land smack-dab on your thigh. It takes her a second to register the sound, the texture, slinking her hand behind her when you say nothing.

“Start what?” you stutter a laugh, bringing your thighs together.

“Nothin,”

“Don’t bullshit me, WIlliams.” To educe her, you dig your foot into her side, poking her. “Does it have anything to do with only me being here and not anybody else?” You lean into her.

Ellie does too, an exact mirror of you. “No..” The only thing that contrasted you, was her hand again, seeking what was left behind on your thigh. “Just wanted to see you first,” her lips barely move besides a slick smirk. Voice tiptoeing through the air, the noise-level two clandestine lovers live at, in secret song.

“You fuckin liar. No hang-outs for weeks before you left and suddenly you want to see me?” You call bull when she relucts to raise her hung head, witnessing the corners of her lip curl. Her head twists away more, and you spearhead the first, little move: tuck that irkful strand of auburn with a single finger. “C'mon.. what is it?”

“Stupid,” she blatantly spits, and at last confronts your face with her puckish one—glimpsing down, and up, and down. Watching her grip flex into your leg intermittently, chewing her lip. “Mhh, maybe 'm starting it.”

Ellie is heart-poundingly close; her breath is now yours to breathe. You whisper, “Maybe you are,” perking yourself right up to her cheek, unnoticing of the ardor her eyes spin over your face. Unsure where to stare. You pretend the pressure on your thigh flies under the radar, too, and that your heart isn't in the middle of a love-logged swell, and your cheeks aren't tender from smirking at the feeling of it perched there. Love-struck death befalls, if else confessed, so you tease, tease, and tease to stomach your excitement. “Maybe, you're stalling on those pancakes because they actually gave you a stomachache. You feeling good?”

Her bitten lips part, and the next sensations you feel—are transcendental.

Wisping whispers so hot, and intoxicating on your skin, you fail to catch her hand coming up from your thigh to clasp your face, or that hers has shifted in front of yours. She breathes out, “Won't you shut up already?” through lips pulled into a smirk, and rushes to press it fondly against your mouth.

You wince—somewhere between an electrified gasp and a reaction of delight—into the kiss she stole, and it only beckons her to starve more for you. The heat of her whiskey breath pours into your mouth, and you drape your eyes closed. Scoring these seconds by, she spends them concentratedly rolling the skin together, others pushing and shying from the kiss, until she stills and bleeds out the pressure in a slow, wet smack. Hazily eyeing you for a response.

Once you feel her no more, your eyes blurrily creak open, and the corners of her lips at soft upturn greet you. Single creases at either side, the few freckles above them outspread.

Judgement renounces you, leaving you with pathetic pickings for reply. You aren't sure what she wants—or needs you to say. “Ellie?” daintily, a mumble flows onto her lips, and is far from a frail sound of concern. Intrigue encapsulates you.

What does this mean?

You think you know, but self-reason has always proven itself to be naive and too eager to trust.

By cruel emotion, she misunderstands you. “Sorry,” she pants out breathlessly, blowing the shape of it into your cleft lips and hovering right upon. Her fingers gouge the fabric clothing your chest, mangling it into her fist—an attempting grasp. This proximity is all she could ever dream of. “Is this okay?” Yet, dreams always sever at the apotheosis. So when she comes in for the second kiss, she wants no more for dreaming; the reality she yawns with hunger into, is insurmountable.

A dewdrop of something cold dribbles between you. Tears.

In turn, you misunderstand her. Using your own stubbornness to create an enigma. To think, that out of the blue, all of this would transpire? After endless wishes unanswered? You doubt it.

You love her, but you refuse the reality of it happening upon you.

Separating from the plush, licked skin of her lips fleetingly, you speak. “Is this you being drunk?” Only to be drawn back in without her processing your words right away, and then drawn back out. Intricate intimacy.

“Please,” Ellie begs, “Answer me, before I feel like an asshole again,” and chuckles sobbingly before her teeth feel rapaciously empty, and cannot tolerate it any longer. Instinct, and teeth nip your bottom, vulnerable lip.

Neither of you could be totally drunk, having only drank a modest portion.

So this is raw.

Thinly pulled, she slowly stretches it across the air between, and watches it spring back beneath eyelids sunken low. The action entails nothing else for her to feed satisfaction from, already panting right in your mouth in search of more as soon as your tongue descries the answer. “More than okay,” you heave in a passioned breath along that all-consuming, deprived mouth. Your hand squeezes her fist confirmingly.

It quenches her lust to know, a hot-blooded, moaned and voiceless curse snapping into your mouth. “I fuckin' love you.” Her rage softens in meeker kisses, peppering them up to the corners of your lips until she pauses, and pulls herself away. Her eyes turn troubled and adrenaline-rushed. Stains of tears shimmer beneath, along new ones that begin to plunge, and for the first time ever, you know they're yours. But then the flesh between frowns, the mood shifting, and she croaks, “Am I.. an asshole?”

It breaks you to hear that.

You glare, and stammer, “W-What? You aren't.” Hooking dearly onto her wrist when her hand glides up to rest against your cheek. “Why?”

“Cause I sprung this on you, 'nd I don't wanna force you to..” Ellie cranks to a halt, mouth screwing shut like her thoughts were too much to bear hearing aloud. “Fuck,” she quietly spews, cowering her face near your neck.

“Said it was okay,” you coo, clarifyingly coo, raking your fingertips up and through the tied loops of her hair. “The only asshole thing you'd ever done was not let me come with you.”

“I know.” Her eyes search for uncomplicated plains. The sheets, her lap, your neck. A kiss is planted as she tips her head, the gust thereafter a warm reminder of her sorries.

“Thought you were going to die.” You awoken in violent patterns, cold nights restless in bed, tossing and turning. Waking and falling into daydreams of how Jackson would feel missing a cardinal component. A girl to rave against dying lights. Thorns scale your throat at the thought. “You're reckless, y'know?” you mean it as a gentle insult, chuckling as it leaves your lips, and sealing it into her scarred palm. Kissing reckless consequences.

Her lips loiter on the pulse of your throat. They drag, and they drag.. sloppily limping over your jaw as she makes her way to observe you in her palm, mumbling low, and gravelly, “How many times am I gonna have to say it?” Ellie deems it redundant to tell you that she knows again, resorting to her own little gentle insult, “Such a fuckin' sap.”

“Says you.”

Her hand is comfortingly warm; you aren't fain to break away. But her fingers are curious, thumb nearly making it into your mouth before she second-guesses herself, easing it at the verge of your lips instead.

A longing moment of Ellie staring at the way her thumb looks—a decoration to your mouth—passes, and she responds, “Still alive, aren't I?” to that loose thread of a plea you forgot you even said. It calls you right over, bidding you to look into her eyes again as space finds itself thinning again, her scratchy, band-aided nose caressing yours. “Dumbass.”

She chuckles into your mouth as you chuckle into hers, cutting yourself off with a kiss that ebbs, and flows. Suckles, and smacks, snaking her tongue in for a change. That sweet, sweet wheat. Saccharinity you can't explore anywhere else other than the outline of her mouth. And you—of grunted volitions in her chest—take exploration further, replacing the grasp of her shoulder with the coursing of fabric, sliding under the hem of her shirt and palming the skin there.

You feel her skin breathe, her belly breathe into your hand, and a content wrinkle pinch between her brows. Her skin, is as soft as nothingness.

“You're a dumbass.”

Air clings to your cheek as her hand reaches around you, pressing fingerprints into the base of your head as to prop you for her delightments. Ellie is no amateur, enjoying you as if she knew you were hers without explicit pledge.

“Sure, babe,” she scoffingly counters, and pulls her tongue out of you, lips messiy shining. She scouts you out; lays eyes on your expression with undertones of satisfaction and presses an appetent bite right back into your damp skin, grunting into the filthy kiss.

Your mind is one-pathed right now; in the most maddened form, you crave the story further down her throat. In that warm space, is air thinned and balmy with the scent of alcohol and syrup. In those whimpers, is the sincere confession she held tight in throatly gloaming, all those intimate times before. In all of your yearnings, your lips never parted for more.  

Two holes that want to consume each other.

Weeping, wailing, tormenting in an empty forever.

“Fuck you, Ellie,” you cathartically sob into the humid cavern of her, a hint of wanton—and other repressed things, taking form. That hand under her shirt wanders from her navel and tweaks the button of her jeans, pressing your body against all of her like it hurt to be inside your own, singular body. Overcame by a need you could not chew out.

Ellie cuts the kiss, quick to soothe the movement with her hand pressing down and collecting yours. “Hey, hey, too fast,” she laughs, distancing herself and giving you those eyes that could see you were overstrung, hectic to go somewhere you aren't prepared for.

She loves you, but that means appreciating you enough to wait until time is perfect.

Her head cocks, “Let's take shit slow, huh?” fingers weaving into the pliant gaps of yours and pulling your fist dear to her chin, kissing it.

You speak over the repeated sounds of her smooches, “Yeah, sorry,” cringing slightly at how fucking cheesy the scene became. But, when is Ellie not? Wonder clasps you now; intent to know what this makes out of the two of you, having held your feelings for forever. “Well, what does all this mean, then?”

“It means..” Ellie slants her body even more, stealing your wrist along with her. Planning something, no doubt. “You and me, breakfast tomorrow at ten, Tipsy Bison?” Her mouth stuck to the side of your hand like syrup, so firm in not letting you go.

It makes your ears simmer hearing her shamelessly set up a date, of all things she could have said. God. You errantly laugh, totally not giddy when her mouth starts sprinkling up your arm at an alarming pace. “Sounds more than good—hey! You slow down!” 

Happy birthday, asshole.

perm taglist; @whore4abby @aouiaa @tlougrl @mina-281 @beabeebrie @fleshunger @elliewilliamsisactuallymygf @nicolicht @cosmikoo @xinyaya @sawaagyapong @reinersbigolboobies @brunettedolls-blog @syrenada @p4ison1vy @nil-eena @hi2647 @rarestdoll @narieater @hrtmal @eudaemoniaaaa @ellie-07063 @luvfaeri @carleenaelaine @kissyslut @beemillss @elsmissingfingers @maleelee @seraphicsentences

[lmk if you'd like to be added to my perm taglist!]

[bridgertonnteas]

So I have some tea about our favorite bridgertons

I was at the afterparty today of the London screening & premiere and some info are confirmed that I happened to know from today and from before through insiders 1) Ben is the s4 lead & everyone already knows it and just like they used Polin season to build Fran story, they will use Ben season to build Eloise story 2) They thought about combining seasons but the idea fell through after fear of the fan's reaction. They thought about combining Ben & Eloise seasons first, but Ben fans have been eagerly wanting his season, so they decided to focus on him in his own season. The idea presented itself again about possibly combining Eloise and Fran seasons together in one season, but that idea feel through as well. So far each season will focus on a specific sibling 3) There is a possible spinoff or two they thinking about one would be between s3 & s4 and one between s4 & s5. the spin-off they think about it to happen between s3 & 4 is a young Violet spin-off. nothing is finalized yet but they have been seriously considering it 4) All the cast of s3 gave their agreement to come back in future seasons and they don't want a repeat of s1 leads not returning and JB did say he wants to be back as long as they need him even if as cameo

gossip side of things 1) Luke T & Harriet Cains did break up then went back together and now it's unclear what the state of their relationship is, but at least they are still friends. Things possibly will be clearer when him as the lead of the new season news will be out. She was seen with another man that she was cozy with at the NYC premiere, but Luke T has also said he video called her during that event according to a fan video

2) Bessie Carter was upset about something she read in her comments bit of it was unreasonable due to jealousy and comments that affected her for a bit and for a brief time it made her unfollow all her female co-stars 3) Claudia Jessie isn't engaged, but she is still in a long time serious relationship 4) Luke Newton's casual gf or what some call situationship he has with certain someone isn't over yet, but it isn't serious nor exclusive either. He hasn't been introducing her as his gf to anyone and calls her just a friend of a friend & came close to ending that relationship once. She didn't show up even at the after party, but there has been a talk that he and his friends possibly met her & her friends at another party later, but that is unclear and unconfirmed. He was seen however with his friends and his assistant leaving the London after party together. some of his team left with him as well 5) Nicola Coughlan Was dating someone but broke up with him by end of March. some speculated that she still might be with that person, but they are just still friends. The guy has common friends with her friends and the relationship ended in a friendly way. He was seen kissing someone else in April

6) Both Luke N and Nicola C were seen together having more than friendly strolls in some of the press tours countries. They also had a private trip together along with their teams and things seemed to be more than friendly with them, but according to close acquaintances they are very still close friends & they so far not taking their relationship further out of worry of complicating their work relationship and unsure if those feelings that developed before during s3 filming but ignored then again during past few months were real or if they were just due to spending much of their time together. The show staff, their respective teams, and others also see their attraction to one another & have been openly hoping for them to get together one day sooner or later

[ilsanslut]

Can i please request some jealousy headcanons for Kaiser and shido with a female s!o? Smutty too if that's alright.Thank you!

꒷♡꒷ GREEN-EYED GAZE!

♰ featuring: michael kaiser + shidou ryusei (separate) [blue lock]

♰ note: VAMPIIE WRITE UNDER 1.5K WORDS CHALLENGE (IMPOSSIBLE). i got carried away making the headcanons and decided to write blurbs to go alongside them but they are both LITERALLY the length of fics.... ANYWAY ryusei’s section may or may not be based off of my interactions with my jealous!ryusei shidou bot teehee. yall know how i already feel about him in ANY type of situation, but adding a jealous michael on top of that??? . . . yall hear something purring or is it just me—

sypnosis: hey siri play jealousy by monsta x! wc: 4.9k content/trigger warning(s): 18+. smut. fem/fem-bodied reader. SHIDOU RYUSEI. jealous!ryusei. jealous!michael. possessive!michael. possessive!ryusei. mean!ryusei. degradation. unprotected sex. rough sex. big dick!michael agenda! tummy bulging. locker room sex (michael). dacryphilia (ryusei). Tit-slapping (ryusei). spanking. choking. creampie/breeding. cursing. dirty talking (ryu likes to call u mean names when he's horny). groping. hair pulling. sweet n vulnerable ryusei at the end :((. ꒷꒦

MICHAEL KAISER

❥ it should be noted that Michael is not prone to becoming envious. i mean, why should he? he’s handsome, wealthy, extraordinarily skilled at football, and he has you as his beloved girlfriend that he loves to show off. what more could he ask for? in fact, one might contend that he was the target of envy more than anyone else. ❥ at least, that’s what he thought until he noticed you talking with his teammate and sworn rival, isagi yoichi at one of their games. ❥ it wasn’t like he was afraid that the inferior little shit was going to take you away from him. on the contrary, michael could not even begin to describe the sensation of emotions he was experiencing within. it was as if a tumultuous storm of emotions raged inside of him, ones he could not quite pin down. ❥ hatred directed at Isagi? betrayal at the fact that you would so openly talk and dare to laugh with his rival when he was right here? angry that if he spoke about it right then, he would come off as a cowardly fool who lacks self-confidence? ❥ he’s deathly silent, menacingly brooding, and unbelievably furious. he couldn’t help but enviously glower at the two of you with so much intensity that it was a miracle that you didn’t have a hole lasered into your back. ❥ but he could not just idly stand by and do nothing, especially after that little shitstain dared to touch your shoulder. that was his last straw.

“K-Kaiser . . .” Ness' voice jolted him out of his reverie, and the innocent brunette unintentionally fell prey to one of Michael's infamous death glares.

Alexis tried his hardest not to flinch in the face of such wrath, but it was nearly impossible. Instead, he quickly averted his gaze, fearful of further infuriating his King, and motioned to the water bottle in Michael's hand, which had been unknowingly clenched so tightly that the cap had long since burst free, drenching his fist and shorts. Michael clicked his tongue, dropping the poor bottle to the grassy field, his deadly gaze returning to you and Isagi, now laughing about something else that he could not hear because he was too far away. Without saying a word, he extended his hand to Alexis, who hastily used his handkerchief to dry the wet skin.

“. . . I noticed them too.” Alexis murmured quietly, glancing briefly in the direction that Michael was glowering, but not for long since he knew not to look at you without his permission. However, it was at that precise second that he saw Isagi brush something off of your shoulder, which caused his breath to hitch and Michael's murderous aura to flare with ferocity.

“—He’s dead.” Your lover snarled, snatching his hand away from Ness and marching right over to where the two of you stood.

You were not aware of Michael's impending form, but Isagi was made very aware when his eyes met the ace’s murderous ones that were fixed solely on his form. When you noticed the striker's sudden silence, you turned to see what he was looking at, but before you could, you felt two strong arms wrap around your shoulders and pull you into an equally strong body. With the scent of expensive cologne and the familiarity of the rose-thorn tattoo wrapping around his forearm, you knew immediately that it was your boyfriend. Oblivious to the silent staredown between your lover and his rival, you continued to babble innocently.

“Oh hi, love! I was wondering where you were.” You commented, craning your neck up so that you could look at him. He would meet your gaze with a tight, unassuming smile on his lips, always a master of emotional disguise. The fire in his eyes, on the other hand, was undeniable. His smile was like a mask, meticulously crafted to conceal his true emotions, but it had begun to crack. You were no idiot. You could tell that he was upset. At what? You didn’t know.

“ . . . Were you now, liebchen?” You could not unhear the underlying malice that tainted his words, no matter how warm he tried to make his tone, nor could you ignore the cat-like narrowing of his eyes.

“Mhm! I was meaning to come back to you when Isagi and I started talking about ‘My Neighbor Toroto’, the Studio Ghibli movie!”

A stupid-looking movie. One that you still had yet to watch with Michael since every time you tried, he dismissed it with the notion of it appearing too childish for his tastes.

“Who knew that we had such similar tastes?!” You giggled as you turned to look back at Isagi, with Michael taking the opportunity to continue his malicious staredown at the striker. This time, he rested his head on top of your chin to prevent you from catching him.

“ . . . It that so?” His tone was grave, and his words were accentuated with a firm squeeze of your shoulders.

An awkward silence would ensue as neither man uttered a word, seemingly attempting to assert dominance over the other through mere looks alone, until it was abruptly broken by Raichi summoning Isagi. Once he was gone, you had little time to react as Michael's grip would release your shoulders, instead seizing your wrist to tug you along until the two of you were off the field and into the rest of the stadium.

“M-Michael?! What are you—”

“—Shut up.”

His tone was curt—rude—something that told you he demanded absolute silence, and you listened. There was hardly anyone on the way to the locker room since everyone had already filed into the arena and into their seats, and both teams had already taken the field. Once there, Michael dragged you inside, locked the door, and shoved your back against a locker’s steely face. In an instant, he was leaning over you, his forearm resting above your head while his other hand cupped your jaw, deft fingertips squeezing your cheeks as he forced his lips onto yours. It was passionate, possessive, and, above all, dominant, as if he refused to be opposed—as if he were trying to completely and irreparably erase Isagi’s name from your tongue. You adored it; his kingly persona was one of your favorite aspects of him. It was more reminiscent of his behavior on the field than anything else.

“Don’t ever look at him again.” He would mutter breathlessly against your lips, pulling away so that he could peer into your eyes—deep oceanics, half-lidded. His fingers squeezed your cheeks, causing your lips to pucker. Using this grip, he shook your head gently back and forth, relishing in the way your pretty eyes blinked up at him through your lashes. “Do you understand me, liebling?”

You nodded, your eyes wide and doe-like, just the way he liked them. A wolfish grin overtook his features, tapping your cheek twice with the hand that previously held you taut, “Good. Girl.” Both words were pronounced with a tap.

His lips were back on you, this time on the cheek he had lightly slapped. Soft brims kissed hot trails down your neck, becoming sloppy and possessive with each passing second. Sharp incisors and pointed canines would attack the sensitive flesh by the time he reached your collarbone, gnawing, lapping, and sucking at your delicate skin until he left deep marks and you mewling in his wake. Your digits went to grab his blonde tresses, threading your fingers through the soft strands, when his hand came to your wrist, snapping on the joint and pinning it beside your head against the locker.

The silent command was straightforward. Don’t touch him. This was a punishment.

Pulling away momentarily, he admired his handiwork. Your previously subtle flesh was now ridden with purplish and red blotches—some lined with teeth marks—all over your exposed neck and collarbones. You could not possibly hide them, especially since the two of you were now in public and all of your makeup had been left at home. Smirking triumphantly, he grabbed both of your shoulders and spun you around, pressing your chest and cheek against the smooth steel. It was at that moment that you caught the nameplate that was etched onto the locker: Isagi Yoichi.

Michael seemed to notice your realization, chuckling to himself as he flipped your skirt up above your ass, bringing his hand down on both of your cheeks once and then twice, making you croon each time. He ripped your panties down your thighs until they pooled around the backs of your knees, all the while reaching beneath his boxers and shorts to pull out his cock, which was already hard and tip drooling with pre. He wasted no time lining his cock up with your soft folds, pushing into you in one single, hard thrust that had your knees going weak and you nearly sobbing from the immense pleasure. He kept you steady by grabbing your bicep from behind, using his weight to press you against the locker.

“You feel it, don’t you, liebchen?” He grunted, thrusting shallowly and languidly against you as though he were trying to fit every inch and then some into you. “Feel how deep I am in this tight cunt? My pretty little pussy? Hm?” His other hand wrapped around your front, pressing right against your womb as his thrusts grew deeper—longer. Each drag of his cock along your walls was tantalizing, leaving you a whimpering, drooling mess. You could feel him in your tummy, your slightly chubby pocket of flesh on your lower abdomen pressing into his palm. His thrusts grew faster and more ravenous as they began to mimic the fire that had previously been ignited in him only moments prior on the field. It was almost as if he were trying to get you to feel how you made him feel—what you did to him to make him just so fucking crazy for you—and you did. Loud and clear.

Your voice echoed off the locker room's concrete walls like a mesmerizing siren's song, only for his ears to hear. Moans of pleasure, pleas for more, his balls slapping your clit, and your ass bouncing off his hips—it was all too much for you.

“M-Micha, I-I can’t! Too much, plea— AHN~! —please slow down!”

Your cries went unheeded; if anything, they seemed to fuel him to pummel your poor little pussy even harder, ramming you against the locker at an unforgiving pace. He used the arm he held in a vice grip as leverage, pounding into you like a battering ram at a pace that made your brain go numb and your body clench around him as you felt your orgasm approaching.

“You can and you will. No one could ever make you feel this good, could they? Hit that sweet—” He paused, hips stuttering, as he delivered a particularly rough and targeted thrust to the squishiest part of your walls, causing knees to buckle beneath you and cunt to gush around him. “—There it fucking is. Hit that sweet, sweet spot inside of you like I can, huh?”

“N-No! No one–mphf! No one but you, Micha!”

“Not even Isagi?”

“G-God, not even him!”

“Goddamn right, meine königin.”

You would finally come apart against the lockers as Michael let go inside of you, both of you breathlessly moaning in unison. One thing about Michael is that when he came, he came a lot. Every time, without fail, thick, hot ropes of steamy, milky cum invade your womb and bloat you full of his seed. It was heavy too. It was a miracle you had not gotten pregnant by now, given how much he would pump into you.

Even now, as he pulled out of you, thick globs of his white release would leak from your sopping cunt. However, before a single drop could spill to the floor, he moved to grab your panties, which were around your ankles, and pull them back into position to stop any more from escaping.

His hold on you would soften as he became aware that you were still frail from your adventures. He would tenderly spin you around so that his lips would again touch yours, this time more tenderly. Unfortunately, Ness's familiar voice calling you both—more specifically, Kaiser—through the door interrupted your enjoyment of the moment. You knew he had heard what had happened between the two of you—possibly even more—due to the stutter in his voice.

“Uh, a-are you two done in there? Kaiser, the game is going to start soon, and Noel is going to put that Hirori kid in your place if you aren’t on the field in the next two minutes.”

“The hell he will.” Michael grumbled against your lips, placing another quick peck on them before he finally pulled away.

“Duty calls, emperor.” You teased him, lightly pushing at his chest.

He caught your wrist and pulled you into him in a way that always made butterflies arise in your tummy. “Are you coming out there with me, dear?” It was clear from your quivering and unsteady legs that you weren’t going to be able to do any type of walking any time soon.

“Ah, such a hassle.” He commented playfully, scooping you up into his chest, bridal style. “The things you do to me~.”

SHIDOU RYUSEI

❥ this is ryusei we’re talking about here. the same man who’s not afraid to set someone on fire if they even so much as look at you. it should come as no surprise to anyone that he gets jealous easily. that being said, he’d never be one to admit it. instead, his jealousy presents itself in the form of possessiveness and protection. after all, you're his, and you know you’re his. ❥ think of him as a protective doberman, a perfect guard dog. if anyone, more specifically, a man gets too close to you, ryu will loom over you and all but glower, snarl, and howl curses his way until the male gets the hint or has his neck stomped on. ❥ you could not count the number of times you had to physically restrain him from knocking someone’s lights out, especially after that one foreigner asked you for directions and ryusei responded by grabbing him by the collar, strangling him, and barking at him to "get lost." ❥ oh and god forbid anyone dares to flirt with you. you’d need the strength of jesus and all of his disciples just to keep your murderous boyfriend at bay—even then, it might not be enough. ❥ it’s never immediate, though; it takes a minute for it to click in his head what’s going on. moreso, a moment of “is bro serious right now?”. when these moments occur, for once in his life, he’s silent. he looks between you and the fucker who has the audacity to approach you, his eyes narrowed in a glare promising lethality. it almost seems as though he is testing the waters to see if you will speak first or if he will have to. in the end, though, it’s always him. ❥ so what could possibly go wrong when he brings you to his u-20 team banquet?

Angry does not even begin to describe Ryusei's current state of mind. He was enraged—furious, even—by the events that had occurred earlier in the night. You see, the two of you have been together for a little over six months now. He enjoyed bragging about you, and you enjoyed being with him. You were his lock screen, the source of his brainrot, the majority of his entire instagram page, and the absolute apple of his eye. So it would only make sense that when he was made aware of his team banquet in celebration of their big game that he would invite you to come along with him, right? God, how he regretted that decision.

All eyes were on you two the moment you walked into the banquet. Because it was a formal occasion, you wore a sexy red gown with an open thigh slit similar to Jessica Rabbit’s and a deep v-cut that exposed your cleavage and ended just at the tip of your sternum. Not to mention that the back of the dress was low cut enough that your lower back dimples were visible to all. Needless to say, it was no surprise that you were the center of everyone's attention—despite the fact that some of the others had brought their girlfriends with them.

However, anyone who dared look at you for too long would be met with Ryusei’s fury—everyone except for Sae Itoshi, who stared shamelessly at you with desire burning in his eyes. Somehow, you hadn’t noticed this. Due to his high regard for him and the fact that he was the one who gave him a second chance at football in the first place, Ryusei felt as though he could not confront his junior about it. Not to mention that you and Sae already had a pre-existing friendship before the events of Blue Lock. The two of you were essentially inseparable throughout the entire evening, conversing, laughing, eating, and even drinking together while Ryusei was left behind to stew in his festering emotions.

You two have just returned to your apartment after what was a riveting night for you and a torturous one for Ryusei. Now that the two of you had returned home, shortly after locking the door, Ryusei would turn to you with his infamous grin on his face, but the predatory glint in his eyes told a completely different story. He was seething, his gaze piercing right through you.

"You and Sae seemed awfully close tonight, huh? Ya' never told me you two were so 'buddy, buddy'.”

You paused, gazing at your boyfriend with an incredulous stare as you picked up on his accusatory tone. He was, in a sense, correct. Even though you two got along really well that evening, all of your interactions were completely innocent. Considering that you two had been friends for as long as you could remember, this was the first time you had seen him since junior high, when he left for Madrid. What were you supposed to do? Ignore him the entire time?

"What do you mean, Ryu~?" You would inquire, calling him by his nickname in a way that came close to disarming him, but he remained steadfast and scowled as he observed you take your heels off of your slender feet and set them on the shoe rack next to the door.

"You know damn well what I mean, sweetness. He'd retort back, his hands becoming stuffed in the pockets of his slacks as he towered above you. "You can put on your whole innocent 'I was just being nice' act all you want, but I’m no idiot, Y/N."

I’d beg to differ. You thought as you sauntered further into your shared apartment, the buzz of the alochol in your system flickering in and out as Ryusei began to sour your mood. You could hear him following you from behind you due to the sound of his socks shuffle across the wooden floors, much to your dismay.

“We’re just friends, Ryu.” Exasperated, you sighed and made your way to the master bedroom with every intention of taking off this dress and your makeup, taking a hot shower, and then going to sleep.

“Oh, just friends~!” He mimicked your tone crudely, his quick palm darting forth to snatch your elbow to prevent you from moving further. He whirled you around with surprising strength, shoving you backwards into the wall beside your shared bedroom non-too-kindly, drawing a gasp from your lips. His hand seized your jaw, slender digits squeezing harshly against your bones, making you whine aloud. He leaned closer to you, the tip of his nose brushing against your own at the scent of faint alcohol and mint wafted onto your face. “Don’t play coy with me, attention whore. I saw how you looked at him all night—practically eye-fucking him."

There was an undeniable fire in his eyes, accentuated by his downturned brows. His fuschia irises burned into yours as your eyelids narrowed into thin slits, boring into the core of your being. Sharp canines and pearly incisors were slightly exposed as his upper lip curled into an angry snarl. Excitement gathered between your legs as your 6'2" lover scowled down at you, forcing you to unavoidably squeeze your thighs together—an action that didn’t go unnoticed by Ryusei.

“Ohoho, what do we have here?” He commented, his knee sliding between your thighs as a ferocious grin spread across his lips. Due to the height difference between you, his knee was perfectly positioned against your panty-clad folds, causing your clit to needily throb against him. “Could it be that you did this on purpose, you little minx? Got me all hot an’ riled up just so that I could fuck ya’ up a little bit, huh?”

The hand on your jaw moved down to your neck, his lithe digits wrapping around it before squeezing. With each passing second, his grip would grow more unforgiving. Your delicate hands encircled his wrist, your back curved into his chest from the wall behind you, and your hips jolted across his knee, eliciting a contented moan from your lips. That was sufficient proof to him that you were, in fact, becoming aroused by this.

“Dirty little bitch.” He growled, a chuckle rising from his lips, before closing the gap between you two and smashing his lips against yours. It was rough, filthy, and full of teeth and tongues smashing against one another in a desire-filled exchange between two people who were both far too ravenous for their own good. Your hands were all over him, and he was all over you until his large palms came to rest on the backs of your thighs and hoisted you into the air, causing you to squeal against his mouth. His brims smirked against yours as he carried you over to your shared bed and placed you atop your silken sheets and plush mattress.

He was on top of you again before you could react, his deft fingers grasping the arms of your dress and pulling it down your body in one smooth stroke, leaving you completely nude before him. He tossed his head back, groaning at the sight of your body and sinful curves, feeling himself practically straining against his boxers. He wasted no time stripping out of his own clothes before diving back onto you, his tongue and pointed canines making quick work of the delicate flesh of your collar bones and neck, leaving visible marks in his wake. While doing so, his hands snatched greedy handfuls of your breasts, squeezing and groping at the engorged sacks as cunning fingers pulled your nipples taut. You keened under his body, fingers grabbing at the roots of his hair and tugging, a silent plea for him to give you more—one he heeded with a few particularly rough slaps to your breasts.

“Greedy slut.” He snarled, rising to tower over you once again, calloused fingers massaging the plump skin of your breasts that he had just brutalized. “Y’want more, huh? I’ll fuckin’ give ya more.”

Sliding off of the bed, he grabbed you by your ankles to take you with him and flipped you around so that you were on your stomach. Assuming he wanted you on your hands and knees, you began to rise to your knees, however, he placed a fiery smack on your rear that had you crying out in both pain and pleasure.

“Nuh uh, keep that pretty ass down here, baby. I’ll fuck ya just like this.” He muttered through gritted teeth, pulling you back down so that your toes bore most of your weight on the floor and you were still pressed flat against the mattress.

Before you could regain your composure, you felt Ryusei pressing a hand firmly against your lower back and his cock sliding into your wet folds in one full push. You gasped, already breathless from the intrusion and the feeling of being so full that you didn’t even know what to do with yourself. You sank against the sheets, your fists balling the material next to your head as you moaned curses into the sheets.

“Nah, baby, that won’t do.” His fingers threaded themselves through the root of your hair, forcing your head up from the bed. “Let me hear how I make this pretty pussy feel, yeah?”

“R-Ryu, y-you’re too big—”

“—The hell I fuckin’ am.” His pace increased, becoming brutal and unrelenting. Every time his hips touched yours, you felt him miraculously strike deeper and deeper areas within you, bullying his fat cock in and out of your helpless cunt as if he were trying to punish you. He was.

“Bet if—ngh! Bet if I was fuckin’ Sae, this pussy would take his cock with no problem, huh? Y’wish it was him fucking you, baby?”

He was barbaric and cruel, channeling every ounce of rage and jealousy into his furious thrusts that pistoned into you within an inch of your life. You enjoyed every second of it. Your mouth remained agape, drool threatening to pool over your soft brims as a chorus of unapologetically pleasured cries and moans escaped your open maw. Without even trying, he hit every spot inside of you as though he knew you in and out—no one would ever be able to replicate how his cock made you feel, not in a million years. That’s one of things you loved most about you.

A sharp smack to your rear snapped you from your fucked-out haze, a cry escaping your lips as Ryusei used the grip on your hair to yank your body flesh against his chest, his lips snarling into your ear, “Answer me, bitch.” He snarled through clenched teeth as his thrusts grew erratic, sloppy even. The distinct pleasure moans he used to emit between his words had evolved into almost feral snarls and grunts, as if you were being ravaged by a beast rather than your lover.

“Tell me the truth, you wish you had another cock fucking you this good, huh? Making you— fuuuck! Making you gush around this big dick, huh, princess?”

“N-Noo, ah~! O-Only want you, Ryu! I only want you!” You babbled through tears of overstimulation as the hand that was previously grabbing your hair was now holding your neck, pressing you taut against him.

“Yeah? Y’love me and my cock that much, sweets?”

“Oh God, yes! I-I only love you, Ryusei! O-Only you, baby!”

“Thaat’s my fuckin’ girl. G’on. Make a mess on me, pretty.”

By the time you gushed around his cock, you were hardly able to stand. Ryusei's powerful arms helped you maintain your balance so he could finish the last few thrusts inside of you before coming undone, spilling ropes of hot milky cum inside of your dripping cunt. The sheer volume of it was too much for you to hold, squelching around his cock as he now languidly thrust inside of you, fucking you both through your highs.

When he was completely spent, he let go of you and pulled away, letting you fall gently to the mattress beneath you. He collapsed beside you onto his back with one arm covering your back and the other resting on his forehead as you writhed around lazily in the moment. Even though he usually could not think of anything other than falling asleep and how great his orgasm felt after having sex with you, you could tell by the unmistakable pinch of his brows and his intent gaze on the ceiling that he was still thinking about something.

“Somethin’ the matter?” You inquired softly, concerned by his sudden silence. You fashioned an arm pillow to rest your head on while looking at him. He didn’t look at you, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly in his throat. “. . . Did you mean it?”

Now it was your turn for your brows to furrow as confusion etched itself onto your features. You pushed yourself up onto your elbows so that you could at least meet his gaze, to which his fuschia hues would give in and finally meet your own. He looked bashful, unsure—it was unlike him. If you squinted, you were certain that you could make out the faint tint of pink tinging his cheeks. His gaze darted away from your own and off to some random corner of the room.

“Yanno . . . about lovin’ me.”

A wave of emotions came over you when you realized that, as you were at your highest, you had unintentionally confessed to him. A sudden warmth filled your heart and permeated every fiber of your being, spreading like a delicate dance of butterflies in your stomach. You said you loved him. Every word you said was genuine.

You shuffled over on the bed so that you could climb partially on top of him, resting your head on his shoulder as you guided his head to meet your gaze again, your thumb gently stroking his cheek. “Of course, I meant it, Ryusei. I love you now, and I always will.”

His eyes held a tenderness that you did not even know he was capable of, his gaze softened, and his brows rose as if he had been suddenly struck with love. He loved you just as much as you loved him.

“What was that, babe?”

“I said I love you, Ryusei—”

“—I know.” He grinned suddenly and cheekily as he encircled you in a bear hug, squeezing you into his arms and pulling you up onto his naked form. “I just wanted ta’ hear ya say it again.”

“. . . I love you too, Y/N.”

ⓒ vampiie 2023 — all rights reserved. please do not repost my work outside of tumblr, modify, or translate my work in any form/means. please do not share my work with tiktok or any other site.

[hauntedhokage]

𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

Satoru Gojo/F!Reader

you should know better than to make a deal with Mei Mei, because everything comes at a price.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: drugging (aphrodisiac use), manipulation, non-consensual photos and recording, non-sexual slapping, uneven power dynamics, canon typical Mei Mei behavior, unprotected sex, breeding, yan!gojo

notes: some parts of this are intentionally a bit exaggerated because Gojo is a showman, if nothing else. This was also requested in uh....march so dear anon if you're still here I love you and I'm sorry.

There is always a price. Even in the jujutsu world, nothing just happened because of merit. It was all about who you knew and what you could give them in return for helping you out. Never simply receiving because you worked hard and earned it. 

Which is why you knew paying off Mei Mei to support your promotion to grade one was going to end badly. But she was your only in to get the promotion you knew you deserved quickly. Gojo had been an option, but his price was “be a good girl for twenty-four hours” and that would cost you way more than Mei Mei’s negotiated price of five hundred thousand yen just to consider putting you up for promotion. The higher ups hated Gojo anyway, your paperwork would just get “lost” and then you’d have to resubmit multiple times, and Gojo resubmitting paperwork would come at a cost that grew steeper with every re-submission. The cost of doing business with him.

But that came at the price of Mei Mei not being able to supervise your missions that would fall under consideration, the ultimate price being that your final mission for consideration would be performed with Satoru Gojo at your side - and he looked way too happy to be sitting next to you in the car. 

“Ijichi, there was nobody else?” 

“You ask that as if I make the assignments,” the supervisor retorts, and you sit back in your seat as he sighs. “You’ll live. We always persevere.”

“I am right here, y’know,” Gojo interjects, and you sigh as you lean into the door when he scoots closer. “It’ll be like I’m not even there.”

“Impossible,” you mumble, grateful that the car has slowed to a stop meaning you can get out before Gojo is pressed into your side. Personal space didn’t exist for you when he was around, that’s why you did your best to avoid him. 

Like he’s not even there, he says. 

But he certainly enjoyed standing right next to you as you walked through the closed down hotel in search of the curse. His presence was unsettling for a multitude of reasons, the biggest one being that you didn’t like how he looked at you. Always with a stupid little smirk on his face, like he knew something you didn’t, and then there was the fact that he always had something to say about your appearance. New haircut, wearing your jacket a certain way, he even clocked the one time you smelled like someone else’s cologne. You weren’t bold enough to assume that he wanted anything more than to say he’d fucked you, but the way he just kept trying after the first rejection was creepy. But he was Satoru Gojo - the strongest sorcerer - despite any complaints about his conduct, the higher ups wouldn’t be able to actually do anything. The perk of being Satoru Gojo, and the true downside to hating him. 

“Maybe the windows were mistaken?” you consider, poking your head into another open door and seeing nothing of interest. “I can’t sense any cursed energy besides ours. If this truly was a grade one or higher, we’d have felt it by now.”

“I’m not here, so you should feel it.”

“Are you telling me that you sense something I don’t?” His six eyes technique was annoying, he was annoying, so you keep walking even when he stops to go into a different open room. Maybe without him hovering your senses would be cleared enough to tell what he wasn’t telling you about. You just hoped you found it soon, because searching a hotel top to bottom with Gojo over your shoulder was not how you wanted to spend a Friday night. Maybe you’d call Nanami, see if he was going to leave that office building and at least get a drink? Or go to Yaga and see if there was any way you could get sent overseas to keep an ocean between you and Gojo at all times?

You hear movement behind you but pay it no mind, knowing that it was just Gojo pretending to not be near you. The cursed energy was the same, no residuals to be found, so you were going to let your guard stay dropped until you had a true reason to be on guard. Creaks in the floorboards of an old hotel wasn’t reason enough to stress yourself out. 

A rag covering your mouth while an arm snakes around your torso to pull you against a chest and back through a doorway was, however, cause for great distress. This wasn’t a curse attacking you, even high grade curses weren’t smart enough to stage an attack like this - this was Gojo. And he’s too strong for you to truly be able to fight back, the best you can do is kick and flail and hope that his infinity wouldn’t block it given your close proximity to him. Screaming was pointless, since sound wouldn’t escape the veil, but you do manage to wiggle free just as he kicks the door shut. 

The room is a bit blurry, your body feels warm and fuzzy when it certainly should not be, and every time you inhale you’re getting hints of pomegranate - not normal considering everywhere else in the hotel smelled like dust covered up with lemon cleaning solution. You have to get away from him, but there’s only one exit and he’s blocking it. 

“Well damn. It’s supposed to make you more receptive, guess I didn’t use enough,” he mumbles, tossing the rag to the side as you back away from him. “Or maybe there’s a delay? I really should have read the instructions closer.”

“W-what the fuck is wrong with you!?”

“To start, this hard on. I get like this whenever you’re around, y'know.” And he’s dropping his pants easily, exposing his lower half while he steps closer to you. “You’re just so cute. Even cuter when you make those angry faces at me, like I don’t know how badly you want me, too.” “You’re delusional.”

“And you’re dripping wet, aren’t you? Maybe it is working? Or do you just want me that badly?”

He’s wrong. You know he’s wrong because you did not have any desire for him in the slightest. Satoru Gojo was an annoyance who gave you the creeps, not someone you were attracted to at all. The bastard drugged you, after all, that’s why you had this reaction. 

“Why are you doing this?”

“You want that promotion, right?” His hand is stroking the bulge in his briefs, and your eyes struggle to stay focused on his as he smirks at you. “This is how you’ll get it. I was a little hurt that you didn’t ask me to put your name forward, though, I had our day all planned out.”

“That’s why I didn't ask you. Mei only wanted money, the lesser evil.”

“And isn’t it funny that paying Mei is how we ended up here?” And he’s got you boxed against the wall, long fingers carefully unbuttoning your jacket as he watches you process the implication of that statement. “Five million is a pretty steep price to take on such a bother that’s supervising an exorcism, but alone time with a sweet little thing like you is pretty priceless.”

And your jacket falls to the floor, your blouse coming undone shortly after while you stand frozen in place. Mei Mei sold you to the highest bidder, knowing damn well you paid her to get out of possibly needing to fuck Gojo to get promoted. Five million. What’s more concerning is that you’re sure Gojo would’ve paid more for this opportunity to get you alone on a mission with a veil separating you from society and Ijichi as the Supervisory Assistant - someone who wouldn’t dare intervene in a mission Gojo was on unless the man himself instructed it. The perfect plan.

“Don’t think you can get all frigid on me, don’t you want to be a grade one sorcerer?”

“You know I do.”

“Then you’d better show me how much.” A firm hand on your shoulder has you sliding down the wall to rest on your knees, nodding at his instruction to be cute about it and pressing your cheek to his covered cock. His phone is pointed down at you, pictures taken before you could even consider slapping it away, but you can only grin and bear it as you nuzzle against his crotch. “You want to suck my cock, don’t you? Wanna show me how badly you want to get promoted?”

“Please,” you whisper, kissing along the bulge until you get to the waistband. Your fingers hook into the elastic, but you wait for Gojo’s nod before starting to pull the fabric down. “But can you not record this?”

“Honey, I need this so we can both remember that even when you’re being mean, you want me. That deep down, for all your posturing, you’re just as eager to take my cock as any random woman off the streets in Tokyo.” 

He’s such a bastard. You’d make this the worst blowjob of his life if he wasn’t your only hope of getting promoted, but you can only sigh in resignation. You weren’t getting what you wanted until he was satisfied, but you didn’t know what would truly satisfy him. He paid five million for this opportunity, what more would he spend to get more from you? Or what “tragic accident” could occur should you choose to be noncompliant? A promotion meant nothing if you weren’t alive to use it. 

“Now be good and look cute while you suck me off, don’t want to have to tell the higher ups you can’t take instruction.

Just don’t bite him, you have to tell yourself as he gently taps your cheek with his cock. He’d probably like it, anyway, which wouldn’t be any kind of fun for you. 

Before he can make any kind of request, you gently take the base of his cock in your hand while sucking the tip into your mouth. The taste of his pre on your tongue makes you want to throw up, but you maintain your composure as you take more of him into your mouth. His hand around your wrist pulls your hand from his length, holding it tightly as his other hand settles atop your head, his phone tossed to the side hopefully for the rest of the Awanight. He says something about testing your endurance just before he pushes his length further into your mouth. A sharp thrust makes you choke, but he gives no reprieve - instead warning you that you’d need to sharpen up that performance if you ever wanted to become a grade one sorcerer and reminding you that this was all so you could get a promotion. 

“Oh, you recovered quickly,” he observes aloud, gently tugging on a couple strands of hair while continuing to keep you still. “Has this pretty mouth been used by someone else? Not like it matters, I’ll ruin you for anyone else.”

Fuck him and his confidence, honestly. He’s just rich and untouchable, nothing special. Fucking guy. 

Breathing is your only priority since he’d taken his pleasure into his own hands - that and not biting him or throwing up. Shit, was it hot in here now? Why was it so warm?

It’s supposed to make you more receptive, he’d said, the words bouncing in your head as you feel yourself clench around nothing. The drugs were truly kicking in; your greatest fear of the night being realized in knowing that he’d get your skirt off and realize that you were, in fact, dripping wet. Technically because of him, the artificial assistance simply a footnote in the grander scheme of his memories of the event. 

The way he fucks into your mouth should not make you as wet as you are. But it does, your thighs rubbing together in search of friction you wouldn’t get until he was satisfied with intruding your throat, and you know he’s going to be thrilled when he gets you on that bed to finally get to the main event. 

“Oh, are you ready for me?” he asks, and you curse his damn six eyes technique because he truly missed nothing, but you know better than to lie to him if he had all the control in this situation. It takes all of your strength to nod against around his cock, pulling back to confirm his statement and ask him to fuck you. Playing into his game would make this go faster, and you could go home and scrub your skin while waiting for the results of your promotion mission. 

He’s lifting you effortlessly, carefully dropping you onto the bed and pouncing almost instantly. His fingers play with your soaked cunt for only a few seconds before he’s lining himself up, stretching you out with his thick cock with little regard for your comfort as the recipient. 

“Oh, you feel like heaven, just like I thought you would.” His praise comes out half a whine, and you feel nauseous at just how much pleasure he’s getting from simply pushing into you. Even more nauseous at how eagerly your body allowed the intrusion. “Maybe you’ve got potential to help me breed more little Gojos. Being the only one is a bit lonely, y’know.”

“That’s not part of the deal, Go-fuck!” A slap to your cheek has you stopping, just as he forces the rest of his length in to bottom out, leaving you winded and in different types of pain. 

“You should really use my first name. I think we’re well past formalities and all that cold indifference you tried to maintain.” And he’s setting a brutal pace, leaving you no time to adjust to how he was stretching you out. “C’mon, say it for me. Nice and sweet, now.”

You don’t want to give him the satisfaction, but you also don’t want him to hit you again. This was all about control, a game you had no hope of winning because Gojo was stronger with or without the aphrodisiac, but saying his name was conceding your defeat. 

As if you hadn’t lost the second you’d set foot in this hotel.  

And it slips out when his fingers pinch your clit, a truly pathetic whine of “S-Satrou,” pushing past your lips only to be swallowed by his delighted groan and his mouth covering yours. He would be getting everything he wanted, and your nausea only intensifies before it’s pushed down by the pleasure you begin to feel as he pushes your legs back while praising how good and tight you felt and how he hoped to break your pussy so only he could have it for the rest of your life. This fucking aphrodisiac would make sure of it, and you know he’d keep dosing you to keep you compliant with what he wanted. Satoru Gojo didn’t take no for an answer. 

His pace becomes unbearably slow, you’re not sure if it’s frustrating because of the need bubbling in your core from the aphrodisiac or the fact that you just wanted this to end. Your attempt at meeting his thrusts is met with a shake of his head and a whispered request that you let him take care of you, his words heavy with an intimacy that you didn’t want to have directed at you and hate that you had any reaction to it. To keep you from moving, his large hands grip your thighs to hold them back - also providing him an angle to allow for his thrusts to reach deeper inside your already tormented cunt. The groan that leaves him is almost primal, eyes darkening as he leans in again and forces your legs to your chest. 

“I’m gonna fill you,” he whispers, sending a chill down your spine. “Are you ready?”

You shake your head, knowing you weren’t getting any semblance of a choice but hoping he’d maybe pull out. You also had to hope that Shoko wasn’t in on this, too. Because she would be able to swap anything you might request out for a placebo if Gojo told her to. Bastard had it all mapped out, you were sure. 

“Satoru, please, you can’t-”

You’re cut off by his groan, your cunt being flooded by the sheer amount of his cum that makes your body feel impossibly hotter while he tilts your body back more, tears rolling down your cheeks that have him grinning before resting his head on the pillow against yours. And you lie there with your thighs pushed back and his hands holding you in place, his breathing heavy and hot against your ear. His hips pressed flush against yours, every other moment pulling back a bit only to push himself back in, a pleasured sigh leaving him every so often and fanning your cheek with his hot breath.  

“You did so well. So good for me, darling,” he purrs into your ear, carefully nipping at your lobe before trailing a line of kisses down your neck. “Ijichi is bound to start getting suspicious, so I can’t keep you here all night. But let's get dinner and drinks after we file your report, then you can come to my place and we’ll continue this assessment of your skills so I can comfortably approve your promotion.”

He knows what he’s doing. With your limbs easily pinned down, his cock still snugly plugged in your cunt, you couldn’t go anywhere unless he allowed it - and he wouldn’t allow it until he got the answer he wanted. The answer you desperately didn’t want to give because you wanted to be anywhere but by his side. But you nod anyway, teary eyes meeting his hopeful gaze as you whisper, “I’d really like that, Satoru.”

“I knew you would. Gotta thank Mei for giving me a pretty little girlfriend.”

[bethanydelleman]

I saw a post you reblogged at some point about Fanny being stuck in a time loop and it got me thinking: if the main men (both protagonists and antagonists) of the different Austen novels time travelled back to the day they first met their love interest/the start of the novel - whichever is latest so wentworth, knightley, and Edmund Bertram would travel to the day the main events of their novels start - who do you think would end up changing the least of the events and the most (intentionally or not)?

Because I feel like Knightley would change the least and Henry Tilney and the three S&S gents would come next. But like Wentworth would immediately throw the entire novel off track and like Darcy and Henry Crawford would come in close second trying to change their truly awful first impressions

(Also I just want to add that I really love your Austen takes and discussions 😊)

Thank you!

This is a fascinating idea. Here are my thoughts:

Wentworth just marches into Uppercross Cottage and proposes again. Doesn't even wait to be properly introduced to the family. He's getting Anne back NOW. (She says yes, of course)

I can imagine Darcy having a tiny little crisis as he decides if he really wants to be married to Elizabeth, maybe he could just not accompany Bingley to Netherfield and his life could go the way he planned... nah, he can't resist. Off to Netherfield he goes and he lets Bingley introduce him to Elizabeth at the assembly ball. Things progress unimpeded and by Christmas there is a double wedding and Wickham's character is known throughout Hertfordshire. He skips town and Lydia is packed off to Pemberley to benefit from some better society. (Side note: Mrs. Bennet would push Mr. Collins on Mary if she had any inclination that Darcy liked Elizabeth).

If Bingley knew everything, he'd never leave Jane. He'd return from London and marry her, no matter what Darcy or his sisters said. (I wrote that once actually)

Does Wickham count as a main? Because I don't want him having the ability to predict the future. Yikes on bikes!

Henry Crawford is very interesting, because does he actually understand where he went wrong? I'm not sure he does. Can he resist a flirtation with two very pretty sisters? That would be a fun fan fiction to write. Because if he went for Fanny right off the bat and she knew nothing else about him... he'd probably succeed with her, secret Edmund love or not. And she certainly wouldn't have a leg to stand on in refusing his proposal.

Does Edmund come back in the same timeline as Henry? That would be so agnsty! If not, he'd probably be doing whatever he could to keep Maria and Henry apart, but he's shockingly ineffective in canon, so would he even be able to change anything?

Henry Tilney would probably just try to prevent Catherine being sent home alone. He could easily come back early.

Mr. Knightley's best move would be to tell Robert Martin to propose in person. I doubt Harriet could have resisted. Then he could just sit back and watch everything else play out.

Honestly, I don't know if Frank Churchill would change a thing, other than making sure his final letter was posted to Jane. He enjoyed the subterfuge.

Poor Edward Ferrars has to travel back while engaged to Lucy? I feel like he wouldn't even want to relive the novel, there is nothing he can do anyway.

Colonel Brandon would probably change a lot. He could immediately save Eliza and challenge Willoughby. He might even spare Marianne from a lot of pain.

Reginald de Courcy (Lady Susan) would likely act as well and save Frederica earlier than in the novel.

[cloudcountry]

SUMMARY: Azul inks on a date with you and you share a moment in the lounge's bathroom.

WARNINGS: None!!

COMMENTS: i wanted to write a little drabble of azul inking (IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE 500 WORDS MAX!!!!!!!!!!) and it ended up being over 1k oops

All Azul wanted was a nice date with you.

After spending no less than an hour in front of his vanity, combing his hair to make sure it was just right, he’d fretted over which shade of purple bow tie to wear. The Leech brothers invaded his room to accost him occasionally, which Azul did not take kindly to. He had looked over every inch of himself in the mirror before actually presenting himself to you, thanking the stars above he was wearing gloves so you couldn't feel how sweaty his palms were.

He also did not take kindly to them barging in on your date as the waiting staff in order to tease the two of you relentlessly.

Perhaps selecting the Mostro Lounge as his venue wasn’t the best decision, in hindsight.

It all comes to a head when the Leech twins “mess up your order,” serving you calamari instead of the dish you’d selected. Azul tries to breathe, but he’s so overwhelmed that his plan to make this a beautiful night is going up in flames and he can’t do anything about it because the Leech brothers march to the beat of their own drums.

“Azul?” he hears you whisper from across the table, eyes wide with gentle concern, “Are you okay?”

“Oooh, would ya look at that, Jade!” Floyd cackles, “Azul inked!”

Jade chuckles politely, eyes closed in a devious smile. “It would seem so, Floyd.”

Azul gasps, grasping at his chin. It’s slick, and when he pulls his hand away his glove is stained black. Azul practically throws himself out of his chair and runs to the bathroom, slamming the door shut.

Great. Just great. Leave it to Jade and Floyd to push him to the point of ruining his date himself. Azul grabs a handful of paper towels and runs them under the cold water, dabbing at his face in the mirror. His eyes are bloodshot and he can feel the ball in his throat that signals tears. He doesn’t let it burst. All he needs is to compose himself, and then he’ll apologize for how gross and unnatural that was.

“Azul? Are you okay?” he hears your voice on the other side of the door.

You sound so worried. It’s a sweet thing, being worried about. But it also makes Azul feel even more pathetic.

“Please, don’t mind me. Return to your dinner. I assure you, I’ll deal with these...ah, unpleasantries, and if you still wish to continue the evening we will do so.” he says all of that in one breath, and tries not to feel too relieved that he managed to get the words out without stuttering.

“Azul, it wasn’t unpleasant. It’s natural for octopi to do that, isn’t it? Besides, I think your ink is pretty,” you say, and you say it so brazenly that Azul almost chokes on his spit.

“It is not pretty, angelfish. Now, please excuse me!” he squawks, furiously wiping away the excess ink still left on his chin.

You say nothing else, but he never hears you walk away. You’re still standing out there, but you’re not coming in either, and Azul doesn’t know which one is worse. Does he have to face you? Can’t he just smooth-talk his way out of this? There’s got to be some way he can get you to leave.

There isn’t. He knows there isn't. If there’s one thing Azul knows about you, it’s that you’re persistent.

And so Azul huddles in the corner and sulks. He sulks just like he did in his childhood, he sulks just like the pathetic little octopus he tried so hard to defeat, he sulks like a man who wishes he wasn’t a slow, clumsy octopus.

“Azul?”

And you’re still out there.

“Azul, you’ve been in there for too long...and you’re not responding.” you murmur, and the doorknob rattles, “I’m coming in.”

He wants to yell, to tell you to go away, but his voice dies in his throat as you open the door. He scrambles to his feet as you walk inside, his knees shaking and palms sweating. Your fancy shoes click across the tiled floor and you reach him in seconds.

“I said not to come inside.” he hisses under his breath.

“No, you told me to go back to the dinner table. You said nothing about not entering the bathroom.” you reply, and Azul gnaws at his lower lip.

You’re right.

“I was worried about you.” you whisper, gaze softening, “I know Jade and Floyd were putting some stress on you—”

Understatement of the year.

“—but I still thought it was fun.”

“You what? How was any of that fun!?” Azul huffs, face blooming red again.

“Because it was with you.” you murmur, staring so deep into his eye he thinks you might just find his soul and pull it out of him, vulnerable and on display for you to do as you please.

You take his hand, you take his ink-stained glove into your hand and squeeze, smiling at him like he’s never made a single mistake in his life.

“Everything is fun when I’m with you.” you whisper to him. It’s a quiet sentence, one said with reverence for the moment you two are sharing in the bathroom, but it rings as loud and clear as a declaration in front of a silent, anticipating crowd.

And Azul thinks you just might have pulled his soul from its place in his body because his heart gives a soft twitch that can only mean he wants to believe you.

There are still bits and pieces of the octomer that was turned hard and cold by the cruel merpeople below the depths. There are still pieces of him that think about how cheerful and happy he used to be before the kids he knew turned on him.

He wants to believe you.

He doesn’t yet. You know he doesn’t.

You cup his cheek where the ink was before and stare at him like he’s the only man in the world, and Azul feels his knees go weak. He needs more of this. He needs you.

Azul is a notoriously greedy man, after all.

[hahaifolded]

Can We Make This Work? (5)

Nanami Kento x POC!Fem Reader x Gojo Satoru (Masterlist) Chapter 5: The Arrangement (Previous) (Next) Summary: Nanami processes his thoughts with some help. You offer him a deal. Warnings: Angst

Nanami sat in his office, putting the finishing touches in his mission report. He felt a headache coming on as the weight of today was slowly getting to him. Today's mission with Ino was troublesome, as instead of the 2 second-grade curses that they were informed of, there were 3. Despite the two leaving unscathed, Nanami was irritated by the blatant error in information. That plus the needless meddling in his personal life and his subsequent blow-up, Nanami was just craving for this day to end.

But much to his dismay, a certain blindfold-wearing sorcerer barged into his office. "Nanamin, how's it going buddy?" chirped the older sorcerer as he took a seat.

Nanami took a deep breath to maintain his composure. "Gojo, I am not in the mood, so if you can please lea--"

"Do you want me to get rid of her?" asked Gojo, his happy-go-lucky attitude completely disappearing. Nanami felt the room get cold. He didn't expect the shift Gojo's personality.

"W-what? No... no. Why do you think I would want that?"

"Well, it seems like she's making your life miserable. And seeing that I put her there, well, I can just take her out," admitted Gojo. His serious demeanor didn't waver.

"No.. no. She doesn't need to be --"

Gojo stood up and marched towards Nanami's deck. "But I thought she was an inconvenience, always begging for attention, making you feel suffocated in your own home," reiterated the sorcerer, condescension dripping from his voice. Now towering over the 7:3 sorcerer, Gojo continued, "If you hate her so much, why don't we just get rid of her? You've already condemned her to death when you asked Yaga to give her more missions. So why not make it easier for everyone and just let me-"

"STOP!" cried Nanami as he slammed his desk. "I swear to everything, Satoru, touch her and I promise I'll never forgive you!" His heart was racing. He couldn't believe what the man before him was suggesting. Nanami did not hate you. He hated what you represented.

And much to Nanami's surprise, Gojo returned to his seat with a smirk on his face. "So.. if she's not the problem, what is?"

Nanami sank deeper in his chair. Am I really going to have this conversation with him? With an exasperated breath, he began. "(Y/N) is a good woman. She has been nothing but kind and respectful this whole time. She's made an active effort to get to know me... to try to make this union work."

"But?"

"But, it can't. Or more, I can't." For Nanami Kento, this marriage represented a life-long companionship, a promise to be there for the other till the end. But as a sorcerer who gambles with his life everyday, he couldn't faithfully promise that. "Everyday that I'm with her, she reminds me of the life I can't have. The life I can't give her or anyone else for that matter. She deserves more... she deserves--"

"Better," Gojo finished sorrowfully. Gojo loved and hated this aspect of Nanami's personality, his selflessness. "Kento, you do realize that she's in the same position as you. Worse actually because of you." Nanami flinched at that. "If you can't be there for her, who will?" And with that, the older sorcerer stood up and left the room.

Nanami hated that Gojo had a point.

-- -- --

"Oh, hi (Y/N)," the 7:3 sorcerer announced. He was exiting his office when he caught you in the hallway doing the same. After his conversation with Gojo, he realized he needed to do better. "You're done with today?"

"Umm, yeah. Just finished," you shared. You seemed hesitant to speak to your husband. You stayed by your door, bags in hand, almost waiting for him to leave.

"I just finished too. We can ride home together... if you want?" He knew you missed this as you always seemed down whenever you told him not to wait up for you. Your eyes widened in surprise after he finished his question. Nanami wasn't sure why, but decided to ignore it. Maybe she's tired.

You nodded your head and followed Nanami to his car. Instead of your normal chatty self, you were quiet. The missions are probably catching up to her. Tomorrow, I'll ask Yaga to assign her on less mission. Hopefully that helps.

As he left the school, he noticed the bags on your lap and recognized the logo. Trying to stir conversation, he asked if they're from that bakery he mentioned the other night.

"Huh?" you asked as you turned your attention away from the window and now to your husband. He asked again, feeling slightly bad that he interrupted you from your thoughts.

"Oh yeah. I went after my mission today, but I didn't have a chance to try it," you admitted.

"Great choice. I love that place," he shares. You just hum in agreement, letting the the engine fill the silence once again.

-- -- --

"Nanami, can we talk?" The question caught Nanami off guard.

After arriving home, you headed straight to your room, letting Nanami know to eat without you as you weren't feeling great. You even offered him one of the sandwiches you bought today. Now as he took his last bite, you suddenly popped out with such a weighted question.

Swallowing, Nanami nodded his head. He felt a little shy in your presence as he was still dressed while you had changed into your pajamas, a matching top and shorts set. Despite being tired, you still managed to look put together.

You took the seat to his side. You looked unsure, almost scared to have whatever conversation you both were about to have. You took in a deep breath and looked straight in his eyes.

“I know you’re not happy that you married me,” you began. Nanami choked on his food. He was not expecting that at all. You gently hit his back, helping him to not choke. “Hey don’t worry. I’m not mad. I completely understand why,” you assure him. You throw him a soft smile.

Nanami felt his cheeks warm. Fuck, I didn’t think it was obvious. It didn’t help that you grabbed his hand to ease his embarrassment. He should be soothing you, not the other way around.

You continued, “so I was thinking about it and I think we should open up our marriage, you know, see other people.” You dropped your gaze, shy now to look him in the eye.

“What?”

You let go of his hand and look up again. “I know, crazy but hear me out! You don’t want to be married to me and I just have to be married to a sorcerer here. So what if I somehow convince someone else to marry me instead? It might be a hassle but if I can say it’s love or something like that, maybe I can convince the higher ups to allow it. That way you can go on with your life and I can keep my end of the deal!” By the end of your spiel, you seemed hopeful, almost excited by the idea. Nanami hadn’t seen you this happy in awhile.

“Is this what you want?” At this point, Nanami had already failed you as a companion and husband. If this would make your circumstances slightly better, the least he can do is get out of your way. Even better, he could help you find a suitable partner.

“Yes.”

It seems like Nanami was going to help you find a new husband.

Word Count: 1255

Previous- Masterlist - Next

Author’s Notes: y’all, why did my heart hurt a little when I wrote this? I fucking love Nanami so much. Honestly having so much writing this little series. I hope yall are enjoying it too!

[sandinthemachine]

Mortal Remains

König x f!reader

written for the request: "You know, if you wanted my attention, you didn't have to go to such extremes." With Either ghost or König? There's not enough fluff for my men.

I don't even know where to begin with this one. It's massive, the longest one I've ever written. I love it, and I hate it. It made me cry. I'm excited and terrified to see what everyone else thinks. I hope someone reading this feels at least one of those emotions while doing so (preferably not hate)

before I begin, thank you to @sprout-fics and @zwienzixes for being lovely beta readers, and a MASSIVE thank you to @itsagrimm for beta-reading, helping me work through ideas, giving me proper German translations, and all around being an amazing and supportive person. I would have given up on this without all the help.

Translations for the German will be at the bottom

Words: 12,450 (yeah...it's big just like him)

Warnings/tags: König is soft and pretends not to be, reader is afab but no pronouns used, canon-typical violence, piv sex, oral f!receiving, self-deprecation, lots of raw emotions, mental health is hard, fluffy ending

---

It started easy enough, as so many things do.

A week-long joint training exercise. Mixed teams, both 141 and KorTac. Something something bonding before the real mission. You hadn’t been listening.

You remember being excited to be teamed with Soap. At least you could get along with someone, you mused. You barely noticed the hooded figure, tall and sticking to the corners, merging with the lengthening shadows. What’s another ghost haunting your footsteps? Nothing special, that’s for sure.

The first four days fly by. Early morning patrols, always in pairs, tracking for signs of the other team. Finding nothing, you move to a different shelter, secure the area, sleep. Rinse, repeat.

The fifth day is different. There are ragged clouds cloaking the sun while the rest of the sky is completely clear. You’re not sure why you noticed that, but you did.

It was an early morning patrol, as usual, you and your partner sweeping around a centerpoint like you were analyzing a single massive clock. Northeast quadrant clear. Southeast clear. Southwest…a scuff in the dirt. You lean down, fingers tracing the air just above it, a black fleck catching your eye. You grasp it, finding it much larger than you originally expected and partially buried. You pull at the rubbery texture, curious. Distracted.

The ambush comes quietly. Perfectly so. The weight lands on your back with an abruptness that flattens your lungs, dropping you directly onto your hands. You might have twisted your wrist, but the pain of that is overshadowed by the thought of the immense beratement you’ll get from your NCO for failing so fast.

Yet the weight from your back is lifted as quietly as it arrived. You turn, rolling to your feet to find that it had been Gaz on top of you only a second ago. Now he dangles like a ragdoll in the air. The shadow holding him draws a knife, taps it against his throat. You're out.

Gaz sighs as he’s set on the ground, giving you a nod before marching off. You don’t return it, too busy staring at the man next to him.

You’d never noticed his eyes before. You’re used to Ghost’s eyes, dark and unyielding, cavernous black holes reaching into a skull long dead. Like he was born to wear the mask.

This man’s eyes couldn’t be more different. They’re pale, washed out, windows into a sky perpetually on the verge of snowfall, slumbering clouds cold and waiting.

They curve down at the corners, lending an air of melancholy to the only part of his face you can see. You wonder how he really feels behind that gaze.

You’re staring.

You clear your throat awkwardly, aiming to thank him before pausing. “I…I’m sorry, I never caught your callsign?”

The head dips down, draped fabric falling down his chest slightly. A nod. “We need to keep moving.”

And he’s walking past you.

-

Two days later, the training exercise finally comes to a head in a fierce brawl over the fake weapons cache. Knives and fists only.

The fight takes only a few minutes. Ghost on the opposite team notices your attempted ambush immediately, throwing his men after you. Your team is outnumbered, stuck in a hallway. But it doesn’t matter.

Ghost and the hooded man roll on the ground, tousling like a pair of tomcats, Ghost landing on top for just a second, raising his knife-

You’re there. Arm wrapped around his shoulders. Blade tapping against his throat. You’re out.

With that, the fight is over. Ghost moves with a grumble at the man under him. It might have been a threat. But the man doesn’t hear it. He’s too busy staring at you with grey-sky eyes wide. A child dressed as a dirty sheet-ghost. “I…I don’t know your-”

You thrust your hand out, yanking him to his feet. “We’d better head back.”

-

You feel him at your back throughout the debriefing. Rolling thunder clouds looming over your head, ready to burst at any second. Your tongue is between your teeth, lungs heaving. Soap whispers a joke in your ear, something about Ghost getting chewed out by the NCO. You can barely muster a smile.

You stay still as the meeting finally ends, waiting for everyone to filter out before you finally turn around.

As you turn, your shoulder knocks into hard muscle and you look up, craning your neck to take in the hooded face and the way his pupils are blown wide into dark pits. A gale you should take shelter from lest you be blown away. But for a moment all you do is stand there, watching your own pupils expand in the turbulent reflection.

Your teeth are carving marks into your tongue by now, and it takes you far too long to draw in a shaky breath and push past him. You have more training tomorrow. It’s sleep your body needs. Not…whatever this is.

He doesn’t say a word as you depart, but his eyes track your every move before the door shuts behind you.

-

Of course this is a night where you can’t sleep. Of course. You flip and roll, hearing your bed frame smack against the wall every time you shift until you get so annoyed you shove it further into your room and flop down on it again. It doesn’t do anything, of course. Just makes your insomnia a little quieter.

It’s nearly midnight by the time you throw your legs over the side in frustration, shivering at the frigid air before throwing on enough clothes to look decent and marching down towards the shared kitchen.

He’s there. Your luck is just perfect tonight. You take a step backwards, planning to flee back to the darkness of the hallway, but he’s already turning his head, shoulders jumping just slightly as you enter his view.

You crumple a little as he notices you, but it’s too late to do anything about it now. “Can’t sleep either, huh?” Your voice is rough as you walk over to the counter next to him, yanking an expired box of cereal from the back of it. Your arm brushes his as you pull it out.

You spare him a glance as you pry the old box open, snorting at his narrowed eyelids. You bet he’s scrunching his nose through that silly hood, too. You reach in, hearing a series of crunches as you rifle around. “Ah, there it is.” You pull out the clear bottle, shaking it triumphantly in his face. “This’ll knock you right out. 50/50 chance you get back up tomorrow.” You trail off, eyes traveling up and down him. “Well, maybe a bit better odds for you.” You chuckle half-heartedly, but it dies a second later.

You puff your lips out in a shaky breath, running your tongue along your teeth before giving him an awkward smile and raising the bottle to him. With that you leave.

-

As soon as you take a sip you spit it right back out with a blech. You’d forgotten how nasty the stuff is. You toss it into the trash can and flop back down with an irritated groan. How hard is it to fall asleep? It’s literally laying there doing no-

Your thoughts are interrupted by a knock at the door, and upon swinging it open you find him, his looming shadow nearly blotting out the light from the hallway behind. It’s easy to forget how big he is when he’s not around. How strong he is. How…deadly.

But right now he’s leaning against your doorframe, hands tapping along his legs. “Have enough for two?”

You smirk a little at that, but as you step closer you feel the heat radiating from him, your shoulder blades clenching together as your mind begins to process something.

You’d sleep better for it. Perform better the next day. It would be good for you.

Your smirk deepens. “I have a better idea.”

As your hand tangles in his shirt you feel a tremble along his skin, but he doesn’t respond when you pull on him. “You’ve been drinking.”

“I haven’t had a drop. Shit’s disgusting.”

“Show me the bottle.”

Despite yourself, a smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you fish the full monstrosity out of the bin to show him. He nods but still doesn’t move, and you find yourself rushing to assure him as heat rushes up your neck. “If you actually just want to drink, we can. We don’t have to do anything-”

“No. That’s not it.” Finally he steps fully into the room, letting the door swing shut behind him before he stalks to you. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you hiss, moving to hold onto him again, your mind swirling with exhaustion and old memories that you just need out, right now, and he’s right there and he needs it too, you just know it as he swoops down to grab you and toss you on the bed, both of you a mess to rip your clothes off now that the facade has finally fallen.

-

After the fog clears you find yourself panting on your stomach with him above you, caging you in with his forearms. Each of his stuttering inhales brings his burning chest and stomach against your back. Before the heat can become unbearable he pulls away, breaths still heaving as he tucks himself back into his pants.

Your eyes widen in surprise when he makes his way to your bathroom and comes back, washcloth in hand, to softly clean you up. As he finishes he pauses, thumb brushing the edge of an old knife scar running up your hip. “My callsign,” he murmurs, fingers tracing its length. “It’s König.”

And with that, he leaves.

-

You were content for that to be the end of it. You’d each gotten what you needed, after all. And as you stretch languidly across your mattress the following morning, an unfamiliar relaxation settles along your tense muscles. Yes, you would be more than happy to leave it at this.

But as the next training drill ends you find yourself faced with your cold barrack and the prospect of another sleepless night. Before you even realize what you’re doing your legs are moving, ready to go to the kitchen and-

He’s right there, startling as you nearly open your door into his face. He takes a step back, but you’re already holding your hand out and his eyes are burning into you as he takes it and lets you pull him in, lets you shut the door behind you before he’s lifting you with laughable ease and carrying you to bed.

-

You’re already burrowing your face into your pillow by the time he comes back to clean you up. This time his palm runs over a puckered mass on your thigh, a nasty burn scar from failing to dive for cover fast enough. It still hurts sometimes, but the pain is good. Reminds you not to be so careless again.

As you drift off completely to the feel of his warm hand taking in the old wound, you fail to notice the way his head has turned up, eyes running over your face. He contemplates brushing a finger over your hairline, tucking the wild flyaways behind your ear. But no. That would be too…friendly. That’s not what this is.

So instead he spreads your blankets over your now sleeping form, and with one last lingering gaze, leaves you to sleep peacefully.

-

You’re not surprised when you wake up to the empty room. It was what you wanted, after all. You had gotten another restful night out of it, and he got what he wanted. It was a fair trade. A great trade, even.

And as the training drills continue and you feel how naturally your body flows, how efficiently it executes your will when you’re actually well-rested, you find yourself seeking his company out more and more. Soon the pair of you have built your own kind of routine, him coming to you the evening after each debriefing when the leftover sparks of adrenaline are refusing to die out in you both.

He always lays you down on your stomach, opening you up with his fingers as he patiently works you through your first orgasm before letting himself take you. He’s always slow at first, but he finds you restless and impatient, urging him to go faster and harder, to knock you out for the night, to knock everything out of your mind that you never want to think about again.

You try to look back once only for your face to meet his hand. With gentle but firm fingers, he turns your head away.

Afterwards he’s even more delicate, wordlessly cleaning you up with a touch light enough to leave a butterfly unharmed. Although he rarely meets your eyes, his gaze and fingers take in your body, each time finding a new scar for his fingers to brush over like a chaste kiss.

You’re asleep by the time he leaves, and you like it that way. The two of you can crash against each other like blizzards raging and howling until you finally break into clear skies. And afterwards, you’re soldiers again. Well-rested, sure. But soldiers all the same. No hard feelings, either. You know he understands.

Soon you two find yourselves assigned to the same training team more and more. It’s natural, an unspoken communication flowing between you, and your superiors see it in the skyrocketing success rates. They pointedly ignore the way your stares burn holes into each other, keeping their eyes fixed on powerpoints and mission statistics. Not their business, they tell themselves. What matters is that you two do your jobs.

-

And then finally it’s time for the mission, a deployment in the middle of a remote and mountainous forest with terrible radio signal.

Like your first training, it starts easy enough. You’re divided into two teams on two separate mountains, and it’s just your luck that they put you on the team with no one you’re close to. Not even König. Maybe the higher-ups were finally sick of you two.

But you’re an adult. You handle it. You swallow the unease that comes with the teams not being able to contact each other. It’s simply too risky, and the signals are shoddy at best anyway. Base will come in for extraction if the other team succeeds.

With practiced ease you push yourself through two weeks of empty trails and summer-camp camaraderie as the talkative ones share jokes around the empty fireplace and the quiet ones listen from the shadows and chuckle their approval.

Week 3, everything goes to shit.

You should’ve known. You really should’ve known. The weather out here can change in an instant, clouds materializing from a clear sky’s empty expanse like an angry god throwing his rage down from above. You should’ve known the people here would be the same.

Before any of you knew the safehouse was surrounded, they were already through the doors.

You remember waking up to the creak of the old door with a groan, not ready to start your watch yet. The man on watch had been short and wiry, and you marveled at how shadows warp themselves against the light, twisting and turning to make one man look like another, tall and burly and carrying a-

CRASH!

The windows burst inwards in a crescendo of sparks and you’re scrambling backwards, reaching for your

BANG!

Dust from the roof is falling on your head, in your eyes and you’re blinking at the haze, the sting, your hands feeling the solid weight of your weapon and yanking it against you, and you’re stumbling backwards towards the

BANG!

and you’re stumbling forwards towards the

BANG!

And you’re on your knees crawling crawling

BANG! BANG BANG BANG!

crawling away from everything and your eardrums are hot iron seething in your skull and your eyes are being scratched by cats and there’s something warm on your face now and there’s something heavy thunking to the floor just next to you and everything is all dark, all the shadows are choking you and-

-grey. Not black. Not the black of the inside. Grey. A doorway. A hole in the wall. You’re on your knees, your hands are on the wall, you’re pushing yourself up, you’re running, and there are patters behind you and gurgling sounds and the volleys of automatic weaponry but your vision is finally starting to clear, you can see the treeline and all you need is to get there.

A roar surges behind you, and you spin into the sun. Heat slams into your body and you’re flung, a leaf in the wind, hard onto your back as yellows and reds surge in front of you or maybe it was behind you and now you’re a deer, eyeballs bulging out of your head and rolling in your skull as you run from a forest fire, angry and starving, only this fire has legs and they’re longer than yours and it’s following you, you just know it, you can’t hear it but you know.

You’re not a human anymore, you’re barely even an animal, you’re not thinking, you’re a scramble of limbs and an impulse. Run.

You try. You try so hard but there’s nothing carrying you, your legs don’t feel connected to each other anymore and they’re not even your legs you look down and they’re still there but you can’t…feel them?

Tilting. Tilting. Tilting.

Light. Burning light.

Fade to black.

No, wait. Not you. You’re still here. Your legs are wavy and jelly but still there.

You fling an arm out and feel something solid. Cold. Rough. Bark.

You made it to the trees.

There’s no time to celebrate. Behind you lights are still flaring, and with each passing second more bodies are falling to the ground, leaking out into the snow. You have to move.

-

The second safehouse is to the north. It’s your only way out, you know that. The rest of your team would be there.

Should be there.

Better be there.

Don’t think about it, don’t think. Just move.

-

The battle is fading behind you now and your blood is beginning to cool, settling heavy in your veins like the thick jam your mother used to make on warm summer mornings just as the sun’s rays flowed through your windows.

It would be nice to be there right now. Warm. Content. Full. Your stomach growls in agreement at the thought. You have some ration bars in your pocket, but you know it hasn’t been long enough to have one. You need to spread them out, make sure they can last.

Your stomach groans again, and you shake your head. To divert your attention, you take stock of the rest of your body.

You’re scraped and bruised, your head vibrating like…oh, what is it like? Like…your phone after you get added to a group chat you wanted nothing to do with. Hehe. You can barely remember the days when your problems were as simple as that.

You're letting yourself get too distracted. Anyways, as you were saying. You’re a bit battered and scraped up, alright. But no broken bones. No visible deadly wounds. And you still have your gun clamped to your chest with shaky arms. That’s all you need, really. Making it to the safehouse will be a breeze.

-

You’re halfway down the mountain as twilight begins to lighten to dawn, and there’s still no sign of anyone chasing you. It’s a bit warmer down here, and as you flex your fingers and toes you feel the sharp pins and needles radiate through them and force a smile. It’s good, you tell yourself. Means they’re all still there. You might just be in the clear now.

Then the sky darkens again, and it begins to rain.

Within a few minutes you can’t see your hand in front of your face in the downpour and you're forced to hide out. You find a fallen evergreen and burrow through its thick boughs, needles pricking your face and poking in your mouth with a sharp scent that settles behind your eyeballs as you force your way through, certain it will block out the worst of the rain. It doesn’t.

-

It’s past noon by the time the deluge finally lets up, and as you step out, cursing your shelter for all its faults, the slick earth shifts abruptly under you. With a cry, you are yanked off of your feet into a roll down the slope. You fling out your arms, grasping for anything solid, but the world is a mass of dirt and grey-brown snow-slush and you can’t stop yourself until your hip jams into a tree-stump. Hard.

You hiss, twisting your face upwards off the ground. Bad idea. The mud-slush runs down into your nose and you splutter, spasming and hacking up half the mountain. You move to wipe your eyes on your arm but only rub more dirt in them, gritting your teeth and hissing through them at the sting.

You push yourself onto your hands and knees with a whimper, gingerly feeling around your hip. Not broken. Just another bruise. What’s one more bruise? It’ll be fine.

You’ll be fine.

-

Your ankle is twisted. You’ve wrapped it as best as you can, but every time you put weight on it, you imagine a great big serpent with needles for scales is slithering under your skin, wrapping itself tight around the bones and squeezing.

Even worse, it's getting dark again. Fucking FUCK.

You should get yourself a thesaurus for Christmas. Fuck really doesn’t have much weight to it when you say it every other sentence.

Whatever. You’re fucking screwed.

Your clothes are soaked, you’re painted in dirt and runny snow and as soon as it gets dark temperatures are going to drop fast enough to freeze you right in place like a stupid fucking statue. Fuck this, fuck this so hard what do I do what do I do.

You bury your face into your hands, heels pressing hard into your eyes. It doesn’t matter that your hands have mud mittens anymore because your face is solid mud and you’ve had dark spots in your eyesight for hours and maybe if you rub them really hard this will all be a shitty dream your shitty brain made up and then you can wake up in your shitty cot with your blanket that’s too thin and it will be so fucking lumpy and uncomfortable and perfect. It would be perfect. Maybe König would be there.

What?

You’re breaking down and going to die in a few hours and you’re thinking of him? Some dude you fuck? What the hell is wrong with you?

He was really warm, though. And he was always so gentle afterwards. For hands that kill with such brutal precision, his fingers felt too delicate to be his when they ran along your body, mapping every scar and dimple like he was trying to memorize you. Like he was terrified that tomorrow he might wake up blind and never be able to see you again, so he needed to be able to recognize you by touch alone.

You didn’t even know what his face looked like, but you could get lost in those eyes, you think. You've learned that the skin above them stretches when he’s surprised, and the skin under them scrunches up when he laughs, so you think it must scrunch like that when he smiles, too. You’ve even seen the way his lids drift down to hide the way his eyes roll back when he’s bored.

What do they look like when he’s excited? When he’s angry? Sad?

You wonder what it would be like to look him in the eyes while you both fell apart. Would he look away and screw them shut? Would they water a little, as yours so often did?

Would he stay the night if you asked? Would he hold you? Would he…

No. This isn’t happening. No way in hell. You are not dying thinking of a random man you’ve barely spoken two words to. It’s ridiculous. It’s pathetic. You’re better than this.

You will not go out like this.

You yank yourself to a tree whose limbs burst forth in sprays of dark needles, your shoulders screaming at you as you pull yourself up on the branches, feeling like a toddler learning to walk for the first time. It’s pitiful. You swing your good leg up, grinding your teeth so hard your jaw pops as you pull yourself up to a thick fork and begin pulling down limbs above you, cutting through the ones around you, tying and weaving and undoing and redoing.

It is dark by the time you’ve finished, a thick nest of evergreen boughs settled under you and woven walls crushing you in. You have to curl into a tight ball to fit into it, but you can no longer feel the breezes from outside. You’ve stripped your clothes off and spread them along the walls as best you can, hoping they can dry just a little.

You thank the mud for clogging your nose. You don��t even want to imagine what you and your clothes must smell like by now.

Maybe by the time you meet up with the others you’ll smell so bad you’ll make one of the rookies vomit. Ghost did that last mission, and you and Soap nearly burst a lung as the poor guy emptied his guts over and over again.

You chuckle at that and try your best to fall asleep.

-

By the time you make it down the mountain the next day, your knees are knocking against each other with every step and your weapon is plastered with muddy slush that has frozen and melted and frozen all over again. The valley is even worse than the slope, with runoff from the rain congregating in a swampy mess that has you sinking up to your calves in some places. Lifting a leg in this feels like pulling yourself out of concrete, so you get really good at sliding each foot forward without raising it upwards at all.

You think the pressure from the mud is helping with the pain. You barely feel it when you move now.

Your jaw is clenched so hard you chip one of your molars.

-

You’re halfway through the valley when one of them finds you.

It’s funny how it happens. How you both stand in the mud staring at each other. How you both instinctively know who the other is through the curtain of earth camouflaging you both, yet each stand stock-still as statues anyway.

A second passes.

Two.

Three.

In an instant your guns are to your shoulders, fingers rushing to crush the-

Nothing happens. You squeeze. Squeeze again. The man shakes his gun and yells in frustration, the mud and ice having rendered your weapons unfireable.

But not unusable. The man’s head whips back to you with a growl and he lunges forward, his foot sinking into a deep patch and jerking him down face first. He throws himself up again, splatting forward another pace.

You slide backward, forcing yourself to slow down, to keep your feet under you as you move gut-wrenchingly slowly, searching for solid ground. He’s flailing and flinging himself towards you but the mud is slowing him down, and there’s a rocky patch right behind you. You’re going to make it.

He reaches you before you reach the edge, raising his gun and throwing his body behind a downwards blow. Yours is already coming up to deflect, but the blow sends you backwards, landing on your back with a splash. He’s on top of you, a hand shoving your face down as mud flows around it.

You thrash and wiggle, a scream cut off as your mouth fills with liquid dirt. Your hand is whirling all around and it catches something and you yank.

He howls as you pull his ear, sending him off-balance just enough to raise your head for a choking gasp before your palm is on his face, shoving him sideways. He rolls away from you, struggling to his feet as you’re on your hands and knees and your gun is in the mud but so is his. He tries to reach for it but he’s stuck, and in that precious heartbeat of time your legs are back under you, feet planted deep and wide.

He whirls towards you as you stand, throwing a punch at your torso that you know you can’t dodge, you can’t even move, so you throw your fist sideways, twisting, forcing all your strength into shoving from your rear leg so that when you catch his knuckles on your forearm they are savagely wrenched sideways with your momentum. His pinkie pops outwards with a crunch, and he falls back with a choked sob.

You grab your gun off the ground, throwing your whole body into a swing at his head, shattering through his palm as he tries to block it. You both fall sideways with the momentum but you find your feet faster, gripping the weapon through the slime coating it as you bring the stock straight down into his skull.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

Your grip slides, dirt scraping more of your skin off with each blow, but he’s not moving. You stumble backwards drunkenly, falling onto your forearms again and army-crawling, gun held tightly in each hand, all the way to the edge. You flop on your back then, one eye on the body, and heave great breaths, coughing again and again until your body has enough and you curl inwards, choking out mud and throwing up even more. You try to even your breathing, try to filter the adrenaline out of your system so you don’t crash. In, out. In, out. In out in out inoutinoutinoutinoutin-FUCCCCCKK. You shake your head violently, over and over.

You take one last look at the body, only seeing it because you know where to look. A mud-covered shoulder pokes out of the ground, the rest already lost.

You can’t balance on your feet anymore, so you crawl away.

You don’t even bother to make a shelter that night. You crawl under a rotting log, ripping your last ration bar from your pocket and devouring it, licking the crumbs from your stained and tainted fingers. You curl up and fall asleep just like that, bones chattering and muscles spasming.

-

Helicopter blades wake you up in the morning. You’re on your feet, falling and jumping and running and falling, flailing your arms because you know those blades, that’s your team and they’re here for you and you’re finally free, you did it you did it you’re so proud of yourself you can’t wait to have a warm bath and then maybe even afterwards you can see-

The helicopter passes over you and disappears around the mountain.

You stare at it, deathly still. It’s just sweeping the area, making sure it’s safe to land.

But the wingbeats have already faded into the distance, replaced by a vast and engulfing silence. Time stretches out before you, and you’re still staring at the mountain.

Your stomach breaks the silence with a gurgle.

You flop down, shoving your face into the ground, and scream.

-

You press the button on your radio, cracking the caked mud. It clicks, and you hear nothing. Not even static. You click it again. And again, this time just to hear the sound. Rapidly you click it again and again and again.

You start laughing, your abs clenching and strangling your organs as you guffaw, thrashing around like a headless chicken, and thinking about yourself as a headless chicken makes you laugh even louder. Everything is just so funny, none of this is real, you’re on the Truman Show, you’re the biggest comedy in the world. It’s even funny that your laughter only comes out in squeaky wheezes. It’s all just a big joke. Haha. You can’t wait to tell someone.

You fall asleep just like that, grinning up at the sky with dirt in your teeth.

-

You wake up, stare into the sun, and go back to sleep.

-

You feel lighter.

Is this what it feels like to leave your body?

It’s not as bad as you thought.

-

You wonder if König will remember you.

-

The ground beneath you is moving, sliding under you and scraping along you.

There's no ground underneath you at all now, and something is pressing, and you feel your legs dangling and swinging all around you, the world spinning a jig and you the unwilling passenger. You think you might tell it to stop, but it doesn't listen to you.

You're yanked back into consciousness by a thundering vibration setting every bone against itself. You jolt upwards, feeling heavy pressure on your shoulders as your eyes roll back into your head. The world is black. Black and blue and blurred. Through the haze you begin to make out a white visage and two black voids that pierce through you.

This must be hell. You don’t want to be awake for your judgement.

Your consciousness drifts away again, blocking out the rumbling flight of the helicopter, completely oblivious to the warm bodies pressed in around you, speaking rapidly through their headsets.

Any more? Sweep around again.

There's nothing else here.

Ok. Let's bring these ones back, then.

-

You are still asleep as your body is carried into a hospital room, completely unresponsive as the nurses strip and bathe you with clinical precision. You don’t wake until hours later, seeing only a single nurse checking your vitals and bandages. Each hand and foot has been carefully wrapped, the angry red battlefield of blisters and exposed flesh meticulously covered in pristine, unblemished white. The nurse offers a smile as you fight through the haze, imagining you are underwater and slowly floating to the surface, watching the sun jiggle and warp through the abyss above you. Just bad blisters, the nurse is telling you. Very lucky. Very lucky. You think you might nod back. She’s right, of course. You’re alive, aren’t you?

-

Ghost comes by as you’re released the next day. They’ve rewrapped your hands in a bandage that gives you a little more flexibility, and he finds you sitting on the edge of the bed, staring into the white fabric.

The mattress shifts as he settles beside you. He doesn’t say a word, but his eyes are trained on you. Black voids in a mask of white.

“You left me,” you finally whisper, eyes still on your hands.

“What?”

You look at him, trying to see something in the face to get mad at, but his eyes are just a little wider than before. Confused, maybe.

“The helicopter…” you begin, voice scratchy, and clear your throat. “The helicopter flew right over me.”

“That wasn’t our helicopter.”

“It was heading back from the safehouse.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Oh,” you huff, sinking into yourself. “I…”

You stop as he clears his throat, shoulders expanding in a loud breath. “It’s alright. You were knocked out pretty good by the time our boys found you. Happens to the best of us.”

You nod, swallowing again, and wish someone else was here to comfort you, literally anyone but Ghost. “Is…uh…is…umm…is Soap ok?”

Ghost grunts. “Johnny took one to the arm, but he’ll pull through. I was just going to visit him now.”

You push yourself to your feet, proud that you only sway a bit. “Can I-”

“No,” Ghost cuts you off. “You’ll have time to visit him later. For now you need to go and rest. That’s an order,” he cuts you off as you open your mouth to protest. Your jaw shuts. Call it obedience, call it cowardice, but you find you just don’t have it in you to argue the point. You promise yourself you’ll see Soap in the morning. Well, later in the morning, seeing as it’s somehow 0100 hours already.

When Ghost leaves you slump, any need for straight posture gone with the departure of your superior officer. Trying to keep your breathing even, you will your legs to carry your body down the medical corridor. Just a little longer, you promise them, then you’ll get the break you deserve. But your body has had enough of your unfulfilled promises, and you find yourself forced to sink onto one of the shitty metal chairs littering the hallway. Just a little rest, and then I’ll go back to my quarters.

You wake to the familiar sounds of agony. Before your body has the chance to disagree, instinct has you on your feet again, hands grabbing at the thin air where your sidearm should be. My holster, my holster, where the hell is-

Your eyes land on the white-washed walls. Too clean. Too smooth. And your hands aren’t moving like they should, strangled by white fabric. It finally sinks in that you’re far from the battlefield, far from any fight.

The sounds continue, drawing your eye to one of the many nondescript doors lining the corridor. Someone having a nightmare, probably. Or reacting badly to a procedure, maybe. Either way, a problem best left for the nurses with their iron wills and their tranquilizers. You have enough bruises already. Best not add a black eye to the list.

A pitiful whimper sounds through the door, one that has your heart twisting like a towel being wrung out, sending all the blood to your throat and stomach.

Fuck it. What’s one more bruise?

Your fingers curl the handle down, and you shrink in on yourself as the door swings open on its own with a creak. You catch it and hastily shut it behind you, trying not to make any more noise.

The room is small enough that even the military-issue cot feels too big for it. The room is made even smaller by the man lying in the cot, arms dangling off the sides as he thrashes, his feet hanging off the end. You can see the crumpled blanket on the floor and automatically avert your eyes. The hood is still on, but below it he’s wearing an undershirt and boxers, and you realize this is the most of him you’ve ever seen.

You press yourself to the wall as he spasms again, a leg kicking out and narrowly missing you, causing you to notice the thick white bandage wrapped around his thigh, and the dark line slowly being painted along it.

Hesitantly you flick the lights on, wincing at the burn that rushes through your eyeballs, but he doesn’t even react to it. You have no idea how to wake him up without breaking a bone, so you press your back to the wall, slowly skirting along the edge of the room and staying as far out of his reach as you can, praying to whatever old ghosts are listening that he doesn’t wake up and go straight into murder mode. Or, you know, default alert soldier setting. This is a stupid idea.

As you approach his head you lean over as far as you can, stretching one arm out until the socket pops in protest. You poke his shoulder and leap back.

Nothing.

You take a step closer and lean in again.

You’re immediately interrupted by the door swinging open with a much-louder creak. You and the nurse both pause and stare at each other for a moment, startled, and you sheepishly move to straighten and pull your arm back.

With viper-like speed an arm shoots out to grab your wrist, capturing it in a deadly grip and you yelp, whirling back to the man in the bed and raising your opposite arm.

You freeze when you see his eyes, so wide they’re more white than color. He’s stock-still, fixated on you like a mouse caught in a cat’s gaze. Paralyzed by fear, praying. Shaking.

His hand is…shaking. “Hey, hey,” you coax, hesitantly pulling your arm back in so you can place it over his fingers. “It’s just me, big guy. You’re safe.”

His chest heaves outwards, and you feel his hand relax a little before his head snaps towards the nurse as she takes a step closer, cradling something small and cylindrical in her hands. “It’s alright,” she speaks directly to you. “I can take it from here.”

König releases the breath he’s held, shoving himself backwards on the bed with a shake of his head, prompting the nurse to click her tongue at him before raising the needle. You realize it’s a lot bigger than you first thought. “You’ll be fine,” she’s assuring him. “It will hurt a lot less once it’s done.”

König’s head turns very slowly, back up to you, and for a second you’re confused at his gaze, wondering why he thinks you have enough knowledge to give him any medical advice. Then you notice the way his eyes seem just a little too shiny in the light, the way his other hand is clenching and unclenching around the bedsheet.

You’ve always known him as the perfect soldier, quick and to the point, pin-prick precise, a dancing whirlwind of death. More monster than man. You know him as the one who laughs with every good kill, mocking the reaper of death with a smile. Look at how slow you are. I got here first. He’s the one who dances on the precipice of fate and spits over the edge.

Even sprawled out like this, sweaty and trembling, you are well aware of every flex of his muscles, of the strength he holds back in his grip. Yet as you look into the eyes of the storm you find that for the first time you see no hint of the giddy killing machine looking back at you. The eyes staring back at you from this big soldier’s body are those of a fragile little kid. And he’s terrified.

You gulp, your tongue catching on the back of your throat. “Yeah…yeah, it’ll be ok. I’ll be right here.”

Finally he relaxes, slumping back into the bed, and the nurse takes the opportunity to give him the shot. You feel his flinch in a wave of pressure radiating up your wrist and forearm, but his gaze doesn’t move. He keeps looking into your eyes until his own begin to droop and he sinks even further into the mattress.

Before his hand drops from your wrist you catch it, the skin under your bandages protesting at the sudden flexion. You choose to ignore it, settling down on the floor next to his bed as your own eyes begin to follow his. Even as your head falls into your knees and your body finally gives itself completely over to darkness, you refuse to let go.

-

You’re woken by something warm trailing along your hairline. You jerk, smacking the back of your head into the wall with an irritated grunt. König’s arm hovers in the air just in front of your face, and you turn to see him pressed to the edge of the bed, looking a little guilty. “Sorry,” he murmurs.

You should be, startling me like that, you want to say. But when you open your mouth, what comes out instead is “No, it’s ok, I just…I wasn’t expecting it.”

König gulps audibly, and the cot creaks as he pulls his hand back, shifting his body even closer. “You stayed.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

“Never,” he hisses, and you find yourself staring into his eyes again, only this time they’ve taken on their old torrential intensity.

Now it’s yours that are as wide as a child’s. You gulp, feeling the muscles of your jaw flex and unflex. “Ok,” you finally murmur. “I’ll stay.”

-

And you do. For two more nights König stays in the infirmary, weathering the steady rounds of nurses and bandage changes with a steely resolve even as his fists flex and twist into the sheets. You stay with him all the while, but he doesn’t reach for your hand again, not after noticing your own bandages.

The second night you sleep in the cot next to him at his insistence. You’re hurt too, he reasons. You need a real bed to rest in. He scoots himself to the back edge to give you room, and when you wake up he hasn’t moved.

After the third night you wake to his hand resting on your arm. It’s a small gesture. Innocent even. Yet still you find yourself contemplating it, barely saying a word as the nurses come to remove his bandages. You grind your jaw as you take in the puckered line of stitches running from his knee up to the edge of his boxers, looking away politely as the nurses help him into a pair of sweatpants.

You don’t even say anything when you let him lean on your shoulders, using your own aching body as a sacrificial lamb to transport him back to his barrack. Once you get him into bed you hover in the doorway, taking in the shadows of the walls, twisting your wrists back and forth, a habit you picked up to alleviate the pain from flexing your fingers. They’re in even thinner bandages now, but you’d rather be safe than sorry.

Maybe there’s nothing to say. You found him in a vulnerable situation where he needed a lifeline. It could have been anyone, he was barely lucid. Now he surely wanted to forget all of that vulnerability and go back to a time where he hadn’t needed help from anyone. Not even you. Especially not you. He was a soldier, after all. Fondness wasn’t in the job description.

Best not to say anything then. Just…leave and get this over with. Just like that. Yeah…easy. Really easy.

Your move to shut the door behind you is halted by him calling your name. Your real name. You didn’t even know he knew your name.

He calls it again, quieter this time, and you lean back in the door, eyes drifting across his room to him. He’s still sitting on the bed where you left him, only now he’s hunched over to rest a forearm on his good thigh. “Come back here,” he breathes, voice cracking, and it hits you right in your stomach, settling there like a wounded bird, flapping and screeching at you to stay away, you’re already in too deep, you don’t know how this will end.

But it’s too late. You’re walking forward, the door swinging shut behind you. Locked. You’re already reaching out for the hand he offers, only for him to reach past the bandages and grab your wrist. You pause at that, staring into the hazy depths of his eyes, pupils bursting for you again. Slowly, inch by excruciating inch, he straightens again, face coming closer to yours as another hand snakes around your neck to help guide you down to straddle his good thigh, moving your forearms to rest on each of his shoulders.

The bird in your stomach has moved to your chest, and you’re positive he can feel your heavy breathing even through his mask with how close you are. His eyes look down to your lips, and you wonder if he is going to lift his hood up and kiss you, your cheeks flushing in anticipation as he leans forward.

Only instead he rests his forehead against yours, eyes drifting closed. You feel your arms drift upwards with his inhale. “Stay with me,” he exhales. “One more night.”

You nod against his forehead, wrapping your arms around his neck and finally letting your own eyes close. Your breathing is slowed down now, and you find yourself enjoying the warmth you feel radiating from everywhere you touch him. One of his hands has spread against your thigh, while the other still rests along your neck, thumb tracing up and down your jaw. You know you could fall asleep just like this.

König, however, has other ideas. As you slump even further to him, both of his hands drift to your hips. You notice the movement, sighing at the pleasant sensation of his hands running over your body. You don’t notice the intention until he takes a deep breath, and in one smooth motion he has stood and twisted to lay you down on the bed, climbing on top of you. You gasp, feeling your heart stutter all over again, blood rushing to your core as you feel the fabric of his hood rub up your neck. His nose, you think.

Fuck, you want him. You want him just like this and any other way he’s willing to give, but you can’t, you shouldn’t, and you know you have to at least try to protest. You bite back a whimper as a hand drags up your inner thigh. “König, your leg.”

“I don’t care,” he growls. “Say my name again.”

You groan in protest and he pulls back, tilting your face up to his. “Is this not what you want?” He feels the way your jaw flexes and pulls away.

“Wait. No. I want this. You. I want you. Just…please be careful.”

He hears the last part, but he’s past giving a damn about his own body now. His hand is already undoing your belt and he’s leaning back to ease your pants and underwear off your legs, lazily tossing them to the side.

A harsh word escapes his throat as he looks down at you, but you don’t catch it through the blood rushing in your ears. “Close your eyes,” he orders, and unthinkingly you do, another growling swear reaching your ears. “So obedient for me.”

You hear the shuffling of fabric and feel a hand wrap around one of your knees, lifting it up for a warm tongue to swirl along the inside of it, for wet lips to place a sloppy kiss just above where his tongue had just been. His lips slide up again, and this time he sucks on the skin just slightly, and you feel your leg tremble as a tiny moan escapes you, but he’s already moving further up and this time sucking harder, and then further and harder and further and harder until he’s against your inner thigh and his teeth are sinking into you and you yelp his name, whining in frustration as he pulls back.

“No,” you pant, “don’t stop. Please.”

You feel a chuckle rumble in his throat and his nose presses into the bottom of your slit. You jolt, squeezing your eyes tighter as it slides up through you before pressing into your sensitive spot, and he inhales.

“Fuck,” you cry, tangling your hands in the sheets only to choke on a sound of pain.

König pulls back immediately and you shake your head at him, a sob on the edge of your quivering lips.

“Easy. Watch your hands.”

You grit your teeth and nod, relaxing your fingers and turning your palms up.

“Good,” he purrs as his hands hook under the backs of your knees, easily throwing your legs over his shoulders. As he settles back down you feel the muscles in his back flexing against your calves and moan before his mouth is even on you.

He hums contentedly at the sound, running his tongue along the length of you before swirling it around your clit. His lips pucker against it and he sucks, pulling away with a soft pop that has you clenching your legs around him. He moves in again, lazily altering between sucking and tracing his tongue just around your bud, feeling the way you flex against him, hearing the way you react to each movement, and committing all of it to memory before shifting his head so he can dip his tongue inside you. He groans at the taste, the vibration of it radiating up under your ribs and down through your legs. You’re quiet now, feeling how close you are settling heavy over you, drowning you in deliciously sweet honey.

He feels the shaking of your legs around him and returns to your clit as he slowly works a finger into you, curling it upwards to stroke at the spongy part inside of you.

You break quietly, choking on his name as the pleasure strangles your muscles and sets them briefly aflame, fresh sensations flowing through you as he continues to touch you just so, only pulling away when you sink into the mattress and your legs slip from his shoulders.

You hear the bed frame creak as he pulls back, running a hand up your thigh before the shifting sound of fabric hits your ears, and you feel the mattress sink down in different places as he shifts.

“Open your eyes.”

You do as he says, your disappointment at seeing the sniper’s hood obscuring his face immediately squashed by the realization that the rest of him is completely naked.

You’re seeing him for the first time.

Fucking hell, what a sight.

Your eyes rest on the delicious curve of his cock first, marveling at the pink tip and the thick veins running along it. You had felt his size on plenty of occasions, but seeing it for the first time is a new beast entirely, one that has you biting your lip and wiggling your hips like a teenager all over again.

But soon your eyes are taken in by the strong curves of muscle outlining his hips, and your eyes are traveling upwards to the delicious bulges of his chest, your own heaving at the sight. You find yourself wanting to trace the outline of each hill and valley of muscle that flows along his shoulders, down his arms, to the hands, wanting to run your tongue along the veins like raised rivers spreading down his forearm and across the back of each hand.

You wonder what his back looks like. You wonder how the muscles of his neck shift as he moves, what the outline of his jaw is shaped like. You are greedy and want to take everything he has, and at the same time you are desperate for anything he can give you. You’re a peasant kneeling at the feet of your king, ready to lick the crumbs he throws you off the floor.

His head tilts playfully, breaking you out of your reverie. “You like what you see?”

Your chuckle catches in your chest, only a tiny puff of air leaving your mouth. “Yes.”

His eyes scrunch a little, and you imagine he is grinning as he leans over, balancing himself above you. He moves back a bit, hand adjusting your hips as he positions himself. He looks back up at you, and you nod eagerly, your hands reaching up to grab his shoulders. He clicks his tongue, glancing at them, and with a groan you put your hands above your head. He moves one of his own to grasp your wrists, keeping them pinned as he sinks onto his forearms.

You feel the head of his cock running up and down your folds, and instinctively bend your back to give him a better angle, earning an approving hum that makes you even wetter. But as he braces himself and begins to drive into you, a strangled sound smashes through his gritted teeth.

Oh no. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

He doesn’t answer, only pressing his face into your neck, inhaling heavily as you feel his entire body stiffening against you. “It’s…it’s fine,” he hisses, his hand strangling your wrists. “Just …” he heaves another breath. “Ah... Ich… I…need a…moment.”

You sigh, wiggling a hand out of his grip to push his chin up. He lets you move his face back, and even in the dim light you can see the way the skin around his eyes has gone even paler than normal. “Get off,” you murmur.

He slumps, twisting his face out of your grip and keeping his eyes on the wall. He stays like that for a second before giving a swift nod and pulling out, maneuvering backwards on the bed and moving to get off.

“Wait!” you burst out, and he freezes. “That’s not what I meant.”

After another moment he looks at you in bewilderment, so you sit up and shift to the side, patting the bed next to you. Awkwardly, he crawls to it, nearly dragging his bad leg, stiffening again when you place your wrists on his shoulders. “Let me?”

After a second of staring into your eyes, he nods again, allowing you to push on him, laying him on his back before you straddle him and finally take your shirt off. You see his chest rise with a shuddering breath and before you really think about it you’re leaning down to lick a stripe up his sternum. Seeing his pecs jerk upwards on either side of your tongue emboldens you and you shift your head, running your tongue back down to circle over one of his nipples before you suck.

Immediately the muscles flex again and he pushes up into you. “Like that,” he snarls, loud and vibrating through your skull. You’re aching down there again, but you’re not done yet. You release him with a squelch, watching the patch of saliva glisten before moving to give the other nipple the same treatment, your heart leaping at the sounds falling from his mouth as he quivers under you.

“König,” you croon. “Touch me.”

He whimpers as you flick your tongue over the sensitive bud. “Where?”

“Anywhere. Grab my hair, squeeze my tits, just put your hands on me.”

You groan as he obeys, long fingers tangling tightly in your hair as his other hand spreads along your ribcage, thumb sliding over your breast. You sigh, leaning down to bite into his pec, moaning as his grip on you tightens. You kiss the mark left by your teeth before leaning back. His hands move to cup both of your breasts as you raise yourself up and sink down onto his cock. You’re too excited and you go too fast, and a sharp pinch of pain seizes at your entrance. You gasp, instinctively leaning forward to brace yourself on your palms, but his hands move to your waist, catching you before you hurt them any further.

“I have you,” he whispers, voice scratchy, and despite the pain you clench at the sound of what you do to him. He chokes on his next words, a groan coming out instead. “Do you need to get off?”

“No!” You whisper-yell back so quickly that he laughs, and despite everything you laugh with him. He runs his hands up and down your sides, feeling you start to relax a little, but not enough yet. “Tell me what you need,” he murmurs.

“It’s fine.” You close your eyes and try to focus on your breathing. “Just need…a moment.”

“Hypocrite.”

You shoot your eyes open to glare at him, only to see his chest shake with another chuckle at your scrunched-up angry face. “Your leg is sliced open, it’s not the same,” you scoff.

His eyes glimmer with the start of a witty retort before one of his hands freezes over your bottom rib, drawing his lovely gaze away from yours. His thumb is circling around a tiny hairline of a scar, bone-white and soft. You’ve already forgotten how you got it.

“This one,” he murmurs. “It is new.”

“How…how did you notice?”

“It wasn’t there last time.” His tone was quiet and matter-of-fact, like the answer was obvious, and it takes you back to every time his hands ran over you as you drifted into sleep. How long did he stay there after you fell asleep? How long did it take him to commit you to memory so well that a patch of skin even you had forgotten was instantly recognized as something new?

Your body has always been a means to an end, a vehicle carrying you rather than a full part of you. Batter it, toss it around, whatever you need to do to get the job done. And when your body protests, you treat it like any other tool you can beat into submission. Like your first battered old car that revved to life with a well-placed kick.

But now all you can think of is his hands running over you with thorough determination, acknowledging each new mark with a gentle reverence that was more than you deserved. Getting to know you in the only way he knew how.

For the first time in a long time, you’re reminded to see this body as something more than a bruised vessel you’re obligated to carry around. He reminds you to see it as something more.

Fuck, you think you might love him.

“König?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

His head tilts a little, his hand still running along your rib, and your cheeks flush.

Before he can reply, you gulp a little. “I…I think I’m ready.”

He hums again, his hands moving back to rest on your hips. You stay still for another moment, looking into his eyes. You don’t think you can memorize his body, not like he has yours. But you have memorized his eyes, have burned them into your mind so clearly you saw them even as you were trapped on that damned mountain. Thinking about him.

And now you think he might've been thinking about you, too.

You feel him twitch inside of you, pulling you out of your thoughts. Taking a deep breath, you raise yourself up slowly, feeling his hands tighten and take some of your weight, following your lead as you sink into him again, this time with a sigh that echoes his own. Slowly, hesitantly, you raise yourself up and down, feeling how easily he stretches you, how easily he could break you.

But he never has. The only pain you’ve gotten from him was caused by your own impatience. As you keep going, finding an angle that has him dragging across your most sensitive parts and making you even wetter, you become confident that there’s no chance of pain, allowing yourself to speed up.

His hands are steady as ever, guiding you up and down, but beneath you his shoulders and chest begin to squirm and heave. His eyes wander all around, and his breaths are scattered and staccato.

And his sounds. You’d never known a man to be so loud, and now you know you’ve been missing out all these years. Every grunt, every groan, every moan and whimper goes straight through your core, winding you up faster and faster. As you get closer his sounds shift, and you realize he’s started to stutter out words.

His eyes are hazy and unfocused but you can still tell they’re trained on you, and you urge your body to calm down for just a minute longer, just long enough to hear what he’s saying.

You can’t make out any of the words, but his hands are even tighter on you now and the way his voice shifts from growling to whimpering settles into a melodic language that has you crying out for him anyway.

Beneath your trembling body, he keeps going. “Never..told you …du bist wie ein Traum,” another whimper leaves his lips. “Ich kann nicht glauben, dass du wirklich hier bist.” He gasps as you clench tighter around him. “Du bist…du…Du bist viel zu gut für mich…Dein Lächeln und …und…” His eyes are watering and you slow down only for his hands to dig into you, urging you to speed up again. “Ich weiß nicht wie ich dich loslassen soll aber du verdienst so viel mehr als …”

His mind is lapsing again, his determined confession faltering into a fervent prayer sent to the only god he’s ever believed in, to you - moving over him and taking everything he is giving you, making him wish he had more, so much more than the desert-dry heart of a killer whose hands can only ever pull things apart. His thumb is over the scar on your rib again and his blurry vision is taking in the white of the bandage wrapped around your hands and it has him wishing his own hands could build something instead of destroy it just so he could put you back together again. You’re coming apart around him, crying his name, and he’s thinking of flinging his body in front of you, taking every bullet and blade meant for you, because his body is all he has to give and he knows how to sacrifice it, he knows he’ll gladly lay it at your altar, bloody and broken, if it could only mean making sure he’d never be surprised by a new scar again. Maybe you’d even remember him a little when he was gone.

He’s trying to tell you all of that, the messy syllables punching through his throat. “Niemals, niemals, nie,…” but before he can finish he’s failing already, falling apart under you and screaming your name and emptying everything he has into you.

It’s not enough.

You’re laying on top of him now and he tries his best to be gentle but his entire body is shaking as he rolls you off and staggers to his bathroom, slamming the door behind him and sinking against it.

He shatters in a whole-body-wracking sob.

You’re never going to look at him again.

He tucks his legs in, squeezing his knees into his chest, squeezing even harder as a burn radiates out from the stitches, trying to rein in his ragged breathing in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, he can save this and cover up the fact that he’s crying.

It was just meant to be casual sex. He wasn’t supposed to start caring. That’s not what you wanted. It’s not fair to you. It’s not your fault he let himself get emotional. And now he’s ruined the only thing you two did have, he wanted to make you feel better and now he’s made you so uncomfortable and…and…

He slams his forehead into his knees and sobs again.

He’s pathetic. Pathetic to think this could be something more. Pathetic to think he could have something more.

Everything hurts.

That’s what he signed up for, isn’t it?

That’s what he deserves.

A knock on the door has his head jerking back up, hands clutching his knees hard enough the knuckles just might pop through the skin. “Go away!”

“No.” Your tone is flat as he hears a thunk against the other side of the door, imagining you leaning against it and sliding down, mirroring him perfectly. “Not until you talk to me.”

“No.”

You sigh. “That's how it’s gonna be? Well, in that case, to quote a man I…admire very much, I can make you talk.” You drop your voice, trying and failing to mimic his battle growl.

He snorts despite himself.

You take that as a cue to continue. “For one, I’m not leaving until you do. You’ll be stuck with my annoying-ass voice forever.”

“I like your voice.”

“Oh…umm…thank you. In that case I’ll…I’ll steal all your knives and I’ll draw a kangaroo on your door and-”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he growls.

“Guess you’ll never know if you keep that door closed. And that’s not all, I’ll…I’ll steal those cheap chocolates we get every supply drop. Don’t deny it, I know everyone joked it was Ghost but I saw you take them all. You love those.” You smile, laughing a little. “On the other hand, I’ll fly to Austria right now if that’s what it takes to get some chocolate you’d really like. I’d even get you some of those waffle things you were telling Soap about that one time I caught you both raiding the snack cabinets. Well, I’d probably eat some of those. But I promise to save most of them for you. Just…please talk to me. I’ll…I’ll…” you’re cut off by your own squeak as the door opens and you fall backwards.

His hands are already there to catch you, and once you sit back up he stays there, half-crouched and awkward, eyes anywhere but your own.

Slowly, you open your arms, watching his head turn back to you.

In an instant he’s lunged into you, burrowing his face into your neck with an awkward grunt as he stretches his bad leg out to the side. You try to change to a comfier position for him but the man is like a brick wall.

It’s nice.

So you let yourself stay there, wrapping around him as he wraps around you on the hard floor. It’s a softness unknown to you both, two soldiers carved razor-sharp from solid steel. But as you let yourself sink into him, you find yourself liking the strange tranquility of this moment, the way two bodies made for war can still drape over each other and feel peace instead. Against all better judgement, against any scrap of common sense you have left, you find yourself yearning for a few less battles if it can mean more of this. You let your eyes close, imagining it for just a little while.

After a while, he pulls back, moving to lean against the wall and pulling you so you can balance on his uninjured thigh. You let your head loll onto his shoulder, face turned into the hood. His chin rests on your temple.

“Are you cold?”

He grunts noncommittally, eyes half-closed. “Are you?”

“Nooo,” you mumble, burrowing into his neck. He shifts, maneuvering you off his lap, only to grunt when he tries to push on his leg.

“I got it.” You push yourself up, moving to the bed to retrieve one of the blankets there, carefully wrapping it around both of your torsos when you settle back onto his lap. Your legs stick out, but you don’t really care.

After a while you feel his heartbeat begin to pick up again and adjust yourself to look up at him. His eyes drift to you before he sighs. “Do you…still want me to talk?”

You nod.

“Alright then. I will talk. I do not think it is what you want to hear.”

You bite your lip and try to keep your breathing steady as he continues.

“Back in the med bay. No. Before that.” He shakes his head emphatically. “When we were assigned to two different groups…No…Scheiße, I…”

You run a shaky hand up and down his chest. “It’s okay. Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

His fingers dig into you for a fraction of a second, so quick you think you might have imagined it before his entire body is deflating, his head settling back against the wall. “They ambushed us. You weren’t there but…they hit us on patrol, hit us and ran before we could counter. I did not even see who hit me, I just look up one moment and down the next and the snow is all red and…” His voice drops to barely a whisper “Das war meines.” He trails off completely, a finger tracing circles on your shoulder. “I've been wounded before. I've accepted death before. This time...before I...while I was…” he exhales another irritated sigh. “I was on the ground and…wie sag ich das…ich hab versucht etwas zu tun, mich zu bewegen aber alles was ich tun konnte...I was thinking of you.”

He freezes, turning his head away and dropping his hands from you. But instead of moving away, you kiss a patch of skin just outside the hood, watching the muscle under it jump. “Is that all you want to tell me?”

He shakes his head.

“Do you think you can keep going?”

His head turns back to you briefly before he tilts it up to stare at the ceiling. “When I was in the med bay. Well, I…it went like this. I wake up and you are there and I think, König this is it, now you are finally dead. And then I feel the pain and I see the nurse and you were moving away and I couldn't…du warst da und dann warst du fast nicht mehr da und ich konnte nicht atmen. Ich…” he shakes his head back and forth, back and forth. “Ich konnte nicht ohne dich. Ich…needed you to stay.” His head jerks down again, eyes boring into yours with all the intensity of a tornado, arms wrapping around you once again. “I need you to stay.”

You nod, holding him tight, the weight of the words unspoken tangling in your chest and constricting your tongue. Stay. With me. He won't ask for more than tonight, not when neither of you can even risk asking for a tomorrow. Stay with me. For as long as you have. A day, maybe. A month. Maybe you'll get out of this mess someday and get years.

Stay with me for a lifetime. Whatever lifetime we get.

You nod, whispering a promise into his skin. Always. Your fingers drift down along his leg, tracing just outside the stitches, your eyes following the line of gooseprickles that rise in their wake.

You feel more than you hear your name being whispered into your hair, and as you look up fingers wrap around your wrist, guiding it up over his hip, his ribs, his chest. Sliding around the edge of the hood, pushing it up, up, up. Until the fabric slides off. You gaze in awe, watching his jaw flex as his lips part to form a word whose sound hides in the back of his throat. Always. You look back into his eyes before surging forward, hugging him tight, tight enough to strangle, you think, but he’s already wrapping himself around you with equal fervor.

“You know,” you murmur, breath ruffling his hair, “if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

He huffs a laugh, the air catching in his lungs with a choking sound. His grip tightens.

-

When you wake you find you’ve been moved to the bed, but his face is still buried in your neck, unmoving despite the soft light filtering in your window. You smile a little, watching the early-morning sky, perfectly clear and pale blue.

It matches his eyes.

---

German Translations

du bist wie ein Traum: You are like a dream

Ich kann nicht glauben, dass du wirklich hier bist: I can’t believe you are here

Du bist viel zu gut für mich: You are too good to me

Dein Lächeln und…: You smile and…

Ich weiß nicht wie ich dich loslassen soll aber du verdienst so viel mehr als: I don't know how I am supposed to let go of you (eventually) but you (clearly) deserve so much more than me

Niemals, niemals, nie: never again, never again, never

Scheiße: shit

Das war meines: it was mine

wie sag ich das: how do I say this

ich hab versucht etwas zu tun, mich zu bewegen aber alles was ich tun konnte: I tried doing something, moving, but all I could do

du warst da und dann warst du fast nicht mehr da und ich konnte nicht atmen. Ich…: you were there and then you nearly weren’t there and I could not breathe. I…

Ich konnte nicht ohne dich. Ich…: I couldn’t without you. I…

[wizzdot]

The Patron Saint of One Way Trips

Ch18

Description: lots of action here guys. Hope it’s ok - I haven’t checked for any mistakes because your gal needs to sleep 😆🤦🏼‍♀️ Graves is a wanker!

Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

I wake up to the sun peeking into the room. I flutter my eyes, trying to blink away sleep. Johnny is wrapped around me, both arms clinging to my waist along with one of his legs thrown over me for good measure. I couldn't move even if I wanted to. I try to lift his arm but, if anything, he just grabs me tighter while growling. I whine slightly, starting to feel a little claustrophobic..

The Lieutenant is nowhere to be seen. I assume that he left during the night. It makes me wonder if our conversation last night was real..

I try to unlatch Johnny from me for another couple of minutes, not wanting to wake him prematurely but also not wanting to feel trapped for too much longer.

The door clicks open and the Lieutenant marches in. He grunts at the scene in front of him and then barks in our direction "JOHNNY! Let the girl go - time to get up!" Johnny jolts awake with a jump, momentarily dragging me closer towards his body as if to subconsciously protect me from whatever had woken him.

"Awkt, LT.. ever heard of a lie in??" Johnny complains, with a deeper than usual morning voice. He gives me one final squeeze and deeply inhales the top of my head before releasing me. "Sorry Lass... did no one tell ya that I'm a cuddler..?" he teases. I huff a small giggle, blush and roll away, moving towards the bathroom.

Ghost doesn't say anything whatsoever. Just sits down on the other side of the large bed, facing away from me. I really am starting to draw last night's conversation off as imaginary.. the hanky in my hand suggests otherwise though..

When I return from the bathroom, Johnny and the Lieutenant are discussing something. I overhear them mention El Sin Nombre.. hang on a second... something sparks in my memory. I close my eyes and try to think back through the haze of my prior missions and intel I had collected.. think, Laika, THINK...

"Got a headache, Lass?" Johnny asks - do I really look like that when I'm trying to think...? Thanks Johnny..

"Oh, uhm.. no, just trying to remember something..."

"Don't tell me you to took a bang to the head that you dinnae tell us about as well, lass?"

"No. no no, nothing like that.. it's just that name.. El Sin Nombre.. 'the nameless..' - it -uhm - it's familiar.."

The Lieutenant perks up.

"Familiar how?" he growls.

"I - I don't know yet.. I might just be confused" he eyes me suspiciously but doesn't say anything. His deep grunt ends the conversation.

*Alejandro's POV*

Rudy and I show the visitors to their rooms. Rudy had caught me up about the Garrick girl earlier, I still can't put my finger on why I feel like I know her. I settle in bed while Rudy showers, mind running at a million miles a second.

The sniper..

The fucking sniper. The one that missed the shot. I was a sitting duck. And the sniper missed. Her eyes. I can see her eyes..

"what's the matter mi corazón?" my Omega's voice snaps me from my thoughts. "Rudy.. the girl. She's the sniper.." I growl.

"Yes, she had the sniper rifle slung over her back, remember..?" No! He isn't following..

"No, Rudy.. the sniper.. when the Cartel had you and I was cornered.. remember I mentioned a sniper?"

"Oh.. No, Alejo, that couldn't have been her..? You didn't mention the sniper was a girl.."

"I saw the eyes. Nothing else, Rudy.. just the eyes and her shadow.. there was smoke and flames everywhere.."

"Alejo.. I think you must have mistaken her for someone else.. She was nervous with her weapons today.. not some lone assassin. It doesn't make sense.." Rudy tries to calm me down.. but I was a wolf with the taste of blood now. I know that it was her. I just need to prove it.

"Rudy.. I don't trust her. Promise me you'll be careful. She could be undercover... treat her suspiciously until she proves otherwise, ok , Omega?.. I mean it!"

"Yes, Alpha.. I understand.."

Good. I was not going to take any chances. Having so many new faces in my HQ makes me territorial. I had to watch my soldiers and, of course, my Omega.

Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

A few hours later, we rendezvous on a rooftop in town. I stay completely silent and plan not to say anything during the meeting. I step forward with Johnny and place myself slightly behind him when I notice that Graves is in attendance.

"Some view from up here, eh Lass?" Johnny whispers to me. I just nod, glancing around nervously.

"My sources tell me all the VIPs in Las Almas will be there tonight. Some are invited, others are, umm..." Alejandro begins, nodding toward a large mansion house over on a hill.

"What's this meeting about?" Graves asks, smirking, pointing a scope at a building beyond the wall.

Alejandro glances towards me, with a suspicious look in his eye. I furrow my eyebrows slightly and face the ground.

"She leaves.." He growls. Johnny's head snaps down to look at me "What, Alejandro..? Why, she is part of our team..?" he argues. My stomach does that lurching thing that it likes to do when someone scares me or makes me nervous. "This information is top secret. I don't need any extra ears listening in.. that includes her" he growls.

I nod and obediently turn away from the group. I whisper to Johnny "It's ok" I gulp "I'll be in the room.." I say as I walk back in the direction we had arrived from.

"Sweetheart, wait!" the smooth drawl of the American Alpha hollers at me. I stop in my tracks. "Hang fire, I'll get one of my boys to escort you back.." he smiles. It looks more genuine than his previous smirks. Maybe he was better when he wasn't in the heat of a battle or interrogation.. I decide to put a tiny bit of trust in the Alpha and nod my head at his offer, not wanting to cause any more of a scene.

"That's a girl" he grins, squeezing my cheek, softly. "Oz! Take the 141's girl back to their room, please!" Graves orders down the radio on his shoulder. "Yup Yup" a voice responds back and within seconds, another Alpha, dressed in all black, appeared in front of me.

He nods his head in the direction he wants me to walk, and with one final look back to Johnny, I leave with the unknown Alpha.

The meeting on the roof continues without me. Alejandro is onto me.. he knows..

About half way back to the Fuerzas Especiales Headquarters, 'Oz' starts trying to make conversation with me.

"So, how'd a little girl like you find her way into the SAS..?" I gulp "they found me.." not a lie, technically..

"Why'd they send you to Las Almas..?" - "I don't know.."

"You don't talk much.." - "You talk too much.."

He goes quiet for a few seconds before laughing heartily.

"That big fella with the skull mask, he's a scary son of a bitch, huh?" - "Yep.. he is"

"He ever take it off.." - "I don't know.."

"we've all heard stories about the Ghost. Dude's a killing machine.." - "Cool.." I wish he would stop fucking talking..

"So, what're you called again.. didn't catch your name.." - rude - "You didn't ask my name.."

"Well I'm asking for it now aren't I?" the Alpha is getting pissed but I don't think he is a threat..

"Laika.." I reply bluntly.

"Russian then..?" shit, he is smarter than he looks..

"No, just the name.." I gulp.

"Why'd they call you after a poor little stray mutt..?" Bile rises to my throat but I swallow it down.

"Just did I guess.." I shrug ending the conversation.

We arrive at the room and he drops me off and turns, leaving me alone. I lock the door as a precaution and curl up on the bed and cry. At least I hadn't broken down in front of the fuckin 'Oz' guy.

*Simon's POV*

I hardly listen to Alejandro and Graves' meeting, too concerned and distracted with the girl being sent away. I'd been clenching my hands so tightly for the entire meeting that my gloves had burst. I can tell that Johnny isn't fully concentrating either. Fuckin' hell.

It was one thing sending her out, another issue entirely watchin' a fuckin' unknown piece of shit shadow Alpha 'escort' her back to our fuckin' room.

As soon as Alejandro tells us to gear up for the mission, Johnny and I practically run back towards the room. The fuckin' door’s locked. I contemplate kicking the fuckin' thing down before she whimpers from the other side..

*Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

I hear the door rattling and then growls and grunts from outside.

"Guys.. is that you..?" - "It's us - open the fuckin' door" the Lieutenant bellows. Great, I'd pissed him off again..

I open the door and the pair of large Alphas quickly step into the room, sniffing like crazy. "You alright, Lass? Dick didn't try anythin' did he?" Johnny growls.

"He was fine. Tried to chat but I didn't really feel like talking.." I reassure him that I am ok.

"Why have you been cryin'?" - "I haven't.." I lie.

The Lieutenant scoffs from behind me. "Stop tellin' lies girl.."

Shit, Alejandro told them.. shit shit shit... The Lieutenant wrinkles his nose and turns away from me.

*Ghost's POV*

Ergh, that fuckin' bitter smell she gives off when she is scared. I have to turn away this time. Why is she scared..? Why did Alejandro kick her from the meeting. There is something going on..

Laika's (Y/N's) POV*

"What - what is the plan..?" I ask, trying to change the subject.

"I'm goin' in, pretendin' to have intel.." my eyes widen.. "What?! Johnny.. that's dangerous.."

"Tried to tell him that.." Ghost grunts

"Awkt, I'll take my chances, plus, Graves gave me this to sell the act.." he holds out a Shadow company insignia..

"El Sin Nombre should be there.. I'll take him down" Johnny says confidently. Him... my brain repeats, unhelpfully.

"Graves is in the air, I'm on overwatch.." the Lieutenant grumbles, clearly not happy with the plan.

"And me..?" I question, wondering my place in this shit show.

"You stay here and wait for us to come back, Lass"

WHAT.. NO WAY. NO FUCKING WAY.

"That's an order" the Lieutenant says with finality. I spin around and run to the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it.

Arghhhhh!!!!

El Sin Nombre, come on Laika think! Think like the Asset again.. you know this.. you need to know this...

I stay in the bathroom, plotting my next move. I wait until I hear the obvious sign that Johnny and the Lieutenant had booted up and left. I quickly scamper out of the bathroom and down the hall. I follow the long corridor, turning three lefts and then finally a right hand turn. I was in the area that the Shadows were staying. I sneak up and down the halls, it was pretty much empty. They must have moved out to catch this 'El Sin Nombre' guy.. guy? my brain, once again, uselessly adds. Why does it keep doing that..?

I head into the room with a 'female' sign on the door - weird. I hadn't seen any female shadows but they must have had a couple at least because this room had certainly been slept in. I rifle around in drawers and bags and eventually find a well fitting uniform. I quickly get dressed, flying back down the hallways to my room. I bump in to a Vaqueros soldier. SHIT.

He laughs at me running - "looks like you've missed your shift, little Shadow, eh?" he teases in a heavy accent. I freeze. What do I do..?

"I'll catch up.." I shout back, in a rubbish American accent. It seems to work. "If you're quick.. they went to the huge mansion house at the back of the town.. you better run along, now, little Shadow" he chuckles.

"Thank you - I will" I sprint to the room, dropping off my clothes. I carefully tuck my hanky underneath Johnny's bag, electing that it was too dangerous to bring it with me if I was pretending to be a shadow.

I rush back to the main entrance of the headquarters and, as fast as my feel carry me, run towards the final car getting loaded up. I am carrying my sniper and assault rifle. I keep my head down and pull the black mask over my chin and nose, covering half of my face. I pull the goggles and helmet down over the top half of my face. I hope they don't bother to look.

I step into the final seat, casually and calm, as if I was supposed to be there. Inside, my stomach is twisting. "Shadows.. Commander Graves has had a little.. change of plan.." the commanding officer of this group says, as if he is planning something. My entire body tenses.. This doesn't sound good.

"Graves has ordered for us to form a road block. When - if - the 141 and Vaqueros arrive back to base, we will have taken control. Understood, Shadow Company?" he cheers.

"yup yup" - "yup yup, sir" - "yup yup" my eyes dart around. I join in "yup yup" I say, pretending to be cheerful and excited.

"Now, listen up, Shadows.. Shepherd has put Commander Graves in charge of this operation from here on out. It's time to let the pros finish this. Any resistance from the Mexican's or the Brits and it's lights out for them. We have full execute authority - HOWEVER we would prefer them alive. Shepherd believes that they could have useful intel and he also wants the girl. Oz reported back that her name is Laika - we have done some digging and have reason to believe she has links to Makarov - stay alert, stay ready, stay sharp, Shadows on three!"

I feel sick to my stomach. Everything goes blurry. I almost pass out.

"THREE" - "SHADOWS" they roar in unison.

C'mon Asset, screw your head back on

"The girl - where is she..?" one of the Shadows ask. "We have sent some boys down to take care of her. She will be safely... detained. I don't believe she is much of a threat, anyway.. just scruff her and she becomes anyone's bitch, ain't that right boys..?" he jokes, all of them laughing loudly.

The armoured jeep jerks forward, and the Shadows thankfully go quiet. They park just outside the main gates.

It's pouring with rain, but the Shadows all step out from the armoured vehicles so I follow suit.

We must be standing in the rain for around thirty minutes. Thirty minutes that is filled with screaming, yelling and gunfire from inside the facility, My heart aches. I hope Rudy is ok.. he had been left behind to organise emergency exfil if they had needed it - the shadows were rounding up the Vaqueros. I cringe and try not to whimper. All of a sudden, there is a crackle through the man in charge's radio.

"Shadow-1 to standby. They all made it, amazingly. They are in the third vehicle. Stop them and, if they come willingly, we will be kind. If they try to fight, we.. well y'know.."

Graves.. Fucking snake. I will kill him myself if I get the chance.

"yup yup" the leader of my group replies.

"three minutes out"

It must be the longest three minutes of my life. I am drenched down to the skin. Shaking like a leaf. Please come willingly I pray, knowing that the Shadows had given themselves full execute authority.

Headlights shine from the dirt track. Three black jeeps roll in. They let the first jeep through the road block but step in front of the second and third.

Graves steps out of the middle truck, standing right in front of me.

Doors slam from behind me, Johnny, Simon and Alejandro step out of the third jeep. Two Shadow soldiers also step out, immediately circling behind them. They were surrounded.

Alejandro marches forward angrily.

"What's this??!" he barks, getting in Graves' face.

"This is the immediate future. Step away from the gate" Graves replies cooly.

"What?!" Johnny says, confused and angrily - "You heard me.." he taunts back.

The Lieutenant stays behind, observing. I swear his eyes settle on me for a second longer than the others. Shit...

"You're crazy.. this is my base..!!" the Mexican Alpha shouts, stepping closer again, to Graves. One of the Shadows beside me, readies his gun. I gulp, all eyes dart to the sound of the safety being clicked off.

"It's not a base. This is a sizable covert facility and I admire it- So, I'm taking it. You boys have been relieved. Thank you for your service" - bold fucking bastard. Backstabbing, snake son of a bitch.

"No no no, I don't take orders from you.." - "Didn't Valeria say that..?" Graves teases back, aggressively. My mind flashes - Valeria.. Valeria.. I know that name...

Alejandro suddenly rushes forward, pushing Graves slightly "What the fuck did you just say to me, pendejo..." he growls.

Johnny then steps forward to pull Alejandro back.."You're out of line, Graves.." Johnny growls in the most dangerous tone I had ever heard from the Alpha.

"Don't do that. Don't... do that. No one needs to get hurt here.." Graves says in a mildly suspicious way.. I gulp again and ready my gun with a small click. The lieutenant's eyes definitely flash towards my small movement this time. He finally speaks up.

"ARE YOU THREATNIN' US?!" he barks. A couple of the Shadows step a tiny bit backwards. I remember that Oz had said that they'd been talking about Ghost - how they thought he was terrifying. Good. They should be fuckin' scared of him...

"Soldier" Graves warns.. "I don't make threats. I make guarantees. So, let's not do this"

Johnny turns abruptly and growls "I'm calling Shepherd"

"General Shepherd sends his regards" Bastard. bastard. bastard.

Johnny freezes.

"He told me y'all wouldn't take this well" Graves practically jokes... I grind my jaw underneath the mask.

"He knows about this?" the Lieutenant barks. I could tell that he was absolutely seething.

"He's put me in command of this operation from here on out. So, y'all need to stand down. It's time to let the pros finish this" - condescending slimy wanker.

Johnny and the Lieutenant glance sideways at each other. I try to tap into their thoughts but I wasn't used to being up close and personal with a ticking time bomb. I was used to sniping and sneaking...

"And why the hell are we talking like this is some kind of a negotiation? It's not. I've got my orders and now you have yours" Graves continues, adding salt to the wound..

That comment is what breaks Alejandro's , already fragile, resolve. He lifts his upper lip and growls "And who the fuck do you think you are, cabron? My men are inside!"

Graves chuckles, "I'm afraid not. Your men have been... detained"

I see the absolute death glare Alejandro gives Graves before he launches himself at him.

Graves and one of the Shadows standing beside me push Alejandro against a vehicle and restrain him with a zip tie.

"Graves, what the fuck?!" Johnny shouts, still confused and shocked. Poor Johnny - why did he seem shocked? The guy's been creepy from the beginning..

The Shadow beside Graves opens fire on Johnny, I audibly gasp. All hell breaks loose.. I fire messily to begin with - not sure where everyone was seeing as they'd all moved so suddenly.

Alejandro screams "Get your fucking hands off of me--"

Graves grabs him by the hair and knocks him out with the butt of his rifle.

Graves then turns his attention back to Johnny. Johnny manages to grab a shadow's sidearm and fires at one of Graves' men, killing him, he aims at me, and fires. I jump, in fear before remembering that I am a Shadow right now. And they're gonna shoot at anyone that looks like a Shadow. I needed to be smarter about this now.

I glance to where the Lieutenant kills a Shadow with a knife. Man's a killing machine, alright..

My attention is snapped away by a sharp roar.

Graves had shot Johnny. My body convulses and I shoot three Shadows in quick succession. Pure terror and rage taking over my insticts.

Johnny falls backward to the ground with his dead hostage Shadow on top of him.

Graves steps away from me to his right to look around the vehicle. He was looking for the Lieutenant. I spot Ghost, who pops his head out from the vehicle's rear corner and finds Johnny on the ground.

I hear him shouting "Go, Johnny!, get out of there! Soap - Go!"

Johnny pushes the dead Shadow off of him and launches himself over the concrete barrier sliding down the hill as Graves' men fire on him.

shit shit shit

"Get him - Now!" Graves shouts. I feel a hard push on my shoulder and turn to face whoever had shoved me. It was Graves. "Pull your fuckin' weight Soldier" he growls at me, hanging me by the Shadow standard tactical vest. FUCK.

"Yup Yup" Where the fuck did that come from. He drops me and shoves me towards the direction that Johnny had fallen. I see multiple Shadows on his tail. Think Laika, THINK!

I hear a loud "Fuck!" from up ahead. It was Johnny. I run past a dead Shadow but then notice a discarded gun. Johnny must have ran out of ammo. I've got to catch up with him...

"You there, Ghost? That was a big mistake, brother. It did not have to be like this" I hear from behind me.. fuck, they'd caught him.. he had to be surrounded...

There is a long silence with no words spoken or bullets shot.. Sorry for leaving you, Lieutenant... I hope he is okay...

"SONOVABITCH... Find 'em!" Graves barks...

Had he escaped..? had he actually managed to trick them..?

I find myself praying to any God that will listen that we somehow all manage to get out of this shit show alive...

A radio that I didn't know I had crackles to life inside my mask reminding me of my current situation.

"Shadows - We've lost em' all... FUCK - FIND THEM.. FUCKING FIND THEM" Graves roars down the comms. Lots of 'yup yups' stream back through, along with distant gunfire and yelling.

"We've got Alejandro - no fuckin' Omega of his though! The task force are gone - got a good hit on Mohawk though.. he won't last long.. FUCKING GET MOVIN' BOYS. I want them by morning".. he continues, angrily screaming instructions.

I feel elated that Rudy has escaped.. but then my heart sinks when he says that Johnny won't last long. I need to find him.. and fast...

"And the girl.. I want her... ALIVE, understood?"

My blood runs cold.

[gaysindistress]

Daffodils

summary: My mark, a bouquet of daffodils, is the one thing that I have had to cling to through the years. It’s a promise of eternal love, a partnership made by the gods. I thought I’d lost him in 1945 but here he is in 2023, alive and well (kinda).

pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader 

warnings: angst, fluff, the feels, soulmate au

word count: 7.5k

Main masterlist

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest

For as long as I could remember I had daffodils on my left arm, the mark in the shape of four pale flowers in a bouquet being with me since birth. My mother would tell me stories of couples with matching marks, destined to find each other in this life and the next. She’d trace over her own mark that tied her to my father when she told me these stories and engrained the importance of the mark into me. “We are not whole until we find our match,” she’d say whilst sending my father loving glances that were returned by a wink and blown kisses. She would tell me about that the pull that you’d feel when you were close to your match. The proximity would tug at you like a string until you reached the end and met your match. My father would laugh while recalling how he nearly ran her over when he had been chasing that string, too caught up in the moment to look where he was going. Their situation was unusual in that he was a god, meaning he would live long after she died and would lose the one person made for him. It saddened her to know that one day she would leave her daughter and beloved husband behind but living with them for any length of time was enough for her. 

When she did die, the mark on my father’s arm did not fade but morphed into a new one, presenting him with a new match to find. Somewhere out in the universe, my mother had been reborn and she would be waiting for him to find her. Gods had the special ability to have several matches throughout their lifetime as they lived far longer than humans. If they did have a human match, they would be reborn so the god and them could be together for eternity. My fate was undecided being half human, half god; I could either find a god match or a human match that would not be reborn. The cruel reality of my situation halted my efforts to find my match many times. 

How could I go off and find them if I would only have a few decades with them? 

How could I allow myself to feel this great love, only to have it ripped away and never to be felt again? 

For many years, I chose not to look and pretended the daffodils were non-existent. Not only that but I couldn’t feel the pull to find my match for nearly two centuries. Curiosity, sure, drove most of my searching but that need to find my other half wasn’t there until 1917. I had been tending to my flower garden, trying to reconnect with the earth again when I felt the burn in my arm. The daffodils were glowing and burning from under my linen sleeve, telling me that my match had been born and from that day I felt the pull that my mother described. It drove me to leave my mountain cabin and find refuge in Brooklyn, New York. 

Occasionally I would feel a burn in my mark, letting me know they were close but it never led anywhere. I’d search a twenty-foot radius when it’d happen only to turn up with nothing, no leads to who they might be. Even though I knew I was in the right city and that they would have a matching mark, I had nothing else to go off of, leaving me distraught and lost. Once again I had allowed myself to get my hopes up only for them to be violently destroyed. My father, ever the wise man, would try to console me, telling me that these things take time and that I needed to be patient. Both of us knew that the sudden shift in 1917 meant they were human and thus I would only have a limited amount of time with them. Both of us never spoke of that fact and tried to find relief in the fact that I finally had a lead, no matter how small. 

Born March 10th, 1917 in Brooklyn, New York, and would have a daffodil bouquet on their left arm. 

The 20s came and went with no sign of them. The 30s passed in a blur with still nothing. The 40s were here and alas I had nothing. The first world war had not been a concern for me because they wouldn’t have been old enough to join however with the fast-approaching second world war, anxiety gripped me every day. If they were a man, they would surely be drafted and I would lose nearly any chance to meet them. On the other hand, if they were a woman, this world was not ready to welcome queer matches. Either way, I looked at it, nothing eased the fear and uncertainty that I lived with every day.

Laurel is the first person I told about a part of my dilemma. She doesn’t know about my god heritage but knows that I haven’t found my match yet and is becoming increasingly worried about the U.S. joining the war. The strawberry blonde laughs at my distressed expression as we pour out our hearts to each other in her small living room. She’d invited me over for dinner, at least that's what she claims but the coffee table full of wine and snacks led me to believe she needed a girl’s night. 

“I don’t really know why you bother with all of that stuff. Just live and have fun,” she declares as she refills her wine, the sweet but tangy aroma filling the room, “Don’t go around checking everyone’s arm and worrying about it.”

“My parents had such a great story….”

She lets out a loud and dramatic sigh, “Yeah yeah whatever. Honey, you need to just go out, find yourself a man, and dance the night away. There are hundreds if not thousands of handsome men in uniforms milling around, I bet we could find you one to get your mind off of this mystery person.”

“Laurel I don’t want a pointless fling, you know that.”

Sitting up and leaning forward, her eyes get a mischievous look in them, “I have a date tomorrow night and he has a friend. We could make it a double date! Oh, honey, it would be so much fun!”

I agree rather unwilling and she jumps up, shrieking as she grabs the phone to call her date to tell him it’s now a double date. 

Waves of patchouli, carnation, and vanilla filter through Laurel’s bedroom as she dances around while getting ready. She had pretty much drowned herself and me in her perfume when I walked in, claiming it was the best perfume on the market. 

“Sit we have to fix your hair,” demanding, she points to the vanity chair. 

“There’s nothing wrong with my hair.”

Red nails grip my shoulders and push me to the chair, “You can’t go out with days old pin curls.”

“They’re not days old and it’s how Veronica Lake wears her hair,” I swat at her hands as she tries to put my hair into a chignon. 

“Fine. Don’t complain to me if Steve doesn’t flirt with you.”

“Steve?”

“Oh yeah,” she’s moved on from my hair to lipstick, “You know my next-door neighbor, Steve, right? Well, his best friend is in town on leave and we may have run into each other a few days back.”

“Oh my god, Laurel! Why didn’t you tell me it was Steve?”

Shrugging her shoulders, “Why does it matter? He’s sweet and Bucky is to die for.”

“That’s the problem; he’s too sweet to be dragged around on a double date. I can’t go, I’m sorry,” I try to get up but she stops me with a very intense look on her face. 

“No, you’re going and you’re going to flirt with sweet Steve and get your mind off of that stupid mark,” she shakes my left arm for dramatic effect in the mirror, “Now take this lipstick, put it on, and change into one of my dresses.”

“I’ll put on the lipstick but I’m not wearing on your dresses.”

“You’re wearing a rather boring day dress. Flash a little cleavage for once.”

I roll my eyes at her crude wording as I finish putting on the red lipstick. Sitting back to look at myself in the mirror fully, I hate to admit that she might be right. The plain blue dress only has a hint of embellishment with the pearls that trail from the waist to the hem. In comparison to the white floral dress that Laurel has on, I do blend in with the background but that might be in part due to her much more outgoing personality. She doses us with another round of perfume, satisfied that we’ll smell absolutely irresistible. There’s a knock at the front door, pausing both of us and she lets out a small shriek of glee. 

“They’re here!” 

She’s bouncing like a toddler at the door, stopping only to take a deep breath and calm herself before swinging the door wide open to reveal our dates for the night. Pressing superficial kisses to their cheeks, she steps aside to let them in and takes the flowers her date is holding to put into a vase. I emerge from the bedroom with the mark on my arm starting to burn and itch as I get closer to the trio. The men have their backs to me but I recognize the shorter one as Steve Rogers, the aforementioned next-door neighbor. Beside him is the flirt of Brooklyn, James Bucky Barnes dressed in his sergeant’s uniform with that dazzling smile directed at Laurel. 

The burn in my arm becomes unbearable when my eyes land on them and whatever heartbeat I had becomes even more erratic as I realize what’s happening. I’ve met Steve several times and never once has my mark burned like this. Sure it might itch when I walk past his door every now and then but I brushed it off. The only other person that could be causing this is Bucky, my best friend’s date.  My heart stops altogether when he turns to greet me, extending out his hand in a true gentleman’s manner, “Hi I’m Bucky, it’s nice to meet the girl Laurel has told me so much about.”

I’m completely and uttered screwed.

“I hope it’s been all good things,” I take his hand whilst hiding my left arm behind my back. If he notices it, he doesn’t say but there’s a flash of discomfort on his face when we shake hands. Of course, the first time we touch sends sparks through us both as if to say “Hey look it’s your match! Congrats!” He withdraws his hand and his brilliant blue eyes linger on me for too long as Laurel tries to usher us all out so we can start the night. 

Steve appears at my side, offering his arm, “It’s good to see you again. At least this time I’ll actually have someone to talk to.”

Grabbing my cardigan from the kitchen counter, I slip it on to hide my mark and take his arm while sending him a gentle smile, “I imagine you get dragged around on these dates a lot.” “Not as much as you’d think.”

“Well, I’m glad it’s you that I’ll be with all night. Given her track record, I was worried I might’ve ended up with a criminal or worse, a marine.”

He coughs to cover up his laugh, earning a look from the couple in front of us, “I feel like there’s a story there.”

“Not a very exciting one I’m afraid,” I whisper as we walk down the stairs of the apartment complex. 

Laurel breaks our little moment, spinning to face us as we step out onto the sidewalk, “How about some dancing?”

“I second that,” the laugh that comes from Bucky is like a dagger tearing through me. That laugh is meant to be reserved for me. That smile is meant to be directed at me. That look in his eye is meant for me but he is not mine at this moment and I don’t know if he’ll ever be mine. The chemistry between them is real, clear to see by the way they melt into each other when they start to walk again. With her at his side, he would never see me or the mark I’m certain we both wear and I have to accept that. 

Steve senses my hesitation and clears his throat to get my attention, “Is everything okay?”

“Oh yeah, just colder than I expected is all,” I force a smile as I reassure him, tucking into his side even though we’re similar in height. 

It’s his turn to be nervous as we continue down the street, “I don’t want this to come out the wrong way but I saw your mark.”

I stiffen beside him, “What?”

“I really don’t mean to overstep but I think you should know he has the same one,” he says looking straight ahead and I follow his eye line to his best friend who is leaning down to whisper something into Laurel’s ear. Giggles erupt from her as the heat of my body disappears and anxiety takes over me. I can hear my heartbeat pound in my ears as my breathing starts to become labored. Steve fails to keep me upright as my knees go weak and I stumble. My knees and hands catch the rough pavement, ripping at the soft skin and causing blood to leak from the cuts. The streetlights are blurred around me and all of the noise surrounding us becomes muffled. Water starts to envelop me from within, making it harder to swim to the surface of my emotions. Pain rockets from the torn skin and the mark when a warm and strong body pulls me off the ground into them. The sleeves of my cardigan are bunched up, revealing stems of my daffodils as his hands tightly grip my biceps to keep me steady. 

“Hey hey are you okay?” his angelic voice barely breaks through my haze and I can’t help the tears that escape from my eyes. Concern fills his face as he bends down to look me in the eye and survey my expression. The sparks from our handshake are tenfold now as he holds me, only fueling my anxiety until it’s unbearable. Pushing him away with the little strength I have, I stagger back and blindly wipe at them with the back of my hand. 

“I’m so sorry. I have to go,” is the only thing I can muster the strength to say. Laurel calls after me as I take off down the street and disappear into a cab, leaving my unknown lover behind. 

In the weeks following the rather disastrous date, Laurel had tried to call and drop by to see how I was doing. The embarrassment of it all kept me from answering her calls and it took all that I had to not just open the door when she called my name. A few times at the start she’d even brought Steve and Bucky with her, trying to use them as bait to get me to open the door. Every time they’d leave, I’d slide down the door, hand clasped over my mouth to muffle the sobs. Every fiber in me burned to see him again, to feel his presence around me just one more time before I’d have to let him go. 

At some point, Laurel stopped calling and coming over. She claimed she couldn’t handle the pain of trying to maintain our friendship anymore. It angered her that I wouldn’t open up about what happened that night or even try to get to know her new boyfriend better. She would go on and on about how it was ridiculous that I wanted to find my soulmate so badly but when it came to her, I wouldn’t be supportive. Hypocrite was one of her many names for me towards the end but I learned to ignore it. I knew that if I let her in, I would fold and tell her everything from the matching marks to who my parents were. I couldn’t bear to see her face when she realized that her new boyfriend was my soulmate. 

When she returned to her normal life, Steve began to send me letters to update me on him and Bucky but they slowed as he became busier and busier with being Captain America. I could feel the intense trauma that Bucky experienced but reading about it in the letters, relief washed over me knowing that Steve was able to protect him when I could not. Eventually, they stopped altogether and my connection to Bucky ended completely, leaving me in the dark and alone with vague emotions that had no context. 

1945 had been the worst year to date for me. I could still feel Bucky every now and then, waves of joy and desperation washing over me. It all stopped one bleak day in 1945. Collapsing to the ground as I did that day, I clutched my chest as my heart punched in my chest. The singe of my arm turned into a volcanic eruption whilst the pure terror Bucky felt tore me apart. Coworkers rushed to my side, all awaiting my reason for why I fell so suddenly. The same thing that kept me from speaking up during that date kept me from explaining. 

“I don’t… I don’t know. I’m sorry, I….I need to go,” stuttering, I scrambled away to escape from my own personal ring of Hell. 

Is this what it felt like to have your soulmate die?

My father did everything he could to console me when I showed up at his door sobbing and exhausted. The woman my mother had been reborn into quickly left when she saw me and didn’t return until I left again. Later I found out he had sent her away so I wouldn’t have to see them together and worsen my suffering. He listened to me babble about Bucky and how I had just him slip through my fingers. Tender words and cups of tea were all he could offer me as I cried and mourned the death of my almost soulmate. He knew the pain that I felt, the deep ache that would never leave me but there was nothing he could do or say to ease it given that I had been cursed with only one soulmate. I’m not sure how long I stayed with him, a shell of my former self acting as a ghost in his home. I’m not even entirely sure how I made it back to the cabin I had left nearly 30 years earlier but one night I fell asleep by his fireplace and awoke in my cabin’s bedroom.

The morning sunlight breaks through the transparent curtains that I never remembered to close. The wood walls are filled with paintings and photographs of my loved ones through the years. Various bought and propagated plants clutter the shelves that line the top of the cabin walls. Even though I’m deep in the woods, having nature inside made me feel even more connected to the Earth I’ve walked for nearly 300 years. During my many years, the cabin has become overwhelmed with pieces I couldn’t possibly bear to part with. The Persian rug given to me by my grandmother keeps my feet warm as I slide off the loft bed and shuffle toward the kitchen. Piles of blankets made by past versions of me spill from the baskets that fail at keeping them under the bed. Space is limited in the cabin however being surrounded by the memories of my life provided me with comfort.

Steve’s letters are laying on the kitchen counter wrapped neatly with string next to the tea kettle. A small photo of him and Bucky peaks out from between the letters. He’d sent it in hopes it would entice me to write to the other man but it only brought more torment to my weakened heart. The stems of his daffodils make an appearance in the photo, confirming what Steve told me. No longer able to stand the angst regrowing inside, I nudge the photo back into the pile and push it away from me. Filling the tea kettle with water, I light the stove and place it on a burner. The familiar sounds of crackling fire and bubbling water make it to my ears however I can’t stop staring at the letters with numerous questions popping up in my mind.

Did Bucky know that Steve had written to me?

Did he know about that picture?

Had it been a spur-of-the-moment, taken just for me, or an old one Steve packed around?

Did Steve tell him about our marks? Who I really was to him?

Did he die knowing I was his soulmate or did he die thinking he was alone?

As if the gods knew I needed a break from my internal torture, the kettle whistles and washes away the cloud of questions that had floated in. With a cup of tea in my hands, I return to my bed and cover myself with an aging-knitted blanket, letting the warmth soothe the tension in my muscles. I had spent my life searching and praying for my soulmate but now that he was gone, I have no idea what to do. My life’s mission is gone, leaving me with the unanswered question of what to do next. Maintaining my garden and the forest around my cabin would provide only so much relief. I would have to find something else to occupy my time however, grieving will have to do until then.

A side effect of being half god is never really remembering what year it is. Already being a forgetful person, keeping track of the year is something I never get better at. Calendars are only helpful if one remembers to keep them updated and asking someone the year earns weird looks because why would someone forget what year it is. The only thing that helps with this is the weather and gardening. The changing weather patterns and sunlight schedules are my solutions because in order to garden, I have to know the seasons and thus I can kind of guess the year based on what season it is. Still, I get it wrong when my father visits, complaining that it’s been nearly 20 years since we last saw each other.

“Did you forget about me? It’s been two decades since I saw you last” he jokes, pulling me into a tight hug, “I missed you, dearest.”

“I know and I’m sorry. I just got so caught up and time slipped away,” I ramble on, trying to excuse my negligence.

He smiles and quietly shushes me before bending down to look at the daffodils I had been tending to when he arrived, “Seeing you happy again is worth the long wait. How are you doing?”

I shrug, “Better. It’s been difficult but things are getting better.”

“Good, good. Time really does heal our inner wounds.”

“Is it a time or do we just force ourselves to cope so we don’t seem lost in our grief? Because I have a hard time believing that the number of years passing by is the reason I don’t cry every day.”

“It may be both. I wouldn’t discount the work you’ve done to move on…”

My soft scoff stops him mid-sentence, “You make it sound like I lost my favorite book or something. I can’t ‘move on’ from this, I will always feel the hole he left. My heart will always ache in such a way that it eats me alive at night. There is a life and a love I will never have because my own fear stopped me from reaching out to him. I never got to see goodbye and now there’s a permanent absence, sudden, abrupt, and louder than anything could ever be. Yes the world kept spinning and life went on but it was never the same again. I will never be the same again.”

“Dearest you know I didn’t mean to diminish what you’re going through. I simply meant…” He tries to backtrack and save himself from my scorn.

“What you said and what you meant are two different things. Regardless I do not care to have this conversation,” I stop at the cabin’s door, turning to look over my shoulder at him, “You’re welcome to stay for dinner as long as you don’t bring him up again.”

Nodding, he follows me inside and continues to marvel at my green thumb. If I can’t nurture the future I want, I can at least care for my plants with the same passion.

My braid falls down my back, flyaways and loose strands having escaped amid the fight. My chest is rising and falling quickly as I try to regain my breath, the braid slipping off to the side. Pieces too short to reach the back have fallen in my face, barely hiding the blood and cuts that mark my face. I take in shaky breaths as I kneel on the ground, my hands flat against the ground, trying to find stability.

The two men are watching me, their chests heaving in an effort from fighting me. Neither move, too caught up in observing every movement I make. I drag my hands to my knees as I sit back on my haunches.

“I come in peace. I swear,” I rasp as I try to steady myself, muscles screaming in agony.

The brunette scoffs at my weak white flag as the other man takes a careful step forward.

“What are you doing here?” the closer man asks.

I wipe at the blood dripping from my nose, “I could ask you two the same thing. They sent here me on a pre-sweep before Walker comes to do a photo shoot.”

The brunette shoves his gun into the waistband of his pants and shakes his head at my answer. The other name gives him a confused look, “Walker?”

“The son of bitch can’t even do his own missions without a babysitter,” the brunette mumbles while searching the room for what the three of us had been fighting over, a vial that has rolled dangerously close to me.

“Wait, so they send in a solo agent to do a clearance sweep for him?” the other man asks.

I spot the vial but push it toward the men, wanting nothing to do with it.

“Yeah, well he is Shield’s newest shiny toy, and they can’t afford to replace him if something were to happen. So they send in replaceable people like me to do the hard part, and he comes in during the last minute to take all the of the credit,” I laugh humorlessly. I make no attempt to move as my body starts to ache and fatigue sets in. I’ve been doing this for far too long with too little sleep and even less food and water. A part of me had hoped that they would’ve just killed me during the fight, so I could finally get some peace and get away from Walker. The life I once had was too far gone to even think about running away from it. There is nothing left for me at this point and giving the vial over might as well be the last nail in my coffin.

The brunette picks up the vial, eyeing me for just handing it over. His hands are covered by gloves by the whirring of mechanics is unmistakable. I know all too well who these two men are, and I also know I won’t survive another fight with them or the wrath of my“employers”.

Gesturing to the vial, I caught his eye, “I don’t want whatever the hell that is. I don’t even know what it is but if you’re here for it, it definitely can’t get into Walker’s hands. Just take it and get the hell out. He’ll be here in maybe 20 minutes and won’t exactly like seeing the Falcon and Winter Solider.”

Sam reaches a hand out to me, “You’re coming with us.”

I brush his hand away and shaking stand up, body crying out in protest. Going with them means more running, more fighting, and more hiding. I can’t take it anymore. I’d rather die at this point.

“No. Just get out. I won’t say anything about you two being here.”

Bucky speaks up, “And why would you do that?”

“You’re not the bad guys here. Just go. You don’t have much time,” I grumble, picking up my gun and reholstering it. My black suit is ripped and blood is gluing it to my skin. I’m sure I look like a complete mess but it matches how I feel.

Before anyone can speak, the static of a radio roars into the room. Sam picks up the radio and tosses it to me.

“Agent Echo, status update now!” a demanding voice comes through.

Rolling my eyes, I press the call button, “Pre sweep complete. I ran into some trouble but the building is clear.”

“Trouble?” the sneer can be heard through the garble of the radio.

“The building wasn’t exactly clear like you had said so yes I ran into some trouble but I’m fine thank you for asking.”

“Be at the meeting spot in 5 minutes.”

“Copy that,” I say like mentally screaming and imagining that I’m throwing the radio at the wall.

“Like I said,” I turn to Sam and Bucky, “you don’t have much time so get the hell out.”

My legs begin to shake as I try to take a step and I collapse to the floor, the world fading to nothing.

Groaning, I try to move my body to regain feeling but something prevents me from doing so. My eyes blink rapidly to accommodate the light that blinds me and the two men come into view. I look down too fast, causing a head rush, but spot the chair that I’m bound to.

“Woah, woah, don’t move too fast,” Sam says as he approaches me and kneels down to meet my eye line.

“Walker wasn’t going to let you live after we took the vial so we took you with us,” he explains, no malicious is seen on his face.

I chuckle at his words and pull my head up to catch Bucky’s eyes. He’s still as stoic as before, with no emotion to be found on his face. Out of the corner of her eye, a blonde woman is sitting at a dimly lit table and a man wearing a massive fur-lined coat is sitting with her.

“The whole gang's back together I see.”

The blonde shifts in her chair, metal creaking against the cement floor, “What were you doing in that building?”

Sam stands and rejoins Bucky, pulling him aside into a hushed conversation. I glance over to the blonde who I recognize as Sharon Carter. The third man is, of course, the Baron, and I can’t help the laugh that threatens to bubble up.

“No reason”

“No reason?” Sharon repeats.

“Yep. No reason.”

“Who are you?”

“No one.”

The baron now looks impatient and uncrosses his legs to recross them.

“No one?”

I shrug, “Yep.”

Sharon huffs at my remark and looks to Bucky and Sam for some help.

“They called you Agent Echo,” Sam offers up.

“She can’t possibly be Agent Echo. She’s dead,” Sharon answers.

“Oh look at you with all the answers,” I try to make a fist to try and restart blood flow to my hand. I had landed in glass shards and there are pieces still embedded in my palm, too small to have shaken out.

“Try again. You’re not Agent Echo so who are you?” Sharon leans forward in her chair, causing the chair to groan again under the strain.

“A person,” slowly my fingers start to feel warm again and I move to try and wiggle my feet around.

A loud grunt is heard as the baron decides that a sudden show of aggression is needed to scare the truth out of me. He crosses the room in a few steps, heavy boots pounding the cement when he leans too close to me. All I do is raise my head and we are now inches from each other’s faces.

“I suggest you take a step back, Helmut,” I whisper as the baron tries to hold a solid facade.

Bucky is the one to pull the baron back, thoroughly over this show of dominance. He pushes him back towards his chair before retaking his place next to Sam.

“How do you know who he is?” questions Sam.

“That’s not important. Now what I want to know is how you got me out of there without a brigade of super soldiers on your tail.”

“We snuck out the way we came. It wasn’t hard.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Agent Echo was said to be a half god, half human,” Sharon now has all eyes on her, “Even when they found a body, it was highly likely that it wasn’t actually her. The body they found was missing their left arm so they couldn’t officially match the marks. The only way to tell if she really is Echo is to check her left arm.”

All eyes are on me now and the world starts to close in on me. The anxiety of having my mark revealed and the fear of unveiling my true identity is becoming too much to handle. My body can barely keep itself awake at this point and adding on this pressure is not making it any easier. Everyone is waiting for me to speak but nothing comes out.

“No,” my voice cracks as I try to get words out, “You will not put a hand on me.”

Sam goes to speak but is stopped by me choking out more words, “Whether or not I’m Agent Echo is not important. What is, is getting that vial out of here and getting into hiding. Walker will no doubt be ferocious that it’s missing so it’s only a matter of time before he comes busting down doors.”

“Check her arm,” Sharon tells Sam.

“Do not touch me,” I try to wiggle away from him but with the ropes, I have nowhere to go and no choice other than to let him pull my sleeve up.

My breathing is too quick, too close to having a full-blown panic attack when the daffodils are on display for everyone to see. I don’t miss the confused look Bucky is wearing as he narrows in on them, trying to put the pieces together in his head. He must have recognized me to some degree back during the fight but brushed it off until now, faced with the undeniable evidence that we do know each other.

Sharon approaches me, inspecting my mark, “How are you still alive?”

“Is that really the question you want to ask right now?”

“Yes now answer me.”

“It takes a lot more to kill someone like me. The body they found was an accident. I hadn’t planned on faking my death but it worked out to my benefit until Walker had the body reexamined and found out it wasn’t me. America needed their Agent Echo again so he tracked me down and brought me back. ”

Sharon rolls her eyes and tries to explain how implausible that sounds. Bucky silences her with a look as he walks toward me and starts to undo my binds. He doesn’t say a word while he does so and silently hopes that I won’t say anything either. With the final bind undone, it takes everything in me to not wrap him in my arms. Here he is; standing right in front of me alive is my soulmate. He stands and backs up to Sam before his resolve breaks and he unleashes the thousands of questions he has on me.

“Why’d you do that?” Sam whispers.

“I know her,” he whispers back.

Sharon had left us and the men are all sitting around the table talking amongst themselves. I can hear the conversation from the bathroom as I gingerly pull the suit from my body. As it drops to the floor, it makes a disgusting wet sound and I nearly gag. The shower running covers the noise and I continue to take off the Shield-issued clothes. One by one the filthy garments leave my body until I’m left with nothing but my skin and wounds that definitely need tending to. I grimace at the black, blues, and yellows that litter my body and the caked blood that will take so much scrubbing to get off.

Stepping into the shower, I hiss at the feeling of warm water on my skin. There isn’t much in the shower aside from a bottle of 3 in 1 and an unused washcloth Sam gave to me. So starts the long process of ridding myself of blood and dirt. In slow circles, I scrub at the filth and watch as the muddy water flows down the drain. My hair is a problem I’m not sure I want to tackle but know I have to. Stiff fingers unravel the braid and tangles make it nearly impossible to do it gently. I wash what I can from it, knowing it won’t be nearly as clean as it could be.

After I finish washing what sins I can away, I step out of the shower and wrap a rough towel around my body. A fresh stack of clothes sits on the counter, thanks to Sharon. I know not to be ungrateful but I also don’t want to owe Sharon anything. However, my alternative is the bloody suit on the floor so the borrowed clothes will have to do.

I slip on the jeans and tug the red long-sleeve henley over my head, pulling my wet mass of hair out of the collar. There is a familiar scent on the shirt that I can’t place. Sitting on the toilet, I put socks on and lace up the boots Sharon definitely didn’t want to give up. I finger comb what tangles I can out and rebraid my hair, leaving a wet mark on my back but at least I have clean clothes on. Before leaving the bathroom, I grab my bloody suit and toss it into the main room’s fire without a word.

I take the open seat in between Sam and Bucky. Sam starts to question me about how I’m doing and how my shower was. I nod along politely and say my thanks for giving me a place to stay. My attention isn’t fully on Sam though, my mind drifting away to Walker and the possibility that he might find me. The baron says some off-handed comment causing me to look over at him and the smell hits me. With Bucky sitting right next to me, his cologne wafts past me and it’s the same as the shirt. He must have given Sharon one of his old shirts for me to change into.

“Wow, I haven’t seen that henley in forever, Buck,” Sam chuckles as he eyes the red henley I’m wearing.

“I forgot I even had it,” Bucky replies and gets up, “I’ll take first shift watch.”

“I will too,” I interject while Sam smirks to himself.

“Go right ahead,” he says before walking off into another room, the Baron following suit.

Bucky still hasn’t spoken or even looked at me and I’m growing restless, fingers tapping rapidly on my knee.

“How do I know you?” I almost don’t hear his quiet voice as he’s watching out the window with his back to me. The uncertainty in his voice pulls at my heart and that little string that ties us together in destiny. When the Winter Soldier first emerged, I felt a faint tug but never enough to convince me that he was still alive. From time to time, I would become overwhelmed with suffering and anger so deep, it would incapacitate me for hours. It wasn’t until it was revealed who the Winter Soldier really was that it all clicked into place for me. Even though I had worked with SHIELD for many years under Nick Fury, I refused to be a part of anything to do with super soldiers and Hydra. I would do anything else Fury needed of me but that was my one condition; I will be completely in the dark about Hydra and super soldiers. Walker, however, became too greedy to find the serum and dragged me back into the ring against my will. God or not, he had beaten me down until I was a shell of the agent I had been before. Now face to face with Bucky, I’m beating myself up internally for not learning more about Hydra. Had I known maybe I would’ve been able to save him sooner. “Do you want the truth?”

“Yes.”

“Do you remember a girl named Laurel?”

He’s turned to face me, leaning against the window, and nods.

“What about the double date in 1943? You’d come home on leave and she wanted to go on a double date with Steve and one of her friends.”

He says my name with such disbelief that I’m here in front of me, “Your mark. That’s the reason you ran away that night?”

“I couldn’t tell you after I saw how well you two got along. It didn’t feel right to me to break up your relationship, especially with how enamored she was with you.”

“Did you even take into consideration what I might have wanted?”

“It wouldn’t have been fair…”

His booming voice halts me mid-sentence, “No what wasn’t fair was to run from me and not even try to tell me. When we shook hands, I knew there was something between us and then when I picked you up, I felt that spark again. I tried to go after you, to visit you. Hell, I even had Steve write to you to make sure you were okay. I tried but you didn’t.”

“You have no idea what I’ve done to find you,” standing up from the table, my voice wavers with tears, “I waited for 200 years to feel you be born and then I had to wait another 26 years to meet only to see you with another girl. I ran because I couldn’t stand to watch you and Laurel together after waiting so long to finally meet you. When I finally worked up the courage to find you again, I felt you die and then I felt only pain for the next 70 years. It consumed me until I had nothing left. Working as Agent Echo was about the only thing that kept me from losing it all and just ending it. Do you have any idea what it feels like to be in misery that long?”

“You felt me die?”

“Back in 1945 when you fell from the train. Obviously, I know now that you didn’t die but it most certainly felt that way.”

“And you felt everything when I was…” he trails off, unable to say the words so I fill in for him.

“Yes, even then I went through it all. I met Steve again before everything and he told me about it and what really happened.”

There’s a spilt second of silence as he mulls over my words. My eyes fall to his left arm where his matching mark should be but it’s been replaced with metal.

“He never told me about that.”

“Because I asked him not to. I wasn’t sure if you would be ready or even want to see me so I asked him to wait. I had it all planned out; he was going to take you on a trip to my cabin under the guise of a friend’s weekend so I could tell you everything. We agreed that it would be better if he brought you to me rather than me just springing it all on you without warning. Then the blip and Thanos happened and he was gone.”

Once again he doesn’t respond right away while his jaw clenches and tears brim his eyes. Hesitantly I make my way to him slowly so I don’t scare him. After the nearly 80 years it had been since I last saw him, so much had changed in him but the one thing that never left is the ghost of his boyish smile. Even now as he tries to hold back the storm of emotions inside, the wrinkles from years of smiling and laughter are visible.

My hand lands on his cheek, guiding him to look at me, “I’m sorry that I ran and that I didn’t try harder to find you but I’m here now and I’ll stay by your side. I will love you until the sky above darkens and even then I’ll stay by your side in the afterglow.”

Bucky drops his forehead to mine and his arms cradle my face while the tears fall freely now, “Please don’t leave again.”

“I won’t.”

[colectingstrz]

ATTENTION !! ∪＾ェ＾∪

➤ (💌) oneshot | niki x fem reader | college au | fluff | low-key a love triangle but not at the same time | word count 7.8k | this is not proof read !! the punctuation is non existent!! So bare with me 😭 |warnings : characters in this story attempt to take advantage of the reader at some points but not so a huge huge extent.

“You give me butterflies, you know? , My heart has gone to paradise”

You’ve always had a little crush on Jungwon but on your mission of getting him to notice your existence you slowly start to crave the attention of someone else.

MARCH THE 20TH back on your first day of attending the badminton club, was the first time you set your eyes on jungwon. Just seeing him play was fascinating to you, he wasn’t a sore looser unlike the others he would take his loss gracefully thanking the opposing team for a good game. When he would win, a beautiful smile marked his face the sight putting you in a trance you couldn’t take your eyes off of him he was just..perfect.

You wanted to talk to him but your nerves got the better of you, the shyness eating you alive in that moment.

Now here you waiting outside of the detention room. Your teacher had assigned you to collect extra textbooks for the class. Normally it wouldn’t be a big deal for you not at all but.. since lee heeseung is back your slightly nervous it means you would have to encounter him

You gulped.

Come one y/n you can do this! Your a bad bitch just collect the books and go

you slapped your self gently in hopes to muster your courage “ just ignore them and retrieve the books easy” you took one last deep breath before entering the room. You soon realised you were just being dramatic as your entrance raised no heads everyone was either sleeping or emersed in their conversations which you were greatly thankful for.

You reach the corner of the room behind the teachers unoccupied desk checking each drawer for the books. Maybe it’s on the other end let me check You stood up walking towards the back reaching for the top shelf

“y/n”

Ignore him ignore him ignore him ignore hi-

“Y/n sweetheart.. you know it’s rude to ignore someone’s who’s talking to you right ?”

You gulped nervously slowly turning around to lock eyes with heeseung and he smiled. Normally you would return it back but something about his wasn’t friendly. “ it’s been a while since I’ve seen you..oh did you cut your hair it looks cute “ you smile shortly getting ready to turn away until he spoke again

“You know.. me and the boys are throwing a party on Friday you should come.. I would really want you to make it y/n”

And I would really not want to make it heeseung

you don’t answer simply humming and you turned away starting to collect the books and placing them on a pile on the desk beside you. Trying your best to showcase that you don’t want to talk but heeseung clearly choose to ignore the signs

“what have I told you about ignoring me I find it really offensive “

Shortly after that you could hear the chair move and the sounds of footsteps followed.

“ don’t ignore me “ he spoke whispering lightly in your ear his warm breath causing chills to run down your spine

“Hee-

“ quit it heesung can’t you see she’s uncomfortable?”

Thank god thank you thank you thank you whoever that is

you both turned around to identify the voice. To your surprise it was that tall guy that always hung out with jungwon what was his name again.. ah Niki

You wondered why he butted in unlike the others who just minded their business as no one dared to step up to heeseung but he did.. and for you it honestly made you feel somewhat flustered by his actions

Ahh i guess if he hangs out with jungwon he’s just a nice guy like him.. nothing much to it

“ come on bro.. I was just having fun “

“ well she clearly isn’t so cut it out..bro”

You could feel the choking tension between the two the whole scene made you greatly uncomfortable. You wanted to thank Niki but the way there were glaring daggers into eacother told you that now was not the time leading to quitely take your leave.

“Ayy, drop the question”

YOUR NOW ALONE as you leave the girls changing room walking into the courts well your aren’t really alone as other students are here but your best friend sunoo is sick so you therefore had to attend badminton alone and have no confirmed partner..

The thought of having to ask some random person to partner up with them makes you want to kill yourself. Sunoo why did you have to catch a cold on all possible days… Damm it

you sighed as you fiddled with your raket just looking around in Boredm until you spotted Niki in the corner. You quickly approached him “hey niki” you waved to which he jumped slightly at your presence “ y/n..” he smiled at you waving back “ what brings you here?” He asked while playing with the shuttle “ I just wanted to thank you for what you did yesterday i really appreciate it “ you smiled at him

Niki just started at you blankly not saying a word. Why is he not saying anything ? Did he even hear me.. “ uhhh.. earth to Niki? Heloooo” you waved your hands aggressively in his face which snapped him out of his trance “ sorry I uhh..spaced out” “ and your welcome y/n” and he quickly smiled at you before turning away.

Well this is awkward..

You both just stand there doing your own thing while you waited for the rest of the students to come out so the club could start. You wanted to to say somthing to him to make it less awkward but aren’t sure. After all this is like your 3rd encounter with Niki this whole term you don’t really talk to him at all.

So you brought up the only thing on your mind

“Sooo.. where’s jungwon” typical of you right? All your interactions with Niki consisted of jungwon somehow regardless if he was there or not.

“ ahh he’s not feeling to well so he’s not going to be in for a few days.. where’s your friend ? Ahh sunoo “ he’s also sick so it’s just me !” You laughed awkwardly

Why is he so awkward I don’t remember him being this awkward well yes he was always but quiet but- “ since both our friends aren’t here.. do you uh want to be partners with me “ he whispered in a low tone causing you to move closer to him slightly to hear him better to which he moved back

“ chill Niki I’m not gonna pounce on you.. you just speak so quietly “ Niki laughed slightly “ this is how I normally talk tho..” you smiled again dragging Niki slightly by the edge of his hoodie “ sure! I would love to be partners with you “ you both headed down to the main court to start the class.

After a long ass demonstration which felt like forever your teacher finally set you of in your pairs. You and Niki choosing to go into the corner

“ niki.. I can not do this I’m giving up” you sighed dropping your racket down and niki chuckled at the sight “ just take it slow if you keep on practicing you will master it eventually like me see?” Niki performed the complex serve with ease causing you to feel even more doubtful “ that’s easy for you to say mr badminton addict “ you rolled your eyes and Niki laughed “ come here I’ll teach you I’ll give you a private lesson “

Niki swiftly stood behind you his back pressing against yours as he reached behind your elbow holding it in place “ you move your right hand like this..” he continued to manover your hands into place as he explained the rest to you. Somehow you lost your focus as you became hyper aware of how close he was to you right now.

If only I could be this close to Jungwon right now..

“ now you try and have a go” you froze in your place. Shit I should have been listing now I’m gonna make a fool of myself “ uh…” Niki laughed “ it seems you weren’t paying attention as usual “ he said the last bit under his breath causing you to raise your brow “ as usual? What’s that supposed to mean ?” Niki smirked “ normally you can’t keep your eyes jungwon”

…… am I really that obvious

“ whaaaaat me? Liking jungwon? Nahhh where did you get that idea from hahaha..” you avoid eye contact with him “I never said you liked him “ you could feel the tease in his tone causing you to mentally face palm yourself I just outed myself like an idiot y/n are you really that stupid.. he’s probably going to tell jungwon and then he would think I’m weird and stop talking to me and I will then fall into a deep depression and my life would be over an- “ don’t worry I won’t tell him if that’s what your worrying about “ you sighed “ thank you thank you so much Niki the last thing I would want is for him to look at me differently..”

this is so embarrassing you awkwardly look down and fiddle with your fingers just wanting this conversation to end it was already weird enough that Niki best friends with him. “how about we make a little deal?” You hummed “ if I can help you get with jungwon you help me with my biology class “ you thought for a moment considering the pros and cons of his offer

In a sense it’s good for you and you can finally have a chance with jungwon and helping tutoring Niki won’t be so bad either. “ deal accepted “ you brought your hand out and he egerly took it giving it a firm shake. A shake which felt like for 10 minutes as Niki seemed to lock his hand tight around yours leavng it to linger longer than what a normal handshake should have lasted

Why isn’t he letting go..

You quickly removed it and masking it with a small laugh and going back to practicing. deep down you could feel the increasing pace of your heart after holding his hand for so long you didn’t quite understand what is was you were feeling

It’s nothing must be the badminton adrenaline or something

“Attention, attention”

YOU HATE THE LIBRARY. but today you would learn even if it’s by force to love the library as it was jungwon’s favourite place to study and have his chill time like he is now.

“ he comes here every free period except Thursdays and Mondays as he is busy with vice president duties “ you nodded making a note down on your book. You feel Niki starting at you “ what..” he shakes his head reaching over to your book and throwing it in the trash can beside you “ what the fuck” he puts a finger on your lips silencing you “ you don’t need that this isn’t some exam..”

Doesn’t mean you can throw the brand new book I got for this specific thing in the bin tssk

“ but how am I supposed to remember and study jungwons likes and interests..” you spoke displaying a pout “ your reading to much into it y/n.. you have to rizz him up in a natural way trust me “ you sighed going along with nikis instructions

“ now approach him go!” He pushes you forward a bit to hard causing you to trip and fall and along with you your bag and it’s contents fall out as well. Great. Now I’ve fallen in-front of my crush I’m going to jump out the window and just die “ oh my y/n are you alright ?” jungwon quickly approaches you while he starts to collect your things “I…I..I’m fine” Stop stuttering

“Thank you jungwon” you smile brightly has he handed you your items one by one into your bag for you. He’s such a gentleman he can’t be anymore perfect “ so.. what brings you here? Your not a regular ?”

“ uh.. I..I just wanted to try out a new environment sunoo always preaches about how the library is the best yeah..” he nods in acknowledgement “yeah it is I love the peace and quiet it really allows me to focus and relax “ you smile again “ yeah totally..” this place is quite dead but if you love it jungwon I love it too

You spend the rest of your time talking with him about various topics the more he spoke the more you crush grew. He was everything you wanted in a guy and too top it off he was amazingly attractive too. You quickly forgot about Niki who sat in another section watching the two of you with a slight frown on his face.

What was that about ? Everything was going according to plan wasn’t it ?

“ your going to heeseung’s a party? “ jungwon nodded “ yes even though heeseung doesn’t have the best rep he is still my friend we go way back I wouldn’t miss it “ you nod slightly “ you should come too!” You smile “ of course heeseung actually invited me himself “ you saw the light in his eyes darken for a split second “ oh really.. I wanted to be the one to ask you actually “ he looked away avoiding eye contact “ it’s fine though.. I’ll see you at the party? “ you nodded enthusiastically and he smiled “ I have a meeting to attend so I’ll see you another time.. it was great talking to you y/n” he smiles waving at you before leaving in the opposite direction

you practically melted into your seat as you slide down the chair letting your head fall backwards “ I just had a conversation with jungwon for more then 5 minutes omg “ you shot up again placing your hands on your cheeks

“Seems like it went well “ you were shocked to see Niki assuming he had just gone away afterwards but you didn’t question it “ yes it did i have never held a conversation with him for longer than 2 minutes Niki you have change my life! “ you happily beamed at him and you rested your hands on either shoulder “ im glad I could be of service to you “ he smiled slightly “ he wants me to go to heeseung a party on Friday “

“ your not going right ?”

You shook your head “ I wasn’t before but if jungwons going and wants me to go.. who am I to say no “ you giggled like a little school girl at the thought of what he said to you earlier and Niki displayed an unreadable facial expression to which you raised your brow “ I understand the whole project jungwon is in motion but I don’t suggest you go to that party “ you frowned “ what.. you said I should jump at any opportunity to hang out with jungwon ? Didn’t you” he sighed

“ I know but you know heeseung and his events in general it’s not a good idea for you to come it’s not like your jungown where your his friend it’s dangerous for you” Niki practically pleaded somewhat begging you not to go “ okay.. I won’t go “ Niki sighed in relief “good”

“Look at you, and my heart jumps out of my chest “

FUCK IT IM GOING IT IM GOING TO CHOOSE MY OWN DESTINY. You thought to yourself as you are now stood at heeseung’s door as you gain the courage to ring the bell.

Before you could reach for the bell the door flug open realving the guy you remember to be called Jake who was your previous lab partner for the last term. He smiled at you and welcoming you in with a hug “ hey y/n! It’s been a while since I’ve seen you at a party did you hit your head somewhere “ you laughed hitting him gently “ just wanted to have some fun that’s all “ you two continued talking until you spotted jungwon in the corner

Approaching him you waved to which he returned one back “ hey y/n… he observed you form top to bottom “ you look beautiful “ you blushed slightly looking down to which he laughed slightly “ you enjoying the party so far ?” You nodded “ it’s not bad “ he hummed

“ you want to grab a drink ?” You nodded he reached out his hand. You took it with no hesitation letting him guide you to the bar section “ anything you like it’s on me tonight “ he smiled at you thank god I didn’t bring any money with me.. ahh a man who can spoil me I could get used to this “ I’ll have the black panther cocktail please “ jungwon ordered after you. “ so y/n what’s your type “ you raise your brow “ type? What type of alcohol I like ?” He shook his head laughing “ no I mean your type in a guy.. just curious that’s all “ he looked at you intensely causing you to avoid it immediately “ uhh-

“Oh y/n I’ll be right back just stay here okay?” You nodded and he quickly disappears into the crowd reaching out for his phone. I guess he has an important phone call you sit their just chilling on your phone.

That’s until you felt a light tap on your shoulder

“ I knew you would come”

Your face dropped at the voice. Damm it I hoped I could avoid you heeseung

“ oh.. hi” he approaches you slowly as he swiftly sat in the unoccupied seat next to yours “ I would love to have small chat with you but let’s not ignore the elephant in the room..” you avoid eye contact “ why have you been avoiding me ? Y/n” you sigh taking a huge sip of your cocktail

“ why do you think heeseung “ you spoke harshly “ you can’t be upset with that.. “ he teased what..? “ how could I not be upset ! You tried to take advantage of me “ you rose your voice already getting worked up all over again as if you were reliving the moment. Heeseung just laughed as he rested his hand on your thighs “ come on.. what did you expect me to do when you were wearing that little black dress..” he spoke lowly as his hands rose higher

No..not again

You tried to move his hands but he pinned yours on the table firmly his strength overpowering yours “ just trust me y/n I’ll make it up to you hmm?” He spoke in your ear as he continued to raise his hands. You wanted to crawl in a hole and just cry you felt so weak and helpless no one could even tell what was happening too drunk to notice and it was crowded.

“What the fuck do you think your doing ?”

You both looked up to see Niki… Again he had saved you.

Heeseung quickly pulled away getting up and raising his hands in defence “ chill little boy.. I was just testing the waters I’ll lay of your girl “ he smirked as he walked off into the crowd Niki quickly came to you placing his hands on your shoulder “ I know your gonna say I told you so and alll b- “ I wasn’t going to” you looked at him surprised “ are you okay “ you shook your head “ no.. not really I just want to go home “ Niki held your hand “ come with me “ he helped you out of the party taking you outside

Why is it soo Damm cold why didn’t I bring a jacket ? I’m so stupid

It’s like Niki could read your mind as he quickly wrapped his leather jacket around your shoulders supplying you with temporary warmth. “ thank you..” he nodded “ I don’t have a car.. we might have to take a bus if that’s okay with you..” you smiled “it’s fine I don’t live that far actually I can walk home form here “ you started to walk and Niki held you back “ no way.. I can’t let you walk by yourself at night I’ll accompany you”

You shook your head. “ no I insist.. let me walk you home y/n” you froze not really knowing what to do with his proposal. His choice of words and the intention somehow making you feel cared for like you were a priority.. his priority.

You would never admit it though you tried to convince yourself he was just being nice. Yeah Niki is just a nice guy after all anyways.. nothing much to it

“ do you now understand why I didn’t want you to go ?” You nodded “ yeah.. I guess I just wanted to talk to jungwon so bad that I didn’t even think about the possibility of running into heeseung…” you spoke while looking ahead into the distance “ good thing I spotted you in the crowd “ you smiled slightly “ yeah.. my hero “ Niki looked down smiling. He ears going red in an instant. Hearing you say that to him was enough to make his night. After all he was just happy to have your attention in this moment even if you had eyes for his best friend.

“ I’m your hero?” You nodded gripping his jacket tighter as the breeze sent a wave your way “ yeah.. your like uhh.. Spider-Man minus the webs and stuff “ he chuckled “ and your what.. gewn?” You thought for a moment. Before answering “ yeah.. I guess I am I’m probably gonna Need saving sometime next week you better com to my rescue when I need you Niki “ you teased poking his arm to which he poked yours back “ I’ll always come and save you y/n.. without a doubt.”

You have finally reached your house slowly approaching the door you turn to Niki “ ah! Here’s your jacket “ you reach it out to him and he pushes it back into your chest “ keep it” you raised a brow “ but it’s yours ? You keep it “ bringing it out again to which he pushes it back to you again “ keep it “ he spoke sternly

You’ve always been quite stubborn and you were not going to back down. After all you felt bad as it ment Niki would have to walk back in the cold “I don’t want you to catch a cold or anything.. just take it it’s yours anyways “ he shrugs “ I’m Spider-Man I’ll just sling back home no need to worry about me y/n” he gave you one last cheeky smile preventing you form handing it back to him again as he practically sped off

“ he’s so silly he’s gonna get sick..” you look down at the jacket and back at his retreating figure in the distance.

Niki silently walked with an AirPod in his ear playing his favourite playlist. Though his music begins to fade out as he keeps replaying your interaction in his mind. The way you would smile at him would give him hope that maybe you could open up your heart to someone else.. to him but then he sees your smile towards jungwon on multiple occasions and is hit with a hard brick of reality

He would never be jungwon.

Your attention was always on him while his was always on you.

Niki was lost in his thoughts until he felt something hit his head causing him to turn in confusion.

“ sorry I didn’t mean to aim for your head “ you scratched the back do your neck awkwardly. Niki was flustered that you had followed him this far. Your action almost giving him hope. “ I know blah blah blah why did you follow me here blah blah blah.. I just felt bad you know.. I don’t want to be the reason your sick just take it “ Niki doesn’t speak he’s to stunned “ come on “ you urge him to put on the jacket “ I didn’t follow you for 2 mins for nothing put.the.jacket.on” Niki didn’t say anything and silently obeyed “ thank you y/n.. honestly you didn’t have to “ you smiled shaking your head “ nah it’s cool.. after all since I got home I technically didn’t need it anymore right now it needs to go back to its owner “ Niki smiled ruffling your hair

The action surprised not only him but you as well as he stood awkwardly with his fingers tangled in your hair when he had realised what he was doing and you just stood there refusing to meet his eyes. “ uhh sorry I just uhh” you laughed nervously “ it’s fine.. i kind of liked it..” you speak shyly looking down “ you liked it..?” Niki stepped closer to you bending down slightly so he could reach your level “ don’t put words in my mouth.. I said kind of “ he again presented you with his cheeky smile inching closer to your face “ it basically means you liked it same thing “ you moved back still avoiding eye contact “ whatever.. Niki”

You didn’t want him to see your face afraid of the expression you were making. You couldn’t stop the smile that was formed or the blush on your cheeks all he did was ask whether you liked it or not you didn’t get why your heart was jumping out of your chest right now. “ I’m going to go now it’s late uhh.. bye “ you quickly turned away running back to your home

Niki laughed at the sight. He thought you were the cutest thing.

“wanna be nice and close, you see?”

THINGS ARE GETTING MESSEY. you and Jungwon are both covered in paint form head to toe red blue yellow you name it. Together you both resembled a rainbow.

Over the past few weeks since the party with the help of niki’s exclusive Info it’s now helped you become a key person in jungwons life. Soon exchanging numbers following each other on instagram and even hanging out outside of school. Everything was going according to plan.

Since jungwon was vice prez he posed privileges unlike regular students like you. He had booked out the art room for an hour just for you and him. You didn’t want to get your hopes up or anything but the thought of him wanting such privacy with you..

The whole thing made you a blushing mess you couldn’t believe it.

“ stooop it jungwon!” You yelled in fits of laughter as he continued to splash paint on your uniform “ why not.. I’m painting my canvas “ he chuckled as he continued what he was doing. Covering you in a range of colours as you had done the same to him earlier. “ what so I’m your canvas now ?” He nodded “ all mine “

All mine.. ALL MINE M. I. N. E. DID HE JUST CALL ME HI-

“ y/n can I ask you something?” He put the paintbrush down beside you suddenly looking more serious. His whole attitude taking a 180. You nodded “ are you and Niki dating ?” The question took you off guard. Causing you to start coughing almost choking on nothing. Jungwon quickly rested his hand on your back gently patting it. “ are you alright ?” You nodded clearing your throat.

Me and Niki.. no way he’s just a friend

A friend that’s all

“ I’m fine.. and no we aren’t dating he’s just a good friend of mine. What gave you the impression?” Jungwon raised an eyebrow as if he was questioning your credibility “ I don’t know.. your always with each other and you even left the party with him too..” jungwon looked down “ I just like being around him that’s all since he’s my freind and speaking of the party if you saw us why didn’t you come ? “ jungwon nervously chuckled not expecting you to ask about his whereabouts that night

“Ahh that.. uhh I didn’t want to intrude but now that you say there’s nothing going on.. I want to take you out “ I’m sorry did I hear that correctly TAKE ME OUT ON ON LIKE A DATE??? “ yeah a date” you quickly clasp your hands over your mouth realising you just spoke your thoughts out loud. Leading jungwon to pinch your cheeks “ your so cute you know that y/n” you don’t respond nothing but a harsh blush forming on your cheeks “ I’ll pick you up on Thursday at 5 sounds good” you nodded.

In the midst of your eternal fan girling you didn’t realise that jungwon was slowly closing the gap between you inching closer and closer your nose’s barely grazing each other.

“ can I kiss you ?” With no hesitation you nodded closing your eyes as you waited for him to press his lips onto yours. I’ve lived my life up to this moment I can’t mess this up.. uhh should I include tongue or would that be coming to strong or should I-

Cutting you out of your thoughts again jungwon grabbed your chin gently pulling you forward and crashing his lips onto yours.

The kiss sent a surge of butterflies in your stomach it raised excitement within you.

Well that’s until it was put to stop when niki interrupted the moment unknowingly saving you for the 3rd time

At the sound of the door opening you and jungwon both jumped off each other quickly Adjusting yourselfs

“Uhh… am interrupting something?” He spoke with a certain tone that confused you and an unreadable facial expression “ yeah actually you did Niki..” jungwon spoke sounding equally as annoyed as him “ well I just wanted to let y/n know that out tutoring session was ment to start 10 minutes ago.. I’ve been looking everywhere for you and you won’t answer your phone “ you gasped slightly covering your mouth “ I’m so so sorry I really lost track of time.. wait outside while I pack my stuff “ Niki nodded leaving the room

Now leaving you and jungwon alone again “ are you really gonna go with him? I wanted to be alone with you for longer.. plus we just got started “ he spoke lowly as he rubbed his hands against your thigh up and down and looking at your darkly. His boba eyes not looking so cute anymore.

Is he trying to seduce me ? Cuz it’s working

“ I would love to be with you more but I really must go.. I promised Niki to tutor him anyways I’ll see you at our date yeah” jungwon nodded giving you a small smile “ see you then y/n”

Your now in Niki’s bedroom on either side of the bed the great distance bothering you slightly. You always sat next to each other so you didn’t get why every time you moved up he just moved away until his left side was moulding into the wall. He can’t be thaaat mad that I was late ? He’s acting very childish right now if that’s the case

“ do we have a problem Niki?” You ask and he just gives you a confused look “ what?” You sigh dramatically “ I said do me and you have a problem” he shook his head looking away form you “ there’s nothing wrong what are you talking about “ why is he being annoying right now ? Just answer the question “ if there’s no problem then why are you acting like there is one not talking to me this whole time and moving away from me ? “ he just shrugged “ it’s nothing “ you sighed in frustration “is it because I was late? Come on I already apologised for that “ he scoffed causing you to now raise your brow in confusion

“ maybe if you weren’t to busy sucking jungwon’s face off you would be aware of the time? Or your phone ringing ?” Bruh.. the tone of his voice just pissed you off “ what the hell is your issue? So what if I kissed jungwon everything is going well ?” Niki sighed “ whatever I’m not having this conversation anymore “ he spoke as he stood up getting ready to leave the room

No on walks out on me if anything I should be the one to walk out on him

You storm towards him dragging him by his arm and throwing him back onto the bed so you could tower over him. Your Strength shocking both him and you “ cut it out with the attitude I don’t get where this is coming from but if you have something to say just spit it out “ he sighed again shaking his head “ it’s nothing leave it y/n”

How could I leave it? Just be honest with me Niki what’s really going on

“ don’t tell me it’s nothing there’s clearly something bothering you.. if I did anything to offend you I- “ you didn’t it’s not you..” you raised a brow “ then what is it ?” He looked away “ I..I..it’s nothing “ niki what’s really bothering you. In desperation for an answer you found yourself making quite a bold move in attempts to get somthing out of him

You placed your hands on either side of his cheeks pulling him slightly closer to you “ you know you can tell me anything right ? What’s really on your mind “ niki was stunned by your action more focused on your touch than what was coming out of your mouth. You gave him the confidence to make a bold move of his own this shocking you greatly.

Niki swiftly slipped his finger in the loop of your belt pulling you down on the bed next to him and used his other to reach behind your neck and pull you in for a kiss. He was scared and nervous of your reaction afterwards but in that moment he felt this was the only way he could express how he truly felt hoping this would give you insight.

The kiss ended as soon as it started it was quick short and simple unlike jungwons. When he pulled away you just looked at him blankly “uhh.. I’m sorry I- “ don’t be “ niki looked at you shocked “ I’m not sorry so neither should you “ “ y..you mean that” you nodded not allowing him to speak any further before you now pulled him in again for another kiss. This one a lot more aggressive than the other and longer.

Your hand tangles in his hair lightly tugging on it while he gently placed his hands on your waist delicately like you were glass afraid he would break you.

You both pulled away after some time gasping for air. Just awkwardly looking at each other “ I’m s-“ you put your finger on his lips “ stop apologising I’m not offended or anything.. after all I kissed you back and I kind of liked it..” he now looked at you “ really “ you nodded “ yeah..” you now started to feel shy turning away form him while his eyes stayed on you “ I kind of liked it too..” you nodded still avoiding his sharp eyes

“ can you stop looking at me like that “ he chuckled “ like what ?” You moved away slightly “ like your gonna eat me something.. it’s creepy “ he chuckled again as he inches closer to you “don’t worry I’m full “ he laughs again pushing a strand of your hair behind your ear so he could see your face more clearly .

“ your not funny “

“ was I a better kisser than jungwon”

“Get out “

“Want attention, want attention”

2 DAYS AFTER YOUR KISSING MARATHON. you were still thinking about it the whole experience made you feel somewhat like a whore even tho you were far form that. You couldn’t get it out your head how you kissed 2 boys in the span of 2 hours

“ does this make me a hoe ?” Sunoo laugs slapping your shoulder “ it makes you classy hoe it’s not like you did anything more right…” he gives you a judging stare it slightly offending you “ come one you know me.. I wouldn’t just have sex with anyone especially 2 different guys in one day that’s crazy “ sunoo hummed

“ but the real question is who did it better “ sunoo teasingly wriggles his eyebrows at you “ I don’t know I enjoyed both ?” Sunoo shook his head “ yeah but one had to be better then the other even if it’s by an inch “ you sighed thinking deeply

You liked jungwons kiss a lot it was everything you had dreamed of he was just perfect you felt tingles of excitement form the kiss but it was short lived but on the other hand with Niki’s it was unexpected you didn’t anticipate unlike jungwons but you still thought it was great so great that you wanted to pull him on for a 3rd kiss you wanted to kiss him longer but was too shy to even look in his eyes after that. His kiss gave you butterflies even days afterwards the butterflies never left.

You secretly enjoyed Niki’s kiss more you wanted to experience it again but you would never admit it not even to yourself

“ jungwon. His kiss was way better “ sunoo sighed “ I was rooting for the niki dude but I’m not surprised you’ve been simping for jungwon for ages. “

Now here you are in the library after your down time with sunoo you stayed back as you and to meet Niki for a tutoring session. But you couldn’t seem to focus as you felt so awkward and skittish around him whereas he seemed to be chill wayy to chill for your liking

It’s like the kiss didn’t even happen

“ y/n you good? You seem a bit out of it today “ you shake your head “ no I’m not good at all “ “ what’s up ?” What’s up your seriously asking me what’s up ? After putting it on me you want to know what’s up Niki!?

“ what’s up is the fact that we kissed “ he shrugges “ yeah and..?” You roll your eyes “ what do you mean and? I can’t even teach you with out thinking of it and your just sitting here chilling..” niki looks at you for a moment before speaking “ I’m not really chilling.. I just don’t want to get my hopes up..” “ what?” Before you could question him any further a voice cut you off

“ oh my gosh hi niki!!” You look up to see a familiar face known as yuna you used to be seatmates at one point somewhere last year but you don’t really talk tho .

“ hi yuna what brings you here? Your a bit early ?” He responds with a smile and a laugh. Why is he so giddy for “ hey yuna” She gives you on look and continuous having a conversation with Niki did this bitch just ignore me? And why is Niki ignoring me too am I invisible do I simply not exist?

“ niki are you done?” He doesn’t respond and keeps talking to yuna. Why are you paying me no attention I’m literally sat right next to you stop ignoring me..

After what felt like forever yuna takes her leave “ I’ll wait in the other section until your done as your occupied.. bye niki “ she rubs his shoulder and sends him a Wink to which Niki smiles and waves “do you have a crush on her or something why are you so smily” he just shruggs “ I don’t know she just makes me happy “ you roll your eyes “ do I make you happy “ he nods oh.. well that’s good to know I guess you try to change the subject as his stare starts to make you nervous “ but.. why do you need her to tutor you. You already have one aka me “

“ well Mrs Yang. You so occupied with your new boyfriend our sessions are shorter and I need all the help I can get since the exam is soon” you roll your eyes “ very funny niki..”

“But why her at of all people she’s not even in the top 20 she’s literally a dimwit “ niki gasps at your choice of words “ that’s not nice! Plus her rank doesn’t define her intelligence.. she’s actually quite helpful and she’s pretty “ you frown unconsciously with out realising pretty ? What does that have to do with anything “so you do like her then “ niki shook his head “ I don’t like her I just think she’s cute that’s all who doesn’t want a cute tutor anyway..”

I wonder if he thinks the same about me ?

“ so I’m the ugly tutor then ?” Niki just laughs “ no your not I never said that “ you frown

“ then what am I ?”

“Beautiful your the beautiful tutor y/n”

“Want attention want attention “

YOUR NOW STOOD AT THE MIRORR as you evaluate your looks. You wanted to look perfect for jungwon in hopes to impress him this is a big deal for you and you didn’t want to make any mistakes or somehow put him off you.

The bell soon rings indicating his arrival you rush down starts quickly adjusting your hair in place as you open the door “ h..hi jungwon “ you smile and he returns it back handing you some flowers and chocolate. He’s so boyfriend material omg “ you look lovey y/n” you replied with a small thank you as he guided you to his car.

The date was going amazing the conversations were flowing you weren’t bored at all the location was beautiful he payed for it like the gentleman he appeared to be. He made you feel like a princess and you loved every second of it. Until you didn’t. Somehow not even 10 minutes into the dinner you started to loose interest not necessarily by what he was saying but more cuz your mind was pre occupied of thoughts and feelings for someone else who want present.

For a split second you wished you were on this date with Niki instead.

“ it’s getting late do you wanna come crash at mine for a bit.. if your comfortable that is ?” You nod too eagerly and jungwon laughs slightly as a result

You enter his bedroom and are shocked to see how well kept it is for a guy. “ your room is so neat I didn’t expect that honestly “ he smiles feeling proud after all he cleaned it up just for you. “ I like to sleep in a clean environment I hate messy things “ you nodd “ this is so clean unlike nikis room a total shit show “ jungwon frowns at the mention of his best friends name coming out of your mouth.

He sits down on the bed beside you “ you’ve been to nikis bedroom..?” You blush at the context realising how wrong it could sound not wanting to give jungwon the wrong impression or any idea that you’ve shared a kiss or two in there either. So you quickly try and assure him “oh no no no.. it’s not what your probably thinking.. sometimes I tutor him from his home he prefers to do it in his room that’s all” you laugh nervously while jungwon silently nods

“ so y/n.. now that we are alone don’t you think it’s time we finished what we started hmm?” He speaks slowly as he rubs your inner thigh slightly giving you an innocent look. Damm it here he goes seducing me again and it’s working “what.. kissing?” He laughes tucking a strand of hair behind your ear “ no silly I think we have passed that stage I want to do more with you“ you gulp slightly “ I want to be more intimate with you y/n would you let me ?” He again gives you the innocent look giving a different vibe in contrast to the words coming out of his mouth having a different meaning. You felt your self getting lost in his eyes taking the bait.

“ uhh.. you see i would love to but you know we aren’t dating and I don’t know how I would feel just doing that with any- “ am i just anyone to you y/n?” You pause for a moment “no..” he smiles “ we don’t have to put a label on it let’s just have fun for now how does that sound to you ?” You nod allowing him to take the lead.

It was all going well until you started to see things almost as if you were hallucinating. As jungwon kissed you. His face started to morph the sight was freaking you out. I must be drunk I did have a few drinks to be fair.. but your heart almost stopped when his face was replaced with Niki’s

What the fuck

He then went and kissed your neck trailing down “ you like that ?” If only jungwon could see the shock and fear on your face right now he even sounded like Niki too..it’s as if he and jungwon switched places and you was with him now the whole thing was sooo trippy

You blinked aggressively until Niki was gone only to be met with jungwon

What the hell what the hell was that..

soon afterwards jungwon reached his hand lower and you held it in place. He raised a brow “ what’s wrong ?” You smiled slightly “ I’m not quite comfortable with this can we s..stop please “ you swore you could see him roll your eyes but tried to convince your self it was the alcohol creating illusions like it did before

“ come on.. I’ll be gentle “ you shook your head moving away “no I’m not comfortable “ jungwon sighed “are you a virgin” you nodded “ I’ll take good care of you y/n don’t worry “ you gulped as he continued to move closer while you backed away with your back eventually hitting the wall

“ don’t you want this? “ you looked down not really knowing how to respond. Jungwon ignored your silence and attempted to take off your dress “ stop “ he just hummed and continued what he was doing

You felt panicked.. it’s as if you were reliving that moment all over again back in your first year where heeseung tried to take advantage of you but luckily the police came and shut the party down so he was forced to a stop but this time there’s no police to save you there’s no Niki to save you your on your own.

Before jungwon could make another move you mustered all your strength and pushed him off of you causing him to fall on the bed “ don’t touch me leave me alone jungwon I told you to stop and you kept going what the hell is wrong with you !” He rolled his eyes adjusting himself

“ you can sleep with Niki but you can’t sleep with me ? Come on y/n” you raised a brow Tf is he talking about

“ what..? I never slept with Niki where the hell did you get that from “ jungwon shrugged “ I just have a feeling “ you chose to ignore him as this wasn’t your main concern “ I want to cut this date short “ jungwon smirked “ come on y/n it’s not that deep” you sighed in annoyance “ not that deep? Well maybe for you! It didn’t but it is for me! Do you know how long I’ve liked you? I’ve been waiting for the day we would have a conversation I just wanted to be around you wanted you to see me notice me I wanted your Attention but I’m reality your just a fake asshole.. your not the guy I thought you were “

Jungwon started to clap slowly like he was applauding you the sight making you more pissed off “ bravo y/n! what a suprise as if it wasn’t obvious.. “

“What..”

“ there’s no point in keeping up the act now.. fine you caught me I guess I am a fake asshole this whole date me and you? Was just for bants”

Bants.. fucking bants

“Get out “ jungwon raised his brow “ please don’t get offended it wasn’t my idea it was hees- “ get the fuck out “ jungwon just looked at you “ you do realise this his my bedroom right ? You should be the one getting out “

“ shut the fuck up jungwon “

He raised his hands on defence “ okay chill.. I’ll leave temporarily geez.. you women have anger issues “ he spoke one last time before he left the room. Thus leaving you to sit on his bed in silence as you looked into the ceiling

3 minutes later you recived a call and when you saw it was niki you answered with out hesitation and the butterflies came to make a visit once again

“H..hello “ you quickly sniffed so he wouldn’t catch on to the fact you had been crying

“ are you at jungwons house “ you nodded

“ I’ll be there in 5 stay put“

He hung up leaving you to sigh you wanted to stay on the call longer even if it was just to heat his voice.

“Got me confusеd but one thing's for sure I know you're thе one”

YOUR STANDING OUTSIDE OF JUNGWONS as you wait for Niki’s arrival. By the time you headed out jungwon was already gone. You were not complaining as if you saw him again you might have gone to jail for physical assault and possibly attempted murder.

You couldn’t belive how wrong you were about him. He seems to have such an angel facade but in reality was just the same as heeseung. You always thought it was weird how they were friends but after tonight you can now understand why they are.. just the same as each other.

You regretted the last few weeks all this time with jungwon could have been spent with niki. You enjoyed your time with him always looking forward to your sessions he just made you so happy you couldn’t explain it. But you were so caught up in jungwon to even realise what was right in front of you.

Eventually you could see a figure quickly approaching you. You sighed in relief when you could identify it as Niki. He bent down for a minute trying to catch his breath before speaking “ y/n..” you slowly walked closer to him “ did you run all the way here..” he nodded

Get you a man who can run miles just for you Niki is the mf standard

“ you sounded upset I was scared that something might have hap- Niki stooped when he felt your arms wrap around his waist with your head resting against his chest “ im just glad your here now..t..thank you” Niki didn’t say anything and just wrapped his arms around your small figure.

You didn’t want to let go mainly cuz you craved his touch and because you could feel yourself starting to cry again but didn’t want Niki to see you in that sate.

Niki pulled away cupping your cheeks and wiping away a tear “ please don’t cry.. I hate to see you upset “ Niki your going to be the death of me just hearing him say those words and the look in his eyes just made you cry even more.

Shortly you both arrived at his house where he made it his sole mission to cater to your needs making sure you were okay.

Niki had made you some soup but if anything you now felt emotionally sick and physically sick. It tasted like absolute shit. But seeing how hard he was trying for you even watching a YouTube tutorial made your heart flutter so you ate it with a smile even tho deep down you wanted to throw it all up.

“ you don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to..” you shook your head “ I think if I told you jungwon might be a dead man tonight.. “ you laughed silently while Niki’s gaze darkened “ y/n..” you sighed “ if I tell you please don’t be mad at him.. I’m still upset but I don’t want you guys to like fight because of me your good freinds “ Niki nodded and you started to explain it form start to finish

It would be an understatement to say niki wasn’t fumming right now he couldn’t belive how jungwon would try and take advantage of you and disrespect you like that. “ I’m going to fucking kill him” niki started pacing down the kitchen back and forth and you tried to calm him down but he was in his own world. “ you stay right here” he sped of reaching for his coach getting ready to leave

No no no no

You didn’t know what came over you but it felt right in the moment. You found yourself reaching and wrapping your arms engulfing him in a back hug “ please.. just stay here with me he can wait “ Niki froze his heart beating like crazy he couldn’t believe he was this close to you right now. He quickly forgot about his anger and followed your words.

“ I’m sorry..” you looked at him confused “ sorry? For what “ he sighed “ I was the whole reason this happened on in the first place if I had just minded my business and not suggested the deal this wouldn’t have happened to you..” he looked away from you drowning in guilt. If he had not been so selfish and formed this plan just to spend time with you and confessed to you head on like a man you would be fine.

“ but then if you never made the deal we would have never talked ?” Niki rose his head “ yes the outcome was somewhat bad but..if it weren’t for this deal we wouldn’t be where we are right now ? If anything I’m glad it happed I was able to meet you “ you smiled to which he returned one back

“ Niki actually..” “no” you raised a brow no he didn’t even let me finish

“ I’m not going to be your second option as much as I want to be with you y/n”

You froze a bit taken back by his response and how quickly he caught on. You was going to confess but not to him being the last option. He was deep down always the first choice even if you didn’t know it at the time.

“ no no no Niki wait let me explain- “ no honestly I was just fine being your friend it was enough for me but I don’t want this just as if things were not smooth with jungwon we wouldn’t be having this conversation ever.”

You frownded “ no Niki it’s not like that at all.. I guess I’ve always somehow liked you but I just couldn’t or I didn’t want to come to term with my feelings as I wanted to like jungwon so badly..” he didn’t speak just looking at your silently

“ I guess in a sense jungwons downfall helped me confirm my feelings I don’t know.. I was just afraid and I was so sure I liked jungwon at the time so I just suppressed it all but when you kissed me that day it was just harder for me to come to terms with my feelings I wasn’t sure how to handle them or what to do with them” you sighed before continuing “ plus seeing you all giddy and smily with yuna made me somewhat annoyed? I guess I wanted you too treat me and look at me the same way you did to her I wanted all of your attention but I knew you didn’t feel the same way so again..I kept it to myself and tried to force and experience that I had always wanted with jungwon “

You looked at Niki again trying to read his expression but failed. But to your surprise he flicked your forehead instead “ ouch!” And held it in pain “ your so silly y/n you know that right “ you frowned while holding your head “ what made me think I didn’t like you? I think I made it pretty obvious “ you looked at him confused

What?.. so this whole time I could we could have..

He pulled you in for a hug wrapping on hand around your waist and the other on your head “ you don’t know how happy I am to hear you say those things to me “

“ I never thought that your attention would leave jungwon I always felt like his shadow to you..” he pulled away looking deep into your eyes “ well.. that’s changed now “ you smiled “you saved me again my spider man..so I might as well just fall in love with you” you spoke giving him a teasing look to which he returned one back “ Gwen always falls for spider man in the end “ he winked causing you to playfully hit his shoulder

TWO MONTHS LATER things have been going great you couldn’t have been happier with Niki he always put a smile on your face.

You loved it when he gave you all of his attention it made you feel like you were the only girl in the world the butterflies in your stomach gradually Increasing with every interaction you had.. he was your paradise and you were his.

“ what were you and Jake talking about for so long earlier “ you gave Niki a blank stare “ physics we were talking about physics nothing much to it babe” he frownded “ well if there was nothing much to it babe then why were you smiling and laughing so much “ you sighed crossing your arms “ are you perhaps jealous Niki?” He aggressively shook his head “no” you laughed “ you so are !” “ I so am not!” “ so so are!”

“So so not- okay fine I am maybe a little bit” you smiled reaching out to hold his hand “ why are you stressing when your the one who’s my boyfriend plus Jake has nothing on you he’s to short for me anyways “ Niki smirks “ I am your boyfriend aren’t I” you nod smiling “don’t give Jake all of your attention before he starts getting ideas..” you laughed “ wouldn’t dream of it “

@ COPYRIGHTS SOOTREEPEAR 2023

𖤐Do not steal or else and I’ll come to your house and suck your blood 🧛‍♀️

𖤐Authors notes and dat 📝 - sorry for making jungwon an ass 🥰 had to be done for the plot 😽 . This took so long as I kept switching form here to TikTok and losing my paragraphs 💔 lessons learnt ig but yeah I hope you liked it !!

- Peace and love ♡︎

𖤐 link to my other works !!

[lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom]

Calming Waves

Hunter x Reader

Summary- After finding out Omega has been taken for the third time, you and Hunter must comfort each other. Set at the end of s.3 ep.11

A/N- I AM FERAL FOR THIS MAN!!!!! It didn't turn out exactly how I wanted. The idea wasn't as fresh in my head as I would have liked. Nevertheless, enjoy!

Word Count- 1,439

Your chest heaved, desperate for air as you ran. Your feet hurt from how hard they were hitting the pavement. The Empire ships were leaving, that meant either two things.

Omega was dead, or Omega was taken.

Tears burned your eyes as you still raced for the top of Pabu where Shep's home was. That was the designated hideout.

You were close to hyperventilating, but seeing the humble cottage in the distance gave you the last boost you needed. You had to know what happened.

With a fury you didn't know you had, you slammed the door open.

"Where is she!" You yelled out when you saw only Hunter, Wrecker, and Crosshair.

Hunter was the first to face you, his own eyes glossy. He said nothing, just pulled you into a tight hug.

With realization you sobbed. If it wasn't for Hunter holding you up, you would have fallen.

You cried and cried, Crosshair could only look down in shame.

"Shhh, Shhh, we will find her..." You managed to catch your breath at his reassuring words. Hunter rubbed your back soothingly, even though he was barely hanging on himself.

"What... What happened?" You stood by yourself again, tears still silently falling. You wiped them away violently.

All eyes turned to Crosshair at your question. You noticed and followed their gazes. "What did you do?" You asked, words laced with poison.

"She, Omega, she gave herself up." He revealed, your heart sank again. She was so brave...

With a single stride forward- SLAP!

Your hand stung, bad. You just hoped Crosshairs cheek hurt worse. Your stare sent daggers to him.

He saw the hit coming, he really did. He just agreed that he deserved it, letting you deliver the blow.

"And you let her? You were supposed to protect her!" You pressed, unable to grasp how he could do such a thing.

"She.... She felt guilty, all of the lives that were going to be lost-"

"Do you think I give hell about anyone else?" You argued. "If we start to think about strangers, then we'd all be dead."

He looked remorseful, but not apologetic. "Omega saw the bigger picture."

This set you off, grabbing your blaster from its holster. "She is a child," a sob threatened, "She is too busy seeing the good in people to know how much bad there truly is."

Wrecker sat silent, watching. He was still injured from the bomb.

You weren't actually going to shoot him, in your fury you just acted irrationally. Hunter knew this as well, but still came to your side.

His hand wrapped around yours, gently lowering your weapon and hand.

"I can't even look at you right now..." At that, you turned on your heel. You didn't exactly know where you were going, just that you needed some air.

Hunter was at your side, a hand trying to wrap around your hip. "No, just leave me alone. I cannot believe this!" You pushed his hand away, admittedly harsh.

"I won't let you run off. We need to stick together right now." He managed to grip your wrist, you let him.

You sighed deeply, "Then come with me."

"Always..." He moved his hand down to grasp yours lovingly.

While the thought of marching back in and demanding a plan crossed your mind- Wrecker was hurt and you had no ship. The best you could do was wait for Echo or Phee to return your messages. Your mind still wandered at ways to find her.

You found yourself at the shoreline, right by Omegas hideaway cave. You didn't mean to stop there, but you guessed your subconscious wanted to be closer to her.

With a puff you sat down in the sand, hands mindlessly feeling the grain beneath you.

Hunter stood by your side, still on guard. You, however, were too worn out to care anymore.

"Three times..." You stated, not looking up. The wind blew your hair back. It could have been a scene from a holo-movie. The light breeze only made your heart ache more. The countless times you'd spent in this every spot with Omega grieved you.

"I know." You could hear him shuffle. You only responded by bringing your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them.

With a sniffle, you'd decided to speak again. "I hope she's not too scared. Even if it was her choice to hand herself over, she must still be scared." Tears welled at the thought of her.

Hunter moved forward, squatting down to rest a hand on your shoulder. "She's a tough girl." Silence again.

You knew she was tough, but the 'biggest' and 'strongest' of men wavered at The Empire. What could a single girl do against a whole Imperial army?

Hunter tried to ease your nerves, "We've done it twice before, we will save her again. Her and the other captured clones." This only fueled your anger.

"And then what?" You snapped, jerking your head up at him. "The Empire will never stop looking for her! They will just come again and again."

He looked down, avoiding your gaze.

"Hunter, I just want to be normal." You rested your face in your hands, still leaning on your knees. "Is that bad? To not have anyone after us. Just you, me, Omega...I mean, of course the guys too..."

"No. No, not at all." He said.

Your shoulders shook with your crying. "I'm sorry, i'm trying to keep it all together." You said messily, wiping your eyes.

At this, he finally embraced you. Pulling you completely into his arms. You were practically in his lap. He tucked your head into his shoulder.

"I just want our daughter back." You sobbed out, holding onto Hunter hopelessly.

"Even if it is the last thing I do, I will bring Omega home. We will bring her home." He pet your head gently, his calm and serious voice started to soothe you.

Your voice was muffled by his skin, but you spoke on. "I am so tired of running."

"I know, me too."

You both just held each other for awhile, the sound of the waves helped you steady your breathing.

Hunter broke the silence. "After this, after we save her... I think we should all disappear."

"Disappear?" You questioned, even though you were sure what he meant.

"Wouldn't be too hard to fake our deaths." He said stoically, staring across the water.

You leaned up at this, shuffling so you could look at him. "What about all of your connections? Phee, Shep, I mean-" You sighed, "...We can't tell them can we?"

"It's like you said, when we start to think about strangers we risk ourselves." He was turning cold.

You eventually agreed, resting your head back on his collarbone.

"We've got an incoming message from Phee." You both heard over Hunter's comms.

"Headed your way." Hunter replied.

He squeezed you a last time, hands still on you gently. "Let's go, talking to Phee will bring us a step closer to Omega."

You nodded, heart swelling when Hunter reached down to swipe the last of your tears away.

You pulled back, touching the sand with your hand a last time. Your tears were dried, all that was left was fury. A fury that could rival The Empire.

After talking with Phee, she agreed that she would head your way. You hoped she wouldn't mind helping you four, just until Echo could fetch a ship.

Tension was high, you all waited for her to arrive. Crosshair kept looking your way, but you didn't return it.

You had thought about your exchange, and was feeling pretty guilty. You knew Crosshair wanted Omega safe, that he was only doing what he thought was right.

"Crosshair?" You called out to him, he stood at his name.

"Can we talk outside?" He nodded and followed you.

The two of you leaned over the railing outside of Shep's house. Both looking over to the water. "I'm sorry-" He started, but you interrupted.

"No, I'm sorry. I know it was Omegas idea. Her heart is too big to watch the people of Pabu get taken. I.. I wasn't actually going to shoot you.." You fiddled with your fingers, ashamed.

"I know. I'd have done the same. She, she just wants to make everyone happy." You smiled at his words, the description of her bringing you comfort.

You leaned closer to him, nudging his shoulder. "I might have a way to find the Tantiss coordinates."

You ushered him back inside, perfect timing to see Phee approaching. A plan was soon demised. You'd find a way back to Omega, no matter what.

A/N- Okay, let's be real. Hunter was not as mad as he should have been about losing Omega FOR THE THIRD TIME! That is my excuse for writing this! Thank you so much for reading!

Tags- (lmk if you want to be tagged as well!) @thethreeeyed-raven @dangraccoon @knight-of-flowerss

[froggyfics]

The Deadliest Poisons Are The Sweetest - 1 

The prince is looking for a new bride.

(09/15/23) Note: If you have read this chapter before this date, please note that I have combined chapters 1 and 2 together. This may seem confusing, but I have decided that as a creative approach, I would like the chapters to be longer.

Okay, this is my first series and let me tell you, it will be LOOOONNNG. I really hope that you will stick around to see it to its end, but I'm expecting at least a minimum of 8 chapters.

Since this is a series, I will not write down the theme (ex: angst, fluff, smut) at the beginning of the chapters like I normally do for my one-shots, just to keep the suspense.

Feedback is always appreciated. Feel free to message me privately or comment below to let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is always welcome!

Word Count: 3,490

The pads of your fingers just barely graze the canvas. The quality of the painting is unlike anything you had ever seen before. You look over every pore, committing all of it to memory. The background is a swirl of blacks and greys, nothing prominent at all. You soon begin to realize that the plain background was a conscious artistic choice made by the artist. The artist could have painted the secrets of the universe, the equation for immortality, or the cure for all manner of diseases in the background of his painting, but alas, it would have all been ignored in favor of the subject of the portrait. 

You trace the outline of his plush, jet-black hair. You wonder how it would feel in your hands as you swept his hair to the side. You stare into his striking green eyes, hoping that they’ll look directly at you rather than into space. His jawline is sharper than any sword, and it seems as though his cheekbones were created by ancient Grecian sculptures. He dons a green cloak that matches his eyes, and his black and green armor far exceeds the beauty of anything you own in your humble boudoir. 

“He really is quite handsome, is he not?”

You hum in response. There is truly nothing else to say. It is factually precise to say that he is handsome, but what good will it do to admit that? 

It is not like he will ever be yours. You will never be chosen as his bride. Therefore, it is a waste of time to fantasize about the beautiful man. This meeting is simply a formality from the ruling Al Ghul family to appease the aristocrat families. The purpose is to make it seem as though any maiden in the land has a chance to marry the dashing prince. 

Nonetheless, you know better. His portrait will be delivered to other families that hold more titles and wealth than you could ever imagine. He will marry someone closer to his own royal rank.

You finally look up after what seems like hours of admiring his portrait. You can sense your mother fretting behind you, twisting her skirt in a nervous tick. 

“Thank you for delivering the portrait of His Majesty safely,” you politely remarked. 

The messenger bows his head in response. Attempting to conclude this pointless meeting, you make an effort to pass the portrait back to the messenger. You glance at your mother and nod at her to encourage the dismissal of your guest. 

“Please send our regards to the royal family,” your mother begins. “We would be honored to give our daughter in marriage to the rightful heir to the throne. Do you not agree, my dear?”

Your mother glares at your father, who has thus far spoken minimally. “Oh, erm, yes, of course! It would be the greatest compliment upon our family name to have our daughter marry our Prince.”

The messenger nods his head in response. “I will send your pleasantries and marriage acceptance to the Al Ghul family as soon as I return to 'Eth Alth'eban. You are correct, in that it would be the mightiest achievement to have your daughter marry into the royal family.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” your father mutters, exhausted with the formalities that must be extended to his guest. He stands from his seat and marches to the door. “I shall accompany you to your horse.”

The messenger bows deeply towards you and your mother before following your father out the threshold. As soon as the door shuts, the two of you sigh in relief. Your mother ceases to fret, and immediately collapses on the lounger, covering her forehead with the back of hand. 

You giggle at her exasperation. “I simply do not understand why we had to sit through that humiliation. What was the purpose? T’was simply a waste of our time.”

Your mother shakes her head in response. “That, I do not know, my dear. I do hope feel quite awful for that poor messenger. His travels must be unnecessarily extended if he must visit every single aristocrat family home.”

“That is exactly what I thought!” you cried. “In this unbearable heat, too!” 

You could not fathom the reason why the messenger was sent to your house in the first place. You were the daughter of a modest earl with no ties to vast swathes of land or people. There were plenty of eligible ladies of higher standings in society that were of marriageable age that the prince could choose from. Your family was certainly not impoverished, but were nowhere near the status of the crown prince. It certainly seemed like a cruel joke. Not that you fell for it, but you were sure at least some of your peers would despondently fall in love with those jade-colored eyes from the portrait. 

The door swings open to mark your father’s return from seeing off the messenger. You glance out the window to see his horse galloping away from your home, eastbound, in the direction of Earl Smith’s home. You smile to yourself at the thought of the earl’s daughter, who you know to be a bit of a hopeless romantic, squealing in excitement at the thought of a marriage proposal from the royal family. Little does she know just how unfathomable the idea is.

Your father collapses onto his usual seat, groaning loudly. “Poor lad. Running around for no reason it seems.” He sighs deeply before slowly meeting your gaze. It is evident that he is deep in thought. He glances at your mother with a knowing look, who lowers her eyes shyly to her feet, before returning to his attention to you. 

“Father? Mother?” you nervously question. Their silent exchange makes you prickly, and you fidget in your seat. There is something they are surely keeping secret from you. 

“The messenger’s unexpected arrival has reminded us of an…issue that we face in this household.” 

“What? What is it, father?” you anxiously question. Your hands fiddle with your skirt in an attempt to distract your racing heart.

Your father leans forward in his seat. He opens his mouth to speak, but then promptly closes it. He grimaces before speaking again. “First and foremost, your mother and I must emphasize that you are our daughter, and we want what is only best for you.”

You shift uncomfortably while your mother continues to avoid your gaze.

“You are of a certain age, my dear. It is time we must find you a righteous husband. And soon, might I add. It is certainly proper for a girl – apologies, woman, your age to wed.”

Silence becomes the loudest sound in the room. The admission is simultaneously surprising, and not so surprising to you. You were not oblivious to the hints your parents have been divulging as of late. All the dinners you have attended, all the dinners that you have hosted, all the correspondence between your father and other men that has occurred, has led you to understand that your marriage was at the forefront of your parents’ minds. As much as you wanted to remain a free person under the guardianship of your father, you knew that your time of adulthood was fast approaching. 

You play with the strings of thread on your bodice. Your garment was long overdue for repairs, which must be your top priority if you want to attract the correct suitor. 

You frown internally. Just a few moments after the topic of marriage is brought up, and you already are thinking of appeasing a man. Is this what the rest of your life will look like? Constantly thinking about your appearance for the approval of your husband?

You look up to the concerned faces of your parents. Even your mother has stopped playing her game of avoidance and is silently pleading with you to be compliant. 

Is there an alternative? You grimace as you realize that all that can be done is to agree with their plans. This is simply the way your life was destined to play out. Just like with your sisters, aunts, cousins, and grandmothers, you were born to be passed from your father’s household to your husband’s. 

“I understand,” you slowly start, the words feeling like knives in your mouth. “I trust your instincts and know it is the time for me to seek a different sort of companionship.”

Your mother jumps up and squeals suddenly in excitement. The breath your father was holding immediately is released and the color rushes back to his face. The scene brings a solemn smile to your face. As their daughter, your parents’ happiness is also your happiness. How can you deny them this favor?

A loving kiss is placed upon your forehead by your mother. You examine that joy that is evident on her face. It is chiefly her duty to find you a husband, and you wonder who she will manage to scrounge up for you. 

“Perhaps in just a few months’ time you will enter the Al Ghul household as a princess,” she lovingly teases. 

A laugh bubbles out of your mouth and dissipates into the air. “Perhaps mother. Although, it is more likely I will step foot on the moon than marry the prince.”

The great chamber is a mess, but alas, it is a symbol of merriment. Piles of bones lay atop dirty dishes, picked apart by the ravenous guests. There was one point during dinner where various cheeses and loaves of bread were laid out to accompany the meat, but few pieces now remain. 

You pick up a half-eaten grape that was near the edge of table. It belonged to the pile of fruit that you hand-picked earlier that week. You sigh deeply, knowing that it will take much your evening and the following morning to tidy up. Your family’s estate operates on a skeleton crew, with a majority of your household staff being assigned to work the fields and kitchen, leaving a majority of the household chores to fall upon you and your mother. There was one point in time where your sisters would help divvy up the tasks, but alas, they have all married and are can only be concerned with their husbands’ estates, instead.

Your mother clasps her hands together in excitement. You look at her curiously, wondering if she has laid eyes on the same mess that you have. How can she be so excited in the presence of the utter mess that has been made?

“I think this has been nothing short of a success! The Earl would not stop stealing glances at you.” 

“Mother,” you sigh. “Earl Clinton stole glances at every woman with a heartbeat tonight. His affections were not limited to myself.”

“Oh hush, child! Do not be so sour.” Her face wrinkles at your negativity before sighing deeply. “My love,” she began. She grabs your hands softly and kisses them gently. “Earl Clinton may not be the most…moral or upstanding man.”

Her train of thought is interrupted by your scoff. Earl Clinton was a known womanizer and remained mentally the same age as an adolescent child, despite the fact that he was your mother’s age. She scowls before continuing.

“As I was saying,” she hisses, “he may not be the most virtuous husband, but he is an Earl. You would never have to do chores ever again. You would never have to worry about hardship again. Your children will have access to far better opportunities than your father and I could ever provide for you.”

You twist your hands away from her grip angrily. “There is more to life than being wealthy.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose before looking up again. “You are still a young maiden, so I will forgive you for your ignorance. While there certainly is more to life than simply wealth, you will one day understand that your status and wealth will absolutely affect your quality of life. Just look around you!” she exclaims. “Would you rather clean this filthy mess up yourself, or live a life where you can have someone else do it for you?”

Crossing your arms, you huff as you realize your mother made a logical point. She snickers at your obvious defeat. She cups your face lovingly with her hands and gazes deeply into your eyes. “You do not have to love your spouse. That is not the purpose of marriage. You just have to learn to live with one another in order to procreate the next generation. Besides, I admit your father and I have selfish reasons for entertaining the Earl’s marriage proposal.” She kisses your forehead tenderly and you close your eyes at the comfort that surrounds you. “His lands are only a few days journey away. We can visit one another often.”

You beam at the thought of being near your parents, but your smile dispels once a realization dawns upon you. 

“D – does this mean that Father is accepting the Earl’s proposal?”

Your mother nods her head slowly. “We plan on riding to the Earl’s estate within week to accept his proposal in person.”

The disappointment within you slips out of your body and makes its presence known on your face. Within a few months, your precious girlhood will end. Your life as you know it will cease to exist and never return. All that will exist is the life surrounding your future husband and children.

Sensing the solemn mood, your mother once again kisses your forehead. “Go, child,” she urges. “Think not of the mess made from tonight. Rest well.”

All you can do is nod your head and drag yourself to your room. As soon as your bedroom door closes behind you, you fling yourself onto your bed to curl into a fetal position. Your stomach coils and kinks in worry. There is something your subconscious is trying to tell you, but you do not have the wherewithal to understand exactly what. 

Closing your eyes, all you can dream about is the prison you are about to be trapped in. The prison of matrimony. 

“My Lady! Awake!”

Alice is shaking your rigid body with such force that your head lolls uncomfortably. 

“Alice! What is wrong?” you cry. Certainly, something terrible must have occurred for Alice to wake you in such a state.

She shakes her head violently. “You must come downstairs at once!” She turns towards your bedroom door without further explanation.

Crust that has formed during your sleep irritates your eyes. You sit at the edge of your bed, taking a moment to wipe it off. 

Alice huffs when she notices that you have not followed her, and turns around to grab your arm and yank you up.

“Alice!” you shout. She has never treated you with such ignominy before, making your heart flutter in anxiety.

She does not respond as she drags you out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Her grip on your arm only loosens when you reach the great chamber. 

It had been wiped clean, leaving behind no indication that there was even a dinner hosted there just the night prior. Your anxiety blooms when you see your mother, father, and the Al Ghul’s messenger standing around.

Your head tilts in confusion. You were not expecting to see the Al Ghul’s messenger ever again after he left with the prince’s portrait nearly a season prior. What could he possibly be doing here?

“Mother, Father, what has happened to make Alice wake me in such a fright?” you ask.

They respond with silence. Your mother’s face is a pale gray and your father’s remains stoic. 

“Someone! Please answer me!”

The messenger steps forward awkwardly. “I have a message from R’as Al Ghul, long may he live.”

Alice, your parents, and you echo the messenger’s sentiment. “Long may he live.”

The messenger clears his throat and opens a scroll. Your eyebrows furrow as you notice the waxy seal of House Al Ghul on its top perimeter. “I, the Demon’s Head, R’as Al Ghul, hereby authorize the union between Prince Damian, from House Al Ghul and House Wayne, the heir to 'Eth Alth'eban, and…”

You hear the messenger correctly state your name and your father’s, but you hold your breath in disbelief. Is this a dream? It must be. It has to be. A union…between you…and the Prince? There must be some sort of error. You are the daughter of a lowly baron. You would be considered extraordinarily lucky for you to marry an earl, let alone the heir to the realm.

“I command the urgent arrival of the heir’s future bride and her family to the capital. The wedding will take place soon after.”

You were not sure what else was said, as you stand dumbfounded. The messenger continued drawling, but you could not hear his voice. Vomit threatened to rise up from your stomach. 

“My love, are you alright?” you mother gently asks. She could sense the turmoil in your head as you shakily back away from everyone.

“Wh – what? How? W – why?”

Your mother shakes her head in response. “There is no time to think of these questions. We do not know, my dear. All we can do is prepare for your departure.” She steps closer to you and attempts to grab your hands, but you swat her away.

“Mother, no! Wh – what about Earl Clinton?” you urge. “Were we not just about to accept his marriage proposal? I mean, we already have made plans to journey to his estate and –,”

“Child,” your father interrupts. “The king has already demanded for your hand...”

“But,” you try to interrupt, but your father silences you with his raised hand.

“Plans change. We must learn to adapt if we must survive in this world. Alice, inform the stable to travel to my other children at once. I request their presence immediately.”

Alice nods her head and turns to exit. 

Your father turns to the messenger, who stands upright, waiting for his dismissal. “Thank you. You may tell King R’as that we prepare for our departure immediately.”

The messenger responds, “Yes, my Lord. I will return to the capital with your message at once. In the meantime, wait for the royal carriages to arrive. They shall arrive within a fortnight to take you to the capital.”

And with that, the messenger finally leaves. You and your parents are left to confront the sudden new reality.

“But, Mother,” you begin again. “What happened to living close to each other? The capital is so far from our home. I – I – I don’t know how often we would be able to see one another after the wedding.”

Your mother’s lips quiver and her eyes fill with tears. “Oh, my daughter!” 

She reaches towards you again and this time, you accept her. You both squeeze with all your strength, as if this is the last night you will ever see each other. The two of you share an embrace for what seems like hours, afraid to let go and succumb to the uncertainty of reality. 

Your mother finally breaks the embrace, but keeps one arm around you, while the other caresses your head. You lean into her comforting hand, relishing in her warmth.

“I understand you have many questions. I do, too. Unfortunately, we know just as much as you do about this situation.”

“But, Mother!” You escape her grasp to look clearly at her. “Is this not at all suspicious? I am the daughter of a baron! He is the prince, the heir to the throne! This type of union is unheard of!” 

“You are right, child,” your father says softly. “However, we cannot question the logic of the monarchy. Such a union is generally unheard of, but not impossible.” He scratches his bread in thought. “Many years ago, before your time, King R’as had several concubines. Perhaps…Prince Damian would like to continue that tradition.”

Your face wrinkles in disgust at that word. Concubine. You would rather be Earl Clinton’s wife than a concubine to the prince. The connotations behind the word upset you, but alas, it makes logical sense. 

“Tsk, I cannot fathom sharing a man, as some people do.”

“Daughter, being the concubine of a prince is a better fate than most people have. It may not hold the same respect or title as ‘wife’, but you will forever live in luxury if you learn to please the prince.”

“Ugh -,” your father grunts uncomfortably at the thought. Despite his indifferent attitude towards the situation, it saddens him to think that your fate exists outside of the respectable confines of marriage.

Your mother sharply looks at your father, silencing him. She returns to look at you and coos at your tear-stricken eyes. “Please forgive me, my child. I wish I had all the answers. I wish I could comfort your heart.”

[noforkingclue]

Dark!Thomas Shelby x reader request

Where Micheal has a crush on the reader and flirts with her and everyone else in the family has noticed it so they warn Micheal because they know how possessive Tommy is but he doesn’t stop until one day Tommy either sees Micheal flirting with the reader or the reader confides in Tommy because Micheal is starting to make her feel uncomfortable because he can’t take no for an answer so Tommy takes matters into his own hands x

Note: requests are currently closed

I went with Michael and the reader both like each other but dark!Tommy isn't going to allow it. you are Tommy's are he isn't going to let you go anytime soon.

Title: Never Letting Go

Warnings: dark fic

Peaky Blinders tag list: @stylesofloki, @ohshititsfenharel, @lenaskyler02, @elenavampire21, @swordofawriter, @zablife

Thomas Shelby tag list: @alreadybroken-ts, @darlingdevil, @lyrxbz, @watercolorskyy, @notyour-valentine

Everything tag list: @greenrevolutionary, @byebyebreezywrites, @spngingerbread21, @layazul, @lov3vivian, @simonsbluee

You were Tommy’s.

Everyone knew that.

Well, almost everyone.

It was silent in Tommy’s office. Practically everyone had gone home for the evening apart from the young man sitting in front of him. Michael took a sip of his drink and held Tommy’s gaze. Tommy lit and cigarette and leant back in his chair waiting for Michael to speak.

He wasn’t going to break first.

“Why are you doing this?”

He wasn’t weak.

“What did you ever do that makes you think that you deserve her.”

He didn’t deserve you.

“She doesn’t deserve the way you’ve been treating her.”

He didn’t deserve you. That was the sad, bitter truth.

“And what way is that?”

Finally Tommy spoke. Michael paused, seemingly surprised that Tommy had actually risen to his challenge, although there wasn’t much of one. Michael put his glass down, a little harder than Tommy thought was necessary, and said,

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“You fucking know what.”

“I’m afraid you’re not being very clear.”

Bored, Tommy turned his attention to the paperwork on his desk. Michael inhaled and exhaled deeply. He was not going to let Tommy get under his skin, not this time. You were too important to him to allow Tommy to get away with this.

“Y/n-“

“Is an adult,” Tommy interrupted, still not looking up, “She is old enough to make her own decisions.”

“Not when you keep threatening her.”

“And when have I threatened her?”

“Having people follow her home.”

“She’s an important part of this company. I’m making sure she gets home safely.”

“Warning off her friends.”

“Those people weren’t her friends, they were too unreliable. We need to make sure those around us are loyal. They weren’t.”

“Threatening off any potential… suitor.”

Michael became slightly quiet at the end and Tommy finally looked up. He grinned at Michael, although there was no warmth behind it.

“Thought you wouldn’t mind about that.” He said

“Y/n has a right to choose-”

“And what makes you think that she’ll pick you.”

Tommy leant back in his chair and lit a cigarette as he smirked at Michael.

“Over you?”

“Who else. What can you offer her that I haven’t already given her?”

“She’s frightened of you.”

“Not enough to leave.”

“You won’t let her.”

“Nothing’s stopping her. Or is this another threat I’m meant to have made? Like you said, she has a right to choose.”

Michael stood up and ran a hand over his face. He glared at Tommy who returned it was a bored look. Tommy downed his drink and pointed to the door with his cigarette.

“Your mum is waiting for you,” he said, “Best not to keep her waiting any longer.”

Just before Michael left the office Tommy called,

“Y/n is mine. Everyone else knows that. It’s time you remembered that as well.”

Michael slammed the door to Tommy’s office and stormed out of the building. Tommy was right, Polly was waiting for him. Michael ignored her as he marched down the road. He was aware that Polly was following him but she didn’t say anything until they were away from the building.

“It didn’t work,” she said at last, “I told you but you didn’t listen. When Tommy set his mind to something he won’t change it.”

“I had to try,” Michael slowed down allowing Polly to catch up, “I couldn’t sit back and do nothing. Y/n-“

Michael cut himself off and ran a hand over his face.

“I love her,” he said quietly, “And Tommy’s destroying her life.”

“I know.”

“And you won’t do anything?”

Polly’s glare told Michael everything. He quickly looked down at the ground and said,

“I know she loves me too.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“Then what do you suggest we do? I’m going to help y/n if it’s the last thing I do.”

“That very well might be.”

[mono-dot-jpeg]

new universe - y. welt

summary; while you didn't mind playing hsr, you didn't want to be in hsr!

genre/extra tags; headcanons, isekai! reader, father figure! welt back in action, fluff, angst???

[platonic] [16 years old! reader] [gender neutral! reader]

a/n; never wrote for isekai'd reader but im down to try. this is probably gonna be unintentionally angsty bc idk abt u but no matter what world im waking up in, im gonna lose my shit too.

you played quite a bit of hsr

you had your fair share of liking a bunch of characters, gambling on them just for that 0.001% chance of feeling joy that you finally got that character

and you liked the story and all

but you didn't want anything more than that

so imagine the absolute panic of waking up like you were trailblazer.

march's face near yours sending you into freeze rather than flight or fight

"march step back, give them time. they just woke up."

you literally go through the 5 stages or grief as you slowly realize, oh shit, im not home anymore

and then it sinks in again

and then you start crying.

you're stuck in denial as you cry your eyes out

you're stuck in a fantasy space world where you are just as powerless as a citizen npc and you know there's a bunch of enemies in game that look really painful to deal with

you dont even realize that you've been taken to a room to wallow in peace.

welt's room to be specific.

you calm down after a while, sitting down in embarrassment bc oh fuck you just cried in front of some of your favorite character but to be fair you might be stuck in this world which does almost send into another panic

but welt comes in at the right time

"i'm sorry we didn't wake you when we found you, but we wanted to make sure that you weren't injured. do you remember anything of what happened?" he speaks calmly, making you feel calm in return

"i only remember my name.." you're really lucky to know that you speak the common language in this universe, or maybe they just know it. "i don't know what happened and..." your body shakes, feeling overwhelmed. "i don't know... 'm sorry."

he shakes his head. "you did nothing wrong. we didn't think or account for this. it's okay. it's okay to be scared. we're here to help you."

and it kind of breaks your heart bc you don't think there's a way to get back to your real home.

"would you like to know how we found you?" he hands you some water to drink.

you nod weakly, drinking the water.

and he explains how they found you in a different planet and stuck in a forest. "so you don't remember anything else?"

you hesitate. "i don't..i-" you close your mouth. "i don't think you'd believe me."

"it's okay if you don't want to tell me. but are you sure you don't know where your home is?" at the mention of home, you feel your eyes water.

"my home isn't where you think it is." you whisper weakly.

you don't elaborate and he doesn't expect you to elaborate.

"thank you for telling what you wanted to tell. i'm sure you're still scared and worried. and that's okay. but this does mean, you don't have a home.."

and he ends up taking you in.

you stick with him for a long while. it takes you a long time to get used to everything.

eventually you do get somewhat accustomed to it all.

with welt by your side you feel a bit more safe and less scared.

but on those nights where you remember that your normal is not the normal of this world, you find yourself looking for welt.

it's just silent comfort, just having his presence around you makes you feel better as you lay down by him as if you were a younger kid.

you just let him read his books as you wait for your body to make you sleep.

"thank you welt." you can't help but mutter.

and his reply is just a gentle pat on your head, a sign of him always listening to you and caring for you.