#let the man use his natural accent!!!!!

[libertatias]

remembering graham mctavish voiced charlie cutter and furious we didn't get scottish charlie

[musicrunsthroughmysoul]

I'm not going to write a dissertation on this, but I may write a bit of a novel, so feel free to not read this. LOL

(I'm going on and on about singing and the symbolism of it by comparing two vocalists, basically, but my main focus is one vocalist in particular who I've been listening to for pretty much the first time all year long so I HAVE SOME THOUGHTS.)

I've finally identified what it is about Stuart Adamson's voice post-The Seer/around the time of Peace in Our Time that I hate so much, that bothers me SO MUCH, and it's not just the symbolism of directing Big Country's music at the American market specifically - it actually has to do with singing and the art and the science of it (generally speaking; I'm no scientist as it is, but as a former-sometimes-still-but-rarely vocalist, I KNOW SOME STUFF).

So here's why and it's going to sound like a letdown (which is appropriate because that's exactly how it feels every time I listen to him sing post-The Seer): he's singing in a purposely nasally voice/tone.

Do you want to know how I know this? (Besides being a vocalist and being able to naturally hear the difference in my own voice when I sing in my chest or head voice and when I miss my head and chest voice and end up sounding...uh-huh, nasally!) I have the perfect example - an example that I have listened to hundreds (possibly even thousands) of times more than I've listened to Big Country yet.

Here is one example of someone (not to mention an INCREDIBLY DISTINCTIVE example) using his normal chest and head voice (he slips into a nasally tone in a few phrases, but it's much less prevalent than...in so many other examples, lmao), particularly when he's in the higher part of his singing range, but only up to the 2 minute mark when he starts singing in his nasally voice on purpose/for effect.

Now here is an example of the same person singing almost entirely/exclusively in a nasally tone.

You hear the difference, right? In the first one, his voice is clear, even as he uses his head voice to reach the higher notes (okay, it's like an A4 - not that high, but for a man who really isn't a tenor, it kind of is!). In the second example, he's singing in a nasally tone even for notes that he could easily hit in his chest voice (which is the most standard voice to sing in, as apparently your vocal chords responsible for your chest voice are thicker than your vocal chords responsible for your head voice, and your chest voice is also naturally the most comfortable voice to sing in because it's the same voice you speak in).

Do I...do I even need to provide examples now of differences between Stuart Adamson's voice pre-Peace in Our Time and from Peace in Our Time-on? Okay, I'll do it, even though it's probably just for me. So: in his normal chest and head voice (me, impressed: all of those high notes! In! His head voice!! Period!!!!! I think the highest note he reaches is an A-sharp/B4 flat, btw - I don't have a piano/keyboard at my disposal to confirm that, though, so I'm making an educated guess), and then in his deeply flimsy (irony intended) nasally voice. I actually don't think I can say that he sings that song entirely in a nasally tone/voice, but the CHORUS - that whole thing, oh, yes, shamelessly so and I hate it.

Now I'm finally gonna talk about why the nasal voice, as compared to his regular chest and head voice, is so bad (and if you want to read this as an equal critique of Tom Petty's voice, be my guest!).

So when I called Adamson's post-The Seer nasally voice "deeply flimsy," what did I mean by that, and how does that reflect his use of a specifically nasal voice/tone in a bad way? By "deeply flimsy," I mean that his nasally voice - used on purpose - is disingenuous. It is inauthentic.

And, okay, for a song like "Republican Party Reptile" or "We're Not in Kansas" I can somewhat understand the use of a nasally tone that is inherently disingenuous because it works to further illustrate how fake the characters in "Republican Party Reptile" (his "cousin PJ") and "We're Not in Kansas" (the place, Kansas; in this case, his perception of Kansas) are.

But for any song that IS NOT "Republican Party Reptile," "We're Not in Kansas," or anything else that doesn't obviously call for a disingenuous voice - when it became the voice he sang in pretty much all the time, it meant that he wasn't being honest, voice and tone-wise, toward any of the songs he was singing. Which...I could psychoanalyze him about that if I really wanted to, but I really don't want to here (currently), so I'll just stick to critiquing it regardless of what it might've meant for him personally to do so.

Basically: for him to sing in an unnatural (and thus inauthentic/disingenuous) voice/tone all the time meant that every time he chose not to sing anything in his natural, slightly accented voice (honestly, it's rarely noticeable, and I can't imagine that he was so self-conscious about it that that was the reason he chose not to sing that way anymore), it was just that - a choice. And, in a way, if he chose to sing every song that way, regardless of the song's subject matter or getting into "the character" of the song, then doesn't that cancel out the times he sang that way fittingly (like in "Republican Party Reptile" and "We're Not in Kansas")? ...I'm going to say yes. Because then he wasn't choosing to sing in that tone to fit the song; he chose to sing that way for everything, even everything he would sing in his normal voice before he started singing that way.

So yeah, the nasally voice/tone was unnecessary, except when it wasn't, but it became unnecessary for all time because he used it when he didn't ever need to.

And, really, this is why it bothers me so much: he started out in punk rock, right? And the first rule of punk is "You don't need to know how to do it, let alone how to do it well - you just need to try/do it, anyway." I mean, okay, yeah, he kinda speedran that because he was an incredibly talented guitarist whilst in the punk band The Skids, but as a singer, nonetheless, he always had the permission to do it anyway, no matter how good or bad you are at it. So he brought that idea to Big Country (necessarily, as a vocalist; not as a guitarist), and, naturally, he did improve as a vocalist (especially if you listen to his vocals on the entirety of The Seer)! And he did it all in his natural, authentic fucking voice. But then came Peace in Our Time which, not every song on that album is sung entirely in a nasally tone and, a decent chunk of it includes (but does not feature, imo) his authentic voice, but any time especially AFTER that album (and from specific years - I'd say 1990-on) he sang exclusively in a nasally voice/tone and abandoned his normal voice pretty much altogether.

Which leaves me with the knowledge that all along he could've sung in his normal voice - no matter who he was playing to or why - but that it became a choice to sing in an unnatural, inauthentic, nasally voice and tone. And it was bad! It wasn't Tom Petty "I'm an American Southerner so I can manipulate my voice and tone to accentuate that or even to downplay it" - it was full-on "This is how I sing now even though I've never sounded like this before," and, to be real - it never got him or Big Country anywhere better (capitalistically, if that is how you define success) than they got to before. Now I said I wasn't going to psychoanalyze him but I will say this: maybe he was bitter about that fact, or about the idea that he and Big Country had "peaked," so he imposed his feelings on all of his and Big Country's songs in every fucking performance? But what I can't understand is, did he really not respect his fans OR HIMSELF that much? He chose to sound fake to spite everybody's expectations of him and Big Country? Oof...isn't that a self-destructive bruise that I sure don't want to poke...

I also want to add, after watching a live performance by Big Country from 1990 (you know the music is just fine, but then Stuart sings the whole fucking thing in that tone AND MY EYE TWITCHES), the consideration that (and I'm just guessing here) maybe Adamson used that voice because he thought it was more rock 'n' roll - like maybe he was going for a gravelly voice that a lot of rock singers are known to employ in the middle of their songs or whatever? But...really man, every song you sing is rock and roll, no matter what? I mean, okay, I get it - gone are the days of 'I've always just played folk music with really loud guitars,' (that's the gist of a quote Adamson said at some point) but even quieter, softer songs don't require a gravelly voice that was really never mastered (or *coughs* even started) in the first place...so again I circle back to: even if he ignored his audience, he was still going to ignore what the songs needed, and what he needed, too? It's just...all so unnecessary, and it makes me sad.

Anyway, if you read this far, I will say one last thing about all of this: I'm sorry. About all of it. Except where I mentioned Tom Petty. Then I'm not sorry at all, and please don't ever expect me to apologize for anything I say regarding him. Thank. Honestly, it pains me to say all of that, because Stuart Adamson's natural voice was lovely but above all it was HEARTFELT and I think he very much could have improved even more as a vocalist if he hadn't just straight-up chosen not to sing in his natural voice no matter what, anyway.

[sectumsempraaa]

Send Him My Regards

Pairing: fem!reader x idk they’re all in love with you LOL, but Draco's down bad

Summary: You aren’t one to provoke the aggressive nature of your closest friend group (a bunch of reckless Slytherin boys) but when the new hire at your favorite bookstore makes you uncomfortable, you’re forced to ask for their… “help.”

Word Count: 2.5k

Featuring: The whole damn crew. Draco, Theo, Mattheo, Pansy, Blaise, Lorenzo

TW: Implied non-consensual touching/comments, implied violence, panic/mental distress, cursing, disgustingly fluffy

Notes: This is based on something I recently experienced, as many of you have, too. I tried my best to convey my very real thoughts on this matter. Avoiding threatening men is a constant, everyday struggle. If you can relate, this is for you.

“Love, you already own every book in the world.” Draco proclaims, staggering behind you with his pack of Slytherin watch dogs.

Whenever you go anywhere as a group, they always let you lead so they can keep an eye on your surroundings. You think it’s silly, but it’s their thing, and you secretly appreciate the protection, so you let them be. It makes them feel important, and you find it endearing.

“I most certainly do not! Only like… two hundred.” You respond, muttering the number under your breath.

“Then I’ll buy you every book in the world. Must we come here every weekend?” he groans. Of course, Mattheo interrupts, shooting Draco a furrowed brow.

“Mate, for the love of god, either stop coming on these trips, or use some of that fancy cash you love to go on about to take us elsewhere. Pick one.” Mattheo sneers. Naturally, he’s carrying your bag and coat, making sure you never lift a finger. His response earns a smirk from you.

You’re not really listening though, more so taking in the beauty of Hogsmeade. You love escaping the castle for the little town on perfect, brisk days like this one, hitting everyone’s favorite shops and downing a couple of butterbeers.

The boys continue arguing in the background as you make your way down the cobblestone street, your hair blowing softly in the chill of the November breeze. Blaise and Theo share an eye roll with each other before coming to your side, leaving the two to bicker as they trail behind. Theo steps in, heaving a dramatic sigh and throwing an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to him. His words drip with that rich Italian accent.

“Ignore them, bella. We’ll wait for you outside.” You smile at him and he gives you a wink. A man of few words, but oozing with charm. He will occasionally act as a grounding force when the others get rowdy. You hear Draco drag on about how he “earned” his money or whatever.

“Oh wow, a real rags to riches story!” Mattheo shouts, lunging at Draco. You shake your head laughing with Blaise, sending you a look that reads as “I’ll take care of them.” You enter the bookshop, making the bell ring as the door opens.

The first thing you notice is the shiny new display of fantasy books you’ve been dying to get your hands on. You make your way towards it, not being able to contain the thrill on your face. You’ve been waiting for this series to restock and here they are, all of them, ready to be yours. You touch the smooth covers, tracing your fingers over the author’s name on each one.

The second thing you notice is… him. Your heart drops as your sheer excitement instantly morphs into dread.

Please, not again. 

The new hire at this bookstore has ruined the last couple of trips for you. You were hoping he would stop working weekends but… there he is. And he eyes you right away, like you’re on his radar.

The first time you came in, it was the comments. Calling you pet names, pointing out his favorite features on you, and it was relentless. You somehow got through it and attempted to shake it off, praying he would quit or just get fired before your next trip.

The second time, it was the touching. Brushing against your back when trying to “get through”, his hand grabbing your arm too tightly while he led you down an aisle. You tripped on your way out while trying to make a swift escape, and of course he was there to “catch you”, only giving him an excuse to grip both hands around your waist, hesitant to release you.

Your eyes go between the book display and his movements as he starts creeping his way out from behind the counter. You have to make a split-second decision to either stay and endure, or leave safely and empty handed. It pains you but your nerves heighten as he gets closer. Panic sets in as colors blur and sounds become muffled. Your brain and your body and your heart scream together in unison: “danger.”

You burst through the door back outside with a speed and force that could only be conjured by your anxiety. Facing the door, you stumble backwards and let out a gasp when you land in someone’s familiar arms. You recognize the brown suede material of Theo’s jacket as you attempt to catch your breath. It seems no amount of oxygen could suffice at the moment.

“Bella, bella, what’s wrong?” He asks urgently, hoisting you back up to your feet. The others notice the incident and immediately stride their way over. Draco, always leading the pack, puts his hands on your shoulders and lowers his eyes to your level.

“Hey, look at me,” he coos, forcing you out of your episode. He speaks with a tenderness that is almost heartbreaking. “What happened, love? Are you quite alright?”

There’s too many thoughts and feelings swimming around in your head to give an honest answer. Everything is moving in slow motion and you need time to regroup. Swallowing your fear, you decide to lie, at least for now. The last thing you want to do is impulsively encourage their hostility.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you respond, avoiding his gaze. He looks at you, deciding whether to believe you. “Really, I am.” You add. He glances down to your empty hands.

“You left without a book. You always buy a book.” He says, speaking with suspicion in his voice. The others stay back, knowing when to give Draco his space. They all adore you, but Draco would do things you’d rather not think about in order to keep you happy and safe. And he has. It’s been like this since you can remember. 

“Just didn’t have what I wanted, is all.” You explained. The doubt on his face is evident. He speaks just above a whisper.

“Y/N, you know we would take care of anyone that so much as breathes near you wrong, yeah? It’s important to me that you know this.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Mattheo ditching his cigarette and cracking his knuckles. You give a small nod and a shrug, releasing yourself from his hands and walking back in the direction of the castle. Your head is still reeling, but not enough to block out the boys’ debriefing behind you.

First, Mattheo. “She rarely ever gets like that.”

Then Theo. “Only when she panics.” And Blaise. “Her face was almost as pale as Malfoy’s.”

And Draco, but with a tinge of hurt in his voice. “She barely looked at me.” He glances in your direction, contemplating. “Give her time. We’ll look after her tonight. Someone tell Pansy.”

The rest you don’t hear, feeling embarrassment creeping in. You wish they’d just let it go and forget about it, cowering from the attention it’s bringing to you. Your pace quickens as the heat spreads across your cheeks, eager to be alone in your hideout at the castle.

Too focused on your path, you slam into someone’s chest as they’re coming out of the bakery you’re passing.

“Ugh, Lorenzo, I’m so sorry,” you say frantically, smoothing out his jacket and moving past him, never meeting his gaze. His face contorts with confusion and concern. He watches you take off then turns back to the group.

“Something off with that one...” The boys give him a knowing look.

“No shit, Berkshire.” Mattheo sneers.

—

After what felt like an eternity, you had reached the castle and darted to your hideout: a corner balcony high up in one of the towers facing the pitch. Leaning your elbows on the edge of the balcony, you watch the sun slowly descend into its eventual bed of twilight. Then, the spiraling begins.

Thinking back, you’ve never really dealt with something like this because of who your friends were. No one dared to even step too close to you, aware of what the consequences would be. But you weren’t on school grounds this time. You felt… unprepared. Lost. Violated. Guilty.

Does running away make me weak?

Why can’t I stand up for myself?

How did he gain control so quickly?

Did I ask for it? Did I do something wrong?

This is too much. It feels ridiculous and quite frankly enraging that you considered this being your fault. The stress is exhausting.

You let yourself relax, laying down on a stone bench and staring up at the black night sky. You start to mentally identify the stars in view, something Draco taught you to do when you’d get anxious. It always worked, as evident by the many hours you fell asleep. Upon awakening, you gasp as your watch reads 1AM.

You hear footsteps rustling around nearby, and echoing voices calling your name. Shit. They’re looking for me.

Sneaking around corners, you tiptoe around, trying not to get yourself noticed. Maybe, just maybe you can get back to the dungeons without getting caught. Until you hear the voice of your best friend, who admittedly, you could really use right now.

“Pans?” You whisper, catching a glimpse of her shadow down the corridor. Her head whips around before running to you urgently.

“Where the hell have you been?! The boys are going mad looking for-” She stops abruptly when you force yourself into her arms, hugging her tight and burying your face in her shoulder. Her tone softens to that of an older sister. “Oh, Y/N,” She rubs your back while your eyes well up.

“Fuck, Pans, I don’t know what to do.” You say through subtle sobs, holding back as much as you can for her sake. She looks at you with a questioning look before your words stumble out, caked in distress.

“There’s a boy at the bookstore, MY bookstore, and-and, and he’s there all the time now, following me around, and…”

“Y/N, calm down. You’re okay. It’s just me, sweetie.” She says, running a hand through your hair as her eyes shift to someone behind you; their voice deep, slow, and filled with angst.

“There’s… a… what?” He asks, the voice you recognize as Draco’s ringing off the walls. Mattheo, Theo, and Blaise walk into frame behind him when they realize he found you. The sight of them strikes you; your fiercely loyal group of friends that would go to the ends of the earth for you. To your surprise, you are relieved to see them.

But their anger is palpable. Draco’s jaws clenched tight. Theo’s heavy eyes claiming the darkness. Blaise’s hands rolled into fists. Lorenzo steps forward, eyes soft, holding out a gentle hand. 

“Let’s get you to the common room, and you can tell us-” he turns to the other boys before emphasizing his next words, “-what you’re comfortable with, if you want to talk at all.”

You nod in agreement, taking his hand while Pansy takes your other one. In your head, you’re thanking whatever higher power put Lorenzo on this planet. The voice of reason amidst all chaos.

—

It’s nearly 2AM now. You’re sat on the common room couch in front of the blazing fireplace under a mess of blankets, warming up after your frigid nap. Theo on your left, Lorenzo on your right holding your tea, Draco and Mattheo sitting on the coffee table facing you, with Blaise and Pansy on the floor. All with mixed looks of curiosity, empathy, and sheer rage.

After thinking it over, you decided to prioritize yourself for once. A lot of people don’t realize how hard a decision that can be. This is a risky favor to ask for. But there’s only a couple truly precious things in the world you can’t live without, and this is one of them. You want your fucking bookstore back.

So, you tell them. Everything.

As you recall the events of the last few weeks, you feel the air become tense. Blaise looks like he’s about to combust. Theo reaches for your hand, letting you fiddle with the bracelet on his wrist. You hear Pansy call this boy every name in the book under her breath, your favorite being “bastardly filth”. Draco and Mattheo listen, periodically looking at each other with knowing stares, having their own wordless conversation. You know those looks. Plotting looks.

When you finish, you’re briefly met with silence, temporarily paralyzing you. Do they believe me?

You break the stillness. “I suppose I’m making a big deal out of something quite trivial.” You say to them, diminishing your story, and for what?

Mattheo stands up, ushering Blaise and Pansy out of the way as he kneels in front of you. He rests a comforting hand on your knee, his eyes glowing with brutal honesty.

“It’s really very simple, little dove. You’re in danger, we take down the threat. I can assure you we all agree that your safety is anything but trivial.” He states. He gives your knee a squeeze. “Gonna be honest though, Y/N. It’s going to be ugly for him when he meets us.”

You look up to Draco, who’s been oddly quiet since you all got back. You hold his gaze as you respond.

“Good. Send him my regards.” You reply, earning a wicked grin from him, his eyes suddenly crinkled and brimming with pride. Everyone shifts a bit in their seats, wrapping up the late night discussion.

Draco strides over to you, taking the teacup from your hands and setting it down on a side table. He looks so handsome like this, facing you on the couch with his hair disheveled and the top of his shirt buttons undone. The glow from the fire accenting his features, so sharp yet yearning for sleep. He takes your face in his warm hands.

“I need you to hear me right now. Listening?” he asks. You give an unconvincing nod as his thumb caresses your cheek. Yes, but damn you make it hard to.

His stare intensifies, pulling you from your trance and forcing you to dial in to his statement.

“Never feel bad for wanting them to pay for the pain and discomfort they inflict on you. Their reasons were senseless, yours are justified.”

For the first time tonight, just for a moment, you feel sure of yourself. You wrap your arms around him, pulling yourself closer, his body becoming your safe haven. His hands nestle you to his chest as you feel him place a kiss on the top of your head.

He loves you and you know it. He’ll wait for this to pass, for things to be right. He’ll wait for you to feel whole and secure again. And he’ll do whatever it takes to help you get you there, even if that means giving you space.

As Pansy sees the two of you off to bed, you repeat his sentiment to her. “My god, that bloody boy is down bad, and I mean bad, for you Y/N.”

Ascending the staircase to your dorm, you faintly hear Draco informing the boys of the plan.

“Tomorrow. Noon.” He demands. The boys nod. He pauses before adding another instruction.

“Oh, and we’re gonna need a bag. We’ve got books to bring home.”

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

[clumsybriar]

Ghost x Wife! Reader — My Pretty Girl

Ghost x wife! Reader

Masterlist

Notes: use of (y/n), reader is female, ghost really adores his wife, fluff.

Word count: 6,858

Warnings: some swearing and bullying.

———————————————————————————

Simon stopped in the doorway watching his wife get ready. He was awestruck by her always. She was curvy, and pretty, and her personality sold it all.

She was in his words ‘a sensitive bugger’, to which she would disagree and tell him she was in tune with her emotions and then giggle. She was so sweet and patient and was willing to try and be everyone’s friend even if she was an introvert. The deal was, they had to talk to her first.

“Pretty girl.” He uttered coming up behind her and kissing her cheek. She had her make up all done and it was natural looking. The way she liked it. Her hair was straightened and she was just trying to get dressed until Simon interrupted her.

“Si!” She whined cutely as she only had one leg in her shorts and her other one was lifted as she was trying to stick her foot in the hole. Simon had snatched it up trapping her in place.

“Don’t whine, dovie.” He smiled as he balanced her. “I love you with all my heart, I’m just showin’ it.” His deep Manchester accent boomed within the four walls surrounding them.

His words were not an understatement either. He adored her entirely, worshiped the ground she walked on. He was a man who was well in love with his wife as he should be. She was gorgeous, even if she had stretch marks, or a bigger booty, or larger breasts. How ever it was, he loved her no matter what she looked like.

“Ah, pretty girl, not this outfit.” He smiled leaving a trail of kissed down her neck to her shoulder and continuing it down her arm.

“What’s wrong with it?” She asked nervously as she looked up at Simon.

There wasn’t anything wrong with it, he loved it. Frankly he would have said that about any outfit she left the house with or were wearing around the house. Even if it was her tangled and messy bed head and a t-shirt and boxers of his. He would still slobber over it and have the same remark.

“I love it, you look so gorgeous in this outfit pretty girl.” He kissed her knuckles.

“Si-si,” she snorted. “You say that about anything I wear.”

“Can’t help it love.” He tapped her butt with his hands. “You look good in everything, and nothing at all.” He teased softly. His lips trailing down her neck again as his hands wondered her body.

“We can’t,” she out a half things frenzied attack which made up of lots of kisses and groping over her soft skin. “We said we would meet Mr. and Mrs. Price at 3:30 at the winery.” His hands still grabbed at her thighs as he tried to sneak a few subtle touches elsewhere. “And soap and a Gaz will be there with their…”

“Pay them no mind, pretty girl.” Simon hummed as he stood up straight. She was petit against him, as in he towered over her and she was just this dainty and tiny little hobbit compared to him.

“Yes lieutenant.” She giggled she was trying to fight off his large hand that gripped her in thigh still up in the air as she wanted to get dressed. He patted her butt one more time as he let her go and laid on the bed watching her as she got dressed.

“Ya’ wearin’ that devils peice of clothing?” Simon asked as he watched her turn around and change her bra. “Go no bra.” He whined slightly. It was so out of character for him to be so whiney like this, but with her he could express himself in any way. He was so comfortable with her.

“I’m wearing a bra.” She fastened the new one and made sure her breasts settled right in it. He rolled into his belly as he rested his head on his fist.

“No bra,” he grunted out.

“Yes bra!” She argued back smiling at him.

“Let me see.” He pawed at her butt. She had fasted her cargo wrap skort and turned around grabbing her crocheted black crop top that cupped around her breasts.

“Pretty lace lovie.” He referred to her bra looking the dark green and how it compared to her skin.

“Your such a tease.” She giggled.

“Can you blame me lovie.” He sat up watching her out on the crochet top. “Such a pretty girl.”

“You try to make my head big.” She hummed as she put on her sandles.

“Baby, your head ain’t ever gonna grow big enough.” He teased her some more as his hands rested on her hips. “Your a pretty girl,” he leaned forward and kissed her collar bone. “And you don’t realize it.”

“I’m not that pretty.” She said softly.

“Beg to differ.” He stood up kissing her cheek. “Dead pretty.”

“Thank you.” She hugged him softly. The two of them had been Mr. and Mrs. Riley for four years.

He met her a year prior to their marriage during a mission. She was a pretty little civilian working her ass off in a library while she tried to finish her art degree. He was a lieutenant in the SAS. And the building she was in, had a bomb located in the center.

Task force 141 had the responsibility to defuse the bomb and evacuate the building.

Ghost could remember it clear as day. He was rushing around giving orders to civilians while (y/n) was staring at him like a deer caught in headlights, unsure if she should move because they could have been a threat to her safety, or if they thought she was the threat.

Needless to say, Gaz who was surprised by the lieutenants kindness in that moment with (y/n), knew he was a love sick puppy as soon as he set eyes on this little American woman.

Everytime Gaz retells the story, he always states something along the lines of ‘havin’ a hard time tellin’ who was the deer in headlights and who was the car about to run the deer over’. Soap would often talk about how everyone in the task force and who had been under Ghost’s command were jealous that she got all his soft and friendly words and they got ordered barked at them that day.

Needless to say, the universe, as cheesy as it was, had made sure their paths crossed so the two could be together.

Though everyone knew Ghost was in love when he gave her his mothers engagement ring as her own engagement ring. It was the last thing he had of his precious mother who had been tortured and killed by Roba. When they laid eyes on the gorgeous ring that had been worn by his mother many, many years ago, they knew he had found the woman he was going to settle down and come home to everyday, especially when his mother’s matching wedding band slipped on his wife’s finger during the wedding.

The wedding was truly something else, to (y/n) and Simon, it felt like a breath of fresh air finally being able to call one and another husband and wife even if they had been for months maybe even a year prior to wedding.

Simon could remember how ethereal (y/n) looked when she appeared from behind the doors. His breath had caught in his throat, and the tears had instantly welled up in his eyes. Soap had to pat his back as Simon—for the first time—had cried in front of many people.

The task force could have sworn it would have been (y/n) weeping heavily, but on that day it was Simon. And no one judged him for it, because she had for sure been the most beautiful bride, especially if you ask simon.

“Ready to go my dovie.” Simon hummed as he wore a white button down shirt and some slacks.

“Ready.” She grabbed his hand as she admired how his tattoos were on display. “You look charming.” She said softly as her eyes met his.

He could stare into those eyes for eternity.

“Mmm,” he leaned forward and kissed her. “Thank you baby.” He kissed her again. “Not as good as you, pretty girl.”

“Stop that!” She giggled as she stuck close to him.

“Never.” He hummed. Ghost had always been so playful with her, letting her see is fun side where many others didn’t get to see that from him. He always made her feel special though that was one thing for sure.

It didn’t take long for the two to arrive at the winery as they walked to the building to see Maria and John price already sipping on wine.

“What’ya want baby?” Simon asked as his hand was gently placed on her lower back.

“A sweet cider.” She said quietly as she was shooed around larger crowds.

“Mmm, want a pear apple cider?” He asked as he started a tab.

“Yeah.” She hummed as they waited. Her hands remained on his arms as she traced his tattoos. The bartender sat their drinks on the counter as they walked out the back to meet up with Maria and John.

“Well, well, well,” John stood up and shook Simon’s hand. “How’s it goin’ Simon.” The older man asked.

“Better everyday.” Simon hummed, a simple answer to how it truly was. Fantastic everyday when he was with (y/n).

Maria cooed softly at (y/n) as she was a very motherly person in general. “Oh darlin’, yer’ youth is refreshing to m’soul.” She hummed giggling as her accent was very Irsish and thick. “A wee baby’s skin isn’t as soft as yer’ skin.” She pinched (y/n)’s cheek gently. It didn’t take long for (y/n)’s cheeks to flare up in a rosy tint.

“Hi Maria.” (Y/n) greeted softly as she kissed the younger woman’s cheeks.

“Oh Simon, I imagine she’s keepin’ ya’ young as well with all her youth,” Maria teased the man. “We’re are ya’ two keepin’ the fountain of youth, Johnny and I could go for a dive.”

“Backyard.” Simon joked as he leaned down and hugged Maria as she kissed his cheeks as well as a greeting.

“Hi missy.” John hummed as he kissed your cheeks. “Keep him better behaved, he’s been causing me trouble at work.”

“I’m sorry,” (y/n) stifled a laughed as she looked up at Simon.

“Don’t you be givin’ my wife ammo.” Simon joked.

“I think your wife has plenty of ammo, me’lad.” Maria hummed. “Yer’ a soft husband, not like m’John who goes fishin’ and leave me with the screamin’ banshees.” She referred to her kids.

“Guilty as all be.” John smiled, sweet bliss for him.

They stood around and chatted as they waited for Gaz and Soap to appear. Of course (y/n) knew the two girls would be coming along as she tried to remember how to blend in so she wasn’t targeted.

“You’ll be targeted no matter what, m’girl.” Maria said softly. “Your a pretty lady, and them boys have known you for years ‘cause o’simon.” She hummed. “Pay’em no heed. If we need a break, you and I can always turn Hyde and walk in the vineyard.”

“Okay.” She said shyly. (Y/n) always felt like she dressed too kid-ish around them even if she was dressing more for her age, being 25. She sometimes believed she was too immature for Simon’s who was 32 and well prepared for life.

“Your so sweet, and so kind.” Simon whispered to her as he coddled her close to him. “So much sweetness, Dovie.”

(Y/n) flushed red and smiled up at Simon. She enjoyed his compliments but it often made her bashful.

“Ya’ look delightful, little one.” Maria smiled as she looked at your mature but youthful outfit. “Good thing Simon knows how to fight, these men would be all over ya’ if ya’ had that ring finger bare.” Maria hummed pointing at (y/n)’s ring finger smiling.

“I’m sure that’s not the case.” She brushed it off sweetly.

“I wish for your sake I could agree with ya’ but Simon’s already gave five different men the stink eye.” John chuckled lightly.

“No one fucks with my baby.” Simon said seriously.

That made (y/n) giggle as she patted Simon’s chest.

“I hope we didn’t miss the party.” Soap hummed as he walked hand and hand with his girlfriend. (Y/n) froze up a bit as she curled more into Simon taking a larger sip of her hard cider.

“Slow down.” Simon cooed softly. “No need to rush unless you would like to hug the porcelain throne tonight.”

“Sorry.” She said softly as she looked down to make sure her cleavage wasn’t too much.

Soap and Gaz were around her age, and the two were young, and they had a habit of staring, not on purpose, but because sometimes, (y/n)’s cleavage was a bit more on show depending on the shirts she wore. And she had a god given right to flaunt it. That’s what Farrah, Alex’s wife always told her when they were visiting her cousin in America. She loved her cousin's wife, finding comfort and understanding in her.

Ghost had snapped at the two before for staring, but he also couldn’t blame them. It was a good sight to see in his eyes.

“Anne, Lilliana.” Maria greeted with a polite smile.

Both women looked so elegant and wore beautiful dresses that spoke Italian villa. (Y/n) felt so out of place wearing a skort and a crop top. Too Americanized among a group of Europeans. The sharks were out today and they were gonna get her. Those sharks were named Lilliana, and Anne.

She smiled nervously saying a soft hi.

“You look so…youthful.” Lilliana said as she leaned against Gaz. (Y/n) could tell it was a forced smile and a fake compliment. They thought she looked immature.

“She looks very lovely, doesn’t she?” Maria smiled as she swooped the girl up and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. “My eldest wants (y/n) to go to the boutique with her so (y/n) can help her shop for clothes.”

“Aye, the ladies can have a day out.” Soap hummed. “And us lads can go to the pub and watch footy.”

“Ya’.” Maria nodded, smiling gently. “We’ll have to plan something out.” She said softly.

Simon watched as his wife finished her cider as she looked at Anne and Lilliana’s outfits. He could see the swirling storm in her eyes comparing herself to them.

“Baby.” Simon said softly. He wished she’d understand she was breathtaking and that she shouldn’t compare herself to other women. In his eyes, until the day he dies and beyond that, he will always think she’s the most breathtaking woman. His hands gently brushed down her hair as he looked at her deep in the eyes.

He would continue to devour her with his eyes until she understood how exactly he felt.

“Yeah,” she said softly as she looked at her giant of a husband.

He felt himself melt at the sight of her looking up at him while her hand rubbed his chest gently.

“You wanna another cider?” He asked softly, his hand gently squeezing her hip.

“Yeah, I can come with you.” (Y/n) said softly as she followed him close.

His hand gently grabbed her as he guided her to the bar top again.

“How’s my pretty girl?” His voice was deep and had an edge of huskiness in it, maybe a bit breathy as well. It made (y/n) swell with love knowing that she got him worked up enough.

Her eyes glanced up at him as she smiled softly. “Better now that it’s you and me.” She said softly.

“To many people, baby?” He asked gently, looking at her with the softest eyes.

“Somewhat?” She looked away nervously. His hand rested on the thin of her back as they waited in line.

“What’s the matter?” He whispered into her ear. It was his way of saying ‘we can have a private conversation right here’.

She fiddled with his collar as she straightened it out. Her eyes glanced around nervously seeing how she wasn’t the only one dressed in the style she was, she had to remember Anna, Lilliana, and Mrs. Price were all older than her, so they would have a different fashion sense.

“Am I childish, overly youthful?” She whispered in his ears. He leaned forward as both his hands grabbed her hips tugging her closer.

He wondered what had got her thinking like that, then it dawned on him. Those two girls were always targeting you.

A month ago, (y/n) had come home crying, having gone out to lunch with the two girls and Mrs. Price, who made sure to deliver (y/n) personally at the Riley’s residence after the luncheon they had. She had been a crying mess blubbering in Simon’s arms all the while Mrs. Price was explaining to Simon what took place as she’s doing her motherly duties in soothing the younger woman.

Soap had thought it was a good idea for the two ladies to welcome the newcomers, who Gaz and Soap had started dating at the same time because the girls were best friends and they had met the two at the club.

Simon could remember Mrs. Price said that one of the newcomers had ‘accidentally’ fumbled their tea and split it all over his lovely wife. He could remember Maria quoting the air when she said accidentally with an eye roll. She knew it was on purpose. Simon knew it was on purpose.

“No dovie, you're beautiful,” he hummed. “I love ya’ just the way ya’ are.” His Manchester accent made it sound like honey. “You're dead gorgeous and I’ll tell ya’ forever until ya’ learn it.” He paused as he ordered their drinks as it was their turn after a few minutes of waiting. He had it put onto the tab he had opened earlier and would have to remember to close later. “Don’t ya’ be listening to those girls, they ain’t got nothin’ on my pretty little wife.” He smooched her cheek. “They’re jealous. Jealous of your gorgeous looks, your gorgeous attitude, your sweet like honey, pretty girl. Don’t let ‘em damper your mood.”

These were the very moments she knew she had made a good choice in marrying Simon. Because he picked up the broken pieces when she needed a bit more support. He let her cry in his arms over nothing until she was soothed and better. He held her hand as he made sweet love to her constantly praising her and making sure she was okay. He was the best husband she could have ever asked for.

“I love ya’ now pretty girl, I love ya’ forever,” he kissed her lips as she giggled softly.

“Love you too.” She hugged him as he brought her left hand to his mouth kissing her knuckles.

“You're my good girl, don’t let ‘em damper the mood tonight.” He smiled at her as the waitress brought the drinks to them, handing it off.

“Yes Si.” She nodded as she followed him back out behind tight against his side.

The night went on and very little trouble appeared.

Maria suggested (y/n) and her take a walk in the vineyard and plan a day out where the two could go with Moira—or Murray for short—and have a shopping spree.

“Ye’ boys be good, I’m takin’ m girl and chatting, don’t worry Simon, she’s with me.” Maria smiled as she put her hand on (y/n)’s waist and walked her into the growing garden of grapes.

“Hold up lassies, Anne, Liliana, go join ‘em.” Soap smiled as he waved them off. “Good fer ye’ gals to figure out their dynamics and then ye’ can have girls' nights.”

“Oh yes, join us.” Maria smiled as she held her disappointment. (Y/n) hid her face dropping as she looked at Simon who gave her a reassuring smile.

Maria would fight on his behalf.

“Let me see, Murray likes the kind of stuff yer’ wearing now. I’m my we’ babes mama, and I’m not good with her fashion even if she is a teen.” Maria laughed. “I could pick out an outfit and she’d yak and say, ‘mam it’s uglier than a tit’.”

(Y/n) giggled at Maria repeating what Murray said.

“Look, teens dress like you too.” Anne snickered and snorted with the other woman, making Maria give them a glare.

“Such…youthful…mmm…” Lilliana tapped her chin. “That’s not the word I’m looking for, more like childish outfits.” Lilliana nodded her head as she sipped her wine. “And you don’t drink wine like an adult, you drink hard cider, probably beer too.”

(Y/n) frowned as she looked ashamed.

“What are ye’ girls yapperin’ about, beer is good, hard cider is better than wine,” Maria corrected them. “And she is fashionable, and me’ daughter is 20, an adult, only 5 years younger then Mrs. Riley here.”

“25 she’s practically a baby.” Anne snorted. “Simon needs a woman, not a girl. Someone who’s mature, honey you don’t fit the bill.” (Y/n) felt that nagging feeling in the back of her head that said: ‘run…run away…no one will find you’. She was starting to think they were right, she was immature and Simon just didn’t know how to tell her that.

“Oh that man loves ya’ beyond all means, yer’ his Persephone.” Maria ignored them. “These fools are just jealous and tootin’ their own horn.”

Maria wasn’t afraid to tell people how it was. She was an outspoken woman. Mr. Price would often tell (y/n) to watch Maria and learn, body language the fact that no fucks were given when she was handling a person who pissed with her family.

Just like that one time a man said Harry sucked at footy. The wretched man said no one would want an imbecile playing footy when he didn’t know his left from his right. Maria, pounced quicker than John who sat back with a can of beer in his hands and a smirk on his face. (Y/n) could remember that one clear-as-day. Simon had leaned over and whispered to her to remind him to never oiss her off. It was terrifying for the two newlyweds nonetheless. (Y/n) was 21, and Simon was 28. The two were afraid they were gonna get a foot up their ass as well for something they did, but didn’t do.

“Let me see your gorgeous wedding rings.” Maria hummed. “He married ya’, and put those precious rings on yer’ finger cause he loves ya’ more than the world.”

Anne and Lilliana paused as they looked at the rings.

Their eyes met one and another as they smiled at each other.

‘Oh dear lord, no. God, no.’ (Y/n) thought to herself.

“Pretty ring,” Lilliana, hummed as they leaned forward. “Can we see?”

(Y/n) hesitated as she knew how important these were to Simon, in fact they were so important to her she hardly let anyone touch her hands.

She showed them from a distance but Anna quickly snatched her hand up making (y/n) squeak out.

“There my mama’s rings baby,” Simon hummed as he smiled at (y/n). “I want ya’ to wear ‘em, they’d look so pretty on your hands.” He kissed your knuckles. “Marry me, pretty girl, make me the happiest man in the whole wild world. Make my mama proud and wear her rings, please baby.” He was so sweet as he proposed to her overlooking Scotland's pretty scenery.

“Yes,” she sobbed.

“Atta’ girl,” Simon lurched forward kissing her as he put the engagement ring on her finger. “Let’s keep the other one tucked away safely so when I get to see you in a pretty dress.”

“These are important to me and Simon, please just look.” She gasped as they gripped her fingers tightly.

“Now ye’ brats let her go.” Maria swatted at their hands.

They didn't let go of (y/n)’s hands and actually started to tug on her ring finger. She was trying to push their hands away as she felt her eyes well up.

“Oh she’s a crybaby too, so immature.” Anna laughed.

“Oh it’s so pretty,” Lilliana started to slip the rings off her fingers as (y/n) tried everything to stop her. Maria did as she called them a nasty word in her native tongue, and tried to get the ring back.

“Now ye’ girls need some manners.” Maria snapped at them.

“Be a shame if they got lost, he might leave you then,” Anna snorted at Lilliana’s words.

She didn’t want Simon to leave her. She didn’t want those rings to be lost. She started to cry as she shut down not knowing what to do. Her anxiety was through the roof. She glanced at Maria with pure panic.

(Y/n) felt her breath stop, her whole world stop as they tossed them behind them like they were nothing. Lilliana and Anne threw each one back like they were nothing. Like they were senseless gold or fake jewelry that would tarnish the wearer’s finger green once the coating was off of it.

Her eyes widened as she watched Maria chase after the area they went to but she couldn’t see them because they had rolled. She didn’t know what to do other than to cover her mouth and sob. “My rings.” She whispered as she saw Maria sit up straight and look at her.

The other girls walked off laughing as they went deeper in the vineyard and hadn’t been seen for the hour Maria and (y/n) were in the ground searching.

Her sobs got louder as she lost faith in finding the rings Simon had gifted her.

“Calm down m’babe, go get the boys and they can help search, go get Simon m’love.” She hushed her and pushed her up to the grounds where the boys were sitting and laughing. She had her mouth covered as she sobbed quietly trying not to gain anyone’s attention.

What if Simon left her and the girls blamed her for the lost rings.

He knew better, those two girls had caused you more trouble over their jealousy. It was just that fact that the anxiety and the fear crept up in her mind.

“Her cousin and Farah are tryin’ for a baby,” Simon hummed softly. “Been givin’ me a bit of a baby fever. Never thought I’d be one for having my own kids, but here I am. She’d look gorgeous pregnant.”

His words would have made her heart beat a bit faster if it wasn’t for the fact that her rings were missing.

“(Y/n),” Price shot forward very fatherly over the girl since she didn’t have her father or mother who had sadly passed years ago. and he was the one to walk her down the aisle with Maria. “What’s wrong?”

Her knees were dirty, and her hands looked like they were digging in dirt.

Simon was the first to bolt out of his chair as she refused to look at any of them. Concern was etched on Simon’s face as he knew when she cried there was a reason, whether it was a silly one or not, it was enough to warrant him to coddle her and figure out what was wrong.

Her eyes never left the ground even as Simon cupped her face and tugged her close.

“Baby, what’s got you upset?” He was gentle as Price was behind her shielding her from other passerbys.

She sobbed and covered her mouth as her other hand clung to Simon. She felt light headed and terrified.

She knew she just needed to spit it out. “Maria and I…” she felt a hiccup break her words as she was crying heavily. “We’ve been searching for an hour.” She sniffled as she started to hyperventilate and her words started to get jumbled.

Simon’s heart cleaned as he brushed the hair from her face.

An hour? An hour of searching for what?

He wasn’t understanding, but he knew one thing: wrapping her up in his arms and getting her to calm down was the first thing to do.

“Shh, shh,” he pressed his lips to your forehead. “Shh, love it’s okay, it’s okay.” He smiled at her softly. “Deep breaths, nice and easy for me, pretty girl.”

She did some of that but other than that she was back to babbling and trying to get her words out.

“And I can’t find it.” She sobbed her hands refusing to clutch too tightly to his white shirt, knowing she’ll get it dirty.

Simon's concern deepened as he tried to make sense of (y/n)’s words. "Can't find what, love? What are you looking for?" He continued to hold her against him, one hand gently stroking her back to try and soothe her sobs.

Then her words were finally freed up knowing she needed to convey the message Maria sent her to tell the men.

“The girls asked to see our rings, and Maria and I didn’t know they were going to rip it off my finger. It hurt and we tried to stop them, and they threw both my wedding band and engagement ring.” She sobbed. “It was your mom’s wedding band and engagement ring, I can’t find them.” She felt like bile could escape from her mouth at any second.

“They did what!” Soap looked like he was gonna have a conniption while Gaz covered his mouth as he looked apologetically to the two of them.

Simon's eyes widened in shock as he processed (y/n)’s words. The girls had stolen her rings and thrown them away? And not just any rings, but his mother's wedding band and engagement ring.

Anger boiled within him, but he forced himself to stay calm. (Y/n)’s tears and pain took priority. He held her tighter against him, his voice strained. "Those bloody girls. They’re gonna pay for this.”

“I can’t find them.” She huffed as more tears welled up in her pretty eyes.

“I’m gonna go talk to the manager and make sure they know that we have a missing engagement ring and a missing wedding band.” Price patted Simon on the back. He disappeared quickly as Simon rubbed his wife’s back trying to soothe her as he whispered to her.

“We’re gonna find them baby, I won’t stop looking until they're back in your fingers.” He kissed her cheek. “So breathe baby, we’re not leaving until they're back on your finger.”

“I’m gonna go down with Maria and start searching in the area she thinks she saw them go.” Soap said as he looked at the two of them. “We’ll find them.” He reassured the two.

“Better find them, and you better keep those rotten women away from my wife!” Simon snarled at the two men.

“Yes LT.” They saluted.

Simon stuck close to (y/n) as he tried to calm her rapid heartbeat and her fears that didn’t seem to be washing away until she saw those rings in either his hands or her own hands.

Johnny and Gaz looked in the area’s Maria had pointed to them, while her and John searched the area she swore up and down it landed at.

The doubt and fear hadn’t settled in (y/n)’s stomach, right now she wished it would go away. She was about ready to throw up all that dinner that Simon worked hard to cook her.

“We’re not gonna find them.” She felt her anxieties creep into the back of her mind.

“Baby, we’re not leavin’ until those damn things are back in that hand.” He pointed to her left hand. “I promise you that.” He cupped her face.

“But Simon,” she was exhausted. “What if…what if we don’t find them?” She fretted as she looked at her husband with tears falling down her cheek.

Simon placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. He knew how much those rings meant to his wife, and the thought of losing them was torture for him.

He knew from day one they had made her feel special, feel well loved by her husband who adored her so much. She felt like it was her fault she lost them and it was on her now that they were missing not having protected his precious rings.

He gave (y/n)’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, his voice low and reassuring. "We'll find them, love. I promise. We won't stop until we do.”

It’s all she needed to hear and take in to slowly get back to searching. It had taken him multiple times to finally get it through her head he would have those rings back as soon as he could find them.

“You gave those to me hoping I would keep them safe since they were my engagement and wedding bands but I couldn’t.” She cried softly as she searched the ground near him.

Simon's heart clenched at her words.

Yes, he had given (y/n) his mother's rings with the hope that she’d keep them safe. But he never expected her to be put in this situation. Who would? He’d never expect two girls to be that jealous and put his wife in this much emotional turmoil.

"Love, it's not your fault," he said, his voice gentle yet firm. “You didn’t ask for this. Those bloody girls had no right to touch your rings. They had no right to touch you, pretty girl.” He stopped and filled her face. “And I’m gonna protect you until the day I die, and if that means tellin’ them girls off, then that’s what the hell I’ll do.”

Their hands searched the ground as their eyes looked everywhere. It wasn’t until thirty minutes later Maria bounced up with excitement and happiness.

“I found one, ye’ lads keep yer’ eyes open for the engagement ring, I found the wedding band!” She shouted happily as she rushed over to (y/n) gently placing the ring on her finger. “Sweet babe, we’ll find it, I promise.”

Simon watched as Maria comforted the woman he loved so dearly. His anger subsided momentarily, replaced by relief and gratitude to Maria for her kindness. There was truly something special about the mother of three.

"We will," he said, agreeing with Maria. His voice was more steady now. "We'll find that engagement ring, even if we have to tear this place apart."

The two of them went back to searching as they looked through the ground as thoroughly as they could.

It wasn’t until another fifteen minutes had passed after Maria came barreling with the wedding band that they had found the engagement ring.

Simon's eyes caught a glint of something shiny among the blades of grass. He crouched down, gently pushing the grass aside to get a clearer view.

His heart nearly stopped as he saw what it was—(y/n)’s engagement ring.

He had found it, he felt his heart flutter as all that stress and worry subsided and it was gone. The relief was back and he couldn’t be happier than ever to present the ring back to his precious wife who had been stressing and withering as the time went on.

"Love, come here," Simon called out, his voice calm but urgent. He motioned for her to come closer, his eyes never leaving the small glint of gold in the grass.

He plucked the object from the ground and smiled seeing the ring shine in the golden rays that were the sun's final moments before the moon came out. “Come now my pretty girl.”

As soon as (y/n) reached his side, he held up the engagement ring, showing it to her. "I found it, love. I found it."

She felt her mind go blank and her eyes well up as she let out a sob lurching forward and hugging Simon.

Simon wrapped his arms around (y/n) holding her tightly in his embrace, tears streaming down her face. He held the woman tight, feeling a wave of relief wash over him.

"It's alright now," he whispered, his voice soothing. "We found it, love. We found your ring." Simon carefully placed the engagement ring back on his wife’s finger, his touch gentle yet firm. As he did, he couldn’t help but place a soft kiss on her cheek as a way to reassure her everything was alright. "It suits you," he said, a hint of a smile on his face. "It always has. Looks gorgeous on my girl.”

She wiped her eyes as her hands found the back of his neck as her nails scratched into the base of his hair.

“I’m so sorry I lost it,” she murmured into his neck. “I didn’t mean to lose your mama’s ring.”

Simon gently cupped her face in his hands, his touch tender and reassuring. He wiped away her tears with his thumb.

"Don't apologize, love," he said softly. "Those girls took them without your consent. It's not your fault. And you didn't lose them—we found them.”

(Y/n) knew Ghost would defend her until his last breath, and even at that, he would transcend and defend her for beyond human measure.

“I love you,” (y/n) said softly.

Ghosts hand gently caressed her face as he wiped her tears away. “Love you too, pretty girl.” His voice was breathy and a whisper.

(Y/n) was glad she wasn’t in the mix when Ghost confronted the two girls. She could hear the words Ghost growled to them as he lectured them on proper treatment of people in general.

He sounded in that moment, more like a lieutenant than he did her husband and it was a strange thing to hear in his voice when he had always been soft and cute with her.

“He’s gonna be a good father.” Maria hummed as she stood proudly with her hands on her hips.

“Yeah he will,” (y/n) smiled as she rocked in her feet back and forth waiting for him to return to her.

When he did return, (y/n! spent the rest of the night tucked to his side constantly on the receiving end of his hushed whispers of love and adoration.

“Pretty girl,” he cooed as she looked up at him.

“Yeah?” She said softly, eyes twinkling in the moonlight.

“Ready to go home, pretty girl?”

“Yeah.”

“Come on pretty girl,” he smirked at her as she knew that look. “I think I need to remind you how pretty you truly are.”

Those words were a reminder that this night could last even longer than she thought they would.

“Yeah pretty girl?”

“Yeah.”

[wonderjanga]

Marvel Cursing

You see, Marvel cursing, is a rare occurrence as the man’s swear vocabulary normally consists of “holy moly” and “oh my days” and “good gravy” and just things along those lines. So much so that JL kind of forgets that he can curse as he’s (supposedly) a grown ass man. As a result of this, it will give them major whiplash when Marvel does curse. And just for me, myself and I, whenever this happens, he pulls out the most midwestern accent ever. I say this cause Fawcett is somewhere in the Midwest.

Like let’s say Constantine and Marvel are talking and Clark is nearby doing whatever and after a bit, their conversation ends and Constantine walks off. As the blonde man is leaving, Clark hears Marvel fake a cough and mutter “bitchass” under his breath. It’s safe to say Billy’s still a little (a lot) mad about Constantine trying to take the living lightning from him. But anyways, hearing this, Supes stops whatever he was doing and slowly looks over to Marvel who’s kinda not really but also definitely glaring at Constantine as the man left. For the rest of the day, Clark kept side eying Marvel to see if he was mind controlled but then he remembered the Cap was a grown ass man and that he could cuss if he pleased. (None of the league knows he’s a child guys)

Or another time when Marvel was talking to Mary in the kitchen of Mount Justice. Kid Flash sped by just in time to hear Marvel say something along the lines of “Christ on a cross, what a dumb cunt” while sounding so disappointed in whoever that was directed at. Wally poked his head into the kitchen to see the two, Mary sitting by the counter and Marvel making some type of dessert. He was wearing a lightning bolt patterned apron and everything.

Kid Flash: “Heeeey guys… Whatcha talking about?” *has never heard Marvel curse once in his entire time of being their den mother so he’s naturally a little concerned*

Mary and Marvel: *share look before looking back at Kid Flash*

Mary: “We were talking about… uh… Your guy’s recent performance in field!” (They weren’t. They were actually talking about some crackhead who lived nearby them.)

Marvel: “Yeah, that.” *stops stirring batter in a bowl* “By the way, I’m making cookies, you want some later?”

Kid Flash: “Oh. Uh… yeah. Igottagobye.” *zooms off to the lounge*

Marvel and Mary: *both confused at the sudden departure, but shrug it off and go back to talking about the crackhead*

Kid Flash: *now in the lounge* “Guys- Guys!”

Other YJ members: “What?”

Kid Flash: “Marvel thinks one of us is dumb cunt!”

Other YJ members: “WHAT?”

They all ended up trying to do that thing where you subtly ask someone for information like “Hey, Marvel, how’d you think we all did during the last mission?” “You all did wonderful!” Safe to say it doesn’t really help them. Also neither Mary, nor Billy realize they just made these kids more insecure than their teenage brains naturally make them.

[machveil]

Can't believe you're gonna make me simp for this man while I'm at work-

LET ME KISS HIS SCARS BETTER REPEATEDLY DAILY ON THE BED ON THE DESK ON THE KITCHEN COUNTER WHERE NO GOD CAN SEE OR JUDGE I WILL WORSHIP THE MAN WITH WAR WOUNDS THE WAY HE OUGHT TO BE -🐸

Kiss it Better

sometimes a kiss makes things feel better— or a few dozen! headcanons for smoochin’ their scars: Simon “Ghost” Riley, John “Soap” MacTavish, König, Sebastian Krueger

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

Simon Riley has been on the receiving end of a lot, he’s used to it - mishaps during training, wounds during deployments, not to mention the occasional bumps and bruises from daily life. what he wasn’t used to receiving was the feeling of your lips on the rough, patchy parts of his skin

”What’chya doin’, love?”, voice warm as he watches you press kisses to his scarred chest. he’d told you about some of them, grazes and nicks, close calls with blades, “Nothing, Si.”. a content hum resonates in his chest, a hand resting on the back of your head as you continue - kissing from scar to scar

he was indifferent towards the scars - a part of his job, but when you littered kisses over them? the warmth that bloomed in his chest was welcomed. lounging in bed with you, the tv idly playing in the background as he combs his fingers through your hair, the domestic moment is pure bliss for Simon

pressing his own kiss to your hairline, he cracks a smile when you chuckle, nipping at his collarbone. “Careful, you’re supposed t’be kissin’ ‘em, lovie.”, he says, tugging your hair a little.

“Could leave a couple new marks for you.”, you mumble, smiling against his skin when he gently scratches your scalp

John “Soap” MacTavish:

for every kiss you place on his scars he’s doubling them and giving them back. Johnny is a sucker for when you kiss his scars - getting them can be horrifying depending on what happened, but when you’re pecking his arms? peppering kisses over his scarred muscles? he’s thinking about banging his knee into your coffee table ‘accidentally’ so you’ll kiss it better

“Wait, go back— missed a spot, mo ghaol.”, Johnny happily says, hand cupping your chin as he smiles at you, guiding you to press a kiss to his shoulder. the scar is barely visible - probably a nick from training or bumping into something, but he’s more than happy to feel your lips against the small mark, “Ya started this, gotta kiss ‘em all.”, he insists

he’s living for the attention, thumb pressed to your cheek as he gently guides you to each scar - some completely visible, others you have to squint at. and he’s gushing, cooing sweetly at you about how nice your lips feel against his skin, how you should do this more often

and he when you’re done? he’s pressing you down against the couch, a hand holding your wrists above your head as he kisses you silly - he’s laughing, dopey smile on his lips as he sloppily pecks you. “Hold still, mo chridhe! You’re squirmin’ too much—“, he chuckles, accent thick between quick kisses

“John! John— let go! It tickles!”, you complain, his stubble rubbing against your neck as he playfully bites at you

König:

it took a while for König to reveal his marred skin to you - scars, freckles, and moles all hidden beneath his uniform and civvies. despite his confidence and cocky nature as a Colonel, behind closed doors König worries. ever since his childhood people had pointed and mocked him, and back then he wasn’t charging into the field receiving wounds

but he trusts you, and when his sniper hood is awkwardly tugged off by large, calloused hands? his icy blue gaze meets yours, his face on display - a small scar over against his eyebrow, a cut across the corner of his lips, a scattering of roughed up skin against his cheek. he doesn’t explain what happened, how he got his scars and wounds, but you don’t pry. instead, when your first instinct is to press a kiss to his long since healed cheek?

he freezes, breath hitching - König was expecting you to be appalled, to leave his apartment with knit eyebrows and disappointment in your eyes. he wasn’t expecting such gentle, careful adoration. and when you move to kiss his crooked nose, the bridge slanted slightly, he feels his chest tighten with relief, heart hammering. “Oh, liebling—“, shaky hands moving to hover above your hips, he swallows, “You don’t have to.”, he murmurs

his stomach flips when you kiss the corner of his lips, right where the nick against them is. he lets his eyes flutter shut when you tell him you want to, the he’s handsome and ever so charming - words he never thought he’d hear

“So pretty—“, you mumble, moving to peck the small scar the splits his eyebrow, “You look perfect, König.”

Sebastian Krueger:

prideful bastard, he’s showing off each and every scar - telling you exactly what happened. it doesn’t matter that his body has a reminder that he was nicked by a blade, “Ja, the man that did this won’t lay a hand me again, meine Herz.”, it’s almost like he’s bragging about them

Krueger cracks jokes about some of his more serious wounds, waving off anything he considers boring. the small scrape on his hip? ignore that he accidentally hip checked the corner of a table, look at this one! it’s the size of your thumb, you want to know where he got it? no? oh, you don’t want to listen to his stories, kleiner Vogel? you’re hurting his feelings, you should kiss his scars to make it up to him

he just wanted to share some stories with you, isn’t it mean that you’re denying him? he’s holding your face, palm to your chin and his thumb slightly digging into your cheek, “Du willst mir nicht zuhören, kleiner Vogel? Fine, how about you give me some attention then, Klingt das gut?”. he grins when you press a kiss to the scar on his chest, humming at the feeling of your lips against his skin, “Schau dich an, isn’t this nice?”

in fact, Krueger likes it so much that he’ll seek you out just to feel you kiss his old wounds - settles you in his lap, crowds you against the kitchen counter. his eyes light up whenever you initiate, chest twisting with excitement as you peck his collarbone, where a nasty little wound had been years ago

softly smiling as you press kisses to the healed, rough bit of skin, you glance up at Krueger, “Tell me about this one?”

I love these silly little guys - I hope you enjoyed these fluffy, domestic interactions with these soldiers🎀✨

[aeralux]

"Old Friend" - Aegon Targaryen

Summary: Out on the town on a summer evening, you run into your old friend. Old memories come crashing back, and you find yourself where you once were. In his arms. ModernAegon!au

Warnings: SMUT; slight breeding kink; Aegon is a sweetheart, actually?; oral (f! receiving); drinking and smoking; just intense sex (vulgar language is obviously used); they go for multiple rounds; Aegon is quite rough, but reader likes it; possible that I have some slight grammar mistakes

Words: 11.4k (they go for multiple rounds)

Notes: Aegon is the heir to the Targaryen family business empire. The reader is also from a powerful and rich house (old money ;D), but it isn't specified which one. No descriptive language of the reader is used.

-- aera xx

Aegon Targaryen, the heir of the Targaryen business empire, relaxes in the back of his sleek black Mercedes-Benz S-Class Coupe. The luxury interior features hand-stitched leather seats and shiny wood accents. Dressed in a tailored dark suit with a crisp white shirt, he exudes confidence. His silver-gold hair falls in loose waves around his shoulders as he leans against the rolled-down window, one arm on the doorframe. Holding a cigarette, he takes slow drags and exhales smoke into the warm evening air. At the same time, his captivating violet eyes scan the surroundings, reflecting a mix of interest and boredom.

Suddenly, Aegon's gaze is caught by a striking young woman strolling down the sidewalk. Instantly captivated, he sits up straighter and narrows his eyes to take her in. A slow, confident smile spreads across his face, highlighting his natural charm. "Hey there," he calls out, his voice smooth and inviting as he gestures to you without coming on too strong. His warm and rich tone reflects the charisma and allure he radiates effortlessly. "Yeah, you! Would you come over for a moment?"

Walking in the evening usually doesn't sound like a smart choice, but this was a good neighbourhood. Excellent even. And according to some, the best. So, walking around South Kensington in the evening hours didn't feel worrisome.

Until you heard a male voice call out to you. You flashed a look at the man. At least he wasn't a bum. He definitely had a nice car for your average cat-caller.

Usually, you wouldn't have considered him at all, but there was something familiar about him that caught your attention.Then it hit you. Aegon 'fucking' Targaryen. The young Targaryen heir. You shook your head as you looked at him, tongue poking in your cheek.

You knew Aegon and the Targaryen siblings since you were a babe. Your families did business together, and you often vacationed together during the summer. As a child, you had nothing against them, even including Aegon. They were all nice kids, and at one point, you were all really close friends. But as you all started to grow up, your encounters got less and less frequent, and you all drifted apart. The last time you talked to them was two and a half years ago at some boring gala.

In such an amount of time, a lot can change. Aegon had grown into a man, more or less, from what you could tell in the poor street lighting. You had become a woman, getting ready to start working full-time at your family's business, as was your older brother, who would eventually run the business.

"Aegon..." you started walking over to him, your heels making a sharp sound on the pavement. "Is that how you greet an old friend?" You couldn't stop the smirk from appearing on your face, teasing him.

Your sharp and teasing voice carries through the evening air, reaching Aegon's ears. He can't help but let out a low chuckle, the sound rich and amused. His dark eyes dance with mischief as he takes another drag from his cigarette, holding your gaze with a look that's both challenging and inviting.

"An old friend?" he says, his voice smooth and confident. "I don't recall ever being just friends." He pauses, letting the words sink in before continuing. "But I suppose time blurs the lines of memory and intent."

Aegon takes one last drag from his cigarette before flicking it out the window, the glowing ember arcing through the air before disappearing into the darkness. He leans forward, resting his forearms on the open window frame, his eyes never leaving your face.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" he says, his tone almost conversational, but with an underlying current of something else,something more intense and raw. "You look well." His gaze travels over your form, taking in the sight of you in a way that's both appreciative and calculating. "No, more than well. You look... breathtaking."

He lets the compliment hang in the air between you, his smile widening just a fraction. "What brings you to this part of London? Surely not just a stroll through the city on a summer's eve."

There's a challenge in his voice, a subtle encouragement for you to reveal more. He's always been drawn to you, even as children, and seeing you now, all grown up and even more captivating than he remembered, has only stoked that fire within him.

"Or perhaps," he continues, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial tone, "you were hoping to run into someone like me? Someone who knows how to show a lady a good time?"

He lets the words linger, his eyes locked with yours, waiting to see how you'll respond. There's a glint of excitement in his gaze, a hint of the wild, chaotic energy that lies just beneath his carefully composed exterior.

You hummed at his words, memories of your carefree days in the Hamptons flashing through your mind. The warmth of the sun, the coolness of the water, and the heat of your secret kisses. How you snuck out to skinny dip and make out in the cool clear waters. How long has it been since then?

"Thank you," you said with a genuine smile, accepting his compliment. And I actually live here, have for quite a while now." You pointed towards your penthouse, looking down at him sitting in his car.

"I should be the one to ask you this question," you continued, your tone playful as you returned his challenge. "Seeing as you lived in Notting Hill the last time we saw each other."

Your playful tone and the way your eyes sparkle in the dim light catch Aegon off guard for a moment. A flicker of genuine surprise crosses his features before his usual confident mask slides back into place. He leans back slightly, one hand moving to loosen his tie as if the mere mention of Notting Hill has suddenly made the air too close.

"Ah, yes," he says, his voice cool and nonchalant. "Notting Hill. A lifetime ago, it seems." His eyes narrow slightly, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his expression. "Things change. We all move on, don't we?"

But despite his words, there's a tension in his body, a coiled energy that belies his casual tone. He runs a hand through his hair, the silver strands catching the light and shimmering like liquid metal.

"You're living here now, you say?" he asks, his curiosity getting the better of him.

He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a sleek silver lighter shaped like a dragon, the symbol of his family crest. With a practised flick of his thumb, he ignites the flame, bringing it to the end of a fresh cigarette. He inhales deeply, the smoke curling around his face before he exhales it in a slow, measured stream.

"Tell me," he says, his voice low, "has it been as lonely for you as it has for me?"

The question hangs in the air between you, charged with meaning and implication. Aegon watches your face, searching for any sign of recognition, any hint that you feel the same pull, the same longing that he does.

His eyes lock onto yours, searching, yearning for something. Maybe it's a connection to the past or perhaps something new. Whatever it is, he can't seem to look away, his gaze intense and hungry.

You look at him with a sort of melancholy smile, sighing as you glance away for a moment. "I might need a cigarette if you want an answer to that," you tease, a smirk slowly spreading across your face.

He's still seated in his sleek car while you stand there, looking down at him. Your heels are slowly starting to kill you, but your pride won't let you ask him to let you into his car. No, you won't give him the satisfaction of seeing you struggle.

Instead, you shift your weight to one side, hoping to relieve some of the pressure on your aching feet. The action causes your skirt to ride up ever so slightly, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of smooth, soft thigh. It's a move you know will catch his eye, a teasing reminder of what he's been missing out on.

A snort of laughter escapes Aegon's lips at your teasing comment, his eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine amusement. He takes another drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke out slowly, his gaze never leaving your face.

"You never used to smoke," he remarks, his voice a low drawl. "I seem to remember you had a thing about the smell." His lips quirk into a small, knowing smile. "But then again, a lot has changed, hasn't it?"

His eyes follow the movement as you shift your weight, the subtle lift of your skirt catching his attention. He inhales sharply, his gaze lingering on the exposed flesh of your thigh for a moment too long before he forces himself to look away.

"Get in," he says suddenly, his voice taking on a commanding tone. "Your feet look like they're killing you, and we both know standing here isn't going to resolve anything."

He gestures to the passenger door of his sleek car, his expression unreadable. "Unless, of course, you'd prefer to continue this conversation on the sidewalk. I'm sure the neighbours would love the show."

There's a challenge in his voice, a subtle dare. He knows you won't ask him for help, knows that your pride won't allow it.But he also knows that your feet are hurting, that the concrete is unforgiving under the delicate soles of your heels.

The door unlocks with a soft click, the sound echoing in the quiet street. Aegon leans back in his seat, one arm draped casually over the steering wheel, waiting to see what you'll do.

His eyes never leave your face, watching for any sign of reluctance or hesitation. There's a tension in the air between you, a charged electricity that crackles like lightning on a summer's eve.

The ball, as they say, is in your court.

With a small sigh, you make your way around to the passenger side of the car, the soft leather seats beckoning you. You slide into the plush interior, the cool air conditioning kissing your heated skin.

Aegon holds out a cigarette, his long fingers brushing against yours as you take it from him. You bring it to your lips, waiting for him to light it, your eyes locking in the process.

"As you said," you murmur, repeating his words from moments ago. "Things change, we all move on."

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with meaning and unspoken history. A part of you wants to ask him what exactly he means by that, but another part, the part that's been hurt before, tells you to tread carefully.

You take a long drag from the cigarette, the nicotine hitting your bloodstream like a shot of liquid courage. "So," you say, turning to face him fully, "what have you been up to since we last saw each other? Still causing trouble for your father's company?"

You can't help but let a teasing smile play at the corners of your mouth. Aegon was always the outgoing one, the one who pushed boundaries and challenged the status quo. It's part of what drew you to him, even as a child and as a teenager.

Your eyes flicker down to his hands, noting how they rest on the steering wheel, strong and capable. You wonder, not for the first time, how those hands would feel on your skin, exploring, caressing, claiming...

But you push the thought away, focusing instead on the present moment. The car is cool, the engine purring softly, and beside you sits Aegon Targaryen, his dark eyes watching you with an intensity that makes your heart race.

A slow smile spreads across Aegon's face at your words, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and something deeper, something more intense. He takes another drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke out slowly, letting it curl and twist in the air between you.

"Move on?" he says, his voice a low, velvety purr. "Oh, we both have moved on alright. But some things, some people, tend to linger in the mind, no matter how far you go or how much time passes."

He reaches out, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek, tracing the line of your jaw with a feather-light touch. His eyes never leave yours, the intensity of his gaze almost palpable. His hand retracts quickly, the touch leaving almost an imprint on your soft cheek.

"As for causing trouble..." he trails off, his lips curving into a mischievous grin. "Let's just say I've found new ways to keep myself entertained."

He shifts slightly in his seat, his body turning towards you.

"But enough about me," he says, his voice dropping to a whisper, "I want to hear about you. Tell me about your life here in London. What do you do when you're not strutting around in those sinfully high heels?"

"Have you found someone yet, someone to share your bed and your life with?" he asks, his voice tight with a hint of jealousy. "Or are you still playing the field, breaking hearts left and right?"

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, "Or maybe you're just waiting for the right person to come along, someone who knows how to make you feel things you've never felt before."

You scoff and shake your head, a small smile playing on your lips as you take a drag from the cigarette. The smoke spirals out of the open window, dissipating into the cool evening air. "No, not yet. I guess I was too focused on university, and now, well..." You turn to look at Aegon, your eyes locking in the dim light of the car. Suddenly, the air between you feels thick, heavy with a tension you can't quite name.

"No one has caught my eye so far," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. In the background, Chappell Roan's haunting melody fills the silence, and for a moment, you're transported back in time. You're that same sixteen-year-old girl, hopelessly in love with Aegon, dreaming of running away with him and leaving behind all the expectations and responsibilities.

But that was then, and this is now. You are not that naive little girl anymore, but as you sit there in the close confines of Aegon's car, you can't help but wonder what might have been. Would things have been different if you had followed your hearts all those years ago? Or were you simply too young, too unprepared for the kind of love you thought we had?

You close your eyes for a moment, letting the music wash over you, mingling with the scent of Aegon's cologne and the lingering traces of cigarette smoke. You take another drag, letting the smoke fill your lungs once more.

Aegon watches you closely, his eyes tracking every movement, every expression that flits across your face. The soft glow of the streetlights bathes the car's interior in a warm amber hue, casting shadows across his angular features. As you speak of no one having caught your eye, a flicker of something crosses his face—a mix of relief and disappointment that's gone as quickly as it appeared.

"Don't sell yourself short," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear. "You're a goddess among mortals. Anyone would be lucky to have you."

He pulls back slightly, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. "But I have to admit," he says, his voice low and husky, "a part of me hopes that no one has caught your eye. A selfish part of me that wants you all to myself, even if only for a moment."

"Like before, when we were young..." he says, his voice barely audible over the music.

The music swells in the background, the haunting melody intertwining with the pounding of your heart.

Your heart races as you listen to Aegon's confession, your mind spinning with a whirlwind of emotions. You search his eyes, looking for any hint of deception or insincerity, but all you find is raw, unfiltered honesty.

"We were young," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not saying that I feel exactly like an adult right now either, but we were teenagers back then."

You take a drag from your cigarette, letting the smoke curl around your face as you contemplate his words.

Aegon nods slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. The soft glow of the streetlights casts a warm amber hue over his angular features, highlighting the strong lines of his jaw and the sharpness of his nose. The air in the car is thick with tension, the silence stretching between you like an endless void.

"You're right," he says, his voice low and smooth, like velvet over steel. "We were just kids back then, too young to know what we really wanted, too afraid to reach out and take it."

He takes a drag from his own cigarette, blowing the smoke out slowly, watching as it curls and twists in the air between you.

"But sometimes," he continues, his voice dropping to a whisper, "sometimes I can't help but wonder..."

The music swells in the background, the song intertwining with the pounding of your heart. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, the closeness of his presence almost overwhelming in the confined space of the car.

"Do you think about it?" he asks, his voice barely audible over the music. "Do you ever think about what could have been?"

You let out a breathy laugh, the sound a mix of nerves and amusement. "What I think right now," you say, flicking the ash from your cigarette out the open window, "is that I need a drink." You turn to Aegon, giving your best doe-eyed look. "Where can I put this out?" you ask, gesturing to the offending cigarette.

The air between you is thick with tension, the charged atmosphere of the car making your skin prickle with awareness. You know you should probably just put out the cigarette and make a polite exit, but something keeps you rooted in my seat.

The rational part of you knows that getting involved with Aegon could be a disaster, that your families' tangled histories could make any romantic entanglement full of complications. But the other part of you, the part that remembers the thrill of your secret kisses, whispers that perhaps this is a good idea after all.

You take a final drag from my cigarette, holding Aegon's gaze as you exhale the smoke slowly. The moment stretches between you, heavy with unspoken words and unacknowledged desires.

Aegon chuckles softly at your comment, his eyes sparkling with amusement in the dim light of the car. "A drink, huh?" he muses, his voice a low, velvety purr. "I suppose we could head to my place. I've got a fully stocked bar there, and we can continue this conversation in a more... comfortable setting."

"As for where you can put it out," he says, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper, "I think I can take care of that for you." He reaches out, taking the cigarette from your fingers, his fingers brushing against yours in a fleeting touch that sends a jolt of electricity through your body. He brings the cigarette to his lips, taking a deep drag before rolling down the window and flicking the cigarette out into the night.

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, "Let me take care of everything."

With that, he starts the car, the engine roaring to life with a loud purr. He pulls away from the curb, the city lights blurring past the windows as he navigates the streets with practised ease.

The air between you is thick with tension, the charged atmosphere of the car making your skin prickle with awareness. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, the closeness of his presence almost overwhelming in the confined space.

As you drive, the music fades into the background, replaced by your own heartbeat pounding in your ears. You can't help but steal glances at Aegon as he drives, admiring the strong lines of his profile, and the way his silver hair gleams in the moonlight.

Suddenly, he reaches out, his hand finding yours on the centre console. His fingers lace with yours, squeezing as he guides your connected hand to rest on your bare thigh. The touch is electrifying, sending a shiver down your spine.

The car speeds through the night, carrying you closer and closer to Aegon's penthouse, and whatever awaits you there. The anticipation builds in your stomach, a heady mix of nerves and excitement.

Goosebumps prickle across your skin as Aegon's touch sears into your thigh, his fingers grazing your sensitive flesh through the thin fabric of your skirt. Your breath catches in your throat, and you pray he doesn't notice how his proximity affects you.

"Have you got wine?" You manage to ask, your usually confident voice wavering slightly. Get it together. You chastise yourself silently. Don't revert to that lovestruck teenager now.

Aegon's eyes flick to you, a knowing smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he catches the slight tremor in your voice. He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your skin.

"Of course," he purrs, his voice low and smooth. "I've got a lovely bottle of Bordeaux."

He guides the car into an underground parking garage, the concrete walls closing in around you like a cocoon. As the carcomes to a stop, he turns to you, his dark eyes intense in the dim light.

His breath is hot against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. You can smell the heady mix of his cologne and cigarettes, the scent intoxicating in its proximity.

Slowly, he releases your hand, reaching for the door handle with a fluid grace. He steps out of the car, his tall frame filling the space as he rounds to your side. He opens your door for you, offering his hand to help you out.

"Shall we, m'lady?" he says, his voice a mixture of charm and challenge.

You take his hand, the warmth of his skin seeping into your own as you step out of the car. The cool air of the garage hits you, a stark contrast to the heated atmosphere of the vehicle.

He leads you through the maze of the garage, his footsteps echoing off the concrete walls. As you walk, you can't help but steal glances at him, admiring the way his suit clings to his athletic build, and the way his hair falls in tousled waves over his forehead.

Suddenly, you find yourself in front of an elevator, the doors sliding open silently. Aegon gestures for you to enter, his eyes never leaving yours. As you step inside, he follows, his body pressing against yours as he reaches past you to press the button for his floor.

Your heart races as Aegon presses flush against you in the confines of the elevator, his body warm and solid against yours. You catch your bottom lip between your teeth, your gaze transfixed his fingers as he presses the button for his floor. A sudden flush of heat pools between your thighs, your body acutely aware of his closeness.

"How long have you lived here?" You ask, desperation colouring your attempt at casual conversation. Focus. Stop thinking about how much you want him. "I think I have a friend who lives here, Jace. Do you know him?"

You hold my breath, praying the change in the subject matter will calm the frantic pulsing of your heart. The last thing you need is for him to realize how easily he can still unravel you with a brush of his skin against yours.

Aegon's eyes darken with something unreadable as you mention Jace, a flicker of irritation crossing his handsome features before it's quickly masked. He straightens, putting a bit of distance between your bodies, though the small space of the elevator does little to ease the electric tension crackling in the air.

"Jace, yes, I know him," Aegon says curtly, his gaze sliding away from yours to stare at the slowly climbing numbers above the elevator doors. "Can't say I know him personally, but this place is full of young, wealthy types. Probably knows more people than I do."

His hand rests on the small of your back, the heat of his palm searing through the thin fabric of your dress.

The elevator dings, signalling your arrival at Aegon's floor. The doors slide open, revealing a sprawling penthouse suite that takes your breath away. The walls are lined with floor-to-ceiling windows, offering a stunning view of the city skyline. The space is sleek and modern, with clean lines and minimalist decor.

Aegon's hand remains on your back as he guides you out of the elevator, his touch lingering a moment longer than necessary. "Make yourself at home," he says, his voice a low purr. "I'll go grab that wine."

He saunters towards a sleek, modern kitchen, leaving you alone in the living room. You wander over to the windows, your fingers trailing along the cool glass as you take in the view. The city spreads out before you like a glittering jewel, the lights twinkling like stars in the night sky.

Suddenly, you hear the sound of a cork popping, followed by the gentle clink of glasses. You turn to see Aegon standing in the doorway, two glasses of wine in his hand. He removed his suit jacket, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to reveal forearms corded with muscle.

He hands you a glass, his fingers brushing against yours once more as he does. "To old times," he says, raising his glass in a toast. "And to new beginnings."

As you clink glasses, you can't help but watch the play of the city lights across his handsome face, the way his eyes sparkle.

"Cheers," you take a deep breath, savouring the rich flavours of the wine as they coat your tongue. "Mmm, this is delicious," you murmur, your eyes sparkling with genuine appreciation. "You really do have good taste. Even though I hate to admit it."

A soft giggle escapes your lips as you take another sip, the cool liquid a welcome relief against the heat building within you. You can feel Aegon's eyes on you, his gaze intense and all-consuming. It sends a shiver down your spine, a delicious thrill that settles low in your belly.

"How about you?" he asks, his voice low and smooth. "How long have you been in the city? I seem to remember you mentioning university earlier."

You meet his gaze, your own eyes wide and honest. "Yeah, I just finished my Bachelor's in Oxford, so now I'm back in London," you say in a low voice. "It's good to be back in the big city, but Oxford will always have a big piece of my heart."

Your eyes can't help but wander over his toned physique, the fabric of his shirt straining against his well-defined muscles. You bite your lip, suddenly feeling flustered under his scrutiny.

Aegon's eyes rake over your form, a predatory gleam shining in their depths. He steps towards you, his movements slow and deliberate, like a big cat stalking its prey. The air between you crackles with tension, the charge palpable.

"Oxford, huh?" he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "I bet you were quite the hit there. A gorgeous girl like you, all on her own..."

He takes another step, closing the distance between you. His presence envelops you, his scent filling your nostrils. It's a heady mixture of expensive cologne and something unique that makes your heart race and your skin shiver.

His hand reaches out, his fingers ghosting along your jawline. Your breath catches in your throat, your pulse pounding in your ears. He tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"You know," he whispers, his lips a hairsbreadth from yours, "I always regretted letting you go. Letting you walk away from me."

His hand trails down to your waist, his grip firm as he holds you against him. You can feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of your dress, the hard planes of his chest pressed against your soft curves.

"Not tonight," he breathes, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss. "Tonight, I'm not letting you get away. Not until I've had my fill."

His mouth claims yours in a searing kiss, his tongue delving past your lips to tangle with your own. He tastes like wine and desire, the flavour intoxicating. You moan into the kiss, your free hand fisting in his shirt as you pull him closer.

He breaks the kiss, leaving you panting and desperate. A smirk plays at the corners of his lips, his eyes dark with hunger.

You smirk in return, shivers going down your spine as you feel the cool glass pressed against your back. You carefully hold your wine glass and take another sip, the cold liquid helping you cool your body.

"So you've always regretted it, huh?" You hum, your eyes looking him up and down in a worked-up state. The hunger in his eyes sends a thrill through you, your heart pounding.

You arch an eyebrow, your voice low and teasing. "Too bad for you then, isn't it? Because I'm not the same naive girl I was back then."

He sets his wine glass down on a nearby table, his movements slow and deliberate.

A smile plays at Aegon's lips, equal parts charming and dangerous. He takes a step closer, his body pressing against yours, pinning you to the window. The cold glass against your back contrasts deliciously with the heat of his skin.

"Oh, I know you're not the same girl," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "That's what makes this so damn exciting." 

His hand slides up your side, his fingertips trailing fire in their wake. He cups your breast, squeezing gently, his thumb brushing over your hardened nipple through the thin fabric of your dress.

"I want to explore every inch of this new you," he growls, his hot breath fanning over your neck. "I want to taste you, touch you, make you scream my name until you forget about any other man who's ever touched you."

His other hand tangles in your hair, tugging your head back to expose the column of your throat. He nips at your pulse point, his teeth grazing your skin.

"Tell me you want this," he demands, his voice rough with need. "Tell me you need me as much as I need you."

His hips press against yours, the evidence of his arousal pressing insistently against your core. You gasp at the contact, your head falling back against the window. The wine glass slips from your fingers, shattering on the hardwood floor below. The sound seems to spur him on, his kisses becoming more desperate, more urgent.

You yelp in surprise as Aegon rips your dress open, exposing your breasts to the cool night air. Your nipples immediately harden, pebbling under his intense gaze. The sound of shattering glass below only heightens your senses, the wine pooling around your bare feet.

He tears at your dress, the fabric ripping under his hands as he exposes your breasts to the cool air. He takes one in his mouth, his tongue swirling around your nipple as his hand palms your other breast.

"Fuck," he groans, the sound muffled against your skin. "You feel even better than I remembered."

His hand trails down your stomach, slipping beneath the hem of your skirt. He cups your sex, his fingers pressing against your clothed slit.

"Fuck," you mewl, arching your back as he sucks on your sensitive nipples. Pleasure shoots straight to your core, making your toes curl against the hardwood floor. Your hands, now free from holding your glass, tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, urging him on.

Desperation consumes you, your body aching for more of his touch. You grind against him, the evidence of your arousal soaking through your thin panties.

Aegon groans against your breast, the sound primal and needy. His fingers dip beneath your panties, stroking through your slick folds. "Fuck, you're so wet for me already," he growls, his fingers circling your clit. "I've barely touched you, and you're ready to come undone."

He sinks to his knees, his hands gripping your thighs as he pushes your skirt up around your waist. His hot breath fans over your exposed sex, making you shiver with anticipation. "I'm going to taste every inch of you," he promises, his voice low and husky.

His tongue laps at your slit, the first brush of his mouth against your sensitive flesh drawing a sharp gasp from your lungs. He explores you with a thoroughness that borders on reverence, his tongue delving deep, tasting your essence.

"Gods, you taste divine," he moans, his words vibrating against your most intimate parts. "I could spend hours worshipping this pussy."

His hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he feasts on you. He licks and sucks and nibbles until you're a writhing, desperate mess, your fingers tangled in his hair as you grind against his face.

"Gods," you whimper, your thighs trembling with the effort to hold yourself up. "You're doing so good," you praise him in a breathy tone, trembling.

Your head thrashes against the window, the cool glass a sharp contrast to the heat of his mouth. 

He chuckles darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. He teases you, his tongue flicking over your clit.

"Mmh, yeah?" You continue, letting out a pornographic moan as you grind your hips, dragging your wet heat against Aegon's eager tongue. You're thankful no one can see you through these floor-to-ceiling windows, high up in the sky as you are. The wet sounds of his licking fill the room, mingling with your pleasure-filled cries. "You're so good," you whimper, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. You're lost in the sensations, your mind hazing over with lust. You never want this moment to end.

Aegon growls against your sex, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through your core. He doubles his efforts, his tongue delving deeper, exploring every fold and crevice.

"You taste even sweeter than I remembered," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "I could feast on this pretty pussy for hours."

He teases your entrance with the tip of his tongue before plunging inside, fucking you with deep, deliberate strokes. Your walls clench around him, desperate for more friction.

"That's it, baby," he coaxes, his voice muffled against your flesh. "Let go for me. Come on my tongue."

His fingers join in, two digits pumping in and out of your dripping channel. The dual stimulation is almost too much, pushing you to the brink of ecstasy.

Aegon moans against your heated flesh, the sound muffled but no less affecting. He laps at your slit like a man starved, his tongue delving deep, stroking along your inner walls. His nose nudges your clit, the sensation making you see stars.

Your thighs begin to shake, your body tensing as your climax approaches. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," you chant, your voice rising in pitch. "Don't stop, don't stop, I'm gonna... I'm gonna...!"

Aegon redoubles his efforts, sucking hard on your clit as he curls his fingers inside you, hitting that perfect spot. Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, your vision whiting out as pleasure consumes you.

You come hard against his mouth, your juices flooding his tongue and chin. He laps it up greedily, prolonging your pleasure until you're boneless and spent against the window.

He releases your thighs, letting you slide down the window to the floor.

You whimper as your body slumps against the floor, your thighs spread wide, juices trickling down your trembling legs. Chest heaving, you struggle to catch your breath, the cold wood a sharp contrast to the heat still simmering under your skin. You can feel Aegon's heated gaze on your exposed body, his dark eyes roaming over your flushed flesh.

You lift your head, meeting his intense stare. Your lips curve into a sultry smile, even as your heart races. "I'd almost forgotten just how good you were with your tongue." You purr, your voice husky with satisfaction.

You spread your legs wider, giving him an unobstructed view of your glistening sex.

Aegon's eyes darken with lust as he takes in the sight of your splayed form. His gaze is hungry, raking over every inch of your exposed flesh like he wants to devour you whole.

"Oh, I'm just getting started, baby," he promises, his voice low and rough. "That was just the appetizer."

He stands, towering over you. His pants tent obscenely, the outline of his thick cock clearly visible. Your eyes widen as you take in the sheer size of him.

"Like what you see?" he asks, a smirk on his lips. He palms himself through his pants.

"Bedroom. Now," he commands, voice rough with need.

He scoops you up into his arms, carrying you towards the bedroom. You wrap your legs around his waist, your dress hanging off your shoulders, your breasts bared to the cool air.

"I'm going to fuck you so hard, you'll forget your own name," he promises, his hand reaching for his belt. "I'm going to claim this sweet cunt, make it mine."

Your heart races at his words, your body already eager for more. Anticipation coils tight in your belly, your pussy clenching around nothing, aching to be filled.

You gasp as Aegon kicks open the bedroom door, throwing you onto the plush mattress. Your heart races, your pulse pounding in your ears as he looms over you, his eyes dark with hunger. His shirt is rumpled, his hair a tousled mess from my eager hands.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, your breasts heaving with each ragged breath. Anticipation courses through your veins, your thighs rubbing together in a desperate bid for friction.

Your eyes lock onto his tall, muscular form as he stalks towards the bed, each step deliberate and full of promise. "Gods," you whimper, your pussy clenching in anticipation. "Please, Aegon... I need you."

Your plea falls on eager ears. Aegon practically rips his shirt off over his head, his lean muscles flexing with the movement. His pants quickly follow, joining the growing pile of discarded clothing on the floor.

He stands before you, gloriously naked. His cock juts proudly from his body, thick and hard and ready. The bulbous head is already glistening with precum, pulsing with each heartbeat. He strokes himself slowly, his thumb swirling around the head, smearing the bead of precum that's gathered there.

"Fuck," you breathe, your tongue darting out to wet your suddenly dry lips. "You're huge."

Aegon smirks, clearly pleased by your reaction. He crawls onto the bed, his large frame blanketing your smaller one. You can feel the heat of his skin, the hard planes of his muscles pressing against you deliciously.

He captures your mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue plundering the warm cavern of your mouth. His hands roam your body, tweaking your nipples, stroking your sides, gripping your hips. He sets your nerve endings alight everywhere he touches.

"Fuck, you're so damn perfect," he growls, his voice rough with need. "I can't wait to be inside you again."

He notches the head of his cock against your entrance, teasing you with shallow thrusts. You whimper at the contact, your hips bucking up to meet him.

"Please," you beg, your hips rocking shamelessly against his thick shaft. "I need you inside me. Now."

Aegon obliges, notching the thick head of his cock at your entrance. He teases you, rubbing your clit with the tip of his cock, making you delirious with need. He notches the head of his cock against your entrance, teasing you with shallow thrusts. You whimper at the contact, your hips bucking up to meet him.

He pushes forward, the thick head of his cock popping past your entrance. You moan at the stretch, your pussy struggling to accommodate his girth. It's intense, bordering on uncomfortable, but the ache is quickly swallowed up by pleasure.

He sinks deeper, inch by inch until he's fully sheathed inside you. You feel impossibly full, stuffed to the brim with his hard cock. Your inner walls flutter around him, trying to adjust to the intrusion.

"Gods," you gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders. "You're so deep in me."

Aegon grins down at you, looking immensely pleased with himself. He rolls his hips, grinding against your cervix. Sparks of pleasure shoot up your spine, making your toes curl against the sheets.

"Gods," he groans, his voice strained with pleasure. "You feel like heaven around my cock."

He sets a brutal pace, pounding into you with abandon. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful thrust.

Screams of pleasure keep falling from your lips, your eyes rolled back and your back arching. You've never felt so stretched out and filled before. The pleasure clouds your mind as you mumble incoherent pleas and praises.

"Oh gods, Aegon, yes! Fuck, you're so deep! Harder, please!"

Your nails scratch his back, leaving red marks as evidence of your passionate encounter.

"Ungh, you're fucking wrecking me," you whimper, your pussy clenching around his pistoning cock.

Your thighs quiver, your toes curling as you lose yourself to the relentless pleasure. At that moment you knew, you weren't going to be able to walk tomorrow.

Aegon pounds into you relentlessly, the bed creaking beneath your joined bodies. His cock hits your cervix with each powerful thrust, sending lightning bolts of pleasure shooting up your spine.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he grunts, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips.

"Gods," you moan, your back arching off the bed. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Aegon complies, fucking into you with renewed vigour. The obscene sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your cries of pleasure.

"Fuck, you take my cock so well," he praises, his voice strained with pleasure. "I'm going to ruin you for anyone else."

Sweat beads on his brow, his muscles rippling with exertion. He leans down, capturing one of your bouncing nipples in his mouth. He suckles hard, his teeth grazing the sensitive bud, sending sparks of pleasure-pain shooting straight to your core.

Aegon's thick cock stretches you so deliciously, filling you in ways you've never experienced before. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes, spilling down your cheeks as pleasure overwhelms you.

"Aegon, oh fuck!" You whimper, your voice is high and needy. "You feel so good, so deep inside me."

Your words tumble out in a desperate stream, barely coherent. Your mind is foggy, consumed by the relentless pleasure of his cock pounding into your wet heat.

You cling to him, your nails scoring red lines down his back as you hold on for dear life. "Harder," you beg, your voice strained. "Ruin me for any other man."

Aegon obliges with a smirk, fucking into you with a ferocity that steals your breath. The bed creaks in protest, the headboard slamming against the wall with each punishing thrust. But you don't care, lost in the haze of pleasure, your body a willing vessel for his desire.

Your legs wrap around his waist, ankles locking behind his back, urging him deeper. You can feel every thick inch of him stretching you, filling you, owning you. It's intense and overwhelming, but you never want it to stop.

"Yes, yes, yes," you chant, your head thrashing against the pillows. "Don't stop, please Aegon, don't ever stop fucking me like this." Your pussy clenches around him, greedy for more, desperate to milk his cock.

Your body writhes beneath Aegon's as he continues his relentless assault on your senses. His thick cock stretches you, fills you, reaches depths you didn't know existed.

"Gods, you're so fucking tight," he groans, his fingers digging into your hips. "I'm going to ruin this sweet cunt."

You're beyond words, lost to the sensation of him moving inside you. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, your toes curling.

"Ungh, so big," you mewl, your nails raking down his back.

Aegon smiles wickedly down at you, his eyes glazed with lust. He leans down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss. His tongue plunders your mouth, mimicking the motions of his cock in your pussy.

He breaks the kiss, trailing his lips down your jaw, your neck. He sucks hard at your pulse point, leaving a dark bruise in his wake. His teeth graze your skin, adding a delicious sting to the pleasure.

Aegon continues to pound into you, relentless in his pursuit of your pleasure. His cock is like a battering ram, each thrust driving you further into the mattress. The wet, obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh fills the room, a lewd background noise to accompany your loud moans.

"That's it, take it," he growls, his hips snapping against yours. "Take my fucking cock."

His hands roam your body, squeezing, kneading, leaving red marks on your skin. He pinches your nipples, rolling them between his fingers, sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core."Fuck, you're so responsive," he praises, his voice rough with desire. "Love how you moan for me, how you beg for my cock."

"Gods, I could fuck this pussy forever," he groans, his hips never ceasing their relentless motion. "So tight, so wet, so fucking perfect."

His words wash over you, stoking the fire burning in your belly. Your pussy clenches around him, trying to draw him deeper, desperate for more of him.

Your eyes must be permanently rolled into the back of your head, absolutely lost in the waves of pleasure crashing over you. No coherent words escape your lips, only loud screams of ecstasy and desperate whimpers.

Aegon's thick cock stretches you and fills you utterly as he pounds into you with abandon. Your pussy clenches around him like a vice, making it impossibly difficult for him to move. But he doesn't stop, grinding his pelvis against your clit with each relentless thrust.

The familiar heat builds in your core, the telltale tension coiling tighter and tighter in your belly. You bring two fingers to your mouth, sucking them hard, drenching them in your saliva. You imagine it's his fat cock between your lips, the taste of him on your tongue.

Pulling your fingers from your mouth, you reach between your legs, finding my swollen clit. You rub the sensitive nub in fast, tight circles, your legs already starting to tremble.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" You cry out, your back arching off the bed. "I'm so close, I'm gonna cum!"

Your fingers work furiously at your clit as Aegon continues pounding into you from above. His cock is relentless, each powerful thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body.

"That's it, touch yourself," he encourages you, his voice rough with lust. "Make yourself cum on my cock."

You're so close, teetering on the edge of oblivion. Your thighs begin to tremble as your climax builds, your pussy clenching tightly around Aegon's thick shaft.

"I'm gonna..." you barely manage to gasp out, your words dissolving into a high-pitched keen as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave. Your entire body seizes up, back arching off the bed as wave after wave of pleasure pulses through you.

"Fuck!" you wail, your voice echoing off the walls. Your pussy spasms almost violently around Aegon's cock, desperately milking him. You're lost to the sensation, drowning in pleasure.

Aegon fucks you through it, not letting up for a second. His own climax builds rapidly, his hips snapping against yours with bruising force.

"Fuck, gonna cum," he growls, his voice strained. 

"Gods, you're squeezing me so fucking tight," he groans, his rhythm starting to stutter. "Gonna fill this pussy up with my cum. Breed this tight cunt, make you mine."

His dirty words send another shock of pleasure through you, your pussy clamping down hard on his cock.

"Please," you beg, your voice ragged. "Cum in me, Aegon. Fill me up, make me yours."

With a guttural groan, Aegon buries himself to the hilt, his cock throbbing as he empties himself inside you. You feel the hot splash of his cum painting your inner walls, marking you as his.

Aegon rolls off of you, his cock slipping out of your sore, abused pussy. You whimper at the loss, feeling empty without him inside you.

Your body is covered in a fine sheen of sweat, your hair a wild tangle around your face. Your cunt throbs, sensitive and abused from the intense fucking.

Aegon pulls you into his arms, nuzzling your neck. "You're mine," he murmurs, his voice low and possessive. "My little dove."

You snuggle into his embrace, trying to catch your breath. Your thighs already ache from the rough treatment, a delicious soreness that you know will linger for days.

As you shift slightly, you feel Aegon's hot seed dripping out of you, staining the white sheets below. Without thinking, you reach down, scooping up some of the mixture of your releases. You bring your fingers to your mouth, licking them clean.

Aegon watches with hooded eyes as you lick your fingers clean, savouring the taste of his release mixed with yours. His cock already twitching back to life at the erotic sight. He chuckles lowly, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

"Fuck, that's hot," he murmurs, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. He tilts your face towards him, claiming your mouth in a filthy kiss.

Aegon rolls, flipping you onto his chest. Your legs straddling his hips, your slick folds against his semi-hard cock. Even spent, he's massive, the thick length pressing insistently against your sensitive flesh.

"I'm nowhere near done with you," he promises darkly, his hands roaming your back, your sides, your ass. He squeezes the globes, his fingers digging into the flesh.

"Gonna mark up this sweet body," he vows, his voice a low rumble. "Leave hickeys on these pretty tits, bite marks on this tight pussy, bruises on these lush thighs."

He punctuates each word with a squeeze, a grope, a pinch. His touch is possessive, and greedy, like he can't get enough of you. Like he wants to stake his claim, show the world that you belong to him.

"Everyone will know you're mine," he growls, his grip tightening. "My pretty little plaything. Mine."

The filthy words make you clench, your abused cunt throbbing with need.

You grind your aching, messy cunt along Aegon's thick shaft, shivering from the overstimulation. You tease him, dragging your slick folds along his length without letting him slip inside.

"Mmm, yeah?" You moan, your voice breathy with desire. "You don't want anyone else to fuck this sweet pussy anymore, huh? Want me all to yourself?"

You lean down, your lips brushing his ear. "Well, if that's the case, then you're also mine. No other woman is ever going to even come close to making you feel the way I do."

You punctuate your words with a slow grind, your slick folds gliding along his hardness. "And if they even dare come near you," you purr, your finger trailing along his sharp jawline, "well, I have the money and the power to make that tramp disappear."

You smirk down at him, your eyes glinting with mischief and dark promise. "You're mine, Aegon."

Aegon's eyes darken with lust at your words, a predatory grin spreading across his face. He reaches up, fisting a hand in your hair and yanking your head back. His other hand lands a sharp smack on your ass, the sting radiating through your sensitive flesh.

"Fuck," he growls, his hips bucking up, trying to bury himself inside you. "Love it when you talk like that." The notion of you ridding him of any competition, of you fighting for him, for your claim on him... it's almost too much. His cock twitches, leaking precum, smearing your folds with the slick fluid.

"I'll burn this world down to keep you," Aegon vows, his eyes blazing with intensity. "Tear apart anyone who tries to come between us."

"Good," you purr, your voice dripping with satisfaction. "Because I don't share what's mine."

Your words are punctuated by another slow grind, your slick folds gliding along his hardness. He shudders beneath you, his hands tightening on your hips.

"Fuck, the things you do to me," he groans, his hips bucking up to meet yours. "You're going to ruin me for anyone else."

He yanks you down, crushing your lips in a bruising kiss. His tongue delves into your mouth, claiming, conquering. He bites at your lower lip, soothing the sting with his tongue.

"I'll fuck this sweet cunt raw. Ruin you for anyone else."

Another sharp smack to your ass, his fingers digging into the tender flesh. He's marking you, claiming you, staking his possession over you.

"No one else will ever make you feel as good as I do," he promises, his hips rolling, grinding his hard cock against your slick folds. "No one else will ever satisfy you like I can."

He buries his face between your breasts. He licks and sucks at the soft skin, leaving dark hickeys blooming on your flesh. He bites down on one pert nipple, soothing the sting with his tongue.

"Mine," he growls against your breast, punctuating the word with a sharp nip. "This body, this pussy, these tits, all fucking mine. Gonna fuck this pussy raw, make it remember the shape of my cock. You won't be able to sit for a week after I'm done with you."

His hands roam over your curves, squeezing, kneading, leaving red marks on your skin. He's possessive, insatiable like he can't get enough of you.

"Gonna fuck you in every room of this house," he vows, his voice rough with desire. "Gonna claim you in front of everyone, show the world who you belong to."

You couldn't take it anymore, your aching cunt clenching around nothing, your juices leaking down his thick cock and onto his thighs. You needed him inside you, stretching you, filling you. Guiding your hips, you sank down onto his thick cock, taking him to the hilt in one smooth motion. A guttural moan tore from your throat, your eyes rolling back at the sensation of being so full. As soon as you felt his thickness back inside you, your mind went blank.

Aegon groans as you sink down onto his cock, your tight heat engulfing him. His hands fly to your hips, gripping tightly, guiding you as you ride him.

"Fuck, so good," he pants, his head falling back onto the pillow. "Love feeling this pussy squeezing my cock."

You begin to move, rising up until just the tip remains inside, before slamming back down, taking him to the hilt. The obscene sound of your skin slapping against his fills the room, mingling with your moans and his grunts.

"That's it, baby," Aegon encourages, his hands sliding up your sides, squeezing your breasts. "Ride my cock. Show me how much you love it."

You lose yourself in the pleasure, your hips undulating, your pace growing faster and harder. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful thrust.

Aegon's hands are everywhere, gripping your hips, your waist, your tits. He pinches your nipples, and rolls them between his fingers, sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core.

"Fuck, I love watching you bounce on my cock," he growls, his hips snapping up to meet yours. "So fucking hot."

The sight of you lost in pleasure, your tits bouncing, your head thrown back in ecstasy... it's enough to drive him wild. He'd never get enough of you, never get tired of seeing you unravel on his cock.

You switch between bouncing on his thick cock and grinding yourself down, the lewd sounds of your skin slapping filling the room. If the walls weren’t soundproof, the entire tower would hear your moans. You throw your head back as you lose yourself in the overwhelming pleasure.

By now your moans resemble those of a cam-girl, your eyes squeezed shut and brows furrowed in pleasure.

"Fuck! Yesss!" You whine in pleasure, your thighs shaking from exhaustion already.

Aegon watches you intently as you bounce on his cock, your pleasure-filled moans driving him wild. The sight of you losing control, your eyes squeezing shut, your face contorted in ecstasy... it's the most erotic thing he's ever seen.

"That's it, baby," he encourages, his hands gripping your hips, helping guide your movements. "Ride my cock just like that. Fuck, you look so hot."

You're a vision of debauchery, your hair a wild mess, your skin flushed and glistening with sweat. The lewd sounds of your bodies coming together fill the room, the wet slap of skin on skin mingling with your wanton moans.

Aegon can feel his own release building, his balls tightening, his cock throbbing inside you. He wants to make this last, to draw out your pleasure, but he's only human. The feel of your tight heat gripping him, the sight of you unravelling on top of him... it's too much.

"Fuck, I'm getting close," he grunts, his hips snapping up to meet yours. "Gonna fill this pussy up again."

Aegon sits up, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. The new angle allows him to go even deeper, the head of his cock hitting that perfect spot inside you.

"Wanna feel me cum inside you," he growls, his teeth latching onto your neck. "Wanna breed this pussy, make you mine."

"Oh gods, Aegon!" You cry out, your voice breaking on a scream of pleasure as he starts slamming into you from a new angle. Your words dissolve into incoherent babbles of ecstasy as your body goes pliant in his arms, surrendering completely to his possession. "Too much, it's too much!"

But even as you utter the words, you know they're a lie. There's no such thing as too much with Aegon. His powerful thrusts drive you to the edge of madness, each stroke igniting sparks of pure bliss.

You let your head fall against his shoulder, giving yourself over to the pleasure. Your body goes limp in his embrace, letting him fuck you as he wants

Your eyes flutter shut, your lashes casting shadows on your flushed cheeks. You're lost to the sensation. Your body is no longer your own, it belongs to Aegon, to be used for his pleasure.

And gods help me, you've never been happier.

Aegon can feel your body go pliant in his arms, your surrender absolute. The knowledge that you've given yourself over to him, that your pleasure is in his hands... it's heady, intoxicating.

"That's it," he murmurs against your ear, his hips never ceasing their relentless pace. "Let go. Surrender to me, to this pleasure."

You're a vision of debauchery in his arms, your head lolling against his shoulder, your face contorted in ecstasy. He drinks in the sight of you and memorizes every inch of your pleasure-drunk expression.

Aegon's hands roam your body, possessive, greedy. He wants to touch every inch of you and mark you as his. His fingers dip between your thighs, finding your clit. He rubs tight circles around the sensitive nub, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Gonna cum for me, baby," he growls, his hips pistoning faster, harder. "Gonna make this pussy mine."

Aegon can feel his own release building, his balls tightening, his cock throbbing inside you. He wants to make this last, to draw out your pleasure, but he's only human. The feel of your tight heat gripping him, the sight of you unravelling in his arms... it's too much.

"Fuck," he grunts, his hips snapping up one final time. "Take it, take my cum."

Aegon buries his face in your neck, muffling his groans against your skin. His cock pulses inside you, flooding your womb with his hot seed. He fills you up again and again, marking you, claiming you, making you his.

Aftershocks of pleasure ripple through Aegon's body, his hips still rocking gently, drawing out his release. He stays buried inside you, his softening cock plugging up his cum. He never wants this moment to end, wants to stay joined with you forever.

A high-pitched moan tears from your throat as you cum, your hips bucking wildly against Aegon's. Pleasure crashes over you in waves, your body shuddering and convulsing in his arms. You are lost to the sensation, drowning in ecstasy.

Your walls clench and flutter around his cock, milking him for all he's worth. You feel him twitch and throb inside you, his own release triggered by mine. He groans lowly, his hips grinding into yours as he fills you up with his hot seed.

It's so much, more than you can handle. You can feel it painting your gummy walls, marking you as his. Some of it spills out around his shaft, trickling down my thighs. The obscene sensation makes you mewl, your hips still weakly rocking against his.

You are spent, boneless, your body going limp in his embrace. Your heart races and your breath comes in short, sharp gasps. You have never felt pleasure like this before, never been so thoroughly claimed and used.

Aegon groans lowly at the feel of your walls clenching around him, milking his cock for all it's worth. Your release triggers his own, his hips grinding into yours as he fills you up with his hot seed.

He buries his face in your neck, muffling his groans against your skin. Each pulsing spurt of his cum seems to last forever, painting your insides, marking you as his. He grinds into you, making sure every last drop finds its home deep inside your womb.

When he finally pulls back, he's left breathless, his chest heaving. He looks down at you, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"Fuck," he murmurs, his fingers trailing lazy patterns on your sweat-slick skin. "You took my cock so well, baby. Such a good girl, so eager to be filled."

He reaches down, scooping some of his cum that's leaked out onto your thighs. He brings his fingers to your lips, slick with his essence.

"Clean up my mess, baby," he commands, his voice low and husky. "Lick up every last drop."

But even as he gives the order, Aegon's touching you gently, tenderly. He cups your face, brushing away the damp strands of hair from your forehead. He peppers soft kisses across your face, coaxing a smile from your lips.

"You're mine now," he whispers, his eyes boring into yours. "I'm never letting you go."

You gaze down at Aegon through your lashes as you take his cum-coated fingers into your mouth. You bob your head, your tongue swirling around the digits, cleaning them of his thick seed. 

Aegon's eyes darken as he watches you service him. "Stay with me," he pleads, his voice raw with emotion. "Be mine, only mine. I'll give you anything you want, everything you want. Just don't leave me."

Your heart races at his words. You smile around his fingers, reassuring him of your devotion.

"I'm not going anywhere," you murmur once you've cleaned his fingers. You press a soft kiss on his palm. "I'm yours, Aegon. Forever."

Aegon gazes up at you with a mixture of relief and gratitude. Your words wash over him like a soothing balm.

He cups your face in his hands, tilting his chin up to meet your gaze. "You promise?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. "You'll stay by my side, no matter what?"

You nod, your eyes shining with sincerity. "I promise," you vow, pressing your lips to his in a soft kiss. "I'm yours, Aegon. For better or worse, for richer or poorer..."

Aegon's heart swells at your words, a warmth spreading through his chest. He knows he doesn't deserve your devotion, knows he hasn't earned it. But gods, does he want to.

He leans forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. It's not gentle, not tender. It's a claiming, a branding, a marking of what's his. When he finally pulls back, you're both breathless, your lips swollen and glistening.

"I love you," Aegon murmurs against your mouth, the words slipping out unbidden. "I love you so fucking much it hurts."

He's never said those words to anyone before, never even come close. But with you, it feels right, feels true. Like it was always meant to be this way.

"You're my everything," he continues, his arms wrapping around your waist, holding you close. "My heart, my soul, my reason for living. I can't imagine my life without you in it."

Aegon buries his face in your hair, inhaling deeply. You smell like home, like belonging. Like everything he's ever wanted but never dared to dream of.

"Stay with me," he pleads, his voice cracking with emotion. "Have my babies, grow old with me. Let me love you the way you deserve to be loved."

Aegon knows he's asking for a lot.

Aegon's words hit you like a freight train, stealing the breath from your lungs. I love you. Three simple words that carry the weight of the world. 

For a moment, you're transported back in time. To when you were just a couple of lovesick teenagers, sneaking out under the cover of darkness. You can almost hear the crash of the waves, and feel the sand beneath your bare feet. 

You look at Aegon now, your heart swelling with emotion. He's the same boy you fell for all those years ago. The same boy who confessed his feelings to you, his eyes wide with vulnerability.

And now, he's yours. Completely and utterly yours. You're not going to walk away again, not this time.

You cup his face in your hands, your thumb tracing the line of his jaw. "I love you too," you murmur, your voice trembling with the depth of your emotions. "I never stopped loving you."

You lean in, closing the distance between you. Your lips meet in a soft, tender kiss. It's a promise, a vow, a declaration of forever.

When you finally pull apart, you rest my forehead against his. "Let me have your babies, grow old with me, live on a farm for the rest of our days. Let me love you the way you deserve to be loved."

You've waited your whole life for this moment. For Aegon to be yours, body and soul. And now that you have him, you're never letting go.

Aegon's heart soars at your words, your promise of forever. He feels like he's floating like he's on top of the world. You're his, completely and utterly his. And he's yours, now and always.

He kisses you back, pouring all his love, his devotion, his gratitude into the embrace. It's a kiss that says I'm here, I'm yours, I'll never leave you. Not now, not ever.

When you pull back, Aegon rests his forehead against yours, his eyes searching yours. They're shining with unshed tears, with a joy he's never known before.

"You're my whole world," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. "My beginning and my end. I can't imagine my life without you in it."

Aegon's hands roam your body, mapping out the curves and dips he's come to know so well. He traces the line of your spine, the swell of your breasts, the flare of your hips. Each touch is reverent and��worshipful.

"I'm going to make you the happiest woman in the world," he promises, his lips brushing against your cheek. "I'm going to love you, cherish you, worship you. Every. Single. Day."

[willowed-wisp]

Home - one-shot [ghost]

MASTERLIST

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x reader/you

WARNINGS: smut. angst, mentions of death

It would take more than steam to calm you down. Or scalding water… or the bubbles…

You wondered if it would ever get old- the worrying…

The unknown.

It should have taken all but six months of being with him to realise how overcome with grief you were when he was sent overseas on classified, top secret missions.

But as the months- years- go by of him nestled against you in bed before being ripped away at the flip of a switch, it became apparent that you would never know the true nature of his K.I.A.

Hopefully that never happened.

You think maybe the bath wasn’t the best choice to release your nerves- a barrel of worst case scenarios…

The only reason why you hadn’t walked out the door of your shared house was just him. The man who you’d met in hospital- him the unwilling patient and you the nurse who had to put up with his bullshit. Truly the worst patient you had ever had, Simon Riley was never the type to accept help- something you’d learn swiftly.

Despite that, you still accepted the advances of this tall, hulking man.

The next day you were in a pub with him, learning he indeed knew how to perform stitches but a Scotsman had abandoned him at the hospital to get medical treatment.

On that first ‘date’, he kissed you. Nothing more nothing less.

After that you didn’t hear from the broad accented man for over a month. ‘Another time getting ghosted’, you thought.

Until he appeared outside your apartment door one day, a skull printed balaclava covering his face. But you knew those big puppy dog eyes, you saw them in your dreams. His lips…

Oh god, you missed his lips. Their heat, how they fitted and curved just how you needed them.

Over that half decade of knowing Simon you had grown accustomed to them being used for more than kissing. That’s why your middle finger grafted circles.

You would be sweating from the molten memories, but the sauna of a bathroom had that covered.

Remembering his taste, his roughness… that intensity of having his whole undivided affection.

Big brown eyes watching you come undone on his tongue, fingers or cock… time and time again. Countless amounts of times.

You didn’t know you were crying or that another hand had replaced yours, rubbing the bundle of nerves, “You couldn’t wait for me t’ get back…” Low, sensual and you slipped lower into the water. Mostly in shock, a tad by being a klutz.

Your heart hammered slow, breath quicker as his body… that perfect, damaged body slipped in behind you. Large hands at either side of your hips, head feeling fuzzy you rested against his broad shoulders as he lifted you onto his bare lap.

How long had he been watching? Clearly enough to strip down, even his mask on the floor.

You attempted to get words out but his thumb over powered you. Teasing your wet core, lapping over that sensitive bud; reading your moans. His cock begging to release its tension. But no thoughts mustered in your head, his fingers- long and thick and scarred- scissoring open that tightness, “You’ve got t’ relax, luvie… so fucking tight…” How could you relax with this soldier behind you?

Your silence spoke as much- you were furious at him. He keeps leaving you for weeks on end and you never know if he’s coming back with his bags or in a body bag… “I didn’t know if you were dead, Si,” that cut through the built up tension with a knife. His actions stopped, his chin leaning on your shoulder. Thumbs patterning the skin of your thighs- numb murmurs of tickles along your flesh. “You didn’t contact me, to let me know you were alright…” The water grew cold, so you stood. His eyes glued to your back, maybe other parts of your body.

Though, you felt colder than the ice. You loved him, would die for him… sometimes you just hated his job, not him.

The night terrors he had when off-duty, holding him for hours on end… knowing you would fall asleep but he never would.

Scars, beautiful as they were, he came home with a new set of them. She turned to him, and it looked like he got caught up in an explosion.

He towered over you, you swore he would make anyone feel tiny but knowing what he can do to you first hand… you were slick again. Even with the new brandish on his V-line, “Grenade? Molotov?” You grabbed for a towel, facing away deliberately. Venom on your tongue.

Warmth spread over your shoulders, tension kneaded away, “Calm down… an’ how’d ya know it was a Molotov?” It was difficult to ignore his intoxicating smile in the mirror. Shoulders swamped by his wider frame, his tattoos brandishing his sleeve. It was impossible to remain fuming at Simon. “‘t was only first degree, no hard shit…”

“You’ve been hanging out with MacTavish too much…”

“Ever try mind readin’?”

“Must’ve to put up with you,” his hand dragged down, back to between your thighs. “Si, I’m-,” you became hoisted up, cradled in his arms. Like he did the day you moved into your house two years ago. “Try eating me out and you’ll lose your neck…”

There you were, mewling his name with your thighs draped over his shoulders. Back flush against the duvet fabric, he looked delicious on his knees. “Tastes like fuckin’ honey,” Barely able to hear him over the drumming in your ears but you always would… like this you were at his mercy- and you both craved it.

He flicked that spot, over and over. Suckling patches of purple onto your apex. Pain that had your nails scraping at his shoulders, up to the shaven underside. Gripping onto the blonde, earning a moan from your soldier. “I fucking need you, Si!” Head thrown back, teeth gritted as you toppled over the edge. His tongue lacing you through the orgasm. Legs akimbo, enough to see those puppy dog eyes glazed over. Caged in lust.

Tongue in a stripped lick, up to your breasts. Distracting from him lining up, “Let me return the favour-,” your efforts strangled. A high pitch moan followed, tears fizzled the corners of your eyes. A straight thrust and you were clinging onto the scars and the muscles at your disposal.

Foreheads joined- maybe for support on his end. Definitely on yours. “I fuckin’ love you…” he hummed against your lips. “I’m finally home…”

[ltash]

Poked

You had barely been in the SAS for a week, and already, you were causing a stir. At first, people underestimated you. You were smaller than most, a little too pretty for the rough world of special forces. But you had grit. And, more importantly, you had a wicked sense of humour.

You’d always had a sharp tongue and a reckless streak, but messing with Ghost, well, that was a whole different game. The moment you stepped into the SAS, it was clear you weren’t like the others. Sure, you were skilled, maybe even more so than a few of your male counterparts, but it wasn’t your combat abilities that made you stand out.

It was your mouth. More specifically, how you used it to get under Ghost’s skin.

Lieutenant Ghost, the infamous, towering man whose reputation made even the toughest soldiers stay in line. He was cold, distant, and never let anyone get too close. But you couldn’t resist poking the bear. You weren’t afraid of him, in fact, you found his brooding nature kind of amusing.

So, naturally, you started catcalling him.

At first, it was subtle. You weren’t dumb, you knew Ghost wasn’t someone to mess with lightly. But something about the way he carried himself, all silent and brooding, just begged you to poke at him. You were like a kid pulling the tail of a lion, waiting to see if it would roar.

"Looking sharp today, Lieutenant!" you'd call out across the training yard, watching as Ghost’s shoulders tensed under his tactical gear. He’d never acknowledge it, at least not at first, but you always knew he heard.

It began as a harmless joke. You spotted him across the base one day, walking with that signature, menacing swagger, and you couldn’t help yourself.

"Looking good, Lieutenant!" you called out, smirking when he stiffened, stopping mid-stride to look over his shoulder at you. "Who knew you could fill out that uniform so well?"

The other soldiers who heard you quickly turned away, not wanting to get involved, but you just grinned wider. Ghost gave you a look, one that said *don’t even think about it, but you could see the flicker of confusion in his eyes. No one had ever talked to him like that.

That only encouraged you more.

Over the next few days, you found every opportunity to throw playful comments his way. Whenever Ghost passed by, you’d lean against the wall, give him an exaggerated once-over, and whistle. "Hey, Ghost! If you ever get tired of being a killing machine, modeling could be your next gig!"

His reaction was always the same, a deep, rumbling growl under his breath and a piercing glare. But the more you did it, the more you noticed the subtle changes in him. His shoulders would tense before you even said anything, as if he was bracing himself for whatever you’d throw his way.

And while you loved riling him up, there was something else beneath the teasing. You weren’t just messing with him for fun, you were intrigued by him. The way he moved, the quiet power he exuded, the way his presence seemed to fill a room without him even trying. There was something about him that made your heart race in a way you didn’t quite understand.

Then, you got bolder. During drills, you’d deliberately station yourself near him, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you "complimented" him.

"Hey, Ghost, ever think of doing a calendar shoot? You know, something for the ladies, maybe a topless spread for June?”

You swore you saw his hand tighten around his gun, but he never said anything. Not yet.

The others found it funny, at least for a while. Some of the younger recruits would stifle their laughs when you catcalled him, while the veterans gave you the side-eye, clearly wondering if you’d lost your mind. Soap warned you a few times, telling you in that thick Scottish accent, “Ghost’s not the kind of bloke you want to push too far, lass.”

But you? You were fearless. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself. The more you poked, the more you could feel the tension building between you and Ghost. Every snarky comment, every playful whistle, it was like stretching a rubber band tighter and tighter. You were waiting to see when it would snap.

One day, you pushed it a little too far.

Ghost was at the shooting range, going through his drills, when you wandered over. You leaned against the fence, watching him in action. You couldn’t deny how impressive he was, his movements precise, his focus unbreakable. But you weren’t about to let that stop you from having your fun.

“Damn, Ghost, you’re really showing off today,” you called, your voice carrying over the sound of gunfire.

He didn’t acknowledge you, but you saw his jaw tighten beneath the mask. You smirked, pushing off the fence and walking toward him, your steps deliberately slow, knowing he could hear you coming.

When you got close enough, you tilted your head up to meet his gaze. “Bet you get all the ladies with that aim.”

This time, he paused, lowering his weapon and turning to face you. His eyes, dark and intense, locked onto yours. For a moment, you felt a flicker of nervousness—but you shoved it down. You weren’t about to back off now.

"You’ve been having fun, haven’t you?" he said, his voice low and gravelly. There was no humor in it, but there was something else. Something darker. Something that made the air around you feel suddenly thick.

"Just a little bit," you replied with a grin, though your heart was pounding harder than you’d like to admit.

Ghost stepped closer, and for the first time, you realized just how much bigger he was compared to you. He towered over you, his broad shoulders casting a shadow. But you refused to back down, even as he closed the distance between you.

"You think it’s cute, don’t you?" he muttered, his eyes narrowing as he leaned down, his face inches from yours. "Messing with me."

Your smirk faltered slightly, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze. “Maybe I do.”

He chuckled, low and dangerous, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that. But there’s only so far you can push before I push back."

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You swallowed, your heart now pounding in your chest. You had been playing with fire, and for the first time, you wondered if maybe you were about to get burned.

But instead of stepping away, you lifted your chin, your voice steady despite the way your pulse raced. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Ghost’s eyes darkened, and before you knew what was happening, he moved even closer, backing you up until you were pressed against the wall of the range. His hands planted themselves on either side of your head, trapping you there. The closeness of his body was overwhelming, his scent, leather, smoke, something undeniably masculine, filling your senses.

“You should be,” he whispered, his voice so low it sent a thrill through your body.

Your breath hitched as his gaze dropped to your lips, lingering there for a second too long. The tension between you was palpable now, electric, and suddenly your teasing didn’t feel so harmless anymore. It felt dangerous. Intense.

But instead of retreating, you felt a surge of boldness. “Or maybe you’re the one who’s scared.”

His eyes snapped back to yours, and for a split second, something flashed in them, something raw, something primal. And then, before you could say another word, he moved.

Ghost stared at you for a long moment, the tension between you simmering like a live wire. You could feel the weight of his gaze, dark and dangerous, but just when you thought he might do something, close the gap again, say something that would send a shiver down your spine, he did the opposite. He stepped back.

You blinked in surprise as he straightened, his eyes never leaving yours, but something in his expression had shifted. It wasn’t defeat, but it wasn’t victory either. It was calculated. Measured. His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smirk, but close enough to make your stomach flip.

Then, without another word, Ghost turned on his heel and walked away, his broad back retreating, leaving you pressed against the wall, heart still hammering in your chest.

For a second, you thought you’d won, that maybe you’d finally gotten under his skin enough to make him back off. But as you watched him go, that strange, unsettling feeling lingered. Something about the way he left, the way he didn’t retaliate, didn’t push back immediately, left you on edge. He wasn’t done.

No, this wasn’t over.

It came to a head one day during a routine briefing. You were sitting in the back of the room, half-listening to the mission plan, your eyes occasionally drifting over to Ghost, who stood at the front, arms crossed over his chest, silent as ever.

That’s when you went too far.

As Captain Price wrapped up the details, you leaned back in your chair and called out, loud enough for everyone to hear, “So, Ghost, when are you going to take me out to dinner? Or are you afraid I’ll outshine you?”

The room went dead silent. Every pair of eyes snapped to you, then to Ghost, waiting to see what would happen. Price’s eyebrows shot up, but he wisely said nothing, though you could tell he was biting back a smile. Even Soap looked a little pale, as if he was bracing himself for the fallout.

Ghost didn’t react at first. He just stood there, his face hidden behind his mask, completely unreadable. But you noticed the way his fingers twitched, just a little. His entire body seemed to go still, as if he was debating whether to address your latest insult or let it slide like he had with all the others.

For a moment, you thought maybe you’d gotten away with it. Maybe you’d gone too far, but he’d let it go.

Then, he spoke.

"Stay after the briefing," he said, his voice low and calm, but there was something in it, something dark that sent a shiver down your spine.

You swallowed, your bravado faltering just a bit. But you were committed now. You couldn’t back down in front of everyone. So, you flashed a cocky grin and shrugged. “Sure thing, Lieutenant.”

The briefing wrapped up, and the room emptied out, the others giving you quick glances on their way out, as if they were watching someone about to walk into the lion’s den. Even Soap gave you a sympathetic look before slipping through the door.

And then it was just you and Ghost.

The door clicked shut behind the last soldier, leaving the two of you in the dimly lit room. Ghost hadn’t moved from his spot at the front, his eyes still fixed on you. You could feel the weight of his stare, heavy and unrelenting, as if he was sizing you up, deciding exactly what to do with you.

You stood up slowly, trying to maintain your usual confidence. “So, what’s this about, Ghost? Gonna tell me off for embarrassing you in front of the boys?”

He didn’t say a word. Just stood there, his gaze never leaving yours. The silence stretched between you, thick and suffocating. You felt your pulse quicken, but you forced yourself to stay calm.

Finally, he moved.

In two strides, he closed the distance between you, towering over you with that imposing frame. He didn’t touch you, but he didn’t have to. His presence alone was enough to make you feel like you were pinned to the spot.

“You’ve been having fun, haven’t you?” he said, his voice low, almost a growl.

You swallowed hard, your bravado crumbling slightly under the intensity of his gaze. But you weren’t about to let him see you back down. “Maybe I have. Didn’t think you minded.”

Ghost tilted his head, studying you. “Is that what you think?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything, he took another step closer, backing you up against the wall. His hands planted themselves on either side of you, trapping you in place. The closeness of him was overwhelming, his scent, the sheer heat radiating off his body, the way his eyes bore into yours, dark and unreadable.

“You’ve been running your mouth,” he said quietly, his voice so low it sent a thrill through your body. “And now you’re going to see what happens when you push me too far.”

Your heart raced, but instead of fear, you felt something else. Something hot and electric buzzing just beneath your skin. This was what you had wanted, wasn’t it? To push him, to see how far you could go before he snapped. And now, here you were, cornered by the very man you’d been teasing, his breath warm against your face, his presence swallowing you whole.

You tilted your chin up, your voice steady even though your pulse was thundering in your ears. “What are you gonna do, Lieutenant? Scare me off?”

He chuckled, low and dangerous, and the sound made your stomach flip. “No. I don’t think fear’s what you want from me.”

Your breath hitched as his gloved hand came up, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. His touch was surprisingly gentle, but the intensity in his eyes was anything but. You could feel the heat rolling off him in waves, the raw power behind his calm demeanor.

You could feel the heat radiating off him, the solidity of his muscles against yours, the firmness of his chest against your soft curves. He leaned in, his forehead nearly touching yours, his breath hot on your skin.

His voice was a low, dangerous murmur, his gaze locking with yours with an intensity that made your pulse race. "What you want," he said, his voice a rough whisper in your ear, "is for me to put you in your place."

He grabbed you by your hairs, a seductive whimper escaping your lips as he tilted your head to expose your throat.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against the sensitive flesh of your throat, sending a shiver through you. "You think you're so damn cocky," he murmured against your skin. "But you've been asking for this for a long time, haven't you?"

You completely melted in his hands, done and dusted.

Ghost could feel you surrendering to him, the tension leaving your body as you melted against him. A slow, satisfied smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He liked seeing you like this, all defiant bravado gone, replaced by raw, unguarded need.

He pulled your hair a little tighter, his free hand coming to rest on your hip, pulling your body even closer, making sure you could feel every inch of him pressed against you.

He chuckled softly at the sound you made, his eyes flicking down to your parted lips. God, you looked so perfect like this, all soft and pliant, your body pressed against his, the sound of your ragged breaths filling the air.

He tightened his grip on your hair, tilting your head back further, exposing more of your neck. "You look damn good like this," he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your flesh. "All mine."

And then, before you could think, before you could say another word, he closed the gap between you.

His lips crashed against yours, fierce and unrelenting, stealing the breath from your lungs. You gasped, your hands instinctively reaching for his chest, clutching at his shirt as you pulled him closer. The kiss was wild, a mix of frustration and pent-up desire, everything you’d been pushing him toward finally snapping.

Ghost’s hands gripped your waist, pulling you against him, his touch possessive and firm. You moaned into his mouth, the sheer intensity of it all sending a jolt of heat through your entire body. It was overwhelming, the way he kissed you, like he’d been holding back for too long, and now that the dam had broken, there was no going back.

When he finally pulled back, you were both breathing hard, your foreheads resting together. His eyes were darker than ever, filled with something raw and primal.

“I warned you,” he whispered, his voice rough, “but you didn’t listen.”

Your heart was still pounding, but a slow smile spread across your lips. “Maybe I just wanted to see what would happen.”

Ghost chuckled again, a low, dangerous sound. “Now you know.”

But as his lips found yours again, slower this time, more deliberate, you realized that this was just the beginning.

[captain039]

PART 6 Blood, Fur and Magic

Vampire Viktor x reader x Werewolf Jayce

Warnings: Vampire things, werewolf things, light swearing, possessiveness, smut, sexual, intimacy, poly relationship, angst, violence

Previous part <-

It’s strange, being so close to two people at once. Viktor has taken up sleeping on your bed, well not sleeping, simply going into a meditative state, he always says a soft good morning to you when he feels you stir and it always makes your heart beat quicker. Jayce hasn’t stopped working in his room turned lab, sometimes in the middle of the night he’ll crawl in under your sheets, wrap his arms around your middle and press his head against your heart before he falls asleep easily. It’s become natural between the three of you to wake up together till you notice Jayce isn’t himself. He stays up all night, he’s tense and flinches at anything and he’s easily irritable snapping at either you or Viktor.

“Full moon” Viktor mutters next to you on the couch and you frown.

“It’s a full moon tonight” he repeats a frown on his face.

“What do we do?” You mutter.

“Nothing” Jayce says or rather snaps as he comes out of his room. He looks horrible, dark circles under his eyes tension radiating off his body.

“What do you mean nothing?” You say turning so you can look at him.

“I mean you’ll both stay here and do nothing” his eyes glow golden and his breath comes out in short pants.

“Jayce” Viktor says standing up and moving to him. Jayce watches him like a wild animal before Viktor cups Jayce cheek. Jayce melts eyes closing and nuzzling into Viktor’s hand just like you saw in your vision, only this time he’s human. You stand too feeling your magic gently thrumming in time with his quick pants.

“What do you need us to do?” You ask as Jayce opens his eyes to look to you.

“I’ll go down to the undercity, I know a way in, I’ll lock myself in the venting system caves like I’ve always done” he says moving Viktor’s hand from his face.

“Jayce that isn’t safe” you say and he growls making you flinch. He instantly looks guilty and somehow you can see him with pinned ears and a tail between his legs. He walks over and presses his forehead to yours muttering a sorry.

“I’m sorry I can’t let you get hurt. Either of you” Jayce cups the back of Viktor’s neck and tugs him closer.

“Jayce you won’t, you can’t” you say.

“Tell that to this thing inside me” he grits his teeth eyes still glowing.

“Jayce I’ve seen you in my dreams, my visions before you won’t hurt us in that form” you press.

“You don’t know that, you’ve had that vision once” he says and you can’t deny with logic.

“Let us come with you, just to guard” you suggest.

“No you’re not getting it” he snarls voice more beast than man.

“Jayce” Viktor says his voice low and thick with his accent and something deep responds inside you and it makes Jayce flinch.

“She is trying to help” Viktor says voice softer now as Jayce burrows his face in your neck. You sigh softly gently massaging his scalp with your fingers giving Viktor a worried look.

“You need to stay” Jayce mutters.

“Ok” you whisper.

Jayce doesn’t get any better, his anger and tension worsens and he leaves without word after dinner. You’re at a loss, you feel a coil in your stomach and you know Viktor can feel it too, but you respect his wishes. By midnight you can’t handle it, you pace your room the runes on your arms glowing brightly like your magic knows this isn’t right either. Viktor sits in the lab and you burst through the door.

“We’re leaving now- right now” you say.

“He told us to stay” he says but you know it’s forced.

“And I don’t give a damn I won’t let him suffer alone down there like some rabid beast!” You snap your magic flaring with you. Viktor’s eyes darken as he materialises in front of you, you don’t think you’ll ever get used to that.

“You are still injured” he nods to the cast on your leg and you frown looking at it. You forgot about it, forgot you broke your leg, the pain has been none existent.

“It doesn’t hurt” you say.

“Not now it doesn’t” Viktor says and you glare frustration in your eyes.

“I’m fine, Jayce needs us!” You snap at him magic humming with you.

“I’m leaving with or without you” you say and storm to the door. Viktor materialises again beside you.

“You don’t know the undercity streets. I do” he says and you sigh in relief and nod.

Walking to the undercity is hard in a cast you get frustrated at it magic thrumming under your hooded jacket.

“Take a breath” Viktor whispers leading you into an alley way. You sigh and take a small breath.

“I want this thing off” you gesture to your casted leg.

“It’s not fully healed” Viktor mutters his fingers brushing over your jaw. You sigh and relax against him as he leans in closer his lips ghosting over your forehead.

“Good girl” he mutters before kissing your forehead gently before leading you back out into the undercity streets. You follow him hand in hand trying to not draw attention to yourself, Viktor leads you lower and lower, through twists and turns you wonder how anyone can navigate here. He leads you to a large cave entrance lined with metal hut mostly overgrown.

“This is where the tunnels begin” Viktor says.

“I can feel him” you say even though it sounds impossible, the magic in you can sense him.

“I can too” Viktor mutters. You head inside looking at the glowing rocks on the side finding them beautiful. You walk for a while before you see shedded torn clothes on the ground and a loud roar echoing in the tunnels.

“Jayce” you whisper already rushing off. Viktor calls your name as you rush cursing the cast you wave your hand down a flash of magic and the cast breaks off making you stumble.

“Easy” Viktor’s quick to catch you and you stare at your leg, there’s no scars no indicating of surgery or anything.

“Fascinating” Viktor says.

“Can you stand?” He asks and you nod as he lets go and kneels. His hands gently trace your leg where scars should’ve been but there’s nothing, only the glowing runes.

“Rest on it” he says and you do, it feels back to normal.

“Did my magic somehow heal me?” You ask as he stands.

“It’s possible” he says as a low growl echos through the tunnels again.

“He’s close” Viktor says and you nod. You walk a little awkwardly with one bare foot but manage you follow the growls you see a few dead rats along the way till you spot a flash of fur.

“Jayce!” You yell and the beast turns around. He’s bigger than you realised, easily you and Viktor combined, he’s tall too even with his crouched position. His tail flicks behind him, you see his hackle raised along his neck and down his back as he stares at you both with golden eyes. You see Jayce in there, covered by this beast.

“Jayce, it’s us” you step closer and he growls. You hold your hands up in a surrendering gesture and watch as his ears perk forward but keeps a snarl on his face. You feel your magic call to him and his snarl slowly leaves a look of curiosity in his wolf like features as he lowers his hackles and sniffs. You lower your hands still walking closer before you reach a hand out to him. He’s still tense but he lowers his snout sniffing at your hand and wrist before something snaps in him. You see your magic send out a gentle blue tendril that floats around him, his eyes following it before he leans down and nuzzles into your hand.

“Jayce” you whisper softly lifting your other hand to cup his furry face. The beast lets out a small purr like noise as he lowers himself more for you to scratch him.

“I knew you wouldn’t hurt me” you whisper and he lets out a small whimper trying to nuzzle closer.

“You’re massive though” you laugh softly and listen to the playful growl he lets out.

“Jayce?” Viktor asks still behind you and you turn to him. Jayce’s ears perk up before he walks closer to Viktor, he sniffs before he lowers himself pressing his large face to Viktor’s forehead.

“You’re beautiful, my love” Viktor whispers and you feel your heart skip a beat as Viktor gently lets his wolfish face. You smile softly at the intimate scene before a rush of pain hits you. There’s a clenching sensation in your body like someone has your spine held in a fist and you collapse to the tunnel ground in a cry. Viktor’s by you instantly in a shadow of smoke and Jayce whines loudly rushing over.

“What’s wrong?” Viktor asks worried as your eyes flash with visions.

You see Zaun taken over by a powerful man, red and black robes who lives in a dark mansion casting Zaun into darkness, shadows of smoke and red dripping blood and a flash of a fanged smirk. Then you see Piltover, there are no people only guards with a wolf symbol on their chest, you see a man in a gold and white long coat and a flash of golden eyes and sharp canines. You see hundreds if not thousands dead in a pit forgotten, you see a side of each city exploded in the middle covered in a strange whispy blue fog.

“Accept the bond” I voice says.

You gasp and come out of the vision, you cry softly at the pain slowly leaving your body, you feel Viktor hold you close and Jayce’s large wolf head on your lap. Your hands go to his head fingers going through the fur as you cry softly. Those men, Viktor and Jayce on either side of this land, all that death and decay. You hold Viktor’s hand in your free one and gasp and tremble.

“Breathe, you need to breathe my sweet” Viktor says soothingly as you try to control your breathing.

“That’s it” Viktor says softly.

“In and out” he prompts.

“I saw something” you say panting as Viktor frowns and Jayce’s wolf head turns to you a little more in your lap.

“Zaun, in shadowed darkness and blood, ruled by you” you say to Viktor tears in your eyes and he frowns.

“Piltover in gold and white armour with a wolf head, no people just guards everywhere led by you” you look to Jayce his ears flattening as he nuzzles into your hand more.

“A large explosion in between the two city’s, with a strange blue wispy fog, like my magic” you say breathless feeling Viktor wipe your eyes.

“And words, accept the bond again, what bond though? I don’t know what it means” you let out a small overwhelmed sob.

“Is that our future?” You cry.

“Take a breath” Viktor orders gently and you shake your head till he cups your face forcing you to look at him. You sigh and take a deep breath.

“Good, this vision you saw is with me and Jayce?” He asks and you nod.

“Accept the bond” he ponders thoughtfully as Jayce whines in your lap.

“Your whining isn’t words” Viktor snips lightly and you smile weakly.

“We’ll talk about it once we’re home ok?” Viktor says and you nod making a surprised noise when his lips press softly against yours. Jayce begins to lick your hand and you let out a small giggle and disgusted noise.

next part ->

[secretly-dum]

Could I get a Joel miller x reader fic where the reader gets her period and her past partners always made her sleep on the couch bc they thought it was gross and Joel is just like wtf at someone treating his daeling like that?

Come Back to Bed, Please?

pairing: joel miller x AFAB!reader

genre: romantic fluff <3

summary: you get your period and freak out over what Joel’s reaction could be.

warning/contents: reader has a period, blood mentions(obv), Y/N is used, AFAB reader, mentions of past relationships, it gets a tad bit angsty.

additional notes: ty for the request!! Im actually AFAB(I identify as agender btw) so I can relate to this 😭

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Your stomach starts to hurt and you immediately realize what time of the month it is. You rush to the bathroom and grab your stash of pads underneath the cold sink.

Knock, knock.

You completely forgot about Joel..

“Uh..Y/N? You..you alright…?” Joel questions worryingly, thinking the worst that could possibly happen to you.

“I’m alright…I’m just on period!” You yell out nervously, hoping that he wouldn’t make a snarky remark or say you’re disgusting.

“Alright, just tell me if you need anything.” He says and you hear him walk away. Fear washes off of you, but confusion starts to settle in when he didn’t give you the reaction you thought we was going to give you. Cleaning yourself up, a cold darkness settles outside, indicating that you should start to go to rest.

“Took Ellie to sleep, she told me to tell you ‘goodnight’” Joel says chuckling softly and you smile.

“Well, I’m tired too. Think I’m gonna head to bed now.” You say as you pick up your pillow and a blanket from you and Joel’s shared bed.

“Woah woah woah! The hell are ya’ doing?”

“Picking up my stuff…?”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I’m on my period, dummy.” You nonchalantly reply, and lay down on the couch. Joel looks at you with the most confused expression ever and realization hits you like a truck.

“That don’t mean you have to sleep on the couch.” His southern deep accent breaks the short silence between the two of you. Opening your mouth, your voice seemingly disappears from your throat, and now you’re the one confused.

“But that doesn’t…that doesn’t make you disgusted? Or something? Doesn’t that bother you?” You say, barely above a whisper.

“No…? Y/N…god dammit.” He pinches the bridge of his nose making you even more confused.

“Wha-“

“I’ve dealt with all sorts of blood before. I’ve seen clickers in front of me, and those shits are nasty. You really think blood like that is gonna bother me?”

Now that he says it, that really doesn’t make sense. His statement lingers in your head for a while before you say something.

“Well- I guess that’s just a reaction I get a lot. My past partners didn’t like the fact that I naturally bled, so they usually made me sleep on the couch.” You admit, looking down at the floor to avoid looking at Joel’s face. He stays silent longer than usual and you look up to see him being shocked.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You giggle.

“That’s fucking absurd? No one should treat you like that, ever. They’re lucky I don’t know who they are.” He says walking to you and pressing his forehead against yours, pinning you down on the couch. A warm, fuzzy feeling enters your heart and you let your left hand trail up to his cheek. Moonlight hits the floor, brightening the living room.

“It’s not that serious Joel.” You say, playfully rolling your eyes.

“It’s that serious to me, you’re…you’re human. It’s something that happens naturally, if they don’t like that then you should’ve left them.”

Your gaze at him starts to turn blurry as tears show up in your eyes, you kiss him and he unexpectedly picks you up bridal-style. You squeal out his name and he tells you to ‘shush up’. He gently places you down on the bed.

“Get yourself comfortable, I’ll be back in a minute.” The covers of the bed get on top of you and Joel leaves the room.

A few minutes passed, where is this man? you thought, and he walks in the moment you stop thinking.

“U-Uh..H-Here..” you grab a mug out of his hands and embrace the warmth of it.

“What is it?”

“Tea…it’s from a uh..tip that Tess told me that would help with cramps..” Red tints his face, but luckily from the darkness it’s not visible.

“Aww Joel, you didn’t have to do that!” You say as he steps in bed, you take a few sips from the tea and place it down on the table next to the bed. Joel slips more under the bed and fully gets comfortable, and you position to be the big spoon. You arm wraps around his back and you feel Joel kissing your shoulder.

“I love you, don’t let anybody tell you different.”

“Joel…

I love you too.”

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

[thevoidstaredback]

How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have

In Danny's defense, dying scared the hell out of him. Living in a house of ghost hunters was a bad idea, so he left. It didn't matter that they were family. He was a ghost living in a house of Ghost Hunters whose life's work was the very thing that killed him in the first place. He died turning on the portal his parents had spend nearly thirty years working on with two witnesses to his demise. The natural response was to destroy the portal and leave without telling anyone.

He didn't get to that point, though. The first few months after The Accident had been constant ghost attacks, one after another. Danny had tried t understand what was happening, but between his friends on some level denying his death, the ghosts attacking on sight, and the powers he was developing not getting themselves under control, he was reaching his breaking point.

On top of all of it, the portal destabilized.

No one had been in the lab, thank god, but the ghost portal collapsed in on itself. The running theory his parents had was that the ghost boy had been the one to break it. Danny's running theory was that the constant back and forth and overloaded the system. No new actually knew what had been the thing to turn it on in the first place, so no one could actually prove anything either way. At least, that's what Danny hoped.

Danny knew, in the deep recesses of his mind, what to do to get it working again. He knew what to do to keep it open if he so chose.

It had never been his choice in the first place.

Danny had known it wasn't entirely safe for him when the house started to turn on him, but that had only been solidified when the portal had gone down, Jack and Maddie Fenton doubled down on hunting down the Ghost Boy. He was the only ghost left in Amity Park, so he was the only one the trackers would lock onto.

Six weeks before he turned fifteen, Danny left his home. He didn't tell Jazz or Tucker or Sam, and he most certainly didn't tell his parents. Quietly, he packed his things - only those of which that would be easy to carry - and left. He didn't bring his phone or laptop with him. He thought about leaving his wallet, but figured that'd be useful to him.

The last thing he did before leaving Amity Park was go to the police station and tell them he was leaving willingly. He refused to elaborate as to why. They didn't need to know that. He didn't tell them where he was going, either, just that he was leaving.

It was an accident that he ended up in Bludhaven. Four weeks of traveling had tired him out. His powers only making it worse. He was low on money and food, he'd been sleeping on benches and in alleyways, his clothes were all filthy, he hadn't showered in days- He was ready to collapse.

Bludhaven, from what he understood, had a much smaller homeless population that her mother city Gotham, but it was still a lot of people. Particularly homeless youth. Danny was just another kid in an alley when he'd finally collapsed.

It took three days of sleeping behind a dumpster before anyone noticed him. In that time, he'd only woken up once. Not having eaten in a while, he had no waste to expel, so his body had focused on keeping he rested before allowing him to wake up. That was when he'd realized the actual danger he was in.

He had no idea if human weapons could still work on him or not, and he was not trying to figure that out any time soon. So, before the group of armed guys who'd just come into the alleyway noticed him, Danny let the invisibility wash over him before he flew up and away.

On the rooftops is where he found the city's vigilante. He was dressed in a black suit with blue accents and a black domino mask. His weapon looked like a broken bo staff and was strapped to his back.

Danny was not inclined to meet this man, but he'd never seen another hero in action before! Sure, he knew they existed, but he'd never actually gone looking for any. No one in Amity had, actually. It was a peaceful place. Well, until he opened the portal on himself, but that was hardly his fault.

Sure, he wasn't going to meet him, but maybe following him around wouldn't hurt? As long as he didn't get caught, he should be fine. It was only for the night, anyway. He'd probably never see this man again after this.

At least, that was the plan until he accidentally followed the man home at three in the morning. In his defence, though, he didn't know that it was that early or that Nightwing - as he'd heard a few guys call him - was going home! Regardless, he was going to take this to the grave. He was going to leave Bludhaven come dawn and he was never going to tell anyone the he knows where Nightwing lives.

Again, that was his plan. Danny ended up falling asleep on the rooftop opposite the building Nightwing lived in. He slept through the day, only waking up when rush hour foot and road traffic got too loud to ignore. Just as he was getting ready to leave the rooftop, he spotted movement in Nightwing's apartment.

Now, he couldn't even begin to say what had made him stay, but he did. He sat back down and watched as Nightwing moved around his apartment.

It was messy, messier than he'd have expected, but he wasn't one to judge. What really caught his attention, though, was the uniform Nightwing was wearing. Now that begged the question as to why the hero - vigilante was probably the better term here - fought crime at all hours of the day. Why approach the problem both legally and less legally? Why align yourself both ways?

Danny was always a curious boy when something sparked his interest.

He was swift in his movements as he pulled out the binder of paper and scholork he'd taken with him. Opening up to the first blank page, Danny started to write.

He was a hero, whether people thought of him as such or not. He only ever wanted to help. Maybe he could help this guy. Maybe he'd feel some kind of accomplishment if he managed to help Nightwing.

Step one is to observe.

Part 2 Part 4

Tag List: @flame-343

I need to point out that I have gone off of the original prompt, if that wasn't already obvious. In the og prompt, Danny is an adult. In this one, as I continue my take on it, Danny is a child. I didn't mean for it to happen, but the words don't listen to me, I listen to them.

[kjupchurch-xx]

⭐️ Perfect ⭐️

                            July 26th, 2024

                       Los Angeles, California

                Deadpool & Wolverine Premiere

Tonight was the night we'd all been waiting for, the night we've worked so hard for. Tonight was the premiere party for Deadpool & Wolverine. I'd been working with the director, Shawn Levy along with making sure Hugh and Ryan had everything they needed while on set. I developed a super close friendship with Hugh and Ryan during the long filming process. I'd also gotten close with Blake, Ryan's wife. To be quite honest, everyone on our crew is probably the only people I'd consider friends since moving to Los Angeles four years ago.

I've done several films as a director's assistant over the last three years, but this film had been the greatest project I'd been apart of. Blake and I were at my home getting ready for the premiere while Hugh and Ryan were with Shawn preparing to meet us at the premiere. Our stylist came by earlier to finish up Blake and I's hair and makeup. They had us both sporting cute up-dos with a more natural makeup look with lighter neutral colors.

"I wonder what the guys are wearing tonight." Blake said while slipping into her beautiful red dress.

I shrugged, grabbing my black dress, sliding it on, "I don't know. Shawn wouldn't say."

She chuckled, "He never does. Did your ex finally stop blowing you up? Wasn't he trying to like show up on set some of the days we were filming?"

I rolled my eyes with disgust, "Yes, and yes. It's so funny how you ignore someone when you're with them and cheat on them but once they leave you on your ass, you want their attention."

We grabbed our stuff and headed towards the door as we saw our ride pulling up the driveway, "Have you met anybody you're even interested in yet? Best way to get over someone is to get under someone else."  She smirked.

I laughed, shaking my head as we climbed into the SUV that was picking us up to shuttle us to the event, "Shut up, Blake. You're stating to sound like your husband."

She laughed, smiling at me, "You say that like it's a bad thing."

I looked at her, sarcasm dripping through my facial expression and my voice, "It is."

She took a hesitant breath, "Seriously though, someone asked me about you."

I looked at her curiously, "And who would that be?"

She smirked, "Hugh. He was at our place the other night while you and Shawn stayed behind to finish up cutting scenes."

My jaw dropped, "What did he say?"

She shrugged, "He just asked us how long you'd been single and if he seemed like your type. He said he thinks you're gorgeous."

I turned to face her, completely flabbergasted, "You are so full of shit, Lively."

She burst into laughter, "Ask Ryan!"

I widened my eyes, shaking my head, "He's more full of shit than you are!" I failed to contain my laughter at this point.

She giggled, "Just watch. Pay attention to how he looks at you at the premiere. You'll see."

I playfully rolled my eyes, "Okay, Blake."

Had Hugh actually talked to Ryan and Blake about me? He was a nice guy. We'd become friends since we met on set over a year ago. We'd done some press together and make each other laugh, but for some reason, I doubt he'd be interested in me. Not that there's anything wrong with me, he's just one of the biggest A-List celebrities in the world. He's also not even one year out of separation from his wife of 27 years. Dating is probably the last thing on this man's mind.

The rest of the ride was pretty quiet. I couldn't shake my thoughts. I think he's handsome, he's absolutely ripped and his personality is out of this world. His accent is pretty sexy, too.

As we pulled up to the premiere location, Blake and I exited our vehicle, "Let's go, girls." Blake said, channeling her inner Shania Twain causing me to smile.

"Where's the boys?" I asked as we walked down the corridor.

Blake checked her phone, "They're waiting to step onto the red carpet. Which is..." she trailed off while looking down the corridor, "Right down there on the left."

I nodded, trying to hide my nerves. I've been on other movie sets, I've worked with other stars but I've never done a red carpet event. What if I fall and bust my ass? What if my dress malfunctions? So many what-ifs. As we arrived to the end of the corridor, I see Hugh, Ryan and Shawn waiting for us. Blake walks over to Ryan and they share a quick kiss.

"Anyone else feel like a 3rd wheel?" I jokingly said towards Hugh and Shawn, causing Shawn to shake his head and laugh, "Every time I work with these two." He said.

Hugh hooked his arm around mine, "You can be my date tonight." He gave me a smile.

I blushed, looking towards Blake as she gave me a silly 'I told you' look while hooking her arm around Ryan's. "Ohhhh, Big Deb's gonna be pissed!" He spat jokingly causing us all to laugh.

Hugh shrugged, "Oh well. She's the one that wanted to end things. Time to move on. Plus, I don't want to be the nerd showing up without a date." He said with a laugh and cheeky grin.

Ryan looked at me, "Fuck you, your first time on the red carpet and you're going as Hugh Jackman's date. I had to fondle his balls just to get him on this film. You lucky, lucky girl."

I shook my head, about to ruin my 2 hour makeup job from tears hitting my eyes at this point due to laughing so hard. "Guys, I'm pretty sure we need to go out there." I chuckled pointing towards the doorway that led to the red carpet.

We all nodded in agreement and made our way out. The sound of the thousands of photographers, fans screaming and journalists on the red carpet filled my ears. I felt Hugh tighten his grip on my arm, whispering in my ear, "Don't be nervous, you're gonna do great!" Causing me to smile.

We all posed for pictures as the reporters went wild. Hugh had not been seen in public with anyone since his split last year, so this was a big deal. The movie we'd all worked our asses off on was a big deal. The shouting was unreal and unbelievably loud.

Blake and Ryan went to another spot to do solo photos, leaving Hugh and I to ourselves on the carpet. A reporter took this as his perfect moment to approach us with rapid fire questions I was bracing myself for.

"Hugh. Kaitlyn. How does it feel to be on the red carpet tonight?" He asked, shoving the microphone into our faces.

We at looked at each other, "It feels great, mate. Glad to be here." Hugh said with a smile.

"Like he said, we're honored to be here." I said with a big smile.

"Kaitlyn, this is your first time on the red carpet." The journalist said matter of factly.

I nodded in agreement, noticing Hugh has not taken his eyes off of me. "It is."

The journalist continued to pry, "First red carpet and you're on Hugh Jackman's arm, how does that feel?" He asked.

I blushed, "Ryan Reynolds paid me to be his date. Someone had to take one for the team." I smirked, causing the journalist and Hugh to laugh.

As we continued our walk down the carpet, Hugh moved his hand from my arm to around my waist. We talked with many more journalists and posed for hundreds of photos before heading off the carpet to the back of the venue. There were some artists that were due to perform for the event. Some of them included Ed Sheeran, Taylor Swift, Jelly Roll, etc.

Hugh looked over at me, "Noldsy paid you, huh?" He joked.

I joked, "Only a few hundred."

He playfully gripped his chest, "Ouch."

I threw my hands up signaling defeat, "If it helps, I'm glad I took one for the team and you weren't stuck holding Shawn on the red carpet."

He grimaced playfully at the sight, "You're certainly the prettier one."

I snickered. "Am I?"

He nodded with a cheeky smile, "Loads, sweetheart."

I'm starting to think Blake may have not been as full of shit as I'd thought. We made our way back to Blake and Ryan catching up in the crowd to watch the musical entertainment of the night. Taylor Swift took the stage first, causing Ryan to fan girl. Ed Sheeran came on right after, all was great until he began performing his hit song 'Perfect'. All of the couples in the crowd had begun slow dancing. It was a romantic, sweet song but being single in a crowd of couples was depressing.

I felt a presence behind me as a hand made its way to my lower back, "Care to dance with me?" I heard in an Australian accent.

I looked over my shoulder to see Hugh smiling a bit nervously. I turned to face him and gave him a nod and small smile, allowing him to pull me into his arms for a slow dance. We both swayed to the song, singing along, never breaking eye contact. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hoping he'd kiss me. I could tell he was thinking about it as his eyes kept trailing from my eyes to my lips as he held me close, continuing to sway to the sound of Ed Sheeran serenading the crowd.

I slowly bit my lip as I noticed his eyes glance at my lips again. His face slowly coming closer. I could feel Blake and Ryan's gaze on us wondering what was about to happen. Did I even know what was about to happen? Did I want to know? Before I could process any more thoughts of my own, I felt his lips on mine. They were soft and he smelled so damn good.

I know we're standing in a room full of hundreds of thousands of people, but in this moment, it feels as if he and I were the only two people in the room. The kiss was slow and passionate.

He slowly pulled away, still swaying me and looked at me, "I'm sorry, but I've had a crush on you ever since we began working together. I've wanted to ring you so many times and tell you, but I didn't want to complicate things on set."

I smiled pulling him for another kiss, nibbling on his bottom lip before pulling away, "Ryan actually didn't pay me to be your plus one."

He chuckled, "I know."

I looked up at him, "Can we go somewhere else? Somewhere more private?"

He nodded, grabbing my hand, leading us through the massive crowd of people. As we made our way down out of the concert venue back to the corridor, we noticed Blake and Ryan already ahead of us.

"Ah Pal, gettin' lucky, huh?" Ryan smirked.

Hugh and I laughed, "We are too. It's okay. Embrace it. Embrace the amounts of great sex you're about to have." Ryan continued while nodding his head as if he were a love guru.

"Goodnight, Ryan." We both said in unison watching Blake, who was unable to control her laughter at this point.

Hugh and I made our way to the car and of course couldn't escape the sea of paparazzi. Except this time, we didn't pose for pictures and continued to the car. There were pressing matters that needed to be attended to first. Once we got into the car, we instructed the driver to take us to my house.

Hugh rested his arm around my shoulders, "How long have you known?"

I looked at him, confused, "How long have I known what?"

He looked at me seriously, "That I have a thing for you."

I shrugged, "I actually didn't. Blake mentioned it to me earlier, but I assumed she was full of shit. Kind of like the time you told Ryan to come to your Christmas party in an ugly sweater so he shows up and everyone else is in Dior."

Hugh laughed, "Love, you're anything but an ugly sweater at a party full of people wearing Dior."

I began laughing, "You get the point."

He gave me the boyish smile that had melted my heart since the first time I saw him onscreen and pushed a fallen strand of hair behind my ear, "You are the most elegant, beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on."

I blushed, "You're not so bad yourself. I've actually had more of a school girl crush on you since the first X-Men movie."

He smiled cockily, "Really?"

I nodded, "Really."

He pulled me in for another kiss, this time pulling me onto his lap, deepening the kiss. I could feel his erection growing beneath me, causing me to pull away so we didn’t cause our driver to have a wreck before we made it back to my place.

“So what do we do now?” I asked casually, looking at him.

He shrugged, getting close to my ear, whispering “We’re going back to your place first, then I’m going to fuck you into the middle of next week. After that, we’ll cuddle. I’ll make you pancakes in the morning and after that, you’ll never want to leave.”

I chuckled pulling him into another kiss.

[dilftaroooo]

tw: degradation + dubcon

Robber!ghost who intrudes your home in the wee hours of the night — duffel bag in hand, he stalks his way through the back window of your parents' home. The owners decided to take a vacation to the Bahamas as their nice getaway, thanks to the heavy research Soap indulged himself into before letting Ghost go on the mission.

Robber!ghost who infiltrates the master bedroom in search of the luxurious jewelry and gems stashed away in the tiny, little safe they have poorly hidden in the depths of their shared closet. He's quick to warm the shiny goodies in the palm of his hand before gently placing them in his duffel bag.

Robber!ghost who then walks into a room filled with baby pink and lace bedding to continue fulfilling his own greed only to stumble across a body resting elegantly upon the white sheets of the queen size bed — "Bloody hell..." Soap specifically told him everyone would be out of the house so why was this broad sleeping soundly on her sheets as if though her home wasn't getting robbed?

It isn't until robber!ghost takes a focused glance at her vulnerable state to suddenly realize just how gorgeous she was laying there, mouth agape and releasing soft snores with almost every inhale. Her hand splayed across the width of her stomach as she grins at whatever dream her pretty head blesses her with.

Robber!ghost who can't help but steal a taste of her. It'll only be a little bit as he hovers over her to take a soft whiff at her neck — his nose overflowed with daisies and peonies and hints of vanilla. She must've been fresh out the shower because no one can naturally smell like that unless she is an exception to the rule due to how sweet she looks.

Robber!ghost who mildly regrets his decision as you wake up from your slumber, eyes shot wide open as you take a moment to drink in the dark figure with the skull balaclava in front of you. If you hadn't known better you would've thought your time on God's green earth was up and the grim reaper came to fulfill his duty by dragging you with him. His hand covers your quivering lip as he reminds you repeatedly that he wasn't going to hurt you. He would never think of such a thing.

Robber!ghost who grunts at your fruitless struggling because your leg rubs against his groin and you gasp at the feeling of the hard object, mistaking it for a gun since it was so dark for you to see anything. Why would a thief not come prepared with a device to help threaten his victims? Unfortunately for you, this was a different kind of gun.

Valuing your life, you tell robber!ghost that you''ll give him anything for him to keep you breathing and ghost can't help but perk up at the offer. It sounds cliche but who can resist a cute, helpless women offering something so priceless?

Robber!ghost who doesn't hesitate to take it for what it is and submerge his hand deep into your pajama pants and feel your wetness. You must've liked it because the moan you set free was riddled in lascivious need. He'd rub his thumb across your slit, "Is this turning you on? Dirty whore likes to be fondled by strange men intruding her home. You're seriously enjoying this? Sick."

Robber!ghost feels good when he stuffs his meaty fingers in your sopping hole. All the fight you had in you perished when he made you come around him, squirming underneath the intense gaze of the man with the skull mask — eyes vantablack as he watches you without blinking like he's watching his favorite football team hit a goal.

Robber!ghost who leaves through your bedroom window and you follow suit as he climbs off using the rope he had in store. He looks back at you before saying "I'll be back for more, luv." His accent was thick and hefty, you let out a shaky sigh at the pleasurable sound. There was nothing else you can do but just wait.

[green-swan]

cigarette or zoot? (pt. 1) | joost klein x f1! driver (fem!reader)

in which london and smoking are synonymous with meeting a cute dutch artist

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when AVROTROS approached her about eurovision, she thought they made a mistake. max was dutch. she wasn't. her lithuanian roots were deeper than any other identity she could've carved for herself. in the end she agreed; going in their cars with max around the city of malmö, visiting a few eurovision parties and most importantly, interact with joost klein (whom she didn't know, mind you) and teach him how to use an F1 simulator. this was going to be a heavy week. thank god it was in a month, right now she had a race to win.

first came the party - london was a welcome destination for the young driver. she thrived under the busy nature of it even in what some would call late, and others early, hours. she couldn't say the same for crowds though, the moving mosh of strangers all too close to each other and trying to show their superiority (the latter was aimed at men to be fair). she did see silvester, and the two had a lengthy conversation that didn't come to a conclusion but rather stayed at "what the fuck, let's make lithuania internationally famous!" she had hoped for a good place in eurovision, if not victory, while silvester (silvestras sounded more like home) had voiced his wish for her to win the upcoming miami grand prix and not only become the first female to do so, but also the first from lithuania. the pressure was on.

unfortunately, she lost silvester after getting a drink, so what really was the point of staying in the now airless room? she grabbed her drink and went to the rooftop that really should've been closed. her short frame slumped against a railing and she lit a cigarette, making it a point to hold it between her thumb and index finger. it was quiet, and london shimmered in different shades of yellow and white. so many people, some praying, some arguing, some alone. it felt peaceful despite the harsh wind that threatened to put out her cigarette.

"cigarette or zoot?" an accented voice sounded out, breaking the howls of wind. she turned around, spotting a man in what would've been a formal outfit had it not been for the pyramid-shaped shoulder pads on his blazer. joost klein, the man she was meant to interact with in front of cameras later that month. "cigarette," she answered, "though they call them something else here," she finished with an unsure smile. "i thought we couldn't bring tobacco in here?" he questioned, with a miscievous undertone in his voice. "they didn't check me, so it's on them," the driver shrugged, "why? you want one?"

"god, yes please!"

she took out another one from her pack, put it in between her glossed lips (joost thought that the gloss suited her) and lit it before giving it to the dutch man. "you know, i once tried eating a cigarette," he started, earning an incredulous look from the shorter girl. "what? did it taste good?" her curiosity was cute, "what do you think?"

"i once nearly swallowed jet fuel," she said with sympathy, "i get it."

joost knew who she was, well vaguely. the only female formula 1 driver and the only lithuanian on the grid. so why did AVROTROS want him to interact with her in addition to her dutch teammate? by that point, the wind had calmed down, an eery silence on brink of errupting had it not been for the music blasting from downstairs. she hummed a few lyrics before he spoke up, startling her heart as if she'd forgotten that he was indeed still there.

"can i take a picture of you right now?"

"why?"

"you're pretty. you look really beautiful in this moment, and i want to capture it."

she thought for a moment. "okay, if you let me take one of you after." he smiled. (he was so going to convince her to be on the cover of his next album)

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note: jumping on the joost klein bandwagon (hehe been a fan for a while! got tickets for his europapa tour so i've been riding on cloud 9). i also love formula 1 and so thought why not combine them?

as the first paragraph indicates there will be (probably short and sweet) chapters and maybe extra ones after if this goes well <3

[python333]

im in love with your content omg😭 your writing style is just chefs kiss

can i req a reader with the tf141 being on a mission and hearing an enemy say something in british slang and they just go "what did they just say.." in comms? like a reader who doesnt know anything about slang like not even that bars in the uk r called pubs (if im not wrong) and just nods whenever a private talks in slang, and their brain is just trying to figure out what they just said?

its just a really silly plot with a silly reader :3

pardon? — python333

— — — —

synopsis just as the req says, you know nothing about british slang and on a mission the enemy speaks british and you dont know what theyre saying :3

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & reader.

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

word count 2.6k

warnings 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note HI YES I LOVE THIS REQ!! i take every opportunity i can to make fun of british people so this is right up my alley!! tysm for the compliments hjfhdjskf recently ive been getting more praise on my works and it makes me so happy i love yall. again, sorry if this sounds a little rushed or if any parts are incoherent, i wrote this at 12/1am and im both more productive and write more nonsense at this time + this one is wayyyy shorter than ones i usually do because i didnt know what else to write for it so i apologize for that as well! this is pure fluff and humor (i like to think im funny) so enjoy!!

“—eah, and now we have to camp out here ‘cause he can’t be arsed to do it ‘imself, so I feel like we should have a chat with the others, see if they’re willing to leg it out of here with us,” An enemy soldier suggests to you, his British accent thick enough that you think it might be cockney.

You cross your arms to hide your shaking hands and nod in agreement, as if you understood anything he said, and put on the same shitty British accent you’d been using for the past five minutes you’d been talking to this guy.

“Yeah, yeah, totally,” You agree, clearing your throat before asking, “You know where the others are stationed?”

“You don’t?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you suspiciously.

“Mate, all the orders I was given went in one ear and out the other,” You sigh, holding back a wince at your desperate attempt to sound more natural using British slang, “I just know I’ve got to stand out here and shoot the enemy.”

The enemy eyes you suspiciously and he takes a moment to try and read your face before he says, “I don’t think I’ve seen you before, actually. Which would be weird, if we’re in the same platoon, don’t you—” 

You sigh and quickly pull out the small switchblade you had hanging on your belt, stabbing the enemy in the neck before he can say anything else and grabbing him before he can drop to the ground, putting a hand behind his back as you half lead half drag him into a dark alleyway beside the building he was stationed outside of. 

You quickly set him down into a sitting position and take your knife out of his throat, tucking the blade back into the handle before adjusting it to latch onto your belt once again, letting out a frustrated huff as you stare at the now dead man in front of you. 

“[c/n], how copy?” Price’s voice crackles through on your ear piece. 

You push in the PTT button and lower your voice, “Copy, I fucked up a little bit. One of the guys was onto me.”

“You were there for five bloody minutes,” Gaz’s voice rings through, his tone both disbelieving and amused, “How’d he already catch onto you?” 

“The British are smarter than I thought,” You breathe out, standing up and looking around for a ladder to climb to get to higher ground before anyone spots you. You go farther into the alley and find an old, rusty ladder with rungs that look like they’d snap if someone sneezed on them too hard—perfect for climbing up.

You wrinkle your nose as your hand makes contact with one of the rungs but don’t say anything otherwise, instead wordlessly hauling yourself up onto the ladder. 

“Reminder that there’s three British people with you, currently,” Ghost’s deadpan tone crackles, his breathing heavy, as you can tell he’s whispering into his mic, “All of which are very smart.”

“I caught you reading the instructions on a box of tea bags the other day, don’t fuckin’ talk right now,” You grumble, slowly climbing up the ladder, hating the creaking noises it makes as you do. It sounds like it’s going to snap at any minute, and you try to go up as fast as you can, but one wrong move and you’ll easily slip, some of the rust that flakes off of the ladder enough to make you slip up. 

“They were circles,” Ghost says, exasperated, “I didn’t know if that made a difference.” 

“I thought British people were supposed to know everything about tea,” You roll your eyes, putting your hand on the next rusty rung up on the ladder. 

“Yeah, L.t,” Soap agrees with you teasingly, the wind hitting his mic, making it obvious that he’s running, “Thought ye Brits were s’possed to ken everything ‘bout tea.” 

You laugh quietly to yourself as you finally make it to the top of the building, the top just high enough for you to look at the few soldiers below and hear a majority of their conversations without them noticing you.

You get to the edge of the rooftop and pull the sniper rifle you’d been carrying around off of your back, glad to finally be back in your element rather than trying to get in undercover, and set it up. 

You pull the stand out and set it on the edge of the roof, and look through the scope of the rifle, lining it up so that it’s aiming directly at one of the soldier’s heads, specifically the one that was standing directly out of the entrance you originally were meant to try and get into—but doing this didn’t change much.

Regardless of if you got in or not, he would’ve died, and the others would’ve gotten in too. You getting in first was just meant to make it more efficient.

You press down on the PTT button on your earpiece as you look through the scope of your sniper rifle, keeping the aim on the soldier in front of the entrance, “The guy in front of the entrance is just standing still, so whenever you need me to, I can shoot ‘im down.” 

“I don’t think we need to get in just yet,” Price hums, “But maybe in a minute.” “M’kay,” You hum, taking your eye away from the scope, instead just looking over at the enemy soldiers. You lay on your stomach, leaning your head down a bit to try and listen in on the enemy’s conversations easier, trying your best not to make yourself too obvious.

The conversations were pretty boring and almost the same for every soldier you’d eavesdropped on, for the most part. Enemy soldiers joking around, talking about what they’ll do once they’re on leave—like they would be able to do that after you completed your assignment—and just some general team camaraderie.

The lackluster subjects of their conversations weren’t bad at all, no, in fact, you could care less what they talk about. 

It was their stupid accents you hated. 

Are you surrounded by British people everyday? Yes. Does that stop you from hating on the British everyday? No. Okay, maybe the accents aren’t stupid, but God, they had the thickest cockney accents you’d heard in your entire life, and it was making your eavesdropping so much harder, and had almost been the reason you were given away earlier.

They used slang words that you’re certain you’ve never heard before in your life, and used analogies that didn’t even make sense—you heard one of them use the words, verbatim, ‘Don’t get stroppy’. Stroppy? Stroppy? 

You narrow your eyes down at the soldiers below you, listening to a conversation they’d just started up. 

“—eah, ‘cause he can’t be arsed to do anything about it, so now we have to camp out here and wait for somethin’ to happen,” One of the soldiers scoffs, “I’m telling you, man, if I see that skull-masked bloke runnin’ ‘round out here, I’m legging it from ‘im immediately.” 

You draw your eyebrows together in confusion, but you stay silent for now. Isn’t that exactly what the other soldier said? Are they like a hive mind or something?

“You’re legging it?” The other soldier asked, sounding almost incredulous, “What happened to you chattin’ to some of the others about your loyalty and what not?” “All that’s irrelevant when the fuckin’ grim reaper rolls around and starts murkin’ people like he’s been doing for the entirety we’ve been here, mate,” The first soldier laughs, “You think I wanna be here when he does that?” 

“Don’t act like a prat about it, man—fuckin’ talking’ like you can outrun him.” “A prat? I’m not—” You tune out the rest of their argument and instead try and figure out what they were saying.

A prat? Legging it? Can’t be arsed? What the fuck? You push the PTT button on your earpiece and as quietly as you can, you ask, “I need some help. Serious help. Life or death situation.” Immediately, Price’s voice rings through, “What? What is it? What happened?” “The soldiers are British and I can’t tell what they’re saying,” You answer, ignoring Price’s relieved sigh on his end, “I need help.” “Jesus, fuck, don’t scare me like that,” Price sighs, taking a few breaths before continuing, “Alright, what do you need help with?” 

“Figuring out what they’re saying.” This time, you hear Gaz’s voice crackle through, “Well, you’ve got three British people here—tell us what he’s saying.” 

“One of the guys was talking about ‘legging it’ if he saw Ghost heading towards him, and talked about Ghost ‘murking’ people, and then the other guy he was talking to told him he was being a ‘prat’ about it and he got all offended,” You eloquently say into the earpiece, watching as the argument gets a little more heated. You can hear an amused huff from Ghost on his end and a scoff from Soap in return. 

“They’re just saying they’re gonna run away if they see Ghost because he’s been killing a lot of their soldiers, and the other guy said he was being a prat, which I guess is like…” Gaz pauses to think of how to explain the slang term before settling on, “Someone who’s kind of full of themselves, I guess. Or ignorant. Either or.” 

“They couldn’t just say that?” You muse quietly, still staring down at the enemy soldiers. 

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that,” Price’s voice cuts through, “Go ahead and shoot the guy down. I’m ready to head in.”

“Got it,” You hum, quickly putting your eye back up to your scope and readjusting it a bit before quietly warning, “Shooting him now.” 

You pull the trigger and the enemy goes down immediately, and through your scope you can see the small twitching of his body as the other soldier starts to freak out.

You quickly aim the gun at his still-alive friend and shoot him down as well, silently congratulating yourself on your good aim and continuing to look through the scope, watching as Price runs in with Gaz and a few other soldiers. 

They struggle with the door for a moment and you sigh before pressing in the PTT button on your earpiece and quietly saying, “Price, Gaz, move away from the door for a sec.”

Wordlessly, they do as they’re told, and you take the opportunity to line up the gun’s aim with the complex electronic panel on the outside of the door and pull the trigger, shooting the most crucial part of the panel, causing it’s functions to disrupt and as a result, the doors open. 

“Thanks for that,” Gaz breathes out as Price kicks open the door, his voice cut off a bit at the end as he takes his hand off the PTT button too quickly in order to follow after Price. 

“Uh huh. Of course,” You say offhandedly, taking your eye away from the scope of your sniper rifle and listening to the loud sirens go off in the facility the others break into, and push yourself up so that you can sit up straight to properly watch it. You grunt as you sit up, stretching your arms out for a moment before letting them fall into your lap. 

“Are they in?” Soap asks, curious, his voice a little strained and breathy. There’s no loud gusts of wind coming through his mic anymore, and you look around for a moment, before your eyes catch on to him climbing up a ladder to get to the rooftop adjacent to yours.

Your lips twitch into a smile at the sight of him completely clueless to your presence and you press your PTT button to talk. 

“Yeah, they’re in,” You say, watching as he finally gets to the rooftop, “Didn’t you hear the sirens?” 

You can see Soap’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion for a moment, and he looks around for a moment before finally seeing you on the rooftop directly next to his, and he looks surprised for a moment before a grin splits across his face. You see him press the PTT button on his mic as well. 

“I did, yeah, just wanted tae be sure,” He says into his mic, looking right at you as he does, “It’s a surprise seeing you here.” 

“Imagine how I feel,” You muse, almost to yourself, before looking away from Soap and speaking up, “Ghost, you don’t wanna join us on the rooftops?” 

“Absolutely not,” He replies almost immediately, making you huff out a small laugh and Soap’s grin grow, “I’m perfectly fine on the ground.” 

“Where are you?” You ask, scanning the area around you for Ghost, “I feel like I haven’t seen you this whole time.” 

“I’m just behind the facility,” Ghost hums, voice still a low whisper, “I’m gonna be heading in once Gaz and Price make it to the second floor to clean up the first, in case there’s anyone left.” 

“You’ve been behind the facility this whole time?” Soap’s voice cuts through, surprised by the fact. 

“Mhm,” Ghost hums. 

“It’s a bit boring back there, innit?” Gaz’s voice crackles through, his voice a little breathy, “You can sweep the first floor, by the way. Should be nobody left, though. Pretty sure all the soldiers were just faffing around, not doing much.” 

“Fucking faffing around?” You ask incredulously to yourself, though apparently your voice is loud enough to make Soap chuckle. 

As if he can read your mind, Price’s voice comes through, “Faffing around is just doing nothing or doing nothing particularly productive, [c/n].” 

You sigh and push your PTT button this time, talking into your mic, “You couldn’t just say that, Gaz? You had to say something silly like faffing around?” 

“It’s not silly,” Gaz says, his frown audible, “They were faffing around.” 

“Jesus, fuck,” You breathe out, laughing lightly, “It’s totally silly.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yeah it is.”

“No it’s—” 

“I just want one day where you two don’t start up stupid arguments like this,” Price’s tired sigh comes through, “Just one day, I beg of you both.” 

“Aw, Captain, we were just faffing around,” You whine playfully, the misuse of the slang making Soap cover his mouth with his hand to muffle his laughter and you hear Ghost groan into his mic. 

“That is absolutely not how you use that,” Gaz says, though you can hear some laughter in his voice—from your very non-British accent saying British phrases, you presume, a small grin gracing your lips at the thought. 

“It sounded natural to me,” You lie straight through your teeth, shrugging even though only Soap can see you. 

“You’re insufferable,” Gaz groans, making you laugh quietly, “Never use British slang again, please.” 

“What if I get a British accent? Will that fix it?”

“Nothing can fix what you’ve said today, [c/n].”

“Well that’s dramatic,” You scoff, “I’ll learn British just for you guys.” 

“Holy shit, please stop talking,” Price’s exasperated voice interrupts the both of you, “You’re both insufferable. Drop it.” 

“… I don’t think I will,” You say defiantly, making all three British people in the same voice channel as you groan in unison, the sound sounding like some sort of middle school choir trying to sing in harmony, “I’ll use Duolingo or something to learn it.” 

“British isn’t a language you learn, you muppet,” Price grumbles, making you snort. 

“Muppet?” 

“It’s someone who’s dumb and clueless and can’t take a hint, like you,” Ghost defines, “And Soap, most of the time.” 

“Daen’t go draggin’ mae into this,” Soap’s voice quickly cuts through, “I haven’t said onything.” 

“Uh, yes you absolutely did, earlier, remember?” Gaz argues, ignoring Price’s protests for him to stop arguing, “About Ghost being stupid with the tea thing?” 

“Oh, I’ll have you all know—” 

“Ghost, don’t start—” 

You listen as the once casual, teasing conversation turns into an argument and chuckle quietly to yourself, knowing that they’d be arguing about this until you all finished your assignment.