#keegansshark

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

thinkin about ex-husband keegan p russ. 

thinkin about how there's no way he doesn't show up at your front door within hours of the first ODIN attacks. 

keegan fucking russ standing at your door at three in the morning without so much as a cursory greeting. makes you pack a suitcase with whatever bare essentials you can't live without. there's a lot of arguing involved but not a lot of conversation, as usual. you talk, sure, and he listens, nods, and then looks at his watch and says you need to move your ass or he's gonna move it for you. 

next thing you know, you're in his passenger seat and he's driving you to his military base six hours away.

he doesn't bother to explain anything, but he does bother to ask you what happened to that fiance of yours.

you give him a heated look, one that says you're ready to square up. defensive, aren't you. that tells him what he wants to know and he scoffs, adjusting his one-handed grip on the steering wheel. good riddance.

you're one of the few civilians on base. you try to be civil with keegan, but falling into old habits is too fucking easy. you and keegan married young--it was a boot camp wedding for the benefits--and the marriage itself wasn't good. well--parts of it, certain parts, were good. really good. 

none of it was healthy, mind you. just this cycle of arguing all day and then settling the argument in bed all night. sometimes well into the next day. you couldn't go twelve hours without picking a fight, and he couldn't let it go. not without putting you on your back and railing you until you forgot whatever the hell you were mad about.

something about keegan just makes you aggressive. just makes you want to bare your teeth and go for his throat. something about how impassive he is, how hard he is to rattle, makes you want to push him until he reacts.

you're in the perfect situation to piss him off on base by sleeping with some other dude. 

or at least that's what you think. 

keegan makes sure the other soldiers know you are one hundred percent off-limits. keegan's ex-wife? yeah, none of the other soldiers are gonna touch that with a ten-foot pole. 

one or two joke around about how dumb he was to let a bombshell like you divorce his ass, but keegan shuts it down real fucking quick.

then he starts showing up at your door just to give you the chance to pick a stupid fight. 

he finds himself pushing you farther and farther, finds himself craving that satisfaction he gets when you turn that heated look of pure loathing on him. he wants you to throw your barbs his way. not just the lighthearted teasing you toss out to his teammates--he wants you to lash out at him. give him everything you've got. make it hurt.

if you're glaring at him, belittling him, insulting him, you're not out there flirting with someone else. your attention is his.

he always seems to show up at your door when you're moody and listless. pent up with tension. your method of dealing with it involves this, mm, push and pull he enjoys. sometimes his squadmates send him to your door when they catch attitude from you.

"heard you got on everyone's nerves today," he tells you. "you gonna be a handful?"

you swing the door closed, wanting it to slam in his face, but you find it bangs into his boot instead. he bullies him way inside easily and shuts the door behind him.you skip past asking him what he wants and instead tell him to fuck off. straight to business. he's always liked that about you.

"keep talkin' like that and i'll really start enjoying myself," he tells you.

you retreat just to grab your cigarettes and light one up. he swipes your lighter faster than you can snatch it away.

you quit smoking after the two of you broke up. so did he. and here you both are.

"just came to check on you," he tells you. you both know that's a lie. you both know why he's here, and you both know why you aren't trying any harder to send him away. "you could use some friendly company."

you tell him in no uncertain terms that he's not friendly company.

he flips open a carton of cigarettes--your carton, you realize with a start. you didn't see him take it. he pulls out a cigarette and  lights it up, but pockets the carton, a wry little smirk on his face.

"don't act like you hated it last night."

you snatch the cigarette out of his mouth and tell him he'd better not say a goddamn word about last night.

"sure, baby," he tells you, he watches your lips intently as you take a drag of his cigarette. "you know I can keep a secret."

...

this is on you @keegansshark

more Keegan / masterlist tag

[imreadng]

this is so good ngl... the timing as to when i found this fic is impeccable too considering how, before i found it, i was just thinking of a fic like this and how i wanted to read something like it...

Patiently Waiting

Pairing: Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish x fem!reader

Warnings: Fluff, comfort, established relationship, mentions and depictions of depression/anxiety, self-deprecating thoughts, Johnny really loves you :]

Summary: Johnny’s recent deployment has left both of you with scars; some visible, some hidden. You two find your own ways to take care of each other. 

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: written for @glitterypirateduck ’s Soap It Up challenge, wanted some comfort with Johnny <3 prompts used were I’ll take care of you and it’s more than that. 'Soap' no longer looks like a word.

The house is quiet when Johnny’s away. It was too easy to get used to the sound of his voice. He said it was because of the accent. Maybe that was a part of it, but really the man could talk to you for hours about the same stories you’ve had memorized at this point and you would be all too willingly to stand at attention for them. Add that to the compliments, the jokes, the banter that never ceased (not even when it went from best friends to dating), and you’ve become comfortable with hearing him no matter where you are. 

Every part of him will haunt you for the rest of your days, he’s told you before. You pray you’ll be that lucky.

He’s deployed now. Weeks turned into months without your Johnny, the broad figure and the words of love and praise being suppressed to the letters and sketches he’s sent you sporadically through his time gone.

They’ve been piling up for a few weeks at this point. You haven’t felt the need to open them. They're just reminders of something that’s yours that you can’t have.

With all the silence, it’s easy to get into your thoughts. Back when this whole thing with Johnny started, you were always worried about how he was doing on his deployments. If he was safe, had he been injured. The standard anxiety over having to open the door to being handed his dog tags and needing to deal with the love of your life being declared KIA.

Part of you wishes you could feel like that again. You don’t feel much of anything these days. Love for Johnny, yes. A vague concern about your wellbeing, sometimes. That seems to be it. So now you’re stuck with feelings of inadequacy, struggling with how the dependency you felt towards him has drifted to more of an emptiness. Your heart aches for you to be able to care about things.

Which is how you ended up here. Sitting underneath the table housing the sketch he wasn’t able to finish before he was shipped away. It’s his biggest yet, a full scale portrait of the two of you. You covered it up with some of his old journals a while ago. It was too hard to look at him, even in charcoal and pencil.

It’s cold in the home office you turned into a small studio for his drawings. He was overjoyed when he came home to the renovation after his last deployment. It was good to see him smile, it was good to make him feel good. This deployment, though, you had a feeling walking in to his girl uncared for and near catatonic was not what he wanted to see. Add that to the ever growing list of all the things you seem to mess up, yeah?

You hear the familiar click of a key in the lock, but it doesn’t register right away. There’s too much to ruminate on how much you’ve been mistreating yourself. The days of no sleep and terrible food habits have caught up to you and it’s hard to think about much else.

It takes five - no, six calls of your name before you realize he’s home. Johnny’s home. He came back to you, like you knew he would. And he’s standing in front of you, looking so troubled you might’ve thought he was upset at you if you didn’t know him so well.

“Johnny, you’re home! You’re… hurt.” You frown, slowly trailing your eyes down his torso.

And hurt he is. He’s never come back to you with such visible bruises and scrapes. Cuts that scabbed over just to be ripped open again. Split knuckles and flesh that’s more blue and black and yellow than his normal tan. This is bad. What did they do to your love out there?

“What’re you doing on the floor, bonnie?” he murmurs, kneeling down to wrap his arms around you. His eyes flicker down to his sketches of you that you’re holding, well worn from all the times you’ve cradled them in your sleep. A small smile ghosts over his lips before his eyes catch up with yours. 

“You’ve got me now. I’ll draw you something special later. Can’t leave my girl down here.” He slowly guides you out from under the table, cautiously helping you to your feet. Like you’re something delicate, fragile. You hate being seen as weak.

“There we go, love. Think it’s time we made our way to bed. You and I will have a talk about everything when you wake up, aye?” He tries to coax you up the stairs, narrowing his eyes when you stiffen instead.

“You’re all cut up. I want to get that taken care of before we go to bed.” You take his hand in yours, running your thumb over the cracked skin.

“I dinnae care about that right now. How am I s’pposed to let you do that when I can see what state yer in?” Another gentle tug to get you out of the room. You don’t budge.

“Need to get you bandaged up, Johnny. Please? Stop worrying about me for a second.” Your pleading eyes meet his concerned ones. 

“Couldnae stop worrying about you even if I wanted to. What ye need tae do, lass, is let me get you to bed. I’ll deal with everything else in the morning.”  

His only wish is for you to put your needs above his for once. To not feel like all you’re allowed to do is give and not take. 

Instead, you duck under his arms, ignoring his grumble and making your way to the other side of the house, where you keep your own stock of bandaids and gauze mostly just for the abrasions Johnny always picks up along the way.

“Sweetheart…” He whirls around as you stumble past him, following you and stopping outside the bathroom as you kneel in front of the medical cabinet.

“You’re exhausted. Looks like you haven’t had a proper night's rest since I’ve left. I can’t be happy with myself when I ken you’re unwell.” He’s moved inside the room now, frowning as you rummage around the drawers instead of letting him drag you off to your shared bed. 

You don’t like this look on him. Upset, overwhelmed. You can’t help but feel responsible for it. Like how every time he’s upset, it seems to be because of you. It’s easy for you to feel like you’re the problem in this relationship, a burden, Johnny would be happier if you weren’t with him and always bringing him down, so fucking hell maybe you should just leave-

“Lass? Where ye at?” You didn’t even notice him crouching next to you. Or the gentle hold he has on your jaw to make you look at him. He looks worried now, evident in the way his eyes search yours. How long have you been caught up in your own thoughts?

“I’m with you, Johnny.” you whisper, trying to smile convincingly. 

“I ken when you’re lying tae me, love. What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” He tilts his head, trying to establish how much he’s lost of you since he’s been gone.  “Stop yer fretting over me, it’s not good for ye. I said I’ll take care of myself.”

“You’re trying to distract me, sergeant.” you grumble, standing up slowly with him as he stands with you in the entryway. “I need to do this for you.”

You’ve reached a stalemate. The box of bandages is crumpled as your hands are pressed against his chest, with his palms rough on your skin as he grips your biceps. You tilt your head back to make a point out of making eye contact with him. 

You wonder if he’s ever managed to take down an enemy with those piercing icy blues of his. Lord knows how weak it’s made you, more often than you want to admit. If this was any other situation you’d probably be on your knees begging for his forgiveness and the chance to take him back to bed. So he could hold you. Of course. 

But he’s stubborn and you’re just as bad when you want to be, and he’s hurt, so the idea of your Johnny being injured in action makes your heart break over and over. You’d take away the pain if you could, crack open your ribs to let it seep through you and perhaps then you could feel like you’re enough for him, the hardened SAS soldier who’s given you every ounce of love you could manage. More than you could. 

He wishes you knew that you’ve never been anything less than worthy. 

Maybe Johnny should tell you that. There’s a chance he will, after the staredown is over. How long have you two been in the doorway? If the clock on the wall next to you was working, you’d be counting the ticks. But the batteries died a month ago and you didn’t bother to replace them. Time didn’t mean anything when it was just a reminder of another day without your boyfriend. 

Instead, you focus on his heartbeat, the blood pumping that you can feel against your forearm lying on him. It’s consistent. Healthy, steady. You wish you could remember his average BPM, but he swears it speeds up whenever he sees you. Sappy. 

At this point, you swear you can actively see the cuts get deeper. This isn’t going to work. He has to be treated by you whether or not he likes it. 

You open your mouth to speak. He opens his. You close yours with a huff, and you can’t stop your eyes from narrowing while you watch him slowly do the same. 

Oh, so this is how it’s going to be.

“I can keep this going till you relent, John MacTavish.” The government name was meant to be threatening. Too bad he finds everything you do endearing. You should’ve known.

There’s no reply from him at first. Just silence, and that everlasting glare of the baby blues you’ll never forget. Fuckin’ hell, Johnny. Maybe it’s time to bite the bullet and get this over with. You attempt to get through to him one last time.

“I’ll take care of you.” 

The second the words left both of your mouths at the same time is when you knew you lost. Clearly whoever posed the unstoppable force versus an immovable object paradox never met John bloody MacTavish. 

He indulges you, however. Even though it breaks his heart to not let him take care of you, not in the way he wants. That’s how you end up sitting in his lap on the hallway floor, carefully lifting his hand up as you rifle through the packaging of all the bandages.

“Och, hen, with the way you’re doting on me it’s almost like yer my mum.” Your heart breaks a little more when he winces at the antiseptic spray. Poor baby.

“I could never live up to Mrs. MacTavish, Johnny.” you retort, taking yet another bandaid out of the box. The two of you were surrounded by the scraps of papers from them, littered all over the floor. Christ, was he beat up. 

“You’ll be Mrs. MacTavish soon enough, if I can help it.” he replies softly. Bless your heart, you were too focused getting those bandages around his cuts just right to focus on what he was saying. He was grateful, knew he didn’t need to stress you out even further with thoughts like that.

You apply the last bandage with ample precision, leaning back to study your work and giving a nod of approval. “See? Wasn’t so hard, was it? Just had to let me help you.”

He rolls his eyes at that, failing to hide the grin you brought to his lips. It did feel good for those wounds to finally be fixed up, as good as it felt to have you next to him again. 

“Maybe. Maybe not. Now it’s time for me tae take care of you.” Classic Johnny, always focused on his love. You’ve been the center of his life since you became his and he wouldn’t have it any other way. “Time for ye to get some sleep. Haven’t forgotten about all we need to catch up on in the morn’.” You let him help you lift yourself up this time, all the fight having left your body now. You really were tired. 

“Kyle’s been asking about you. Wanted to know how you were doing, if you wanted to spend time with your two favorite sergeants when he’s home. Rest of the boys have been thinking about you as well. You’ve got a lot of people who care about you, lass.” he tells you softly as the two of you make your way upstairs and he helps you change into one of his hoodies for sleep. It envelopes you in a mixture of cigarette smoke, pine, and a scent that is entirely Johnny.

You’re surprised you don’t fall asleep the second your head is guided onto the pillow and the sleeves are dutifully rolled over your wrists. Maybe you really did need him as much as he needed you. Not like you ever thought otherwise. 

“I know I do.” He’s taken his shirt off somewhere in the process, lying you against his bare chest. It’s comforting. Warm. Like you were made to be in his arms. “I’ve never doubted that I’m loved and cared about. That’s not the problem. It's more than that.”

“I get it, baby. I would take it all away if I could. I hope you realize that.” 

You do, you’ve always known. The two of you would take each other's pain and trials if it would give the other just a moment of peace.

In the end, you were made for more than just being held by one another. Made to love and to be loved.

To take care of each other.

This thought grounds you again. You and Johnny are still taking care of each other in your own ways. It’s hard not to look down and notice the impact the past deployment has had on him. 

“This is a new one. They banged you up pretty good out there this time.” You trace your nails over the fresh scarring on his chest, mentally mapping it against the canvas of skin you already know by heart. 

“It’ll heal, lass. Nothing I cannae handle.” He presses his hand over yours, running his thumb over the back of it. “I’m still as handsome as the day you met me, aye? Scars and all.”

“Think you look even better. Scars and all.” you murmur back, finally looking up at him again.

The exhaustion you feel is mirrored in his gaze. He’s been through a lot, but so have you. Doomed to worry about each other for the rest of time. Neither of you would have it any other way.

“Wish you didn’t look so tired, love. Can see how poorly you are. When you’re hurt, it hurts me too.” He’s moved his hand away from yours now, cupping your jaw with his palm and thumbing along your cheek gently. 

“I don’t want to hurt you. I’m sorry, Johnny. I really am.” You force your eyes to stay open as you try to convince him to shift the blame onto you. You already know he won’t have any of that. 

“I didnae tell you so you would feel bad. I told ye so you would know where my head’s at.” he scolds lightly, leaning down to kiss your forehead and tilt your chin up so he can look at you.

“I know things are tough. Dinnae kno’ what I’d do if I were you, I don’t blame you for not being okay. Hurts me to be so far away from ye all the time. But you need to take care of yourself. For my sake, but more importantly, for yours.” 

There’s so much you wish you could say to him at this moment. He looks beautiful like this, overgrown stubble and disheveled mohawk be damned. Johnny cares so much about you and you know it, no matter how much your mind tells you otherwise.

So much to say, you sum it up in the only way you can.

“I love you, Johnny.” 

You definitely don’t miss the way his eyes flash with nothing short of pure adoration.

“I love you too. More than you’ll ever know.” He presses his forehead against yours, letting his lips brush over yours before moving to capture a kiss. “Please dinnae ever doubt that. You mean the world tae me. No matter what yer head is telling you.”

You nod sleepily, finally feeling all the days without rest catching up to you. Johnny picks up on this, of course, shifting you to cradle your head further against him. 

“Goodnight, my girl. I’ll be right here when you wake up. Dream about me, aye?” 

“Always do.” Johnny watches as you practically melted into his arms, your eyelashes fluttering shut and sleep overtaking you. The steady rise and fall of your chest lets him know everything was going to be okay.

You were so lovely to Johnny, so loved by him. 

He looked at the bandages wrapping up and around his arm, now dutifully keeping his girl nestled against him. You promised to take care of him, and you never broke a promise. Which is why you kept the cabinet neatly stacked with every type of bandage known to man. 

Well, it used to be neat. Now it was like a storm blew through the whole drawer after you ransacked through it to find anything it took to patch up your Johnny. 

It was a miracle you didn’t find that little black box hidden underneath the medical kit.

[forsworned]

Tag challenge: Do this cute picrew and post the last meme in your camera roll, then tag at least three people. Have fun! :D

no pressure tags: @keegansshark @glossysoap @blacktacmopsi @milkteaarttime

@gunnrblze @kuneho141 @howtotwirlaknife22 @rookiesbookies

@step-on-me-khun @imafraidoftomorrow @staytrueblue @mikichko

@simonrillleyyysss @aoioozora @writingfromasgard @pear1escence

@neiptune

[femalefemur]

tag game

so i'm a little bored and have decided to make a tag game, i hope you like it!

go to pinterest and search:

colour of your phone background + aesthetic

favourite animal + aesthetic

name + core

movie you rewatched multiple times as a child + aesthetic

favourite time of day + aesthetic

first word of your favourite song + aesthetic

no pressure tags 💖: @solivagantingrebel @syoddeye @cordeliawhohung @valkyri @losersimonriley @nachtaug @cloudyyyday @tawus @honestlyhiswife @theywhowriteandknowthings @the-original-honeybun @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries @deadbranch @fleurafae @lyreinthesky @flowermiist @brewed-pangolin @glossysoap @keegansshark @gemmahale and anyone else who sees this and wants to do it!

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

Hi HalloHello! I just discovered your blog and is enjoying your writings! I’m curious about if you have any cod x reader fics you recommend? thanks 🌹

Hello! it's funny to see someone calling my full name lol, and ty for liking my contents!

here are some x reader fics I like very much: (sorry for tagging)

On the same page... (series)(Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader Bookshop! AU) - by @thetravelingtyper

no words to say, just read it, please, you won't regret

Are you really ok? (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x reader)(tw: self harm) - by @cntloup

comforting, for those who feel like drifting, and yes sleep token

The Pool bet (Simon ' Ghost' Riley x GN!Reader) - by @coffeemakerwriter

fucking delicious

Porpuse? (Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x reader) - by @triplewdotgay

I'm crazy for this

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Disabled!Reader - by @gluttonybiscuits

I'm crying, this is comforting, and I hope op is doing great now

Futile Effort (Simon Riley x GN!Reader)(angst) - by @sinkovia

satisfying angst

Crinkled Polaroids (Ex-boyfriend!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader)(angst) - by @aethelwyneleigh27

beautiful, I feel like I'm reading a poetic fic

TF141+König x tall afab!reader - by @chamomiletealeaf

especially for tall girls, I fucking devour this

mic work (John ' Soap' MacTavish) - by @glossysoap

sexiest soap writer imo

Perfect imperfection (John Price + Simon Riley)(mum!reader, dad!price, dad!ghost, fluff, baby with a disability/sickness) - by @blingblong55

no words just tears (happy tears btw)

Simon*Reader (tw: self harm, scars) - by @witchthewriter

we will be fine

Sadistic!Reader x Masochist!Ghost (tw: Blood/knife kink, name calling, bondage (?)) - by @tfmerc

Masochist!Ghost my beloved

"The stars?" "Yeah, the stars." (Soap*GN!Reader)(tw: Mentions of death/death, no mention of Y/N (Hurt/no comfort)) - by @internallyscreamings

beautiful angst my beloved

Just What I Needed (Soap x fem!reader)(tw: Fluff, mutual pining, best friends to lovers, suggestive language, mentions of feeling insecure) - by @keegansshark

GO READ IT PLEASE YOU WILL BE HAPPY

Lovers to Strangers (series)(Ghost x reader, Ghost x Soap, Ghoap x reader)(tw: Angst no comfort yet) - by @lordlydragon

extremely underrated, heart-wrenching, waiting for the update

[howtotwirlaknife22]

Ghost boys w/ a chubby s/o:

A/N: to the anon who wanted fluff and cuddling, this is fluff but it is also nsfw so I will eventually make a pure fluff cuddle piece!

Warnings: ❗️NSFW BELOW THE CUT❗️

Hesh:

My man don’t discriminate.

“They’re called love handles for a reason babe!”

He’s the sweetest, he will praise you up and down and will kiss you all over.

God forbid you ever talk down on yourself, this man is ready to defend you from yourself with his entire being.

He loveessss to cuddle with you, he loves the warmth you give off and he loves to wrap his arms around your waist and squeeze your belly gently.

He has the softest touches, and he would literally break jaws if anyone ever spoke negatively about your body.

Best bf™️

His favorite place to finish during the nasty is on your belly, and he’ll rub it around afterwards with his cock.

Logan:

He’s similar to his brother, he loves the warmth you give off and he loves to give you little squeezes as he walks by you in the kitchen.

Again, he loves to cuddle with you.

He’ll lay in between your legs and wrap his arms around your torso, kissing and nuzzling into your neck.

He’s the master of making you feel self confident, he’s your #1 hype man.

He lives for gripping your thighs as he has your legs wrapped around his waist as he fucks you.

Keegan:

Loved and worshiped is an understatement.

This man loves your curves, and he particularly loves the way you look in form fitting clothing.

He WILL slap your ass while you’re doing any activity.

Yoga? Cooking? Bending over to pick something up? All free game for him.

If you’re ever insecure about the way you look he’ll grab you by your hips and pull you against him, whispering in your ear about how gorgeous you look and tilting your chin up so you can look at yourself In the mirror as he whispers praises to you.

This man will hold you against the wall as he fucks you, shushing your cries every time you whine about being too heavy for him.

Kick:

Kick loves your curves, he thinks you look like a goddess.

No, like a literal goddess. He thinks you look like a renaissance oil painting.

Kick is very good at photography, and when you mentioned how you had never had any photos taken because you felt too insecure for it, he jumped at the opportunity.

He took gorgeous photos for you, and some ventured into some…suggestive, territory.

He made sure you knew you were gorgeous and held you close to him as he kept one arm wrapped around your waist and the other on the back of your head.

He loves to sit up against a wall as you ride him, both hands gripping your waist as you bounce on his cock with your tits in his face (tits man all the way).

Merrick:

This man is a chubby chaser through and through.

He has a few stretch marks of his own since he’s a big and tall dude, so he knows how you might feel about your own and he does his best to make you feel loved.

He loves to kiss you everywhere and loves to make you sit on his lap.

“But what if I crush y-“ “shut up.”

He’s actually a very good cook, and he always gently encourages you to eat when you’re feeling guilty about your weight because he wants to make sure you aren’t neglecting your body’s needs.

He will fuck you while you’re both laying on your sides, slowly pumping in and out as he growls in your ear.

You always worry your larger hips was what prevented you from doing that position, but it turns out you were just with the wrong men.

“Can’t ride without the right equipment sweetheart..”

Taglist: @blacktacmopsi @keegansshark @forsworned @milkteaarttime

Hope ya’ll enjoyed :) inbox is open!

~💌

[nrdmssgs]

Prazdnik (part 2)

Masterlist Pairing: Nikto x reader Fluff AN: @sofasoap @keegansshark @yaboidante2711 @ella-bella-ella this wasn't the original plan, but because of you this guy got his kiss. Summary: this happens a few months after the first part.

Nikto lets out a thin whiff of cigarette smoke, that dissolves in crisp air. He is tired by this point. Every time he tries to think of anything, but her - the world finds its ways to remind him. Even now, when he looks up in the dimly lit sky - the curved streaks of clouds remind him of x-rays of her lungs with the subtle curves of ribs. Usually, soldiers got shot, broke their limbs or survived a shell shock, but she just had to be original and to spoil his life in a unique way - she ended up in a medbay with a pneumonia.

He tried to end this all for good, he ignored her, hid away, even tried to start a fight once - nothing helped. At the end of the day he always found himself somewhere around her: quietly hanging out, helping her or letting her help him. Nikto wasn't blind - he saw the way she looked at him. And what was even worse - he secretly started enjoying a feeling of being needed. But there was no way, he could let whatever them two had grow. His 'Prazdnik' ended the minute he stepped out of your room, and should never be repeated. Not at the cost of her frightened eyes, her forever disturbed sleep, her disgust the minute she sees him without a mask.

Time to time Nikto thinks about that touch that almost happened. He was never an innocent one, and he gladly does so many unhinged, unfair, dirty things to women, who are ok with never seeing his face and not being able to meet him again after the deed is done. But when it comes to her - Nikto doesn't want all those sins, that he usually indulges himself in. He craves not even a real kiss - just a touch of her lips against his skin would be enough. It would be ok if she chooses to not even move, not caress him. Just let him feel that warmth, he almost felt.

He frowns at this thought and takes another deep drag. The base is almost empty, except an emergency group, soldiers at medbay, a few office workers and superiors. So Nikto immediately recognizes tall figure moving from barracks to where he is standing.

"Vot tol`ko kalanchi mne seychas ne hvatalo...*" Nikto mutters frustrated and checks if there is any place he could walk away fast enough and seem preoccupied at the same time. But not being able to find any direction, in which he could retreat, he faces the Colonel, hoping, he would keep it short and simple, as usual.

"You staying for the holidays?" Colonels voice is low, he doesn't even hold back his German accent - a rare sign, that the man is exhausted.

"Have some unfinished business." Nikto tries to be as vague as possible, hoping, that it will drain Colonels social battery, and he leaves him alone.

But his commander is in no hurry to leave and hands him some paper. Nikto asks if it's a new contract, but Colonel shakes his hand. "This is for the unfinished business."

He leaves Nikto alone and confused, not wanting to hear his angry rants about how he doesnt need whatever assistance Colonel can provide. Nikto is awful when it comes to gift receiving, everybody in the KorTac knows it.

***

She wakes up with a loud cough in the middle of the night and Nikto immediately pulls her up, so she can sit on the bed straight. Clearing her throat, she reaches for the bedside lamp, but Nikto catches her hand.

"It's just me, don't bother." He pushes her hand back gently, wanting the room to remain dark.

"Andre? How did you?... Why are you here?" She barely breathes after hard coughing, but already dumps him with questions.

Nikto turns away and chuckles quietly. To tell the truth, he doesn't even know what the hell he needs in her hospital room.

"König tinkered me a pass. I thought, it would be a pity to leave you here all alone on the New Year." He lies: he doesn't give a damn about New Year or any other holiday really. Nikto just can't really be else where, when she is like that. He's been restless from the first day of her illness.

A part of him wants to get as close as it is possible, to stay by her side, until she heals fully and even after that. But there are voices appearing, growing louder with every hour. "Run away, run as far as you can, before you grow too soft and traumatize her, you moron!" Nikto is trapped between wanting to leave and needing to stay. So when she pats his shoulder and asks to not worry about her and go celebrate, he comes back to his senses and snaps back at her, 'we are staying!'

By the way her hand darts away from him Nikto understands, that he crossed the line. She is sick, obviously has fever, struggles to breathe normally, and on the top of that comes he with his freakery. He clasps his hands together, so that he doesn't reach back to her and looks down.

"Sorry. We... give me a minute, I'll collect myself." As he speaks - he hears her moving to the opposite side of the small bed. Distant chatter and laughter reach them two through the closed door and Nikto understands, that even medbay staff is celebrating. But the only sound, he now truly cares for is a shuffle of her bedsheets. He scared her off, she now doesn't even feel safe in one room with him. Bloody idiot.

"Come sit here." She touches an empty space besides her. Nikto hesitates for some time, but then surrenders and sits on her bed, making sure, he doesn't squish her accidentally.

"Maybe it's fever, maybe I'm just tired to the end of the year, I don't even care really. I just want to be honest, ok?" She rises from her pillow and leans against his shoulder. He freezes, but then forces himself to nod.

"Good..." She sighs and continues. "Look, I know, I screwed up that 'Prazdnik', I organized. I thought, I just wanted to thank you for everything, but understood too late, I wanted something other. And although I'll never get it - it's ok. I will stop pushing you, annoying you, even talking to you if it helps. But... just today, just for this one night, can we just pretend, I didn't do anything weird on that evening? I really need it."

The moment, when Nikto wants to remind her, she really did nothing weird, and they don't have to pretend, she starts coughing once again. So he brings her closer, letting her practically curl up on his chest. A cough runs in spasms throughout her entire body and Nikto softly strokes her back, repeating 'Nothing weird. You did nothing wrong'. But his mask muffles his voice, and that combined with her coughing makes it impossible for her to hear him. So he leans back on her pillow, softly guides her to lay down on his shoulder, and, praying for it to remain this dark in her room, slowly removes his mask. She doesn't make it hard for him and doesn't turn her face up - just lies obediently, being thankful for this little crack of softness in his cold demeanor, that he shows her.

"I said, you didn't do anything wrong. You just did it all to the wrong guy. All those treats, that improvised desk, I still regret I haven't taken photo of... That silly 'TV', even that branch - it all was so touching. It felt like a real holiday." She doesn't move while listening to Nikto, but he still holds a hand on her head, just in case. Without thinking, he starts playing with her hair. "But you need to do it all for someone real, someone not split into so many pieces, someone, who is more than... well, you know."

She shakes her head and Nikto feels her hand clasping to his side. This half an embrace makes him hold his breath. Something deep inside him shudders and cracks.

"Someone more than you?" She tries to end his phrase, but it is his turn to shake his head.

"Someone more than just remains of a human."

It hurts to stop hiding and say her the truth, but at the same time it feels right. His holiday is over, his celebration is never to come. And Nikto doesn't care anymore - at least he got this minutes, when she held him, before she banishes him for good. Despite all his expectations, she does not push him away.

“I wanted to celebrate the New Year for real. I was going to invite you to my place. Not to my room at the base - but to my home. I know you wouldn’t have come. But I still wanted to invite you. And then this pneumonia...” She coughs again and Nikto strokes her shoulders to make it better. When she finally can breathe again more or less properly, he asks, how would they celebrate if he came.

"Oh, this time I'd make sure, you die of cringe... I'd try to come up with a new recipe and fail ultimately, I'd make you make the 'president speech' this time." She pauses, hearing Niktos raspy low chuckle.

"No, that never happens, you little trouble. I'm not participating in this part of your fantasies."

"Ok-ok, jeez, Andre, I never said, I'd try to force you anyway. I would always ask you. Ask if you can make the speech, ask if you are willing to help me with food, ask if I can... never mind, my message here is maybe you feel broken, torn in pieces. You have every right to feel so..." Nikto is so struck by her sudden change of tone, he doesn't even realize, that her fingers trace lines up his chest and pause over his face, as she continues speaking. "All these pieces, remains, fragments, that call themselves 'Nobody' - they are precious, they are to be treated like human, to be treated with care and love."

He breathes in, trying to find any words for her, but all the words, all the voices, are mixed up in a deafening white noise. So he takes another breath, and another. But nothing changes: no clear words, no thoughts, as if he - not she was on the verge of deliriousness now. Nikto takes her hand and guides it to cover his eyes, not even thinking, she might feel, how ugly his face is. He only wishes for this sensory and emotional overdrive to stop.

And she helps him. Pressing her lips against his, crushing his fears with feather-like touches. Her skin is burning hot, her hands travel from his eyes to cup his cheeks, but Nikto doesn't care right now. Just one more moment of her being this close, one more second of him carefully holding her, one more sigh tickling his skin. He answers to her kiss. Hesitantly, because with all the violence, he holds for his work - Nikto has no violence for her. And kissing her back feels like torturing this treasure of his. He must thank her - not claim. But that self-restrain is strapping his throat with a red-hot collar, smothering him.

Fuck it. A single voice in his head. Loud and clear.

And Nikto lets go. His tongue brushes against her slightly parted lips and he deepens the kiss. He is surprisingly slow, careful, attentive. He is ready to back away at any moment, should she wish to stop. But she doesnt, and his fingers dive into her hair, cupping her head, guiding her so close, that he feels, they share one breath.

When she leans back just slightly - he immediately lets her go, holding his breath and trying to calm rushing heart. Even now he is ready for her to have second thoughts. But she smiles shyly and places a kiss on his burnt cheek.

"Sorry, I must taste like meds." Hearing her whisper he finally starts breathing.

"You taste like 'prazdnik*'. My very own holiday." He stares at the ceiling, not believing, it really happens. While his prazdnik covers his disfigured face with soft touches.

"Vot tol`ko kalanchi mne seychas ne hvatalo...*" - The beanpole... just what I needed

Prazdnik - holyday, celebration

[gunnrblze]

What stuffed animal do you think the ghosts + rorke sleep with (like what types of animals xD) thank you!!!! <3

Allowing myself to believe these grown ass men would sleep with stuffed animals rn <3

Hesh- he would def have a little puppy dog, either a german shepherd like Riley or one of those classic ones

Logan- simultaneously getting either dinosaur, penguin, or bunny vibes lmao I can’t choose. probably has all three

Elias- classic teddy bear, the light brown ones with the little curls LOL I can see it vividly

Merrick- a monkey, long tail and all. OR an elephant

Keegan- he’d either have a basic little kitten, or something more obscure like a shark or dragon. i think I associate him with sharks because of @keegansshark’s user lol

Kick- definitely a frog methinks, but it’s not a classic stuffed green one, it’s a very detailed multicolored tree frog that he knows the species of 😭

Rorke- idk why but this idiot would have a rhino plushy or something lol

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

50 / 820 words / for @keegansshark who converted me to the cult of Hesh <3

...

"Anyone sitting here?"

"Uh, no. Knock yourself out."

You sit down across from Hesh. The mess hall isn’t crowded yet. You have plenty of space. "So. About yesterday."

"Remind me,” he says. “It's been a long week."

You roll an orange in your palms. "I was just wondering. Do you want to?"

"Want to what?"

You stare at him, brows raised, curving your thumbnail into the rind until it dawns on him.

"Oh. That."

You've never seen him nervous, and most people wouldn't peg him as nervous right now. You can see it, though.

"I think so. Yeah. I mean, yeah." Hesh looks down at his tray. "I want to."

You begin peeling the skin off in one long strip. "Haven't had time?"

"I haven't, no. I've... you know... been focused on other things." Hesh takes a long swallow of water. “Military stuff."

"Dad stuff."

"Yeah. Dad stuff."

"You looking to change that?"

"Eventually."

"Hm." You dig your nail into a stubborn bit of orange skin. "But not yet?"

Hesh falters. His eyes flicker down to your hands. "The issue isn’t when I want to. It’s how.”

“Ah.”

“I've never actually dated. Or had a girlfriend. I don't know where to start."

"If you want to give it a shot, I can help you out."

Hesh blinks like he's not sure you meant what you just said. "You? Help me out with women?"

You snort. "Not with women. With sex."

Hesh's brow furrows. "What?"

"You said you’re interested in sex. I'll have sex with you if you want."

For several seconds, Hesh doesn't respond. Then he asks, "Why?"

You shrug and tilt your gaze to the side, glancing at the other soldiers in the cafeteria. They don't pay your conversation much attention. "Because this is No Man's Land. If you're waiting for a golden opportunity, you'll probably die before it comes along."

"No, I mean-- why not one of the other guys in our unit?"

"Pretty sure you could get one of them to do it for you if you prefer that. Keegan once told me about this one time when he--"

"No. No, I mean," Hesh says hastily, "why me? Why are you offering me, uh... what you're offering me?"

You peer at him. He doesn't look nervous, but the tips of his ears turn a darker shade of pink. You lean back and bite an orange slice in half. "Because you've never done it."

"Right. But, I mean, that's not a reason." Hesh pauses, searching for the right words. "You can't possibly be interested in me."

"We're friends, aren't we?"

Hesh glances away again. Friends is strong language for it. "Still."

"You want to know what's in it for me," you guess.

"Yes. I do." Hesh crosses his arms, waiting for you to speak. You pop an orange slice in your mouth and chew slowly. Then you peel away another two slices and begin stripping them of their stringy pulp. "Yeah, what is in it for you?"

"I mean, I’m no golden opportunity, but I’d feel sad if you died tomorrow never having known the touch of another person or whatever. Life sucks out here. We have to take small pleasures where we can get them." You pull a piece of rind out of your teeth and flick it into the pile of orange skins. "Something like that."

"So, out of pity."

At his deadpan look, a smirk spreads across your face. "If that's what you wanna call it. I don't make this offer to everyone, if that's what you're asking. It's Merrick's job to fuck the newbies, not mine."

Hesh's eyebrows shoot up.

"I'm kidding."

“Uh huh.” He's not sure how to feel. It's almost a relief that it's not about him, personally. It's not about him at all. Just No Man's Land. "Aren't there rules about that? Fraternizing, or... or whatever."

You tilt your head at him. It's a little funny to see him flustered. He has the whole act down, usually—refined, quiet, confident strength. Almost a perfect soldier. Lab-grown for the Ghosts.

“It's fine, Hesh, really. No big deal either way. You know where my bunk is if you change your mind.” You scoop orange peel scraps off the table. “You've got a night if you want it."

"Wait," Hesh says as you rise. "It's not that, it’s…”

As you walk away, Hesh barely quashes the sudden urge to stand up, back straight, like the goddamn president is leaving the mess hall. He's not even sure what he wants to say. There’s a strange desperation in his gut to keep the conversation from ending yet.

Instead, he watches you go and his stomach flips sideways.

You dump your orange peel into the compost and head for your bunk. Merrick sits at the fringe of the cafeteria. He looks at you, then at Hesh, and his brow creases in confusion. You shake your head as if to say nah, don't ask.

...

more call of duty: ghosts / masterlist tag

[iite-cool]

6 random songs from my 'On Repeat' playlist

1. Glory Box - Portishead

2. Tear You Apart - She Wants Revenge

3. Is It a Crime - Sade

4. Toxicity - System of a Down

5. Obstacle 1 - Interpol (so good)

6. Sultans of Swing - Dire Straits

(honorary mention = Evil - Interpol)

tagged by @391780 (I'm counting it🤝) and tagging @keegansshark, @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries, @hobimoon (no pressure obvs) and anyone else who wants to do it!!

[forsworned]

I ALWAYS FEEL LIKE SOMEBODY'S WATCHING ME ft. LOGAN WALKER

Warning(s): Sexual Content, Solo Sex (f.), Usage of Sex Toys, Voyeurism, AFAB!reader,

Author's note: @keegansshark because you inspired me!!!!

Being the Walker brother's third roommate is awfully quiet. In fact, half of your time here is spent apologizing about any ruckus you might be causing them whether it be your music, the loud clattering in the kitchen, or having a friend or two over. But they insist that it's fine. Giving you grand, boyish, heartthrob smiles that make you melt like a popsicle on a hot pavement.

Unlike Logan, Hesh is more outgoing, and talkative, and not staring you down from across the room when you're attempting to complete your work. He's asking you about your day, telling you to tag along with him and his brother when they go gyming and somehow is always sitting on the opposite end of the table when you're going out to eat, leaving you next to Logan every time.

And sometimes there's a sneaky, mischievous glance sent Logan's way followed by a pained expression that's stifled with laughter on his older's brother face.

But that was neither here nor there. However, upon finding out that the Walker brothers were going to spend the weekend out camping, you took it as an opportunity to be as noisy as you wanted. As much as you adored them, you felt relieved not having to walk on eggshells around them when it came to your sonorousness.

A deep exhale leaves your chest as your body hits your mattress. It had been a long week and you wanted nothing more than to unwind. Unfortunately, you didn't have a boyfriend to fuck your brains out so you settle for the vibrator in your locked drawer. You fish out the keys from your pocket and unlatch it. It wasn't a stellar collection of sex toys, more like just the essentials.

You decide upon your favorite, old reliable, first Eve's thruster and tug off your shorts and panties, tossing them carelessly to the side of your bed. It's a little depressing that you have to resort to such methods, but it was going to be a long weekend, so what better way to start it off then with some solo sex?

You turn it in and slowly work yourself up and the image of Logan flits into your mind. How good he would feel between your legs right now, filling you up with his cock and gazing down at you with those pretty hazel eyes of his. It's hardly been a few minutes before you feel yourself sopping at the mere notion of him touching you, and you're sliding the vibrator past your folds imagining that it's him inside of you.

His name spills from your lips over and over again, so sticky sweet, and delectable to the ears of any man if they had the pleasure of listening in on you.

So luckily for Logan, he's back at the apartment complex, fumbling with his keys to unlock the door after Hesh had forgotten to pack propane fuel. It isn't a huge deal, certainly not enough to sour his mood. An earnest mistake that Logan is more than willing to make up for for his older brother.

Too entranced by your own euphoria, you don't hear the door unlocking, nor it opening and the footsteps that follow, but Logan certainly hears your wanton breathy moans, reverberating into the hallways leading to the living room. He halts dead in his tracks and he's pondering about how he should approach the situation. He's thinking that maybe you happen to be watching a movie with a sex scene and it will pass at any moment. But it's past five minutes now and he's thinking otherwise.

His heart thuds against his chest as he stands there completely paralyzed, but his body isn't the only rigid thing. If it weren't obvious to you yet, Logan had a raging crush on you, and Hesh would be happy to take any opportunity to tease him about it. So the sound of you moaning is definitely getting him riled up. His eyes dart to the propane that sat on the kitchen island where stupid Hesh had left it and he's quietly making his way over to grab it and leave without alerting you, but then he hears you calling out his name. And then, again, and again and again.

As each passing second ticks by, the urgency in your whimpers intensifies, and Logan's legs seem to act autonomously, losing sight of their original purpose. He silently stalks to the ajar door of your bedroom and his eyes ream at your sopping, wet pussy out for display, hammering away at it with your hot pink, dildo that's thrusting into you. You're throwing your head back in pure rapture and his dick fully bricked up on sight. His Adam's apple bobs up and down, swallowing thickly as he absentmindedly palms at his dick.

It's so fucking wrong. And he's so aware of that, but it doesn't stop him from burning the image of you getting yourself off to him in his mind. His desire to step into the room is magnifying by the minute, but he holds himself back. The way your mouth is parting as you reach your climax is so, so, so delicious. The salacious sighs that escape you drive him wild and honestly, he could cum right now. It wouldn't even take long. One touch from that pretty mouth of yours and he would be coloring you a pretty, ivory white.

And just when you're about to orgasm, the creak of your door jostles you, stopping you mid-thrust and you could almost die when you see Logan's form leaning against the doorway. The blood drains from your face as you take in his unbuttoned jeans, undone zipper, and his hand slipping into his boxers. His hazel eyes might just be as wide as yours and the embarrassing sound of your machine is still going off and you practically rip it out of you, but your unexpected orgasm reels you in for a moment. It halts you as your bach archs and you gasp out in a fervent daze. It's humiliating as you gawk at your pulsating, drenched pussy in horror and you're scrambling to get up and somehow apologize??? But by the time you can even catch your breath to pull on your shorts, you hear the front door slam.

You make a dash for the window to see, Logan climb into Hesh's truck and they seem to be having a brief conversation before they're back on the road. The blood is rushing to your face as you watch them pull away. Oh God. What were you going to do!?

[femalefemur]

post four fictional crushes

thank you for the tag @brewed-pangolin @crashtestbunny @glossysoap @kyletogaz i love you all 🥰🥰🥰🥰

Sebastian Krueger (Call of Duty)

Akitaru Obi (Fire Force)

SCP-049 (The SCP Foundation)

Makora (Jujutsu Kaisen)

No Pressure Tags 💖:

@solivagantingrebel @losersimonriley @nachtaug @forsaire @honestlyhiswife

@tawus @cloudyyyday @theywhowriteandknowthings @tapioca-milktea1978 @keegansshark

@forestshadow-wolf @adnauseum11 @madstronaut @valkyri @fleurafae

@injestedsoap

[syoddeye]

6 Random Songs From "On Repeat" Playlist:

Piece of My Heart by Janis Joplin

All I Ever Asked by Rachel Chinouriri

Run Your Mouth by The Marías

Tejano Blue by Cigarettes After Sex

Ruined by Adrianne Lenker

Sun Bleached Flies x Dancing On My Own (mashup) – Ethel Cain, Robyn

thank you @femalefemur 🧡

tagging @sleepyeugene @stuffireadandenjoy @keegansshark @sentientcave @secretsynthetic

[milkteaarttime]

Once you get this, you have to say five things you like about yourself, publicly. Then you have to send this to ten of your favourite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool~)🤭No pressure

Ooh im on mobile so Idk how to do the fancy lists and coloured text quite yet but ummmm

1. I really like my hairstyle. Its a shaggy mullet i cut myself and I have a middle part! Took a while to figure it out

2. Probably my fashion style? Im a huge tomboy so I think I look great in hoodies and street wear! And Hoodies are one of my comfort special interest kinda item. I cant wear other clothes bc i like having the hood rest on my neck and I feel odd without it.

3. Im really friendly and empathetic towards people. It’s one of my strong suits my entire life i think. I am a very open minded person. Im chill af :D

4. I love my language abilities, I am a Chinese immigrant in Canada and Im lucky to have preserved my language abilities. I speak English, Mandarin, some Cantonese, and some Japanese. I do hope to learn some Spanish(Mexican Spanish or South American Spanish) and European languages like German, and maybe even Russian and Ukrainian. The more languages the better lol.

5. I like that I have lots of Hobbies! I cook and bake, draw, sing, learning things and I am hoping to take up sewing with an actual machine soon. I want to make the ‘perfect’ hoodie for myself.

I don’t have Many ppl to tag so i will tag maybe 2 mutuals!

@keegansshark @cumikering @the-deer-temple (sorry if you guys have already been tagged!)

[forsworned]

Crush ft. BlueCollar!Logan Walker

Synopsis: Heavily inspired by the song, Crush by Ethel Cain. Logan is a blue-collar welder employed at his father's metalwork shop located in the downtown area. Reader, who is an artist, experiences frustration with her metal sculpture that is to be showcased later in the month and desperately seeks the help of a professional.

Warnings: AFAB!Reader, Not all the lyrics are depicted in the story, BlueCollar!Logan x Artist!Reader, Mentions of Violence, Guns, Drug Trafficking, and Sexual Content, Logan is a Retired Marine

Author's note: Getting way too invested in Logan lately no thanks to @keegansshark , da realesttttttt

His window's already passed, so he's shooting at the glass Keeping guns in his locker, and he denies it Like it's actually important, but he lied 'cause I sure did watch him Showing up wearing black, and he knows that

Sharp, acrid, chemical-like fumes dizzy your mind as you step out of your garage and lift up the cover of your welding helmet to wipe the sweat off your brow. Smoke and dust collect in the air from the galvanized stainless steel that you had been working with for the past two hours and you're realizing that maybe you bit off more than you could chew. Your DIY metal sculpture has not been going as well as you had thought and you're starting to reconsider that taking a trip downtown to recruit some help from your local metalwork shop might be your best bet. It's a straight shot, seven minutes away from your neighborhood, but you really do not want to admit defeat.

You sighed as you card your fingers through your hair and grab your keys, stuffing the fucked up metalwork into the passenger seat and hit the pedal to the metal.

The bell rings as you push open the door and the metallic, pungent smell of multiple fumes clogs your nose. To your right, a man is stuffing his light-wash denim Levi jacket into a blue-rusted locker. His hair is a sandy blonde color cropped down into a grown-out buzz, and his taut arms are littered with tattoos. His black tee is tucked into his jeans and he adjusts his holster to reveal the handgun that's stowed away under his leather belt.

He turns to you and his eyes widen, brows raised as he quickly shuts the door to his locker, but you have already caught a glimpse of the guns that littered the small space. And as alarming as it may have been, you were only fixated on how pretty his hazel eyes were.

"Can I help you?" He treads to the desk that sits right in the middle of the small lobby area, and you suck in a small inhale before approaching him.

The metal sculpture you have been working on clatters on the wooden counter.

"Need some tips and tricks for this piece that I'm doing for an art show later this month, would you be able to service me in that?"

He raises a brow at you. "I don't typically take freelance commissions."

You huff. "Please? I'm desperate."

His eyes flicker to you, giving you a once over and a small smile adorns his face.

"Alright."

His daddy's on death row, but he'll say it with his chest, though His friends move dope, he hasn't tried coke But he's always had a problem saying no His older brother bagged the valedictorian His mother, steady, screaming he should be more like him

A shiver runs up your spinal column when a chilly gust sweeps into the open garage. For May, it's certainly a bit too chilly. But you ignore it as you study how he perfects the fissure you attempted to weld over earlier. A small puff of air leaves your chest and Logan sets down the welder and glances over at you.

You cross your arms. "What?"

He stifles a laugh, scratching the stubble on his cheek with his soot-covered fingers. "You're huffin' and puffin' over there."

"No, I'm not." You mimp at him.

He snickers at your pursued lips. "You are."

In the short time that he has gotten the pleasure to know you, he realizes how short of a fuse you have when it comes to your own artwork. The meticulousness of your piece and how high-strung you become when you can't implement the same technique as him because, duh, he's a professional welder with years of experience under his belt. But regardless, you're throwing your little tantrums and don't think he doesn't notice it. The little finger taps on the metal table whenever your penetration isn't properly bonded, or the eye rolls when he fixes the undercuts you created. It's cute and admirable how passionate you are about your craft and honestly, it really turns him on. Especially when you spend hours perfecting your fusions, even staying after closing time.

But then it's after midnight, and Logan forgets that his friends transport their red tops through the facility in the later hours to pick them up in the morning. You always knew the shop was a little sketchy, so drug trafficking and money laundering had definitely crossed your mind at some point. And yet, you're silent and minding your own at the company that huddles in the large expanse of the garage. A wink is sent your way from the gentleman with pretty wintry hues and you give him a meek smile. You only recognize his older brother Hesh who gives you a good-natured grin while he carries a duffle bag with money sticking out the corners of the zipper.

"Dude, you said nobody would be here." Hesh chides in a low voice.

"My bad." Logan's tone is blase and the sound of Hesh's tongue clicking echoes.

Logan leans against the wall, pushing a cigarette between his lips before he lights it. "She maintains focus on her own assigned tasks."

You narrow your eyes at the statement, sensing that, strangely, it carries enough weight to influence the intimidating group of men. There's an awkward silence until his older brother clears his throat and the palpable tension in the room dissipates.

You continue to make yourself busy, manipulating metal sheets into flower petals. Hesh does a once over at you before he pushes past his younger brother and toward the back, but he can't stop himself from leaving him with a snide remark:

"Make sure it stays that way."

Can you read my mind? I've been watching you (You know it, you know it, you know it's true) Couldn't fight to save your life, but you look so cool Camo' jacket, robbing corner stores Hard odds to beat when you're on all fours Good men die too, oh, I'd rather be with you, you, you

Fortunately for you, you were good on your unspoken rule of minding your business. So much so that you were beginning to befriend their little clique. But they're lingering a little too long around your liking, distracting you when you really should be getting toward the final pieces of your sculpture.

It's hard when they're flexing your taut muscles while showing you their tatted arms and fresh ink under their Saniderm patches.

"What is it?" You cock an amused brow at Keegan.

He gives you a wolfish grin. "A pansy."

You chuckle. "Cause you're a fuckin' pansy?"

He joins in on your laughter. "Hell yeah."

You don't really like prying so you laugh it off knowing there is some deeper meaning behind it. The sound of Logan's throat clears and an icy glare is shot toward the retired Sergeant's way to which he only rolls his wintry hues and pokes your side on his way out. You jolt at his playful gesture and swipe at him, narrowly missing by a few millimeters, as he jogs towards the break room.

Logan leans against the welded steel workbench, sucking on a blue raspberry ice pop as he ogles you. "Should be workin' on your piece 'stead of flirting."

You snort, as you position the sheet metal on your sculpture but it slips out of your nimble fingers and clatters loudly on the ground. A vulgarity leaves your lips as you fumble around to get it, but Logan is quick to pick it up and perfectly welds it on the shoulder of the sculpture.

And for once you're kind of relieved that he's intervened. You quietly inhale, leaning against the workbench as you observe how he sets down the welding tool on the table. A primal sense of jealousy and possessiveness seeps into him as he glances over at you with darkened eyes.

"Your deadline's comin' up."

"I know." You mutter, eyelashes batting up at him with desire.

You notice how his camo compression shirt hugs his physique and you feel the sweat begin to form at the nape of your neck. His eyes glance over at your lips and they involuntarily quiver. The tension is unbearable--palpable even.

He moves closer to you, closing the gap between your forms as he reaches out his calloused hand to gently grasp at your neck. Your breaths mingle against one another while they inch closer, brushing the pillowy flesh of your lips before he devours you. His lips hotly slot against yours and it's dizzying the way he kisses you so feverishly. You waste no time kissing him back as he clears the workbench and lifts your form to sit atop it. The cold steel presses against your bare thighs, but the warmth of his soot-covered hands creates a pleasant contrast as they glide over the flesh of your spine. His other hand threads through your hair and tugs it just right, eliciting a moan as your tongues collide.

Your hand moves to his chest before gently pushing him away, your lips only connected by a string of saliva and your breaths draw ragged. A smirk adorns your dulcet features as you move back to the welding table, and Logan feels captivated by the person he's starting to see.

"Gotta get back to my work."

I owe you a black eye and two kisses Tell me when you wanna come and get 'em I only want him if he says it first to me I wanna, uh, him in the back of his mom's Mercury He looks like he works with his hands, and smells like Marlboro Reds

Logan has been missing for some days since that night. Hesh on the other hand has been more than happy to fill in the void that his younger brother has left.

"He's been on a business trip." Hesh nudges you as he helps you remove the slag on your sculpture to reveal the clean beading underneath. You perk up at his voice.

"Who?" Although, the both of you know exactly 'who' he was referring to.

Hesh chuckles as he wipes his blackened hands and sets the microfiber towel down to sit on the wooden stool across from you. His emerald eyes are glimmering in the sunlight that reflects from the garage windows. One thing about the Walker brothers is that they shared that coquettish, boyish charm that you couldn't resist. It is brimming with mischief and playfulness with a roughness around the edges.

He glances at his watch. "In about an hour or so."

Your heart drops to your stomach and you feel a yearning pain for his enigmatic presence that is always luring you in for more. Your fingers absentmindedly brush at your lips and the retired Lieutenant narrows his eyes at you.

You're quick to notice that Hesh picks up on your subtle gesture and you swiftly excuse yourself. But he can only snicker to himself when he sees how you hurry off to the courtyard just outside the garage. Your brain inattentively searches for the scent of Marlboro red's. It's a distinct smell; strong and robust in comparison to the menthol's that the other smoke. And you don't know if it's your imagination, but it wafts into your senses. Unthinkingly, you follow it and your eyes ream at the unexpected arrival of the inscrutable man who cooly, draws smoke from his lips, and it unfurls into the air before it evaporates.

His intense hazel eyes never leave yours and you're caught up in them. They're dark, alluring, and spellbinding in the shade of the canopy of the courtyard. He sports medium-wash denim jeans adorned with distressed patches at the pockets and thighs, secured by a simple black belt, with his slate grey tee neatly tucked in. The fabric of the sleeves tightens around the muscle of his taut biceps and you have to thickly swallow to conjure up some strength. Strength to not throw yourself on him and jump his bones.

"Thought you'd be here in an hour or so." You murmur, slowly striding toward him. He takes another drag before offering it to you. You smooth over the lipgloss that lacquers your lips before you pluck the cigarette out of his fingers and slowly inhale. When it leaves your mouth, the creases of your lips brand the cigarette paper and he licks his cracked lips as you hand it back to him. He doesn't waste any time wrapping his mouth over your strawberry-flavored lipgloss, remembering how you tasted the last time your lips touched.

"Wrapped up early." He replies, with the cigarette fixed between his lips. He turns to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Why? Did you miss me?"

It makes me so, uh, and I can't get enough of it Something's been feeling weird lately There's just something about you, baby (there's just something about you, baby) Maybe I'll just be crazy (I'll be crazy) And piss him off 'til he hates me Low slung bad bitch, baby, come and get you some

And in the blink of an eye, it's the showcasing of your art exhibit and you tell yourself not to get your hopes up. That Logan isn't exactly the most predictable of humans, but Hesh assures you they'll all be there. In fact, they're thrilled to have an excuse to wear a suit and attend an event where they can showcase their metalworking skills and be recognized for their talent.

"He'll be here." Keegan pulls you out of your stupor. He's peering over the rim of his champagne glass at your trepidatious expression and how your eyes dart across the room looking for him; overgrown blonde buzzcut and the heavy aroma of iron oxide, tobacco, and his father's passed down Jean Paul Gaultier. You can't quite imagine him in a suit either, but you aren't disappointed at how well the retired Marines turned blue-collar workers clean up. Clean-shaven with a few dabs of aftershave, dressed in crisp navy suits, and wearing their finest tap dancing shoes, they were set for the night.

They don't even look out of place either, and yet you did. In a crowd full of people who adored your art, and every second of your night being spent talking to art collectors, admirers, and socialites--you were utterly alone. And you knew that you shouldn't rely on a man to fill that void, nevertheless, here you were, doing just that.

"I'm gonna go to the restroom." You mutter and down the rest of your champagne before heading off. The sound of Keegan's phone ringing is faint, but it manages to catch your attention. You lean against the wall for a moment in hopes of capturing who he was speaking to. In hopes of it being...

"Logan! Where the fuck are ya, kid?"

And your heart drops to your stomach. You felt like you already had your answer. Something about a shipment taking too long to process with their wholesale dealer and that was something you didn't want to stick around to hear. You had some hope that this time would be different. That maybe he would push aside whatever shady business he had going aside for you, but you were a fool to think that he would change for you.

The rest of the evening drags by. You're no longer glancing at your watch or rummaging through the room for him. The little words of encouragement and smiles from his friends and brother had become mere background noise to you by now. Time is like a hazy blur of conversations about your artwork, countless glasses of Armand de Brignac, and mindless gossiping about gallery politics and exhibit guests.

And soon enough it's past midnight and your social battery is running low. Your guests have long left the premises, but thankfully your welding companions stay behind to help you pack up your remaining props and pieces into their truck that could probably fit ten bodies in the trunk alone.

You let out a sharp exhale as you observe Merrick scolding Hesh and Kick for not preparing the cargo net. Sometimes it was talking to a small herd of teenage boys, nonetheless, you were grateful for their help.

The final pieces remaining in the exhibit were delicate and, moreover, the ones Logan had been most involved with. When you headed back inside to load them into your car, you immediately felt a pit in your stomach as soon as you entered the gallery.

There he stood, with a mussed-up, overgrown buzz, and unkempt facial hair, clad in soot-covered work trousers and a white tee stained with what appeared to be dried blood, admiring the work you both had collaborated on.

"Man, she's a real beauty—really outdone yourself, [name]."

He turns to you and you feel yourself crumble. You tremble with anger, and his face softens as he takes in your expression. He knows he fucked up big time. The worst part about it is that he looks unbelievably sexy, but your rage is bubbling within you as you take another stride toward him.

He's careful with how he approaches. Careful to not make any sudden movements as if you would pounce on him and tear him limb from limb.

"I'm sorry..." He breathes out, observing the way you slowly circle him.

"Oh, you're sorry?" You hissed.

He swallows thickly, feeling a shudder travel up his spinal column. "There was a hold up..."

He clenches and unclenches his fist reflecting on said "hold up" that caused him to be so tardy. It's not like he didn't know how important this was to you, but he also wasn't obligated to show up in the way you were expecting him to.

You stop in your tracks and pinch the bridge of your nose. It's hard to stay mad at someone whose tongue was shoved down your throat just a few days ago.

Logan is debating whether his presence is even worthy of being around you, but he reaches out to hold your wrist anyway.

"Get off of me." You tug your wrist away, but he has a firm grip on you.

"Let me make it up to you." His hazel half-lidded gaze holds yours and your anger begins to melt away.

"How?"

His hands suddenly find themselves around your waist and you yelp as he lifts you, setting you on the bar. Your little black dress rides up your thighs and pulls them apart only to find that not only are you not wearing underwear, but your pussy is glistening in the dim exhibit lighting. He gives you one final glance as if to ask for permission, but you're already tangling your fingers into his dirty blonde hair.

He doesn't even waste any time devouring your sopping, wet pussy. One long stripe and then he's losing himself in your saccharine taste that he cannot get enough of. He had no idea how he withheld himself from such a heavenly taste and those sweet, milky moans.

All those long nights they spent working together in the shop he had to hold himself back from slipping down your shorts, bending you over the workbench, and taking right then and there. It all amounted to this moment—his tongue deep in your cunt and you were lost in the euphoria he was bringing you. The notion of the others walking in on you is tossed away to the backlogs of your mind.

His fingers dig into the supple flesh of your thighs, holding your writhing body still as he sucks on your pillow clit. You tremble against him feeling yourself nearing the edge, but he's torturing you. Withdrawing his tongue from the sensitive nub, kissing around your inner thighs, but you're not having any of it.

Your fingers pull at his hair and lead his tongue back to where you want it, bucking your hips against his mouth. His hazel hues flicker up to you and he's smirking at your domineering energy. You're taking charge as you grind your pussy against his tongue and lolling your head to the side as you feel your orgasm coming on.

"Fuuuck, 'm gonna..." You moan out in pure ecstasy as your eyes drift to the back of your head and your back arches away from the counter.

And he's definitely not stopping his efforts in bringing you there. In fact, he's probing his fingers between your velvety folds and curling his fingers to that sweet spot that drives you to your climax.

"Logan...!" You whimper out as you ride your high and he drowns in your soddened pussy. "Oh fuck..." You breathe out as it dissipates slowly but surely. He licks one last stripe to your shimmering folds as he withdraws his fingers, observing the way your arousal clings to his fingers and lapping them up.

"I have no fuckin' clue how I held back for so long." He cups your cheek, lips lacquered with your cum, and you hotly slot your lips against his in a feverish kiss. Being pressed up against him in the building where you hosted your long-awaited art exhibit feels like one of your reoccuring wet dreams.

Your hands fly to his belt to unbuckle, but the sound of footsteps grasp your attention and your caught redhanded, but his cheeky older brother, Hesh.

"Oh—" He grins at your tangled bodies against the bar. "as much as I hate to break up you two lover birds, security is rounding us up to see us off.”

You feel the embarrassment creeping up on your flushed cheeks. “R-right.” You fix your dress and Logan casually buckles his belt and helps you down from the bar as if you two weren’t going to fuck each other dumb.

As Hesh grabs the last few items and exits the area, Logan comes up from behind you and squeezes your ass as he murmurs against the shell of your ear:

“I’ll follow you back to your place?”

Good men die too, so I'd rather be with you, you, you rather be with you, oh Oh, I'd rather be with you, oh 'Cause good men die too, so I'd rather be with you

[enigmaue]

Thank you for the tag, @gunnrblze !!

Eggs: Poached

Steak: Rare/medium rare

Milk: Whole, coconut

Alcohol: I don't drink, but I do like riesling

Warm drink: Coffee (mocha), or matcha

No pressure tags: @commander-gabriel-rorke | @samithemunchkin | @omgkeeganruss | @keegansshark | and anyone else who would like to join too! :>