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dreamwritesimagines · 2 months

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The Eye of the Hurricane [28] - Doubts

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: An heir has many responsibilities.

Word Count: 2200

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship, mentions of sex. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

When the haze of sleep pulled off your body like a calm wave, you took a deep breath and snuggled deeper into the covers but before you could fall into the warm embrace of sleep again, your eyes snapped open.

Oh, damn it.

You were naked and—

Last night had actually happened.

You had slept with Bucky.

You muttered a curse under your breath, your ears perking up at the sound of the shower running and you sat up, your muscles sore in the most pleasant way. You bit inside your cheek and pushed yourself off the bed, then put your underwear on in a hurry before grabbing the nearest oversized shirt to put it on as well.

“Alright,” you muttered to yourself, licking your lips. “It happens, it’s fine.”

You stole a look at the bathroom door and made your way downstairs, your heart pacing in your chest. You switched the coffee maker on and perched on the stool by the kitchen island, letting out a breath.

Fine, maybe Bucky was much, much better in bed than you had thought, but that didn’t mean—

It wasn’t going to change anything. It couldn’t.

You let out a groan, burying your face into your hands and you had no idea how many minutes you stayed like that but the footsteps going down the stairs made you raise your head again, your breath hitching in your throat.

“Hey babe,” Bucky smirked at you and came closer to kiss you on top of your head, your heart skipping a beat as he did. He made his way to the coffeemaker to fill himself a cup of coffee and you swallowed thickly, then sat up straighter.

“Bucky?”

“Hm?”

“We need to talk about last night.”

He turned to you, leaning back to the counter and you couldn’t help but notice just how handsome he was, holding back your sigh of admiration before you licked your lips.

“Things sort of got out of hand,” you admitted, making him smirk again. “But I think we both agree that it shouldn’t—it cannot happen again.”

He raised his brows as if he was amused, but didn’t comment on it.

“I mean this whole thing is a business deal,” you added hurriedly. “And as I said, last night was fun—very fun but you know, I have principles.”

He tilted his head, his smirk widening.

“Do your principles give you four orgasms in one night?”

“That’s not—it doesn’t—” you stammered, a fire spreading over your face. “It was three and a half.”

“It was only half because you fainted, princess.”

You gasped. “I didn’t faint!”

“And we kept going when you woke up again so if anything, it was four and a half—”

“I’m not going to argue about math!” you said, flailing your hands. “Whatever happened—”

“Four and a half orgasms happened,” he corrected you helpfully and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Why do I get the feeling that you enjoy this?”

“Almost as much as you enjoyed last night,” he pointed out with a wink and you rolled your eyes.

“Are you done?”

“Not even close,” he said, grinning and you huffed out.

“It’s not happening again,” you told him. “This is a business deal.”

“I mean, last night proved otherwise—”

“Who hasn’t fucked a business partner at some point?” you defended yourself. “It happens, we move on.”

“Charm.”

“What?”

“I guess you’re going to pretend you weren’t jealous either—”

“I wasn’t jealous!” you cut him off. “I don’t give a fuck who you fuck.”

“Uh huh.”

“But if you are fucking her, I will divorce you,” you insisted and he shot you a reprimanding look.

“I’m not fucking her.”

“Great, see?” you said, trying to hold back your satisfied smile. “The therapist would be proud, we’re having clear communication. You’re not fucking her and we’re never going to sleep with each other ever again.”

He raised his brows.

“I give you a day or two sweetheart,” he said, that proud grin curling his lips. “Before you come begging.”

Your jaw dropped and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“You’ll be the one who comes begging,” you told him and he let out a chuckle, then downed his coffee.

“We’ll see about that,” he said and grabbed his jacket, then walked out of the apartment. You groaned and threw your head back before turning your glances to Alpine who meowed at you.

“Too much ego, that one,” you muttered and pushed your chair back, then made your way to the fridge.

Fine, alright, maybe talking to Becca and Sarah about it wasn’t going to be the easiest thing.

Especially Becca. You had a feeling Sarah was going to have o much fun with it.

“So,” Becca said as she placed the coffee cups in front of you and Sarah. “How’s everything?”

“Before we start,” you said, licking your lips. “I would like to remind you both that we’re in public so like…let’s keep that in mind.”

Sarah and Becca exchanged glances, then turned to you at the same time.

“Oh no,” Sarah said. “What did you do?”

You took a huge sip of your coffee, then heaved a sigh.

“I really should’ve insisted on meeting at a bar or something.”

“What did you do?” Becca asked and you licked your lips.

“I kind of um…” you motioned at her. “I had sex with your brother.”

Sarah’s jaw dropped while a look of complete terror flashed over Becca’s face before she grimaced.

“Bucky!?”

“Do you have another brother I don’t know about?” you asked back, shifting your weight. “Yeah, I had sex with Bucky—”

“Ew!” Becca said, grabbing at Sarah’s arm for emotional support. “Ew I never want to hear that sentence ever again—Sarah, make her stop!”

“What happened to ‘this is just a business deal’?” Sarah asked you with a knowing smile and you scoffed.

“It’s still just a business deal,” you said. “People fuck their business partners all the time.”

“Not really.”

“They do it figuratively!”

“And you decided to do it literally?”

“I didn’t decide—it was kind of a heat of the moment thing!” you said, ignoring Becca’s disgusted whine which was getting louder and louder. “And we didn’t even—Becca, grow up!”

“I am being traumatized as we speak!”

“You’ll be fine,” Sarah said and you heaved a sigh.

“It was just a one-night stand.”

“Uh huh. You’ve had a one-night stand with your husband?”

“Him being my husband is just a detail.”

“A pretty crucial detail.”

“A detail nonetheless.”

Becca ran a hand over her face.

“So what, does this mean you two are together together now?”

“No!” you defended yourself. “Are you listening? I said it was a one-night stand.”

“You can’t have one-night stand with a person whom you live with,” Becca pointed out and you rolled your eyes.

“Not with that attitude you can’t.”

“What does Bucky think about this?” Sarah asked and you pursed your lips.

“For some reason, he’s convinced that I’ll be running to his arms after last night,” you said. “Nonsense, obviously. If anyone is going to be running to anyone, it won’t be me.”

“Right.”

“Fuck his ego and fuck him, honestly.”

“Didn’t you do that already?” Sarah asked and Becca let out another whine.

“I’m like two seconds away from leaving this table.”

“Yeah let’s change the subject!” you said. “What is this I hear about Winnifred wanting to meet Leila?”

“Universe is just out to get to me nowadays,” Becca said, pouting. “First my mother wants to meet the love of my life, and then my best friend sleeps with my brother.”

“I’m sorry,” you said with a small grin after winking at Sarah. “Would I trip to Tiffany’s make you feel better?”

Becca’s face immediately lit up.

“It would actually,” she said. “Buying me jewelry is the least you can do after sleeping with my brother.”

You, Becca and Sarah shopped until the sky turned dark. After having dinner together, they both went home and you decided that since you were already at your father’s territory, you could pay him a visit. After checking in with his assistant, you told your driver to take you to the company but the minute you stepped out of the car, you saw people rushing around.

“What the…” you murmured and your phone started vibrating in your purse. You pulled it out, your stomach doing a happy flip as you saw Bucky’s name and you took it to your ear.

“Hey,” you said. “What’s going on?”

“Where are you?”

“Literally at the door to my dad’s company.”

“Good,” he said. “Just stay there until I get there, okay sweetheart?”

“Why?” you asked and he cleared his throat.

“There was uh…well, apparently Ian fucked up.”

Though the smugness in his voice was carefully hidden, it was still obvious to you and you figured he was with other people so you had to bite back your smile.

“Oh?”

“We all had some uninvited guests and as it turns out, Ian accidentally invited them, I’ll give you the details later on,” he said. “I’ll be there as soon as my meeting is over, alright?”

“Sure,” you said. “I’ll talk to you when you get here then.”

“Sounds good,” he said and hung up. You licked your lips and threw your shoulders back, then made your way into the building. After taking the elevator, you stepped out into the hall that led to your father’s office, your father’s men and some of Ian’s bodyguards waiting there. You smiled at Ryan who smiled back at you, but you both turned your heads when your father’s voice boomed through the hallway.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!”

Your father’s assistant rushed to you, holding a phone in her fist.

“Um, Mr. Stark is on the line but I don’t think he wants to be interrupted?”

“No worries, I got it,” you assured her, approaching the half open door and heard Ian’s voice.

“Uncle—”

“Do you know how much money you cost me? Not just me, but all the other bosses?!”

“The new route was supposed to keep the cops away—”

“Everyone fucking knows that route is too dangerous!” His loud voice made you flinch, making you grimace. “Instead, you let them raid the whole shipment! I thought you were ready for this—Y/N could do it with her eyes closed but you? Do I have to hold your hand through every fucking business decision?!”

You pursed your lips so as not to smirk, then took a deep breath and knocked on the doorframe, making them both turn to you.

“Stark is on the line for you,” you told your father and he gritted his teeth, then stormed out of the office, walking past you without sparing you a glance. You clicked your tongue, clasping your hands behind you as you walked into the room.

“Hard day at the office huh?” you asked Ian who narrowed his eyes at you.

“Don’t look so hopeful,” he said. “You’re still his little girl in his eyes, not the future boss.”

You could feel the anger boiling inside you but you managed to smile at him.

“You know…” you muttered. “Fucking up once is normal, everyone does that, but twice? A raid, Ian? Seriously, how many millions in total did that cost father? Not to mention the other families?”

He clenched his jaw and ran a hand over his face.

“Careful. You look way too happy about it.”

“Why wouldn’t I be happy?” you asked with a laugh. “I have no horse in this race and it is quite entertaining to be honest.”

“Your man just lost a million as well, and you’re entertained by that?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “What do you want me to do? Give you pointers so that you don’t mess up again?”

He licked his lips and pushed himself off the desk he was leaning against, keeping his eyes on you.

“It was unexpected,” he said. “That first attack.”

“Not really, the whole city is basically on fire nowadays. You should’ve expected an attack and instead, you let one shipment get attacked and the other get raided by the cops,” you tut tutted. “Should be more careful, Ian.”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “I mean we still haven’t found the person responsible for the first attack but we will. And when we do, and if it is someone in the business…” he trailed off. “Well, that would start a war, wouldn’t it? Because that means they not only went against me, but the whole family.”

Your stomach did a painful flip but you only raised a brow.

“And it’s the heir’s responsibility to prove themselves especially in times like these,” he said. “Against any attack, so trust me, when I find those people…There will be no mercy.”

The veiled threat wasn’t lost on you but you smiled calmly.

“You’re right,” you told him. “In times like these, people should see who’s capable of being the boss and who’s not. So I agree. There will be no mercy.”

He stared at you, fully aware of the threat you had just thrown his way but then shook his head.

“Ryan!” he snapped as he walked past you and you let out a giggle, then heaved a sigh and threw yourself on the sofa, flipping your phone in your hand.

“Well,” you muttered. “Tonight is going to be fun.”

Chapter 29

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prncessjaeger · 9 months

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sugarcoat ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

being the smartest girl in your school has its perks, from the free high quality lunches, to the first access of the many scholarships, to even tutoring the cutest guys (and girls) in school, like now. you watched eren jaeger, one of the best and cutest hockey players in the school, work out his math answers correctly, but when he goes and chooses an answer out of four choices, he always chooses the wrong one. “hm…”

“what?” “nothing, just finish those up real quick.” eren nodded and completed his last two questions, giving you the sheet, and as you fully checked through every answer, your theory was proven correct. “eren? uh, you’re working the problem out correctly….but you’re choosing the wrong answer choice? i’m just stating what i see…” eren looked around your small study shed you dad built for you, glancing at all the plethora of pictures, certificates, and band posters hanging on the walls, “uhh..” “don’t get me wrong, you’re very smart! but why choose the wrong answer?” you could see him biting his lip out of nervousness, and sighed sharply, “i wanted to...hang out?” “hang out?” eren nodded slowly and you carefully brought your hand up to cup his cheek, “well why didn’t you ask?” “you be…busy. and i’m with the guys all the time so-” “nah, i think you’re just too scared to ask me to hang out with you infront of your hockey friends…” eren’s head hangs low, “boy pick your head up, i ain’t mad at you, besides i guess we can hang out now!” you moved his work on a different table and turned towards him, and watched him stare at you in silence for almost 5 minutes, “so..what now?” “nothing i’m just….” he trailed off, his leg jittering rapidly. “nervous?” eren nodded again, “hm…” you got up and stood behind him, rubbing his shoulders, feeling him become less tense. you heard a small gasp from eren once he felt your hands rubbing further down his chest, wondering if eren was gonna stop you but instead he pushed you further, and you giggled in his ear seeing a tent in his lightwashed jeans. rising up, you moved infront of him, sitting on the desk and watched his brow raise.

you moved your foot up to his print, adding more pressure onto his hard on, which caused eren to grab your ankle, softly whimpering. his hips lifted slightly, humping on the heel of your foot as his hands continued to hold your foot, even added more pressure ontop of him, “f-fuck,”

his whimpers echoed in the quiet shed and while now filing your nails, you yawned in boredom, wondering when was this ever gonna end.yanking your foot away, you put the nail file down and crouched down onto the hells of your foot, coming face to face with his pre-cum stained jeans and rubbing along his thighs again, looking up at eren through your lashes and sighed, “such a dirty boy, humping on my foot like a bitch in heat, right?” noddidng rapidly, he inhaled tensely feeling your hands unzip his pants, freeing up his confined dick and sighed in content when your soft hands rubbed along the shaft.

you build up spit and spewed it righ out on his pink tinted mushroom tip, sitting up some to start a set of rhythmic strokes in which eren moaned out louder, so loud you could probably hear him outside the shed. his hips hunched up but you weren’t going for that, “nope, sit still. if you don’t, i’ll stop, okay?”

“yes, y/n-”

“yes who?” his eye peeked open, seeing that taunting smile on your perfect features and when he felt your hands stroke even faster, he breathed out, “y-yes mommy, i’ll be good for you.”

“you’ll be good for me, huh? you promise?” one hand stroked his tip with quickness while the other rubbed along his shaft slowly, and the constant rhythm switches and change ups had eren see stars, “yeah- i p-promise,” your tongues lolled out of your mouth and eren watched spit drooled down from the tip of your tongue to his, and eren felt liike he was already in heaven, seeing your seductive face practically drooling on his dick was probably the best thing that’s happened to him since…ever!

you could see him balling up his fists, knowing he could be on the breach of cumming, and once a loud “fuck!” was heard, you felt your hand being covered with ropes of cum and even some landed on your black framed glasses. you watched him come down from his high slowly, and giggled when he looked down at your face with a smirk,

“so same time next week?”

“s-sure..”

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copperbadge · 1 year

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Before I left for vacation I did my usual “tidy for the petsitter” routine, and there was some paperwork that I thought should probably get put away, so I stashed it in a storage bin I had out. Because I know me, I put a note in my to-do list for when I got back that said “There’s important stuff in the bin, remember to go get it.”

So I did, but I thought I should deal with the other stuff in the bin too, and I’ve just been popping the lid and dealing with one or two things every time I go past it. Most of it is paperwork, and I’ve just hit some records from high school that my mother recently gave to me without either of us going through them.

There’s a bunch of report cards, which are heartbreaking and hilarious. I graduated a semester early and my last semester was cleanup -- two classes to complete graduation requirements and one to maintain status as a “full time” student. Two were math-based which I was notoriously bad at, and sure enough at the midterm I was getting a D+ in one and a C- in the other. We’d just begun digital grade recording, so the teachers would keep their grades in a paper book and then log into an extremely basic database and enter the grades, which would spit out on our printed report cards. They could put in a grade plus three “codes” which would print next to our grades as status updates, stuff like “disruptive in class” or similar.

My English course, in which I was getting an A, said “Exceeding expectations” which was kind of Mr. G because I remember him and his expectations were exceptionally high for me.

The other two have the same catechism: Missing Assignments, Does Not Pay Attention In Class, and of course...Achievement Not Up To Ability. Guess now we know why.

Reading through these old cards with the cushion of time, it’s fascinating to see my young brain at work. My math and (math-based) science grades tank so hard, at the same time I was getting As or Bs everywhere else -- history, civics, econ, english, spanish. There are documented questions about whether I’m going to pass enough math to graduate high school, dated the same semester as my perfect Verbal SAT score and my fives in AP Comp and Lit. The first semester after I was put into the Gifted program, I failed Remedial Algebra.

I did say at the time, to my mother and my teachers, there’s something wrong here. My mother, in her defense, had her hands full with my brother; my teachers just didn’t know what to do with me. The school district was broke and didn’t have disability testing available. By the time I got to college I’d simply internalized the idea that I was a neurotypical kid who got stubborn when asked to do something I found pointless and boring, and that was a personality flaw to be corrected, not a symptom of something bigger. My therapist for my last few years of high school agreed, and thought I should probably learn more anger management techniques. Although it turns out you can’t breathing-exercise your way out of undiagnosed ADHD.

In any case, here in 2023, there’s no solution or tidy resolution or anything to be done about it, it just is what it is: a sheaf of paper from the late 90s about a smart fuckup who could have used a hand. I’m here now, alive and employed and medicated and a homeowner, so it’s a bunch of numbers that don’t mean anything. I’ll scan them into my digital archive, then toss the paper and never look at the archive again, probably.

Achievement not up to ability. Boy, no kidding.

#sam has adhd #archive

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rainybubbles · 6 months

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10 A.M- Ghost x plus size reader

-Summary : Every day on leave Ghost watches his neighbor at 10AM during his smoke break. Will it lead to more ? (yes, especially with Johnny involed.)

-(Sorry in advance, English is not my first language, so sorry if it's bad or OOC. And I've posted it on ao3 months ago, so it's normal if you feel like a déjà vu)

-10 am. The ballet was starting.

-A foot missing a step, a groan of pain, clothes thrown on the ground, and an apple bitten into hastily. Breakfast was beginning, and the curtain rose, giving Simon the perfect view of his neighbor's daily spectacle across the landing.

-Eyes so sunken they rivaled his own, hands with nails cut short—Simon wondered why so short, perhaps their job? A habit? And their body, all curves.

-That's what had caught his attention in the hallway the first time.

-Such a ominous building welcoming such a pure ray of sunshine like them, Simon couldn't help but bask in their warmth from the shadows.

-A glint in a corridor had eventually become a routine. When Simon smoked on his balcony, they would open their curtains, and slowly, without knowing it, their routines became intertwined at certain hours of the day, briefly filling Simon's respites with a bit of humanity.

-"What are ye lookin’ at?"

-"Nothing that concerns you, Johnny."

-"L.T, come on." Johnny, curious, stepped onto the balcony, but they were already gone.

-"I’ve put up with you enough, stop pokin’ your nose in."

-"Ye volunteered when Price asked who could help me with my cast during our leave. Because Gaz was with his fiancée and Price with his sister. That's friendship."

-"Pity," Ghost corrected him.

-"It still means I make ye feel things, L.T."

-"Yes, and it's exasperation."

-"Seriously, what were ye starin’ at? I mean, apart from the poor garden, there's nothin’."

-Simon ignored him. One word and he knew what Johnny would say.

-"Talk to them. You have nothing to lose."

-Worse, the Scotsman might set up a situation where he'd end up stuck in an elevator with them. The explosives expert knew much more about physics and math than he let on.

-"By th’ way, have ye ever had someone in yer life, L.T.?"

-“…”

-"I see, we're playin’ neither yes nor no?"

-"We're playin’ 'no personal questions.'"

-"I'll tak’ that as a yes. Ah wonder whit yer type is? Redhead? Blonde? Brunette? Tall? Short? Or maybe brown, green, blue, gray eyes?"

-"People who don't ask questions."

-"Damn, rejected like that."

-"That's enough, Johnny."

-"Okay, I… would ye introduce me if ye ever had someone in yer life, no?"

-"No."

-"What?! Come on, I'm adorable!"

-"And invasive."

-"I left a sock lyin’ around one time." Soap remembered the incident.

-"In a frying pan."

-"It was an accident."

-Ghost sighed. His gaze shifted to the window; damn, he wished he could catch a glimpse of them for a moment, to gain some strength. As if his prayer had been heard, the window opened, their head appeared, watering their plants.

-"I see, so it wasn't just a cigarette," Johnny said with a smug smile.

-Unfortunately, that also meant they'd just watered trouble for Ghost.

-"Johnny."

-"I'm just saying they’re beautiful, that's all."

-"Not a word."

-"So… the curves?"

-"Johnny," Simon repeated, annoyed.

-"Okay, not a word."

-A silence fell, but Simon couldn't stand Soap's trembling leg.

-"One question." He eventually gave in.

-"How long?"

-"None."

-"What?"

-"We're not dating."

-"So a crush, huh?"

-"We're not in high school anymore."

-"But ye have a crush on yer neighbor like a teenager."

-"Johnny," Simon warned him.

-Soap backed off before grinning smugly.

-"I get it, I'd be the same if they were my neighbor, they seem cute," he added

-"Johnny, damn it," Ghost sighed, his cheeks slightly tinged with red.

-Soap laughed.

-"It's cute. I guess ye won't talk tae them?"

-"No. Not with our profession, not with my personality. they deserve better."

-"Even fur one night?"

-"I don't want a one-night stand, not with them."

-"I see, condemned to yearn, a wee bit sad."

-Simon didn't reply; it was his routine. Observe, analyze, and act. His strategy had been clear from the start: do nothing.

-So he finished his cigarette, hoping it would be 10 am again soon to relive this peaceful anticipation. The sun set, and it all began again.

-5 am, wake up. 6 am, jogging. 7 am, back, ready to take a shower and face Johnny.

-"Oh, sorry."

-But sometimes routines break. Simon watched his neighbor, struggling to move a too-heavy piece of furniture up the stairs.

-"Can I help you?"

-"I… I don't want to bother you, especially since you just came back from exercising—"

-"It's nothing."

-He carried what looked like a wardrobe to their landing.

-"Thanks again. I… I don't know if you knew, but we're neighbors. My name's y/n, I moved in there after Matilda. I know they wasn't… well-liked?"

-"We could say that."

-"No need to downplay it; I know they threw tomatoes at all the doors, ripped up their garbage on all the landings, and dismantled a door by mistake."

-"Hm."

-"I mean, at 80, it's impressive," y/n laughed.

-"For sure," he chuckled.

-"So, you're Smith, right?"

-Oh yes, the fake name on his mailbox.

-"Yeah."

-"Well, thank you, Mr. Smith. Honestly, I don't know how I would've managed without you. I told my roommate that having such a big wardrobe was pointless, but they never listens to me."

-"Roommate?"

-"Yeah, she lives with me. their name's Léa, maybe you've met her? Tall, blonde."

-"Hm."

-"She always wakes up late, and I wake up early, so we kind of live in the dark in the apartment, like real vampires. Perhaps you know her ?"

-"Thank you, Léa," Simon thought. Without her, he'd never catch sight of y/n on their balcony.

-"No, I don't think so."

-"I see. Do you have a roommate too?"

-"At the moment, yes, but it's temporary."

-"Oh, I see, a friend crashing. Happens."

-"Actually, he takes care o’ me," a voice said.

-If Simon could slow down his reaction, he'd be sure to see panic. Johnny, smiling, approached and introduced himself.

-"John, nice tae meet ye. This big guy keeps an ee on me, wi’ ma broken arm."

-"Oh, I see, that's not easy. Nice to meet you."

-"Ye ken, I was plannin’ tae make some muffins; I thought if ye like them, we could maybe give ye some since this guy doesnae like sweet stuff."

-"Johnny."

-"What, you don't like them?" y/n asked, surprised.

-"I… it's not my thing, that's all."

-"I see," y/n smiled. "Why not, okay, well, I mean don't poison us, but okay."

-"I'm no’ sure that would convince anyone no’ tae poison ye," John replied.

-"Maybe, but does it work on you?"

-"Aye," Johnny laughed.

-y/n thanked them and closed their door. Soap, with a victorious smile, looked at Simon.

-"Don't start."

-"We're makin’ progress, L.T, recon mission wit’ introduction."

-"This isn't a mission."

-"Of course, it is. Gaz agrees wi’ me."

-"Gaz knows?!"

-"It's the 21st century, L.T, phones are magical."

-"No."

-"By the way, if they ask for yer number, ye'll have to give them one that's not disposable…"

-"There won't be a number."

-"I bet there will be; they seem nice."

-"They thanked me for a favor; it's just politeness."

-"If ye say so."

-"Nothing's going to happen, Johnny."

-"We'll see."

---------------------

-"I was thinking we should exchange numbers! It's always handy, for dog sitting, plant watering, breakdowns, broken showers, or anything else."

-Soap looked at him triumphantly. Certainly, it wasn't y/n asking, but Léa, after accepting their muffins and inviting them inside. But Soap saw the papers with the two different numbers, indicating that y/n's was included.

-"For sure, but isn't a roommate kind o’ a hassle? I mean, I remember wi’ other folk’s boyfriends an’ girlfriends, it can get awkward," Soap asked.

-"For that, there would have to be some," Simon replied.

-"What dae ye mean?" "Well, I'm not interested, and y/n… they…"

-Léa seemed hesitant.

-"New acquaintances aren't really their thing, with social anxiety, you know."

-Simon raised an eyebrow. they had seemed so calm. He was also accustomed to social avoidance, so y/n's reaction to him surprised him, unless they had grown accustomed to his presence before. But that would mean he was a familiar face to them. Which would imply…

-That at 10 am, he wasn't the only one watching.

-A warm feeling filled his heart.

-"Why are ye smiling?" Soap murmured as they returned to his apartment. "It's bad news if they's as bad as you at talking, you'll be together when Price runs out of beanies to wear."

-"Hm, if you say so."

-"L.T, tell me, I ken ye ken something."

-"Soap, it's none of your business."

-"The code name, really?"

- "Johnny."

- "Simon."

-Neither broke eye contact; Johnny eventually sighed and raised his only free hand in surrender. Ghost nodded.

-He looked forward to the next 10 am.

________________________________

-At 10 am, with a cigarette in his mouth, they were there. their eyes on their hands. He smiled. Target acquired. How could he have missed it?

-Using his hands, he executed a slight sign of recognition. they jumped, surprised he had noticed them; he smirked. they responded with a hand waving back. He signaled for them to open the window.

-"Nice view?" he asked.

-"On such a shabby garden, no," they replied, ignoring his implication.

-"I meant the neighborhood.”

-"Well, not everyone can have a balcony."

-"Or a pretty neighbor."

-"I—"

-"Have a good day, y/n." He went back inside.

-Nothing will happen, my ass, Soap muttered as he watched him.

_______________________________

-Slowly, it became his game. Spotting y/n, signaling to them, and lightly flirting.

-It was nothing. Just a game of cat and mouse, that's all. It wouldn't lead to anything, he kept telling himself. But every day he waited for them.

-Praying that Price wouldn't call him. But apparently this time his thoughts weren't heard; Soap was sent to the base under someone else's watch, and Price called him for a mission. 10 a.m. should wait.

____________________

-"Mr. Smith?"

-Tired. Covered in mud, smelling of powder. Simon was back after three months, his eyes empty, his face covered, only his eyes remained. y/n stood in the hall, in pajamas, letters in hand, probably looking for their mail at... 1 a.m.? Who would do that?

-"y/n.”

-“ Everything alright? You're soaked. You know if you have a dryer problem, we have one."

-"Everything's fine."

-"I see. I... I got worried because I didn't see you around, I wondered if something happened to you."

-His cowardly heart quickened at this concern.

-"It was nothing, just work."

-"I see, you travel a lot then."

-"Yeah, you could say that."

-"Must be tiring, never... feeling at home, right?"

-Simon couldn't get a word in. He had never thought about it, in his childhood home, his sanctuary, he had never thought about it as his home, so as he grew up, he had no attachment to a place.

-"Not really."

-"Not a homebody?"

-"Yeah, but just a bit."

-"I... sorry, I'm asking questions while you're exhausted, I'm really sorry."

-"No need to apologize, such a pretty face coming home erases all fatigue."

-they frowned their eyebrows..

-"Do you mean that or is it for Léa?"

-Simon was surprised by the sharper tone.

-"Léa?"

-"If you want to get closer to Léa, please don't use me. I... honestly, all this flirting is confusing, if it's her, then don't use me."

-"I don't want Léa."

-"Oh." y/n paused, “then why?"

-"I don't know, why do people flirt, y/n?"

-"You."

-"Me."

-"So all this time..."

-"I'm eagerly waiting for 10 a.m., y/n."

-"I-, I'm sorry, I just thought you really liked Léa, I let my insecurities take over without even thinking about that, and I apologize for that."

-"No worries, now everything is clear. Goodnight y/n and see you tomorrow morning."

-"See you tomorrow morning, Mr. Smith."

-"Simon."

-"Hm?"

-"Call me Simon."

-Maybe Soap was right; he knew from the beginning that this wouldn't just be a flirt.

______________________________

-At 10 a.m., Simon noticed a blanket on his balcony. Hand-knitted with a post-it.

-"I'm not there today, but you seemed cold in the morning, so welcome back and have a good day."

-Slowly, he took the soft fabric. Draping it over his shoulders, he closed his eyes, letting the nicotine escape from his mouth.

-He knew he shouldn't. A part of him screamed not to trust, to flee. But he was so tired. He, too, wanted to go home and have that smile.

-Suddenly, the blanket felt too cold, the nicotine too bitter, and the balcony too narrow.

-What was he doing dreaming of a normal life?

-Simon was officially dead, flesh living for a task force. He shouldn't even think of the hope of surviving long. He had given up on that. Slowly, he placed the blanket back on the balcony. The window was closing. He decided that maybe the 10 a.m. breaks weren't a good idea.

___________________________

-"You ken, it's no’ Pokémon, L.T."

-"Johnny," Ghost calibrated his rifle as the car swerved through the bends.

-"What's he talking about?" Gaz, in uniform beside them, ready for the mission, asked.

-"Our dear L.T. fled like a Pokémon facin’ its neighbor."

-"My life is none of your business."

-"Ye're missin’ something extraordinary, obviously. They just told ye it's mutual, an’ there ye are, runnin’ away. Imagine what ye’re sayin’ tae them."

-"It's better for them."

-"Coward."

-Simon looked away. It was better this way. Proof was, he was off again to risk his life for two months. No one wanted a life like this.

-y/n didn't know about Ghost, didn't know about the PTSD, about Tommy, about Joseph. He was just the slightly mysterious neighbor from the balcony.

-"They know nothing, it's better this way."

-"Maybe he's right, Soap. Some people aren't meant to be with soldiers," Gaz tried to reason.

-"He's just using runnin’ away as a defense mechanism, Gaz."

-Simon ignored the rest. The voices were blurring. He had to stay away from y/n; their warmth could burn him if he got too close.

_______________________

-Dead.

-He held the dead girl's body in his arms.

-Riddled with bullets, their poor little hands weakly holding onto Ghost's uniform in a last hope for life.

-The blood on his hands wouldn't go away. He washed, scrubbed, scraped, over and over.

-The blood remained on his hands.

-He had to save them.

-He had failed.

-The mission was a success.

-But everyone was dead.

-The coldness of the body wouldn't go away.

-The shower didn't help; no matter how hard he scrubbed, increasing the heat, nothing could rid him of the horror.

-His breathing wouldn't calm, his vision darkening, his legs trembling.

-He knew what was happening.

-Slowly he sat on the floor, the sound of water deafening, his ears ringing, the hot and cold alternating in his body, sweat increasing. A panic attack.

-"One, two, three." He repeated. Trying to calm himself, he began counting again. One, two, three.

-But the numbers tangled, and the memories seemed so real. The girl's body seemed to be at his feet. He knew it was impossible; he was in a shower, in a terrible apartment, not on the battlefield. But nothing could be done about it.

-"Mr. Smith?"

-Everything shattered. His bubble burst, and suddenly reality hit him. Getting up, staggering, he grabbed a towel and walked to his front door out of habit.

-"Yes?" he managed to say, his hoarse voice scratching his throat.

-"I'm sorry to interrupt, but our shower exploded, and I was wondering if you knew about it or if you could let me borrow yours because I... I'm a bit covered in ink."

-He opened his door completely, and...

-y/n, hands covered in blue ink, even their nose staring at him wide-eyed. Remembering his attire consisting only of a towel, he closed the door.

-"I'll get dressed and be right there."

-"Yes, I- sorry again, I didn't know you were in the shower."

-He didn't reply. Damn it, he had promised not to let their into his life.

-Putting on a hoodie and sweatpants, he opened his door.

-"On the left at the back." He indicated in a slightly dry tone. His thoughts still roughed up after his panic attack.

-Noticing that y/n wasn't moving, he frowned.

-"I wanted to know if I offended you? I don't know if I'm imagining something, but it looks like you're avoiding me?"

-Not as discreet as he thought.

-"I was busy."

-"I see. If I offended you anyway, I apologize."

-"It's not your fault, y/n."

-"Oh."

-"Just... shitty job."

-"PTSD?"

-Simon stopped.

-"The walls are thin, you can hear the girl from the fifth floor sneezing, so you can imagine that your screams at night..." She added.

-"I see."

-"My father had it too, if you ever need help, well not psychological help, that's more for a therapist, but support, I can." y/n said anxiously.

-He blew air out of his nose.

-"Military father?"

-"Cop," they replied.

-Simon noticed the underlying tension.

-"Not on good terms?"

-"Few people get along with their father, right?"

-"Some do."

-"Do you?"

-"No."

-They smiled.

-"To rotten fathers, then.

-“To rotten fathers. Now I suppose you should hurry if you don't want the ink to dry on your hands."*

- "Oh shit, yeah."

-Y/n rushed into the shower. When they returned a few moments later, Simon watched them.

-"Any reason for this ink explosion?"

-"It's ridiculous,”they said, but Simon motioned for them to sit down.

-"Go ahead."

- "I like... tattooing. I don't have the talent, but I like to try tattooing fake skins in my spare time, but my blue ink exploded so I tried to use the shower but it looks like we have a plumbing problem."

-"Tattooing?"

-"Yeah, but it's nothing crazy, just a hobby."

-He nodded.

-"Well, I'll get going." they murmured.

-Ghost wanted to hold their back. His hand reaching out reflexively, he thought better of it.

_______________________________

-"So?"

-"So what? Didn't you listen to Price during the briefing?" Ghost replied to Soap.

-"Ah’m nae talkin’ about that, but the GIL mission."

-"Gil?"

-"Ghost in love."

-"I'm not in love."

-"Hmm, so nae progress wi’ the neighbor?"

-"Soap."

-The Scot stopped. Feeling the blue-eyed gaze not leaving him for a moment, Ghost sighed.

-"We talked again."

-"Ah!"

-“Shower problem, they needed one."

-"Is that it?"

-"We're neighbors."

-"That's disappointin’."

-"Thanks, Johnny." Ghost replied sarcastically.

-Simon spared the details. It wasn't just a shower, but a shower during the two weeks of leave he had had.

-With the plumber unable to find the problem, y/n and Léa had somewhat cohabited with Simon for that brief moment. Maybe... he had shared more teas with y/n than he admitted.

-Even if he wanted to flee, to shut himself off, to reject y/n, he crawled for a crumb of their attention.

_____________

-Returning from his mission, Simon walked through the hall when he heard it. Cries echoing in the corridor.

-His landing.

-Knowing that Madeline, the other neighbor on the landing, couldn't cry due to death, it was either Léa or y/n.

-Approaching, he noticed a silhouette sitting on the doormat. y/n. they seemed to be trying to pick up debris from the floor, their hands bleeding.

-Worried at the sight of the red liquid, he walked towards them without thinking, examining their wounds. Pieces of metal and glass were in their hand.

-"Simon," they managed to articulate between sobs.

-"What happened?"

-"It's stupid, honestly, I'm ridiculous crying over this, but... a box fell and broke my tattoo machine. I know I could buy a new one, but that... it broke me?"

-Ghost was relieved it wasn't anything serious. He nodded.

-"It's not a big deal, it's your passion."

-"I know, but an artist doesn't cry when they run out of lead with their pencil."

-"Well, then they should invest in tons of tissues," Simon joked.

-They laughed through the tears.

-"It's just... everything, I guess. I'm tired, I have a shitty job, I thought I'd finally make it with my fake skins, and now my machine breaks like a sign."

-"Not a sign," Simon said. "Don't give up. Now let me look at this; we'd want to avoid infection and stitches."

-They nodded and followed Simon into his apartment. Ghost's expert hands treating theirs.

-"The tattoo," Simon began. "It's not just a passion, is it?"

-"I... it was my dream for a while."

-"'Was'?"

-"My parents wanted something safe, I didn't know anatomy, people drew better than me. At 13, I was the artist of the class, the little prodigy, at 18 I was just an artist like everyone else. I had nothing... extraordinary, so I gave up."

-Simon nodded.

-"I don't think so," he finally added, finishing their bandage.

-"What?"

-"That you gave up. You may think so, but practicing so hard, continuing to do it every day, it seems like you've always held on."

-"I... never saw it like that."

-"Plus, who wouldn't dream of being tattooed by an angel?"

-"Simon!"

-He smiled.

-"I missed... our exchanges," they whispered.

-He stopped.

-"Me too."

-"Okay, so are we starting fresh? No more running away?"

-"I can't promise that."

-"Oh."

-"I was talking about constant exchange, I've been... an asshole thinking I was doing the right thing, but it seems obvious that no matter my efforts, our paths intersect."

-"So you'll stop running?" y/n asked, their eyes meeting his.

-"For now," Simon finally said.

-"I see, cool," y/n said.

-"Cool," he repeated, squeezing their hand.

-They got up and left. Simon let his eyes wander over their curves.

-Fuck.

_____________

- "Not a word, Johnny," Ghost said, putting his things down.

-"I didnae say anythin’!" the Scotsman complained, entering the briefing room.

-"I know what you were going to ask, and no."

-"So it's progressin’."

-"Johnny."

-"Okay. Just... ye're allowed tae be happy, L.T."

-"Hm."

-Simon avoided his gaze, his attention on Price. The captain questioned Simon with his eyes, Simon indicated with the same look that he would explain later.

________________

-“Ten o'clock breaks are nicer on a balcony."

-"Really? I thought you preferred waking up in the dark and stumbling around looking for your window," Ghost joked.

-y/n laughed. "Mean. It's cool to see the other side," they said, blowing on the tea Ghost had made.

-Sitting across from him, Simon could get used to it. A morning shared together, a breakfast enjoyed. The sun bathing their face, their hair tousled from waking up...

-"Hm, better than spying?"

-"You're the one who was stalking me."

-"You were doing the same."

-"But I wasn't looking at the other with a murderous look, I thought you hated me at first."

-"Really?"

-"Yes. I mean, I'm not the sexiest view in the world, so I thought you hated seeing me when you smoked. I even tried to shift my hours so you wouldn't see me."

-He laughed. "You're the sexiest view there is, y/n."

-"Wrong, there's Megan thee Stallion."

-"Hm, second view then."

-His phone beeped. Simon sighed.

-"Is it work?"

-"Yes."

-"You're leaving?"

-"In two days."

-"I guess you can't tell me where."

-"No."

-"Or how long."

-"Hm."

-"So, two months."

-"What?"

-"Well, if you can't say anything, I can imagine it, right? Like your mask, I never knew why, so I imagined you had vampire teeth."

-"Vampire teeth?" Simon mocked.

-"You never went out except at night, you came back late, your blinds were always closed, and your pale skin, what else could I think?"

-"Ill?"

-"..."

-"Hypochondriac? Scars?"

-"Okay, my theory was dumb, no need to twist the knife, Simon."

-He snorted.

-"You're beautiful without it," y/n finally added.

-"I know."

-"Fuck you, Simon, I'm trying to flirt."

-"Hm, 'trying' is the right word."

-"Simon."

-"Fine, 'thank you, y/n', is that better?"

-"Yes."

-Simon winked at them, y/n rolled their eyes.

-"By the way, I have a package arriving on Friday," Simon said.

-"And?"

-"It's for you."

-"A gift? But I didn't do anything."

-"That's the point of a gift, y/n. Plus, I know your birthday is coming soon."

-"Léa?"

-"Your ID."

-"How did you get it?"

-"I needed to check who you were," Simon lied.

-"...Léa," he eventually admitted.

-"I thought so."

-"Happy early birthday."

-"Thank you, Simon."

-And there, Simon wanted to engrave this image of their smile.

__________________

-Alone, lost in the forest, waiting for the target, Simon wondered what y/n was doing. Was they sleeping? Had they opened their gift? Did they like it?

-His thoughts stopped, focused on the mission, with a new desire. The desire to go home.

-To go home. To y/n.

_________________

-"Simon!"

-Tired, jet lag leaving his body heavy, but his eyes squinted at the sight of them.

-"y/n."

-"I..."

-They seemed hesitant to hug him, not quite sure what to do. Simon wanted it.

-"Oh damn, hugging y/n, melting into their warmth, leaving his hands on their curves, their thighs so soft, their hair."

-"Hug okay?" they asked.

-"More than okay."

-"Sure? I know it's not your thing, so it's not obligatory."

-"y/n, I'm sure."

-they nodded and hugged him. their scent filling his nostrils, Simon let go of his bag, letting his arms wrap around them. An embrace comforting him, finally stopping this fatigue. Ghost could leave to let Simon come home.

-"Welcome back," y/n murmured into the embrace.

-"I'm back," he whispered back.

-"I missed you. I... thank you for your gift. I... you're crazy to have spent so much, a machine of this quality..."

-"I intend to let my second sleeve be done by you."

-y/n backed away, surprised.

-"Simon, you don't even know my tattoo style."

-"And?"

-"Imagine if I'm into kawaii? Or a cute colorful Hello Kitty watercolor?"

-"Then I'll have a magnificent Hello Kitty," Simon replied.

-they laughed.

-"That would suit you well."

-"Without a doubt."

-"I might do that when I get my certification."

-"Wait, certification?"

-"I passed the hygiene certification. It's time I stop putting myself down. If I'm a failed artist, well, at least I'll be an artist."

-Simon smiled.

-"I'll be your first fan."

-"Léa is already there."

-"I already have to fight for you, damn."

-"I'm popular, you'll have to get used to it."

-He smiled.

-"Well, I'll let you go home. Good night, I suppose." y/n smiled and went home.

-He nodded and went into his apartment. However, he stopped.

-"y/n?"

-"Hm?"

-The words didn't come. Ask them to stay for what? Tea? Talk? He felt so pathetic.

-But y/n seemed to read him and took his hand, leading him into his apartment. Guiding him to his bed, they lay down beside him. Their bodies still clothed under the sheets drew closer.

-"I didn't imagine the first time in your bed like this."

-"Really?"

-"Hm, yes. I imagined a bit more warmth."

-"The heating is there."

-"Oh, shut up, Simon, you know that's not what I meant," y/n said, laughing.

-He nodded. His hands finding their place on y/n's body, embracing them.

-"My thighs aren't stress balls, Simon."

-"No, they're perfection incarnate. So soft, trembling, they're perfect."

-"It's fat."

-"Exactly."

-y/n chuckled and relaxed into his arms.

-"Does this mean something, us?" they murmured.

-"Yes."

-Not another question, and Simon fell into a deep sleep.

-Waking up, y/n in his arms, Simon decided he didn't want to wake up without their anymore. Enjoying the brief moments of peace, he let his thumbs trace circles on their back.

-"Hey," they murmured.

-"Hey."

-"Did you sleep well?"

-"Yes."

-"Simon, you have to let me go if we're going to get up."

-"Why get up?"

-"To eat?"

-His stomach answered for him. Simon sighed and got up.

______________________________

-"L.T., how dare ye?"

-"Soap."

-"Why?!"

-"Why what?" Simon asked, irritated, looking up from his reports.

-"Ye slept wi’ them!"

-"How do you know that?"

-"Ye smell good."

-Simon frowned.

-"So, I don't smell good usually?"

-"Na, ye smell like aftershave, but now it's soft."

-"Yes, I slept with them. Need details?"

-"AYE!"

-"Well, you won't get any. It was platonic, nothing sexual."

-"...so a nap."

-"Yes, McTavish, a nap."

-"...damn it, L.T., that's disappointin’."

-"I don't care."

-"Invite me tae the weddin’ in a century then."

-"You won't be invited."

-"You love me too much for that, L.T.!"

-"In your dreams, McTavish."

______________________

-"So, a lovebird in your life?"

-"Not you too, Cap."

-"I'm just curious, Simon. I know how closed off you are."

-"They're the one, sir."

-"Nice?"

-"They understand PTSD and all that shit."

-"Hm, so one to keep."

-"To marry."

-"Good luck, Simon."

-"Thanks, Cap."

----

-"Simon?"

-Blood. y/n, dead. Simon standing over their body.

-Gasping, he stood at his door, needing to know, to touch them, to prove they were alive.

-He hugged their, checking their pulse. It wasn't an illusion; they were there.

-"Simon, five things you see," y/n murmured, understanding he was there without being there.

-"You, my hands, your doormat, your coat, and your slippers," Simon eventually articulated.

-"Four things you touch."

-"y/n."

-"Simon, focus."

-"Your hair, your neck, your hips, your shoulders, your cheek."

-"Three things you hear."

-"Your pulse, my pulse, your voice."

-"Two things you smell."

-"My sweat, your perfume."

-"One thing you taste."

-"My blood."

-y/n nodded, and Simon opened his mouth, his teeth so tight he had bitten his tongue. His breath, still shaky, was calming.

-"I'm there," y/n murmured, not moving from his embrace.

-"Do you want to talk about it?" they asked.

-"No."

-"Let's sit on my couch, better than standing at the entrance of the apartment, okay?"

-Simon didn't let go of them for a moment.

-Hours passed, nothing could calm his paranoia.

-"You haven't shaved," y/n murmured.

-Simon couldn't articulate, he just nodded.

-"Can I do it for you? I know under your mask, it must feel better when you're clean-shaven."

-He nodded again. Slowly they guided him into their tiny bathroom, shaving him precisely, calmly, in a soothing silence. His eyes never leaving their face, Simon wanted to scream, cry, shake them, show them he was broken, reject them, make them run away but...

--they were there. Not forcing him to talk, letting him slowly come back down, anchoring him to reality.

-"You know, sunscreen and moisturizer would help your skin a lot," they murmured as they applied the lotions to his face slowly.

-"Especially with your chalky complexion," they added, chuckling.

-That sound, so soft, calmed his heart.

-"Okay," he managed to say.

-"I'll buy you some."

-"...Thank you."

-"Thank you for everything, for the crisis, for the beard, for the lotions, for not asking questions, for welcoming me into your life."

-"You're welcome," they replied, understanding the implication.

__________________________

-"I got rejected," y/n murmured.

-It was 10 a.m., they were on their balcony, the rain falling, they were sheltered.

-"None?"

-"No tattoo parlor accepted me for apprenticeship. Maybe I'm not good enough."

-"Or they're just blind."

-"Simon."

-"You'll make it, y/n," Simon murmured, taking their hand.

-"Maybe, but I... don't feel legitimate to continue."

-"Van Gogh was considered worthless all his life."

-"I hope to have recognition before death, Si'," y/n said, laughing.

-"And there it is, the smile suits you better."

-"Thank you, Si'."

-"Always there."

-they nodded.

___________________________

-"Si'."

-Late at night, in front of a cheap show, they were on their couch.

-"Hm?"

-"Are you... attracted to me?"

-"y/n."

-"I don't want big words, it's just... I don't want to be with someone who loves my personality and accepts my body out of pity. Not feeling desired, I know what that's like, feeling like a second option too, and I've never... addressed the subject with you. Being with a fat person is something different, the looks of others... it's something. And I don't want to be a secret or a shame."

-Simon observed them.

-"So I've been shitty."

-"What?"

-"Because every step, every breath, every part of you ignites a burning desire in me, y/n. I've been shitty at showing it if you think for a moment that every inch of you, every roll, every stretch mark isn't something I love about you."

-their breath caught for a moment.

-"I want to touch you, taste you, let your plump thighs around my head as I kiss you, I want to feel that belly with every bounce when we make love, I want to kiss this body."

-"I- I just wanted a yes, Simon," y/n replied, their voice rising in pitch, their gaze shifting away from the sudden warmth in the room.

-"Well, you have it," Simon added, a predatory look in his eyes.

-"Yes."

-The silence stretched.

-"Aren't you going to do anything, y/n?"

-y/n leaned in.

-"Yes."

-they kissed him.

_____________________

-"L.T., thanks again for coming."

-"No one wanted to miss this, McTavish," Price added.

-"A Scottish Hello Kitty tattoo, that's not to be missed, that's for sure," Gaz said as he entered the small salon.

-The place was peaceful, comfortable. A young woman greeted them and guided them to the artist's station.

-The men settled. Soap in the chair, the others on the chairs to support him.

-"Hello everyone."

-Price and Gaz greeted the tattoo artist, but Soap spoke up.

-"YOU BASTARD! YE DIDN'T TELL ME!"

-"Soap, what's-" Price began.

-"I don't need help, Johnny, I told you."

-"Ye didnae tell me, it's horrible, I was waitin’ and ye two, ye... how long?" he asked y/n.

-"Six months."

-"SIX MONTHS?!"

-"Wait, you're..."

-"y/n, meet Gaz Kyle Garrick and John Price. This is y/n, my lover."

-"Pleased to meet you," Price said, shaking their hand. "I'm surprised this big guy managed to find someone as lovely as you."

-"Thank you."

-"Six months," Soap repeated.

-"I wanted to tell you, but we wanted to take our time and with all my paperwork to find an apprenticeship and a place, I didn't realize how time passed," y/n admitted.

-"Wait, ye’re an apprentice?" Soap asked, terrified.

-"Yes, but don't worry, I'm not doing your tattoo today. I'm just preparing the equipment," y/n joked.

-"Oh, nae that I dinnae trust ye but-"

-"Don't worry."

-At 10 a.m., lost in a tattoo parlor watching Johnny get a Scottish Hello Kitty, y/n by his side, and Gaz and Price smiling.

-Ghost had finally found a new meaning to home, and he wouldn't leave it for anything in the world.

#cod x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty x reader #simon riley x plus size reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader

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unreliablesnake · 2 years

Text

Unmute (Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader)

Summary: You're in the middle of a meeting while Simon's around.

Note: I have listened to soooo many people talking because they didn't know they unmuted themselves since covid began. And the office jargon... Don't get me started on that one.

Warnings: None. It's fluff.

With a groan you threw your phone on the desk then unmuted yourself. "Okay, why don't you take this offline?" you asked, not even trying to hide your annoyance anymore.

Your co-workers were hesitating, one even brought up that the presentation had to be submitted today by EOD. You were glad you didn't turn on your cameras today, and you were sure as hell happy you had muted yourself again when this colleague pressed on, telling you all that she needed the exact and up-to-date numbers to work with.

Your boss knew you better than anyone from the call, so you weren't surprised to hear her silence that woman by saying, "Dave, let's circle back with Julie once you get the correct numbers, please."

"Will do," Dave said with a sigh.

You began to type a message to your boss on your phone, thanking her for putting an end to this bullshit when you felt a hand on your shoulder. Leaning your head back, you looked up and saw Simon watch you with a smile.

"Is it that entertaining?"

"This is your what? Fifth call today?" he asked, his thumb drawing circles on your skin. You quickly did the math in your head then nodded, confirming his words. "I have no idea how you do this on a daily basis. I'd rather have people trying to actively kill me all day long."

With a laugh, you turned your head just enough to kiss his knuckles. "You can get used to it," you told him.

Simon leaned down to kiss the top of your head before moving his hands around your body to pull you back against him. "Can I bring you anything?" he asked.

You returned your attention to the meeting again, hoping you didn't miss anything interesting, then looked back at him. "I could kill for a coffee."

"I'll get you one."

After you flashed a thankful smile at him, Simon went to the kitchen and you paid full attention to the meeting. They were back at it again, talking about a presentation that had absolutely nothing to do with this particular meeting. You quickly checked the list of participants and noticed your boss had left the meeting while you were preoccupied with your boyfriend.

Well, fuck. You were on your own.

Angry at the woman who just couldn't shut up, you unmuted yourself and said, "Julie, please, take this offline. Let's just return to the agenda, okay? Dave, you're done, I guess. Steven, you promised to show us the Q2 financial report, so why don't you begin?"

"Thank God," you heard him whisper, but his words were followed by shocked silence. "Oh, sorry, I thought I was still muted," he quickly apologized. "Anyway, I'll share my screen in a second, tell me if you see it."

You confirmed his screen was shared and he began his presentation. Simon returned in a minute, putting the cup in front of you before placing a soft kiss on your cheek. His big palm was resting on your shoulder, the contact making you purr like a kitten.

"So what's this?" he asked, keeping his lips close to your ear.

"Our latest financial report. Boring stuff," you explained with a laugh. "Seriously, I'd rather drown myself in you than listen to this. But sadly, I have no choice."

"Honey," Simon said quietly, "I think you're not muted."

Your eyes opened wide as you checked the screen and noticed he was right. "Shit, sorry," you quickly said before muting yourself.

In a matter of hours everyone and their mother would know what you just said. Simon only laughed as he went back to reading his book, while you were paying close attention to the presentation you had just called boring in front of about eighty people.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost #ghost x reader #modern warfare ii #mw2 #modern warfare

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comphy-and-cozy · 9 months

Note

oh I have a marty thot for sure! I’ve been thinking about riding his thigh while he sits back and just watches, kinda unimpressed at the show and telling you “you can do better than that, can’t you?”

Earn It

Pairing: Matt Martin x sugar baby!reader (f)

Universe: sugar daddy Marty

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY). Sugar daddy/baby dynamic, lap dance, semi-public/risque sex, unprotected sex, hair pulling, choking, mild degradation, creampie, a little bit of cum play (lmao jfc).

Fridays are supposed to be celebratory; the end of the week, welcoming in a few days off to relax and reset. What they’re not supposed to be are stressful, non-stop, chaotic.

Yet here you are, already thinking about the large glass of wine you’re going to pour yourself when you get home; the only decision you’re planning to make for the rest of the night is red or white.

Setting your keys into the bowl on the table beside the door, you eye the pristine leather sneakers next to your shoe rack, but make no move to greet the person you already know is waiting on the couch. You knew you’d regret having the extra key made for him, that he’d show up unannounced like a poorly-timed pimple, but it’s not like you really could say no—not when you consider that he all but pays your rent.

When you round the corner, bag left on the quartz countertop (an upgrade he insisted on when you were signing your new lease), you finally offer him your attention.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he muses, glancing up from where he’s scrolling on his phone. You do your best to mask the shiver that runs down your spine when his eyes lock with yours. Based on the smirk that quirks up on his face, you’d wager a guess that you did a poor job of it.

“Hi, Matty,” you say. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“You need a new dress for the charity gala,” he drawls.

“I do, do I?”

He ignores your attitude, standing up to walk over to the island and setting the invitation in front of you. You glance it over, admiring the thick, black cardstock and gold foil detailing the casino-themed event taking place at UBS Arena next month.

“Black tie attire,” you hum. “I don’t have anything that’s black-tie appropriate.”

“That’s why you need a new dress.”

“And that’s why you’re here right now, sitting on my couch after a day from hell, full of back-to-back meetings, am I correct?”

Matt smiles again. “Already have a bubble bath going for you, my little brat. I’ll be here tomorrow at 9 to pick you up.”

You feel a little guilty for the sass, smiling bashfully at him as he plants a sweet kiss on your cheekbone on his way to the door. “Lock up behind me, darlin’.”

Goddamn him. Always knowing exactly how to charm you to get you to bend to his every will—but not without giving him the kind of attitude that makes his dick hard. A fair tradeoff, in your opinion.

That’s why you work, why your dynamic makes your relationship feel so smooth and seamless and… perfect. Except the part where he’s paying you to fuck him.

Either way, it’s how you find yourself walking along Fifth Avenue, following Matt as he leads you into stores with price tags that intimidate you so much, your cheeks get hot. He lets you browse on your own, warming you up a bit, picking out a few items for work along with a new Yves Saint Laurent purse.

Purchase after purchase. Item after item. The ease with which Matt whipped out his thick, black credit card—you know, the heavy ones that just feel luxurious—almost physically pains you as you try to do the mental math of what he’d spent today.

Finally, you follow him to the dresswear section of Bergdorf Goodman’s, admiring the ease with which he carries the multiple bags in his large hands. You feel well and truly spoiled, thinking to yourself that the dark green lace set he purchased at Fleur du Mal will come in handy later when it comes time to show your gratitude.

“This dress,” he murmurs against your temple, pressing an affectionate kiss to your skin as the fitting room attendant readies a room for you. “I want everyone there to imagine fucking you out of it.”

At this point, you’re used to his blunt and sometimes crude nature, but that doesn’t stop your skin from heating at his crass words. You can’t deny the warmth that radiates between your legs, though, at the thought of him showing you off, claiming you as his, publicly. And, well, how are you supposed to say no to him buying you a dress that’s worth more than your groceries for the month?

The selection is enormous, and you find yourself overwhelmed by the options—lace, chiffon, silk, crepe—all of it doesn’t mean much to you, so you rely on your stylist to select a few options that complement your body type. Matt sits quietly in the corner of the fitting room, watching you try on dress after dress, making barely any comment other than an occasional hum.

When the stylist leaves you to contemplate your options, you glance over your reflection, at the Alex Perry gown that stares back at you. It’s the first dress that feels right, and you can’t help the feeling of excited anticipation that fills your chest when you think about wearing it beside Matt at the gala. Maybe he’d wear that delicious gray suit that you like, the one you almost stained permanently humping his thigh like a fucking dog in heat.

“Is this the one you want?”

You do a final spin in the mirror, checking the various angles and standing on your toes to imitate your height in heels. It’ll need to be altered a bit, but you’re pleased with the way it fits your body and, more importantly, the way it makes you feel luxurious. With your nod, Matt leans forward and glances at the price tag hanging out of the back. His eyes flick to yours in the mirror, and you stew in discomfort for the few seconds before he’s sitting back, apparently approving of the price.

A wide smile forms on your face, feeling a bit like a child on Christmas morning at your excitement. You like Matt for far more than his wallet, but you can’t deny that it feels nice to be spoiled by him, to feel lavished by his gifts and special treatment.

“Think it’s time for you to say thank you, don’t you?”

Matt’s low purr snaps you out of your thoughts, eyes focusing back on the navy silk material that’s hugging your body. The corset bodice keeps you tucked in, accentuating the curve of your breasts, fabric draped across your middle and fastened in place with a large, glittering piece. But the real attention-grabber is the slit on the left side that goes up to your hip, revealing almost your entire leg.

You cast a glance at him in the mirror, a flutter in your chest when you see the way his eyes rake in your reflection. He hums, and though he told you it was your decision, you’re pleased that he likes what he sees.

“Thank you, Matty,” you say, batting your eyelashes at him. You lean forward and press a kiss against his lips, warm and soft—the kind you could fall into with ease. He smiles, crooked and patronizing as he tsks.

“Oh, sweetheart, you know that isn’t good enough. Look at all these bags—all for you. I think I deserve more gratitude than that, hm?”

The hidden meaning of his velvet words are enough to make you shiver, your heart chilling as you realize what he wants. His eyes glitter as he watches you, sees the recognition on your face and the hitch in your throat.

Your voice is hoarse as you whisper, “Here?”

Matt blinks, lazily, with a raised eyebrow, like he’s challenging to you to deny him. Of course you can’t, and he knows it. He leans back on the bench, his back resting against the wall and his legs spread comfortably. It’s a silent invitation, one you can’t refuse, and you find yourself moving to sit in his lap with a shaky gulp.

His hands weave their way to your hips, warm through the material of your jeans. “Good girl.”

With just the right amount of pressure, he encourages you to move your waist, swaying your hips as your ass brushes against his groin. He’s half hard, the bulge firm against you as you set a rhythm, listening for any other customers entering the dressing rooms nearby. The classy elevator music hums softly through the speakers while the silk covering your ass glides against his slacks in a filthy narrative.

A low hum of approval sounds from Matt’s chest, eyes glued to the way you work your hips. It isn’t long before you’re glancing behind you, meeting his eyes as he regards you with his easy, lazy gaze. Beneath the firm press of your ass, you can feel him hardening as the tick of your heartbeat increases in your throat. His signature smirk slides its way onto his face, smug, soaking in the fact that he’s got you wrapped around his finger, willing to do practically anything he asks you.

It isn’t long before he’s stiff, solid beneath you, and you feel an involuntary throb at the size of him. Every moment, you remain vigilant, ears perked for voices—or worse, the sound of someone’s gasp. It reflects in your movements, not lackluster but certainly not to your usual level of enthusiasm. There’s something about him when he’s like this—cocky confidence rolling off of him in waves, his gaze heating your skin—that drives you desperately, deliciously wild, a feral urge in you snatching control of your conscience.

But not right now. And he knows it.

He hums, displeased, and you have a split moment to register his disappointment before he’s purring, “Sweetheart, I think you can do better than that, can’t you?”

The velvet of his voice strokes the flame inside you, sending a wave of warmth between your thighs. Another throb against the stiffness under your ass. His hands remain at his sides, not offering any assistance. You can practically feel his lazy gaze on your ass, waiting patiently for you to react.

He senses your hesitation, knows the reason you’re timid—waiting for the fitting room attendant to come back at any minute and discover the lewd situation unfolding. So he changes his approach, voice honeyed and silky smooth. “Look at that gorgeous dress. Y’look fucking stunning in it, baby. But you gotta earn it, darlin’.”

You meet his gaze in the reflection of the mirror, see the glitter in them that tells you he’s serious, accepting the small nod he gives you. Bracing your hands on his meaty thighs, you resume your movements, pressing yourself into his groin with more force.

Matt’s words echo in your head as you work him—and yourself—into a frenzy. Earn it. He didn’t specify what his… end goal was, but from the glint in his eye you think it’s safe to assume it’s more than just a clothed lap dance in the middle of the dressing room.

How you ended up half-naked, thong tugged to the side, hands bracing yourself against the wall of the fitting room, you’re not sure; all you really know is the feeling of Matt’s weight behind you, so tall his face is almost out of your view in the mirror’s reflection. He’s not looking at you, instead focused on tapping the head of his erection against your ass.

You bite your lip to stifle a whine, staring at him in the hopes he’ll offer you just a glance so you can beg him silently to please, put it in. Eventually, he does, sees the desperation pooling in your eyes and chuckles smugly, pleased at the rash desire he finds in them.

“Arch it for me, sweet girl.”

Obeying, you press your ass out toward him, thinking you’d break your back right here, right now, if it meant he’d provide you with some relief. His warm palm presses against your spine, encouraging you to go further, and he hums in approval at the view you present him: expensive dress bunched over the swell of your hips, ass out, pussy dripping, eyes wanton and pleading with him in the mirror.

“You want it?” he asks, his voice so low you strain to hear it.

You’re almost embarrassed at how fast you nod, not wanting to waste any time. He smirks again, and you know he’s biting back the urge to tease you, instead just offering, in all its simplicity: “Slut.”

There’s a brief moment where he allows his words to sink in, a flood of arousal seeping out of your bare, uncovered core, threatening to drip onto the faded wood flooring of the dressing room. You’re grateful that he didn’t make you beg—he usually does—but then he’s pressing into you without warning and a loud cry leaves your lips.

Your hand slaps over your mouth to muffle the sound, but he’s already gotten what he wants out of you, a more than obvious admission of the debauchery occurring just inside the fitting room. Instead, he focuses on the warm wetness enveloping his dick, watching the way your cunt sucks him in, greedy.

Despite his reckless attitude, he’s aware of the slap of his hips against your ass, and instead of jackhammering into you the way he wants to, he’s opted for hard, deep, slow thrusts; hard enough to have a soft, involuntary sigh every time he sheaths himself to the hilt inside of you. It’s the opposite of a quickie (even though that’s exactly what this is); instead, he’s diligent, indulging himself in the feeling of your tight walls throbbing around his length.

All things considered, you’re pleased with the minimal amount of noises sounding from your stall; though your body shivers when you hear the low groan rumble in his chest. With a glance in the mirror, you can see the way he’s watching himself pull out of your cunt, biting his lip at the sight.

Matt offers a light slap of his tip against your lips before he’s jutting his hips forward, subtly, to rub his length against your clit. The sensation makes you shiver, the slickness of his shaft sliding against the tender button, and you feel the shockwaves coursing through you at the movement.

With his free hand, he gathers your hair in his fist and yanks backward, arching your back until your head is resting against his chest. The sharp pain melds into pleasure, loving the way he knows exactly how to take control over your body to have you dizzy with lust. Hot breath fans over your ear, soft and subtle pants puffing air down your neck. “Fuck yourself on it, baby.”

His warm fingers press into your hips, urging you to move; you do, seeking out that delicious tingle when the fat tip of his cock brushes against your clit, running between your folds. You hear the pleased hum in your ear, quiet, and then the chuckle that follows when he slips into you, a loud gasp leaving your lips.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he murmurs with a low groan. “So fucking wet for me, just the way I like it.”

Matt urges you to keep going, biting back another moan at the feeling of him being buried inside you. Your hips roll him in and out of you, and Matt’s hand trails over your ribcage, groping your breast on its way up to finally land at your throat, fingers curling around the base and squeezing. “Makin’ too much noise. Someone’s gonna hear you, and then I won’t get to flood this pretty little cunt with cum, will I?”

Swallowing the urge to whine with need, you shake your head, trying to tell him with your eyes how badly you want that. His lips press softly against the place where your shoulder meets your neck, keeping eye contact with you through the mirror while he angles his hips in search of the spot that’s going to have you dribbling down your legs. He knows he’s reached it by the way your mouth falls open, your brows scrunching in pleasure when the nudge of him against your g-spot has your eyes fluttering shut.

He hums again, and you know he’s pleased—both with himself for reading your body like his favorite book, and with you for being obediently quiet. The hand around your neck tightens while the forceful punch of Matt’s hips grows more intentional, aiming for precision rather than speed.

The smirk in the mirror, flashed in your direction is enough to make you shiver in his arms. “You think you can stay quiet while you come for me? Hmm?”

You’re trapped—can’t nod, can’t speak, barely hanging onto your last shred of control before you’re succumbing to the release that rips through you. Your legs shake, lungs scrambling for breath as the wave crashes over you, hands clutching the wall in search of purchase. Tears prick at the rims of your eyes, blurring your vision.

Matty’s eyes glitter as he pulls out of you, grinning when he hears the slickness between your legs.

“Love it when she purrs for me.”

It’s only when you feel hot liquid oozing out of you that you realize he met his climax, too, burying the evidence deep within your core. Your shaky legs clench together in an effort to prevent his cum from seeping down your legs and onto the floor.

Matt’s hands linger on your sides to make sure you’re steady before he’s tugging your panties back in place and swooping the dress back over your hips. He hums at the creamy drips on the inside of your thighs, swiping up to collect it on his finger. You don’t even have to be told to open your mouth, eyes fluttering shut when he presses the salty mixture onto your tongue. He hums when your lips close around the digit, sucking it clean before he releases it with a pop.

His eyes are still dark when he presses the call button on the wall with a crooked grin, and when the attendant knocks gently on the door, he says simply, “We’ll take the dress.”

#matt martin fic #matt martin x reader #hockey fic #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #hockey smut

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respectthepetty · 3 months

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Pride Petty Watch (The Untamed) 2/?

The crowd picked two blacklisted shows for me to watch during Pride, so even though the first series took me only three days to get through, the second one is taking some time since I went out this past week and touched some grass for Pride. However, I did watch an episode a day AND spotted something on sale while out and about.

Fun Fact: These are 200 pages EACH, and they only cover what has been shown up until episode five. I teach English, not math, but doing some simple addition, dividing over A, carrying the Y, and solving for X, I have guessed that this series is going to be 20 books long! TWENTY! AT LEAST! Basically, it's going to be as long as this long-ass series.

*presses play on episode six*

These idiots are drunk, loud, and fighting. They are breaking rule #36, #265, and #1. Even I know that!

When you realize you're in love with a virgin who is a light-weight and can't even drive after talking about intimacy while touching his headband. I take back everything I said about this show. It's gay. Like real gay. Gay gay.

Fuddy Duddy is better than me because I would not have taken that beating, but that's probably why he is an elite Cloud Cunt or whatever, and also why he has now been blessed with Wei Wuxian trying to cuddle in this freezing water while talking about his "extremities" shivering. Note: In the comics, we see that Fuddy Duddy is BRANDED (like as in marked by burning the flesh) and has A SHIT TON OF SLASHES ON HIS BACK (like as in whipped . . . BY A FUCKING WHIP). Basically, this Cloud Cult is batshit crazy.

These two are fighting literal demons. But also the demons are homosexuality.

THEY TIED THEMSELVES TOGETHER WITH THE INTIMACY BAND! If it was red, it'd be game over for China!

Y'all cute but your kid is still an asshole, and there is a queer plot brewing. GET OUT OF MY FACE!

They were lesbian lovers, and I will not be entertaining any other reason for all of this because only a lesbian would tie her soul for eternity to a musical instrument just so she doesn't have to admit she was wrong to her wife, while her wife goes on to train the most elite squad of wizards just to one day help her wife because she already predicated her wife would fuck up. This is love.

Correction since my boy asked AGAIN if he could harness evil power for good - One of them is fighting demons, the literal and homosexual kind, and one is embracing them both, openly, with no fucks given.

And she knows! Not about the homosexual part, but about the "finding the stone hidden in the rock" part (but probably the homo part too)

Wei Wuxian lied for you when you got out of the rock. He touched your headband. And now he has touched your soul. Stop fighting it. Embrace this. It's Pride Month.

Wei Wuxian drinks, parties, talks shits, and backs it up. I'm getting flashbacks to Spring Break in South Padre. It was the best of times. It was the worst of times. But the hands were always ready to hit their mark.

My boy is Catholic. Fuddy Duddy took 300 hits earlier to uphold the integrity of his Cloud Cult or whatever, but my boy was told his punishment and is merely going through the motions since he doesn't regret laying hands on his future in-law. He said "tell me how many Hail Marias I need to say, so I can go play with the ants and get a tan." Same.

First, your best friend brought the bird into the class and now you took the bunnies to remind Fuddy Duddy of "those four amazing hours you spent in the hot tub together after Winter Formal." Y'all are schemers, and this will cause problems later. I've taught too many freshmen. Y'all need to be separated before you plot the end of the world and animals have to be sacrificed. I see the signs.

Who is going to kill this man? WHO?! Let it be a woman because he needs to be reminded he is insignificant and useless.

Oh my God, they found each other! I knew my boy would go after his boy, but for his Bird Bestie to spot them too?! These two idiots are going to cause havoc and hijinks.

Y'all are so Romeo and Juliet coded, it hurts my feelings. Girl, you're going to die and he is going to be sad about it. But can you kill that red asshole first? Please.

Sir, now you and I both know some shit is about to go down because that florist's house was crispy fried burnt, that woman outside was creepy as hell, and these two are over there chatting about soul snatchers. GET OUT OF THERE, FD, AND TAKE THE ANIMAL BROS WITH YOU!

FD might have the brains and the silencing charm, but my boy got the moves. He has that Spider Man magic string thing, he has the Shrek gingerbread men, and he keeps making spells out of thin air. Maury, who is his daddy? God?! THE DEVIL?!

SHE CAN PLAY A MUSICAL INSTRUMENT TOO! Hold up. HOLD UP! Fuddy Duddy's brother played it to calm everyone down. FD played his to subdue the zombies. And now she did too, but my boy's flute playing skills not only calmed the zombie, but controlled him. Did he learn it from her?!

Girl, what are you doing at the devil's sacrament?

Wen Qing has been holding off this fucking bird and these zombies all night, and these boys have been doing what at their slumber party? Braiding each other's hair? She better be the one to kill that red asshole. She deserves the body count. *wink, Jiang Cheng*

The bird needed to go, but this is what I'm talking about with him and his bird bestie. Homie closed his eyes and felt his feelings because FD told him to, then pretended to be dead just so he could kill that bird. It's smart as well as scary because how much power does he really possess? A shit ton. That's how much. But also, why didn't they take the dead bird with them? Don't leave behind magical creatures to be brought back to life!

Smart to have the others chase after a chicken, so the color-coded boys in love could get more details, but these two are a hetero version of the mains. She is not bad. She is trying to do good with what she has, which is a pile of shit, and he wants to do right by her but his principles are going to get in the way. I anticipate no happy endings for anyone. Not Romeo and Juliet or Romeo and Julio.

Bird Bestie was smart to stay behind because it was obvious there would be dead bodies, but WHO THE FUCK ARE THESE TWO?! This show is color-coded within an inch of its life, and everyone is a pair because they both have the other's color in their robes, so the fact that the white one showed up first and claimed evil guy was his enemy makes me think they have history (exes), but the new black guy replaced him. Black dude, I'd watch my back because Evil Dude is coming for you.

It also worries me that these two have a similar . . . something. Wei Wuxian, buddy, homie, ho-migo. You're getting darker. You were dark blue, but now, you're black. Why is no one else concerned that the call is about to come from within the house?

So much shit is going down on this mountain! White No Name dude just said he knows and was trained by the OG lesbian, so we know she is still alive and well waiting for her wife, and my boy is sad since his mama was trained by her therefore he was trained by her, which makes her his grandma or something (I DON'T KNOW!). And now the illegitimate brother I want to be with FD's brother is in charge of watching the evil dude, but he is wearing white/blue and evil dude is wearing black/gold, and if they become an item, I'm gonna be pissed!

Y'all, he is gonna fuck up. He is going to let the bad guy go isn't he? I don't understand why they couldn't kill the bad guy, but my illegitimate son has been disrespected in this house too many times in the past ten minutes to let this shit slide. He is going to make a deal with the devil. I feel it.

"I'll sleep on your roof" - That was a declaration of love because y'all fought on a roof over liquor, and now he wants to just chill on your roof while drinking even though you are leaving. He is sprung and does not care who knows.

WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?! THIS IS A FUCKING SHIT SHOW! The oldest kids are being called away which means Fuddy Duddy's cult is probably losing it and branding everyone. They are being attacked by the Evil Reds even though their evil dude admitted to killing that whole damn family! My illegitimate son DEFINITELY killed that guy and let the evil dude go. He did that. I know he did. And my boy's outfit looks so similar to that evil red swordsmen who is fighting on behalf of that weak ass red bitch because he can't fight himself, it's ridiculous (Someone needs to slash that evil red dude's face and his tires).

Everyone is going to die, and there is no hope.

*eats some naan*

Okay, maybe there is some hope in the other FORTY EPISODES! FD's brother could take in the illegitimate son, and they could live happily ever after. Right? RIGHT?!

#pride petty watch #the untamed #jinkies #so much happened in the last ten minutes #this is why there are so many characters because they will all die #also these Cloud Cunties are wild #that evil black dude is going to ruin everyone's life now that he is free again #and why would my illegitimate son do that?!#like I get it because he was being disrespected #BUT THIS IS A BIG PROBLEM

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storm-angel989 · 7 months

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Outside the office Part Three

Hi all! I'm so glad folks are enjoying this series! Let me know in the comments if there is a particular scene you would like expanded on- I am happy to obilige!

That following Sunday morning breakfast also proved mandatory. Snuggled tight in my bed, surrounded by fluffy pillows, I was sound asleep when a loud knocking rudely startled me awake. A brief moment of panic settled over me and it took a heartbeat for me to remember where I was. Unfortunately, I once again couldn’t remember exactly how I had gotten here, or how I had come to be dressed in fuzzy pajamas.

“Reader! Wake up! Val made pancakes and they’re getting cold!” Velvette’s screech broke through the silence of the morning.

I groaned but sat up, pulling a robe over my body as I made my way to the door. “What is going on?”

Velvette was dressed in a deep black robe covered with red fuzzy hearts- her typical morning attire. “I said, Val made pancakes and they’re getting cold. Com’on sleepy head. Val’s pancakes are the best cure for a hangover.” She turned and practically skipped down the hallway.

I followed her, my head still fuzzy from the night before. We had spent Saturday night out at another one of Valentino’s clubs, dancing and drinking- and I guess once again I sipped too much too fast.

“And pancakes for you.” Vox handed me a plate as soon as I entered the kitchen. “How’s that head feel, hm? Grab a bottle of Sweet Sixteen from the fridge and drink it down.”

I grabbed a bottle of the orange drink from the fridge. Why Velvette and Valentino had named it Sweet Sixteen was beyond me, but whatever was in it helped tremendously.

“I don’t understand why I get knocked on my ass each time I go out.” I complained, sitting down on one of the chairs at the table, my back to the window. “I swear, angels drink. Some of them pretty heavily, might I add.”

“Did you dance at the club while drinking?” Velvette asked, taking a bit of her breakfast. “In heaven, I mean?”

I shook my head vehemently. “Angels do not partake in such behavior.”

She rolled her eyes. “Well, good thing you’re only half Angel, because last night showed you certainly do. Anyway, there's your answer- you dance, you drink. It’s simple math.”

“And that simple math is why my clubs are so successful.” Valentino slid into the seat next to me. He reached across and opened the bottle of Sweet Sixteen for me. “Drink. You’ll feel better.”

“What’s in it anyway?” I asked, taking a sip before taking a bite of my pancakes. “Oh, these are yummy.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Vox bowed before taking his own seat. “I am, after all, the best chef in this household.”

“I don’t think so. I’ll get you back next Sunday.” Valentino said lightly. “And to answer your question Princessa- salt, water, sugar, electrolytes. Everything your body lacks after a night out.”

“Speaking of, can I tell you about fucking Hugo last night? That absolute dumb fuck….” Vox interrupted as he launched into a tirade about his current assistant. I listened patiently. Velvette seemed to tune him out and Valentino rolled his eyes.

After breakfast it was back to work for the three of them and I found my place wherever I could make myself useful. Being in such close proximity to them made it almost easy to forget they were demons- especially with Velvette and Vox.

“Are you joining me in the studio today, Princess?” Vox asked when I stood up. “Or will Velvette be hogging you once again?”

I looked at Velvette and she shrugged. “Your choice, but I absolutely need you back tomorrow. I have a new line of workwear that absolutely require your features.”

“Alright, I guess I’m yours then, Vox.” I replied, then quickly corrected. “Not yours I mean, I can go with you to the studio.”

“Relax, babe. We all know what you meant.” Valentino said gently.

I flushed. “Just making sure. I better go get ready.”

“My studio after your shower! I have a killer outfit for you.” Velvette hollered as I skittered down the hall.

An hour and a half later I stepped out of the elevator and into Vox’s studio. True to her word, Velvette had me dressed in the height of what hell considered fashion, heavy on the blacks and the reds. I made my way to Vox’s office, stepping down the long hallway that led to his chair, surrounded by monitors.

To my surprise, he wasn’t in his usual spot. I pulled out my phone and sent him a message. He replied back instantly.

I see you. Look to the left. Black door. Just come in.

I followed his directions and pushed open the door. He stood up when I walked in and handed me a laptop.

“Go find a quiet place to work. I don’t particularly care where, but if you could read through and edit the documents on your email that would be great. Text me when you’re done- I’ll come to you.”

I accepted the laptop and went to find an empty cubicle. When Vox initially asked where my skill sets lie, and the topic of editing came up, I didn't expect him to take me up on it. Or to value my input as much as he appeared to. But truth be told, it was something I enjoyed and, well, it was something to keep me busy.

Several hours later I emailed him the edits, closed my laptop, and sent him a text message that I was finished. I heard the zap of electricity behind me and he appeared.

“Ah. Good timing, I’m almost done for the day as well. Why don’t you head down to see Velvette? Have lunch down there and get ready for dinner tonight?” He picked up my laptop. “Come, I’ll walk you to the elevator.”

“Okay, Vox.”

I followed him and waited quietly next to him when he pushed the button. A few seconds later, I stepped in.

He gave me a grin as the door closed. “See you tonight Princess.”

I stepped into Velvette’s studio and one of her employees greeted me, whisking me to the back. She chattered at me about outfit changes, nail color changes, what was trending at the moment, and what wasn’t.

“Wait,” I interrupted. “What is a sinstergram?”

Her eyes widened. “Omgomgomg.” she pulled her phone out and showed me an icon. She clicked on it and a website full of pictures appeared. “You don’t have one?”

I hadn’t actually explored my phone that much- beyond texting. Typing on a laptop was easy- other than its more ergonomic design, it was basically the same as the one I was used to. But my phone was a big mystery I just hadn’t solved yet. I unlocked my phone and saw the icon she was talking about. I clicked it.

Pictures flooded my screen- a photo of Lucifer and I when we first arrived in the lobby of the V tower. Pictures of the four of us on our night out. Captions I didn’t remember writing.

“See your handle? It’s Princess.Reader. Morningstar . Not the most original, but I’m sure you wanted to keep it simple and straight to the point.”

“Keep what simple?” Velvette’s voice came from behind me.

“Sinstergram?” I showed Velvette my phone.

She rolled her eyes. “Oh. You don’t need to worry about that darling, I control the social media for the four of us. You couldn’t post if you tried- Vox has it blocked. You can scroll through, however. See yourself how the world sees you.”

I scrolled down through the pictures. I almost didn’t recognize myself. In every photo I looked perfect, stunning. Almost too perfect. I expressed my concern to Velvette and she rolled her eyes.

“It’s the image you show the world, not the truth behind it. But like I said, don’t worry your pretty blonde head about it.” She reached over and clicked off the app. “I got it covered. You just focus on being pretty.” She looked at her employee. “Veronica, take Chelsea’s place. I need you in my office.”

Wordlessly, they switched places and I watched as Chelsea followed Velvette.

“Velvette wanted bubblegum pink nails?” Veronica asked, reaching across the table. “Let me see those hands. We’ll make them perfect.”

The rest of the night went by in a blur. And then again. The more time passed, the more my comfort level with the three of them grew. I wouldn’t say I forgot about where I came from, or who I left behind. But the more hours spent together, the more normal our weekly routine became. Occasionally, Velvette or Vox would excuse themselves for the night for a work event, or a fashion show- and just the three left went out. It wasn’t very often, but the disruption didn’t break the rest of the routine. They would simply rejoin the next night, or sometimes find us later on that same night.

Spending the time alone with Vox and Velvette in particular made them seem- well, safe. More like friends than demons. And although I didn’t spend any time alone with him, the more Wednesdays that passed, I found myself settling into Valentino’s arms as the movies played, craving the comfort and safety he freely offered. Even as I started to figure out my limits and I didn’t always drink too much at the club, at the end of the night, my head fell into his lap, his hand stroking my hair. Something about the way he held me relieved the worry that even the time we spent together couldn’t fully shake.

It wasn’t until Vox and Velvette both bowed out of dinner one night that I first got to spend alone time with Valentino.

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