#man ghosts can be so CHATTY

[iron-sparrow]

10. how does your wol sleep? very light? very heavy? do they need a specific item to fall asleep? is it easy for them to fall asleep, or does it take them forever? where do they prefer sleeping?

Sleep, huh? We don't know her around these parts.

Once upon a time, Yein was a light sleeper, but nowadays, being ashkin means they don't really sleep like most understand it. Rather, Yein goes into a deep meditation.

To assist with this, they've learned to take specific drugs from Odette (@ahollowgrave), who has had far more experience navigating life while being on the opposite end of it. Even in their unlife, true rest comes with difficulties; seeing and hearing ghosts tends to really mess with relaxation! Their mind needs a lot of assistance to settle, which is certainly still a necessity for their mental well-being, even if their flesh no longer deteriorates.

Thank the Twelve for drugs.

[pleaselmhau]

Random scenario I’ve been thinking about of single parent reader

Accidental-boyfriend-and-stepdad-Ghost who had fuck all to do in between deployments. He spent his time wasting away. half at the pub near his dingy flat and the other half in said dingy flat. His fingers curl around the cool glass containing his bourbon. He knew he probably looked like a intimidating, sitting on the absolute end of the bar up against the wall with his hood up, but hey, at least he wasn’t wearing his mask in a civilian pub. That surely would raise a few alarm bells, a jacked, 6’4 man in a mask is probably the line drawn where civilians might start to freak. Not many people really bother him here, that’s why he likes it. He always found people watching occasionally interesting, as long as he could sit back and stay uninvolved.

So he’s a little more than surprised when sweet, attractive you pops right up next to him all sugary smiles and batting lashes. It becomes clear quickly with how your hand brushes against his bicep and you keep giving them flirty looks that you were looking for a fling. A one time hookup. It’s been awhile since he’d fucked so even though you aren’t his usual type, he bites. Not his usual type not in that he doesn’t find you attractive, he does, it’s more he thinks you’re out of his league- or rather out of your element. You seem a little too friendly, chatty even. It’s nothing really in particular that you do, he can just tell you’re the type to get attached. Though you did approached first so maybe he’s wrong, he decides.

The hookup is rather run of the mill at first, sloppy make out session from the front door to the bedroom. Both of you bumping into various furniture and walls as you lead him through your small apartment. His foot brushes against some hard object on the floor but he pays it no mind, too wrapped up in how you’re kissing him like he’s the air you need to breathe. You’re so full of life, passion, it nearly flusters him. But he is nothing if not adaptable, so once close enough to the bedroom he can see where you two are heading he just leans down and scoops you right up with one arm around your thighs. Faster, more efficient. It takes a mere nudge of his shoulder and lean before you’re falling back on the bed and he’s following you. His mouth slots over yours again, hot and heavy. Your hands tug at his shirt and he obliges, letting you pull the fabric off. It’s dim in your bedroom, only the moonlight filtering in through the window but he can see your silhouette clearly when he pulls back your last layer of clothing, and fuck is it a pretty sight.

He didn’t mean to spend the night, he really didn’t. But when you were bouncing on his lap, pressing fresh kisses to his throat after two rounds already he knew it was gonna be a long night. He wakes to find you draped all over him, wrapped up in the sheets like you’re trying to be some renaissance painting. He squeezes his eyes shut for a few moments, blinking away the grogginess of just waking up. Never being one to just lounge around in bed he detangles your limbs from around him and slips out. Bending down he retrieves his clothes, tugging his pants and shirt. When he has all his things he risks a glance back, hoping you’re not awake, he’s never really been good at the whole morning after shit, always preferring to leave during the night. Though for some reason the way you were all over him, the way you clung and kissed at him like he was the only man in the world made him want to revel in it, in you, long enough until he simply was too tired to consider leaving last night. His eyes flicker over you for a moment as if he’s subconsciously trying to commit you to memory, maybe he’ll meet you again sometime at the pub, he wouldn’t mind a repeat, but he’s not staying. Or so he thinks because as soon as he steps out the bedroom he’s met with the sound of two small feet pitter pattering on the floor then big eyes staring up at him.

His brows furrow in confusion, he didn’t notice a kid last night, actually he’s sure there wasn’t any kids in the apartment last night. For a long few moments he just stares down at the kid, not sure what really to do. The little girl, probably no older than ten stares right back up at him. “Can you make pancakes?” She asks, head tilting a little in curiosity. “Uh.. sure.” As she leads him through the living room he realizes what he kicked last night was her toys scattered about the floor.

So now he’s in the kitchen with Lily, as he found out the little girls name was, sitting on the counter. He figured out her aunt watched her last night and brought her home this morning. shes stirring up the batter as he puts butter into a pan. “You’re a friend of mom’s/dad’s?” She asks, stirring maybe a little harder than need be. “Something like that,” he responds, dipping in a random measuring cup then pouring the batter onto the pan. He can hear her still stirring even after. “that means we’re friends now too right?” She asks. He glances over taking in her kiddish hopeful expression and finds himself nodding immediately. “Yeah, we’re friends now too.” He responds, trying to not sound so flat. Truthfully he hasn’t a clue what he’s doing or what he should do. He tries to put himself in your shoes, how weird it’d be to stumble out and see your one-night stand still here cooking breakfast with your daughter. Though at the same time it feels rude too to just dismiss her.

When the pancakes are done he watches her jump off the counter and scamper over to the lower cabinet, pulling out a tray. “Well bring mom/dad some too!” She announces, grabbing at the pancakes with her hands and plopping them on the plate. Once the tray is all made up, a few pancakes stacked and a glass of orange juice she picks it up again. “You helped make it so you have to come too,” then she’s waddling off back toward the same bedroom he woke up in, orange juice splashing out of the glass in her excitement. He wonders if he should just slip out now while Lily is distracted, though he finds himself following, opening the door for her then watching as she pushes the tray right on the bed next to you before jumping on it and pressing her hands into your shoulder to shake you awake. He stands in the doorway awkwardly, watching the scene with a hint of… well he doesn’t really know. Warmth? A breakfast in bed from Ghost and your daughter wasn’t really what you were expecting when you woke up, though you can’t help but to smile as you see the jagged pancakes and half filled orange juice, rest on the tray itself.

The three of you spend the rest of the morning watching movies until it’s late enough that the three of you end up going out for lunch. Then end up making dinner together. And Ghost realizing maybe being off duty wouldn’t be so bad if he had a family to come home too and seems the perfect one was placed right in his hands.

Sorry if this is word vomit it’s very late and I was just swooning over the idea of Ghost with single parent reader

[punksocks]

Astrology Observations No.26

(Just based on my opinions, only take what resonates)

-Aquarius mars can denote a career around trends, tech, and social media. It can also denote your career taking off during times of social progress or spearheading social progress. (John Boyega’s career took off when he became the face of a much more diverse Star Wars, and a lot of his most celebrated roles have a social consciousness to them, pretty great if I do say so myself)

-Virgo venus gets the reputation of being picky in relationships (and they are) but I feel like Sagittarius Venus can be more fickle. Virgo Venus natives have a set of standards and attributes they’re looking for, but Sagittarius Venus natives will put you on a pedestal then knock you off of it when you do something they don’t like.

-Underdeveloped Gemini Venus will ghost you in the middle of a crisis (man Pisces Venus too, but they may feel bad about it lol)

-When it comes to a sense of justice, I feel as though (developed) Scorpio moons give everyone a run for their money

-I feel like Aquarius in big 3 (sun, moon, rising) can often find themselves being forced to be humanitarian/being made to work toward the greater good in some situations (to lend others money, to take care of friends/family, to befriend someone lonely, etc.) I feel like these placements often can be forced to give more of themselves than they are comfortable with (developed ones will often find a great sense of joy in connecting with others through care though)

-On the other hand I feel like Leo in the big 3 can find themselves being forced to pay attention to themselves/become the center of attention (elevated at a job for their hard work, given unexpected attention for a talent, etc.) With Leo placements I notice that in their home life or childhood they may not receive the attention they need, but early on they get attention from outsiders. So they end up going through this arch of getting more comfortable with their sense of self and being in the spotlight.

-Aries placements can often be the first in their family to do something (go to college, start a business, etc) without more long term oriented placements things like businesses may not last though

-Virgo/Gemini/3rd/6th house placements and having an absolute weakness for stationary lol (I have a 3rd house Stellium and I have to force myself not to buy a sketchbook or notebook every time I’m out, with a 40% success rate lol)

-I always expect Libra placements (especially sun/Asc/Venus/mars) to have a very blonde/fair/delicate features naturally but a lot of Libras have this gothic look, like raven hair ivory skin classic beauty (and a lot of PoC I follow with Libra placements can be much darker skinned, which is also a beautifully classic look)

-I think Jupiter and Saturn count towards your personality, but since they’re slower moving planets I view them as the bridge between the asc/sun/moon/mercury/Venus/mars placements that really directly define your personality and the generational planets that show up in traits across people in your age range (but effect everyone differently because of house placements and aspects)

-Do a lot of people get sick during Scorpio season? Or is it just me ?? (During the last week of Scorpio season like 6 people I knew got sick at the same time and I had a medical thing, wtf it’s uncanny)

-I think Neptune in Capricorn is a big reason that depression became such a focal point for younger millennials and elder gen z- well that and late stage capitalism but yknow. (Capricorns being prone to depression, and Neptune ruling over mental illness)

-You may show more of the traits of the sign in your 12th house when inebriated (like sun in 12th may be more outgoing when they drink, moon in 12th may be more introverted/emotional, mercury in 12th may be more chatty and inquisitive, Venus in 12th may be more charming/romantic, mars in 12th may be more aggressive/antagonistic/s*xual)

-Mars in 12th/Pisces mars may find that unresolved tension sits on their subconscious and makes it hard for them to do other tasks

-Cancer over the houses can show where you feel at home (cancer in the 4th is super loyal to their family/mother, cancer in the 7th means you feel at home with a nurturing partner, cancer in the 9th means you feel at home abroad and traveling and with other communities or with religion, cancer in 11th means you feel super at home with your friends.)

[velvetchrry]

━━━━ PRETTY LITTLE BIRDS

pairing: simon “ghost” riley x f!reader

2k. simon gets a checkup. he’s assigned as your patient today.

“Mr. Riley?” your voice rings out through the small lobby. You don’t expect it to be him when he stands up - hulking behemoth of a man, skull painted balaclava gracing his strong face. You don’t really know why you placed any expectations upon it, his name. Riley. It was simple. Short. Sweet.

You shake yourself from your stupor when he walks up to you. You give him a small smile before turning around and leading him towards your room. He doesn't say anything, but from what little you got from skimming his file, it doesn’t surprise you. It goes either way with military guys - either they’re like the chatty Scot in your chair just last week, or they’re like him - reserved. Calculating.

Sitting behind the desk, computer screen already pulled up to his chart with the tap of your badge against the scanner. He sits in one of the chairs in front of you and… have they always been that small? He looks almost uncomfortable, his body smushed into the wooden thing. He doesn't say anything, doesn’t let out a complaint, just accepts it for what it is. You’re almost certain he’s sat or slept in worse.

You clear your throat before speaking. It’s a habit when you’re nervous, but also because you need to clear the silence that’s permeating through the air. “So, uh, Mr. Riley,” you start. “You sustained a fair amount of injuries, but the thigh wound is the biggest consideration. Seems like you’re walking okay on it… any concerns?”

The room fills with a pregnant silence again at the absense of your voice. He shakes his head no. Really not chatty, but that’s okay. You respect that, the silence that some patients need. You could absolutely talk his ear off if he needed but you know when the time to keep the chatter short is. You can do that. Short. Sweet. Like his name.

Your bottom lip pulls between your teeth as you take a glance over at the screen. “I’m going to order labs - routine stuff. Just to make sure everything’s in good shape.” You fingers click clack on the keyboard as you type in the order. He stays silent, doesn’t move even an inch from his position as you type away. You can feel him observing you, taking you in, assessing.

You stand up and motion to the exam table. He follows suit, siting his hulking body up there with ease. You’re almost positive he didn’t need to do the little hop you always have to do to get up there. You quickly glove up, opening a drawer containing phlebotomy supplies. When you turn back around, there’s something unspoken in his eyes. You motion to his arm and he nods and pulls the arm out of his zip up.

You swallow thickly. His arms are massive, and you work on a military base full of hulking men. Your bottom lip works its way between your teeth again while you tie the tourniquet off around his massive bicep, struggling slightly because it’s almost not long enough. He makes a fist without you asking him to, knowing the routine.

“Do this yourself, rather than a nurse?”

You have to stop yourself from jumping out of your skin at the rough timbre of his voice. You suck in a breath before speaking.

“I was an ED nurse, before I went back to school to become a P.A.”

You rub the alcohol swab across his antecubital. You prime the needle, warn him about the small poke, and start filling the vials with his blood. It’s silent again, the only noise filling the air the sloshing of his red ichor into each small glass vial and what you’re sure is your loud breathing.

The gauze is wrapped around his arm gingerly after you pull out the needle. “Well Mr. Riley… if there are no concerns..?” He shakes his head, sliding off the exam table and standing up next to you. His hulking form absolutely towers over you. He subtly nods his head in your direction before moving towards the door. “Thanks Doc,” he says on the way out, and you don’t bother correcting him as he leaves the room.

“I can’t believe you haven’t been here before!” one of your coworkers nudges you, already a bit drunk. The bar is dark, a hole in the wall, with sticky floors and music loud enough that you need to slightly raise your voice to talk to someone if they aren’t right next to you. The only people who really come here are people at the base. It’s the regular spot, you've learned.

You smile at her and take a sip of your drink. You only moved here a few months ago and haven’t really had the desire to venture out yet. You’re crowded around a standing high top with a few of the other medical staff you work with. They pratically begged you to come out with them tonight, and having turned down all their offers in the past you felt inclined to accept.

“Holy shit, is that Simon Riley? He’s fucking legend.”

“I would climb him like a tree. Mmm.”

Your attention whips from your coworkers to the object of their desires across the bar. Sure enough, his hulking form is sat there with a few other guys. You think you recognize one of them from the medical office. You turn back, trying not to stare.

They drone on about him, wondering if he has a secret girlfriend, wondering if he’s gay, wondering whose advances he would accept out of the group. Finally, one of the girls gets the courage and makes her way over to the table of guys, a slight swish in her hips on approach.

“Bonnie little bird, aye LT?” Soaps asks. He noticed - of course he did. The Scot seems to be the one to really notice him. Don’t get him wrong, so do the other guys - Price especially - but it seems that Johnny really knows him like a brother. His best mate, really. Not that he’d ever say it outloud.

Simon just grunts in response. He thought he was being sneaky with his observations of you, at least enough for Johnny not to notice. You, who didn’t push him to speak, or feel the need to fill the silence with useless chatter. You, who did your best to give him what respect and space you could. You, small, little thing, who didn’t look up at him with terror in your eyes.

His mouth dried up, teeth sticking to his gums. “Saw ‘er for a check up las’ week,” Johnny adds. “Sweet lass.”

Simon straightens his already rigid posture. He knows what Johnny is trying to do, get a rise out of him, see what he’ll divulge. It’s not often Simon notices people who are not threats or targets. He thought about you more than he’d care to admit after his appointment yesterday afternoon.

He pegged you for a chatty little thing. Thought for sure you would be uncomfortable with the silence that usually follows him. He was surprised to be wrong about you. Pleasantly. Didn’t hurt that you were easy on the eyes.

“Right sweetheart,” Simon agrees. It comes out of his mouth before he can even stop it. He isn’t sure why it heats his cheeks. Isn’t sure why his cottonmouth is even worse than before. He can feel Johnny grinning beside him.

“Should go talk to ‘er, LT?” Johnny suggests, his voice lower, so the other guys won’t pick up on it. Simon shakes his head and Johnny makes a noise. “Ach, c’mon.”

Simon is about to respond when he notices one of the girls from your group get up and make a beeline to their table. He sees the slight blush that colors your cheeks at her approach, even in the darkness of the bar. She saunters over, eyes locked on him. He clenches his jaw.

“It’s Simon, right?!” she practically squeals. He doesn’t even look at her, his eyes locked onto you, squirming in your seat while watching this unfold. He gives her a grunt in confirmation. She leans onto the table right where he sits and a low chuckle escapes Johnny. She bends down, pushing her breasts together with her arms. “You want to buy me a drink?” she purrs.

“Lass, how about…” Johnny starts, wanting to spare her from whatever it is that Simon will say but his gruff voice cuts him off.

“Not interested.” His eyes still haven’t left yours to look over at her. She straightens up from her position on the table. “So, what? You really are gay then?” Hurt and rejection carries through in the high pitch of her voice.

The lads at the table break out into laughter. Her face reddens and she scoffs before turning away. Simon still looks at you, that sweet pink plump lip of yours nestled softly between your teeth again. He imagines what it would feel like to have it between his teeth instead. He wants to trace his thumb across the span of your lips. You skin so soft under his rough hands. His pants start to tent, blood rushing south.

He clears his throat and adjusts slightly in his seat. “Gonna take a piss,” he says under his breath to Johnny. He expertly maneuvers his way towards the bathroom, sliding through the throngs of people at the bar. He nods to some of the men he knows from various ops on his way there. He stops at the hallway to the bathrooms and when he hears the opening of a door he turns the corner.

“Oof, I’m so sorry I didn’t see you there!” You squeak out. He places his massive hands on your arms to steady you. “Mr. Riley..” you trail off in recognition.

“Doc,” he nods at you. “Just Simon.”

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and Simon feels a pinch in his chest. “You upset my coworker,” you blurt. Heat rises up your neck, you cheeks flush. His hands are still on you.

“Lemme guess, she’s tryna decide which of the blokes at the table is my secret lover.”

A sly smile breaks out on your face. “Something like that,” you admit sheepishly.

He leans down, having to really bend over to get down to your level. “Who’s your money on, then?” His voice is a gravelly whisper and it causes heat to pool in your lower abdomen.

You bite your lip and it takes every ounce of self control in him not to pull it out with his thumb. He fists his hand so hard, he almost draws blood with his fingernails.

“Blue eyes, sitting next to you,” you finally say.

He lets out a low chuckle and you decide you really like the way that sounds. You want to know how to make him do it again. The noise sends electricity through your body, pebbling your nipples against your lacy bra.

“Solid choice, that.” He straightens back up and you’re reminded again just how big of a man he is. “But I prefer pretty little birds.”

You blink up at him, not quite sure what’s happening right now. You’re trying to meld this Simon to the one in your office yesterday, but they almost seem like two different people. You swallow thickly. Something fills the air between you, something abuzz with energy. Something you’re not sure if you can name.

“You play darts?” he asks suddenly. You shake your head no. You know generally how to play but you’re not very good at it. “You want to learn?”

You pinch your lips together and your eyes flash toward the high top with your coworkers. Simon doesn’t miss this, of course he doesn’t. He holds his breath, waiting for your decision. He wants to put you over his shoulder, walk straight out of the bar and take you home to his flat. But he knows that’s not the way things are done. He doesn’t want to scare you off, not when you're already so receptive to him. So different from the others — like your coworker, who think they are owed some piece of him. So he waits.

“O.. okay,” you finally accept.

Simon smiles under the mask, his eyes crinkling the only indication of his delight.

[agentmarvel]

center image by @/ave661

PART II

hitman!ghost x fat!reader (afab, fem) w/ arranged marriage

mdni - 18+; minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

rating: explicit

word count: 3,010

read on ao3

cw: toxic parenting, implied fatshaming, simon begins his descent into madness, so obsessive!simon

♡

It's irksome, the way Johnny fusses over Simon's bowtie. He keeps turning and twisting it in an effort to straighten it out, but the little perfectionist is just never satisfied.

“s'fine, Soap. Leave it alone.”

“Awa’ an bile yer heid. Damn thing's more crooked than yer nose, LT. Not letting ye get hitched lookin’ like a dafty.”

Simon sighs, rolling his eyes with a sly smirk. He's partial to the nickname, though neither of them served a day in their life. Well, not in the traditional sense, at least. But the semblance is a loyalty forged in sweat and blood; Johnny's been with him for years, a parting gift from Price. 

“He's a good lad, Simon - real salt of the earth type. Bit chatty, but he works as hard as his old man did. Think he'd do well with you.”

Simon thinks he truly understated the chatty bit, but as usual, was not wrong.

“Aye, there we are.” Johnny finally steps back, admiring his work. “Yer tie looks better now; shame we can fix yer ugly mug, though.”

“Oi, fuck off.”

Kyle snickers across the small room, straightening his cuff with a grin.

“Don't be such a git, mate. Not every day the big man gets married. Frankly, with a face like that,  doubted he ever would.”

“You're both fired,” Simon mutters, shaking his head as he moves towards the door.

“Where ye think yer goin'? She's not laid eyes on ye, so I dinnae think she's bolted yet.”

“Better give ‘er the chance then, yeah?”

He slips out the door with an amused hum before wiping his palms against his slacks. Never will he admit it, but a waxing sense of anxiety gnaws at his gut. It’s been years since he’s actually felt… nervous. Not since his first solo contracted kill. Treading unfamiliar territory stirs foreign feelings, but perhaps they’re not all bad ones.

To take the edge off, Simon decides to step out for a smoke. That wasn’t his intent initially, lest Soap bitch at him for disrupting the effects of his subtle cologne, but he’s willing to face the wrath for some nicotine. He pats his jacket, feeling the creased, misshapen cardboard pack in his breast pocket and looks for the nearest exit. It’s just a bit further down the hall.

But something stops him before he steps out. An argument behind another closed door.

“Of course I think you look nice! All I’m saying is that you could’ve put a bit of effort into losing more weight. I didn’t hire a top nutritionist and personal trainer just for you to not need more alterations.”

Simon recognizes that voice. Your father has an unmistakable level of condescension that drips off every word he says.

“And would it kill you to smile? It’s your wedding day, for Christ’s sake! Pretend you’re happy.”

“You’re not in any position to ask anything of me.” The response is acrimonious, venomous, and a voice that doesn’t ring any bells. It’s you. 

“Don’t you dare take that tone with me. I am your father, and you will do as I say.” The already bellicose tone swells as his voice raises, and Simon has half a mind to step in. A sense of fury burns within his chest. He should’ve known that someone with such a flagrant disregard for you behind your back would be just as derisive to your face. It’s crass at minimum, especially in the face of your own fucking child.

The only thing stopping him is the want for things to go smoothly today; a temporary ceasefire to ensure that he can fulfill his obligation.

Still, he feels a tug at his hollow heartstrings. No one deserves to be spoken down to in that manner, let alone on their wedding day. He’s certain you look stunning, and he’ll be sure to tell you as much when he finally gets to see you.

He’ll also be sure to limit contact with your father immediately after the marriage license is filed. Keeping that twat on a short leash ought to keep his beautiful bride in high spirits, yeah?

Before he can think better of his decision, Simon sees himself outside. Getting his fix does little to quell the rage stoked by his albeit unintentional eavesdropping. Before he knows it, he’s gone through half the pack and is about to light another when he gets a text from Kyle.

>>> It's time!

He takes the unlit cigarette from his lips and begrudgingly stows it away. Making his way back inside, his stride slows as he approaches the door to the bridal suite. It's partially open, and from what he can see, your father is conspicuously absent. You remain, however. 

It's hard to fathom how a man could be so cruel to such a creature of allure. In the most fleeting glance as he passes by, Simon's struck with a gravitational pull. You're the moon, he's the tide. At that moment, he wants nothing more than to turn back. He wants to make his presence known and promise you'll never face another day of derision after today. You'll never endure another vile word. A painful, gruesome death would befall anyone who treated you so disgracefully from this moment on. In that singular frame, Simon knows he'd break John's rules for you. He’d break his own rules for you. 

And he's never even spoken to you.

♡

Johnny's waiting for him just a few doors down. As Simon approaches, he sees Johnny’s nose wrinkle.

“Och! Ye smell like the alley behind a fuckin’ pub, ye reprobate. C'mere, ye fuckin’ oaf.”

As predicted, Simon supposes.

It's a quick fix, and Johnny rushes him off to the altar. Simon adjusts his jacket, buttoning it properly before taking a deep breath and pushing ahead. The room goes silent as several dozen eyes abandon their previous gazes to watch him. His confidence doesn’t waver outwardly. There’s no room for that. He keeps his eyes forward as he approaches the pulpit. A familiar face awaits him there in a fresh-pressed three-piece.

“Didn’t know you did weddings,” he laughs, low and clipped.

“Do funerals, too, if you know anyone in need,” John Price hums back with a grin. Simon offers a hand, one Price accepts with a quick, firm shake. “Good to see you, my boy. Been too long.”

“Not long enough if your chin hasn’t caught up with your chops yet.”

“Glad to see time hasn’t dulled your sense of humor.” It’s a dry response, but the creases at the corners of his eyes give away his amusement.

Idly, they chat, waxing philosophical to pass the time. Periodically, John checks his watch and looks into the balcony, but he doesn’t miss a single word Simon utters. Simon’s seen this before; something isn’t quite right, and Price is trying to suss out precisely what it is.

The door at the back of the chapel opens, and a small woman with wiry hair rushes up the aisle as fast as her little legs could carry her without breaking into a jog. She clambers the quartet of steps, looking a bit worse for wear. Sweat prickles her brow, her sunken eyes seeming to recede with each movement. John raises an eyebrow as if to ask her if she’s okay, but she ignores the unspoken concern.

“So sorry to keep you waiting, John. Bride had a little, eh, mishap, but we’re ready to begin.”

Simon opens his mouth to demand more detail, but Price shoots him a pointed look, the aim to keep the dog from barking as he reassures her, “Perfectly fine, Doris. Is the young lady alright?”

“Quite. She's just had a bit of a rocky morning. Nerves and all.”

She shrugs with a timid smile, like that'll placate the intense look of defensiveness on Simon's usually stoic face. He knows she's not being entirely truthful, but to whose benefit? 

Price gives her a curt nod and offers his arm to usher her to her seat. Her frail fingers curl around his elbow, blue veins protruding like a web of thread unspooled. She smiles at Simon sympathetically. They descend the short few steps in stagger, and he can’t help but wonder what it is that she knows that he doesn’t.

It doesn’t matter, he decides. After today, none of this really matters. The setting is a mere formality, born of a desire for flamboyancy and extravagance, neither of which have ever been in Simon’s wheelhouse. His preference for something simple and quiet was aggressively overruled from the start.

His eyes drift over the observers that casually mill about the pews. Only one bears any familiarity, the one patting an old woman’s hand before turning back towards the pulpit, while the rest look more like faceless mannequins, nondescript in the forward echoes of memory. 

John takes his place beside Simon, asking under his breath in close proximity, “Are you ready?”

Simon nods, folding his hands together in front of him and adjusting his stance to face the doors at the back of the aisle. In his periphery, he sees Price signal the woman who sits at the piano. She begins to play something Simon doesn’t recognize. Immediately, those stark moths flood to their seats like a bright bulb.

The doors open after a few measures, a pair of well-dressed ushers securing them in position. Shortly, the two pairs of bridesmaids and groomsmen enter, timely and in sequence. The young women accompanied by Simon’s men are both bright-eyed and all smiles, but the air of wariness is not lost on anyone keen enough to notice. Circumstantially, this wedding is dubious at best, and if they’re close enough for you to ask them to join the wedding party, then they’re close enough to know the truth.

He’s under no illusion that you’re an overtly willing participant in any of this. You were blindsided. Out of the blue - no warning, no inkling - being told over dinner that your father is not the man you always believed him to be, that you’ve been promised to a stranger to improve business prospects, that you’re seen as a pawn rather than a person. Simon feels vaguely guilty for the turmoil, but seeing the lack of consideration for you truncates it. You’ll be better off by his side. That’s not the fanatical part of his brain speaking; it’s factual. 

When he hears the music change from a simple, tedious tune to a melodic version of the traditional bridal march, reality pulls him back into his body. His gaze locks on the doorway. For the first time - the first real time - he gets to see you.

You look god damn gorgeous. There’s no other way to describe it.

The dress is bright white, almost blinding. Crystalline and pearl accents around the neck and waist lines reflect sun rays from the windows, giving you an ethereal glow. Delicate charmeuse drapes some of your curves while tulle hides others (much to his dismay). Simon swears the halo above your perfectly styled hair isn’t a trick of the light. You look like a fucking angel - his angel.

His heart is racing, raging against the cage of his ribs like the bars of a prison cell. It wants to escape, break free and put itself in your hands. The pace of his breathing has quickened, palms beginning to sweat, and a foreign euphoria falls over him like mist. His lips curl into the smallest expression of joy, barely detectable, and John nudges him with his elbow.

“Congratulations, my boy. She’s a beauty.”

A sense of pride swells in his chest at that.

Halfway down the aisle, you finally look up at Simon. In the span of seconds, your expression rolls through a series of emotions; bitter, then a mite of surprise, confusion… then admiration and ire.

You take on a more timid look as you approach, though, fingers wrapped loosely around the inside of your father’s elbow. Despite the narrowness of the aisle, you’re still positioned as far away from him as you can be. The anger is palpable, rolling off you in waves. Just beneath the surface, an indeterminable despair. You don’t want to be here, don’t want to be anywhere near that bastard or Simon himself. He may not have gotten to know you in the traditional sense, but he knows human behavior all too well.

You’re hurt. Betrayed. Defiant.

The iniquity of it all gnaws at his bones as he extends a hand to you. He watches your snake of a father wrenches your wrist with a hollow smile to pull you closer before taking your fingers in his with a brutish grip.

“Do you give this woman to be married to this man?” Price asks, an obscure grit of disapproval at the display thickening his voice.

“I do,” your father answers, tugging your arm forward in an offering of your hand.

Simon takes it gently, savoring the feeling of your soft, manicured fingers sliding across his rough, calloused palm. You lift the hem of your dress with your free hand, taking each step like it’ll delay the inevitable. There’s a tremble in your touch, undoubtedly apprehensive, uncertain, scared.

When you’re settled on the top step, you glance at your father with pleading eyes. His expression is stern and hardened. He mouths an inaudible warning before turning to take his seat, and Simon swears he sees the last shreds of your stubborn will collapse. 

Quietly, you hand your bouquet to the bridesmaid just behind you before placing your other hand into Simon’s waiting one. Tears spring up in your eyes, and he gives you the softest squeeze.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers so softly that even Price almost misses it. Your eyes shoot up to his. “Let’s just get through this, yeah? We can talk about everything when we don’t have an audience.”

You nod.

♡

It all passes in a haze, like Simon’s somehow running on autopilot while still autonomous in part. Both your vows and his were written by the wedding planner with significant input from your parents. An effort to hide the clandestine nature of the nuptials, he supposes. He recites his from recall, trying to place emphasis where needed like code. Yours, however, have him rapt. While he knows the words are not your own, something about hearing you profess your love ignites a spark within him. Hell, he nearly misses his cue for the ring because he’s so focused on absorbing your presence, memorizing every detail of the way you look right now.

One thing snaps him from his infatuated stupor: “You may now kiss the bride.”

He eyes you warily, seeking any sign of discomfort. There are no sirens sounding, no postings of danger, no flashing warning lights. You’ve resigned yourself to the moment’s arrival, and Simon does not hesitate. His hands curl around the roundness of your cheeks, slotting you into his palms like you were made to fit. The tilt of his head falls opposite yours. 

Slowly, he leans forward. Leisurely so as not to alarm you. Your breathing hitches just a hair as he closes in. The tips of your fingers settle against his chest as he reels you closer. His lips barely brush yours, a hint of strawberry as your gloss transfers in brief contact, and you draw him nearer until you reconnect.

It consumes him wholly now, the spark, engulfing his entire being. Flames of desire lick up the base of his spine, rising until your fingerprints are blistering his skin. He’s melting into you, embers glittering as they rise up and away until he’s nothing more than ash, staining every inch of you he may ever touch with a permanent marking that can’t be scrubbed away. Your name is branded on his chest, now and forever. In every way, he is yours.

Price is kind enough to wait until the kiss ends to formally announce the departure of Mr. and Mrs. Simon Riley with a reminder that a reception will occur at a later date. Simon takes your hand in his and briskly leads you back down the aisle, grateful for the guise of a honeymoon flight to stave off a night of questioning and awkwardness.

It’s not a honeymoon that awaits, but rather a lengthy flight back to Manchester. Movers cleared out your apartment this morning, carting it to the tarmac to load. Another crew will be waiting to unload it the moment you touch down.

Simon hopes you’ll be able to get some rest during the flight. You needn’t lift a finger, don’t worry; he’s just concerned for the dark circles hidden under your make-up, the torn bits of skin around your nails, the way your voice rings unsteady and uneven in the moments you’re alone with him.

It’s understandable that you don’t trust him yet. You don’t know him quite as intimately as he knows you. You’re afraid, unsure of what comes next. The life you knew is in upheaval, disrupted by years of lies and deceit. You don’t know what’s real anymore. You doubt everything. Who knew the truth and didn’t tell you? Are your friends even really your friends? Did your parents ever love you, or were you always just a puppet? The strings are too tangled to separate at this point, so you might as well accept your fate and cut them.

You sob into his chest, tears soaking through his white button down. It’s taken so much out of you, hasn’t it? And now you’re here, spilling your guts to a man you don’t know as he holds you, dutifully and steadfast.

One more hour, and you’ll be away from all of this. He won’t lie to you, he won’t hide things from you. You’ll never have to question yourself or the people around you again. You’re getting the life you deserve now.

It’s okay to trust him, sweet girl. Tell him all your secrets, let him in, let him live in your skin, burrow deep in your mind. Simon will keep you safe. At any cost.

part iii

[uwu-bxtch]

||I’M A GOOD GIRL OFFICER|| k.n.

summary :: “everybody knows that i’m a good girl officer.” OR detective!nanami is suspicious of you murdering your husband and you need to convince him otherwise.

content :: film noir au, detective!nanami, nanami kento x reader, suggestive, mentions of murder, quid pro quo, fem reader

a/n :: guys i was tryna go for those old timey detective films. film noir is the proper term. i hope yall like it, should i do a part two?

it’s late into the night when nanami kento finally has had enough of looking at paperwork. with a loud sigh, the detective stands from his desk and walks towards his mini bar. pouring himself a shot of whiskey, he contemplates the case at hand.

Jin Takeshi, the town’s most well known business owner, mysteriously died two days ago. being the best in his league, he was put on the case. all clues point to his wife, but no one would believe him. he’s been suspicious since she first appeared in his office with the cops. he just needed to find a way to prove his hunch. with another groan, he downs his shot before placing the cup down with a clank.

“a man who knows how to hold his liquor, i like that.”

he didn’t even hear you come in. kento looked behind him to see the devil herself.

“mrs. takeshi, how did you get in here?”

you hold your hand up to your chest, feigning sadness.

“please, (y/n) is fine. that name only hurts my heart more.”

unaffected, kento continues to give her a blank stare, waiting for her answer.

“you’re suspicious of me, why?”

leaning against his desk, kento quickly looks you up and down, analyzing your body language.

“your husband is dead and you’re my only witness, how do you explain that?”

you shift a bit in your big fur coat, avoiding his tense gaze. truly, you didn’t think you’d get this far but now wasn’t the time for any hesitation.

“i didn’t kill my husband, honest, mr. nanami.”

“yet you were so quick with his funeral.”

“he was a good man, detective!”

you might’ve gotten too defensive, noticing kento’s slight brow raise.

“you weren’t upset with him at all?”

you frown, faux offense written on your face.

“I loved him, he treated me goo—“

“then how do you explain this, miss.”

dipping his finger in his cup, he approaches you and wipes your under eye makeup, revealing a nasty bruise. he noticed it when you first showed up with the cops two days ago, but decided to look past it that day, not wanting to put you through more grief. you gulp nervously, not sure how you were going to get yourself out of this.

“seems like he pushed you past your limit that day. finally had enough?”

“h-how did you—“

“your husband was a prominent figure, so of course i did extensive research. gossip, articles, you name it. your neighbors are quite chatty.”

kento steps back to his spot on his desk.

“well, what’s a girl like me supposed to do stuck with a man like that?” you plead, voice dripping with desperation.

“i don’t know miss, but at the end of the day you killed a man.”

your eyes begin to prickle with tears.

“please, sir, i won’t survive in jail!”

you look into his eyes to find some type of sympathy, but he avoids your gaze. suddenly an idea pops into your head.

slowly, you open up your coat, clearing your throat to get his attention once again.

“you seem like you know how to treat a woman right.”

once your coat falls to the floor you make the short trip to the man. in nothing but a red lace panty set, you push your body against kento’s.

“ma’am this is in—“

you gently press your pointer finger to his lips as your other hand starts palming at his bulge.

“i bet you can take care of me real nice. let me take care of you and we can forget this whole exchange, yeah?”

kento gulped, his cock growing harder every second. yes, he wouldn’t mind cracking you right over his desk, but this was unprofessional. he was better than this. he looks down at you and his resolve instantly crumbles at your doe eyes looking up at him. a ghost of a smirk appears on your face once you notice his demeanor fall slightly.

kento’s hands travel up from your ass to your waist, giving you ass a slight squeeze on their way up.

“is that a yes big boy?”

your voice was dripping with seduction. nanami closed his eyes, letting out a quiet ‘damn’ before leaning down to kiss you. his kiss was hungry but gentle. nothing but the quiet smack of your lips filled his office. the hand still on his bulge started to work on his zipper until you hear the door open.

“mr. nanami i’m heading out for the—oh!”

you instantly jump off the man, scrambling to cover yourself up with your coat. the secret gasped at the scene before her. the victim’s wife and suspect mackin it with the lead detective was not a good look. you quickly rush your way to the door where the secretary was still standing in shock.

“i should get going now, thank you for the meeting mr. nanami!” you hurriedly walk out of the office, leaving a disheveled kento and his secretary to stare at each other.

“i’m sorry you had to see that,” kento clears his throat, adjusting himself to look more presentable.

“see what? i’m heading out, calling in sick tomorrow too. don’t overwork yourself mr. nanami.”

the secretary also hurries out the room, leaving nanami alone with his thoughts.

what the hell did i just do?

MASTERLIST :: PART TWO

[gauloiseblue]

Medic!Reader × Poly!141

Part I | Part II | Part III

[Tags: hurt/comfort, fluff, a love confession if you squint]

Taglist: @rainlovesyou12 @nijiru

When you're back at the base, the first thing that you get from your team is collective stares

"What happened to your cheek?" Price asked, visibly concerned

"Got punched by an asshole." You replied, still holding the ice pack against your face

"How did it happen?" He then glares at Graves, "You let this happen on your watch?"

He throws both of his hands in the air, while maintaining his smug face, "Easy there, soldiers." He said, "Sorry that I got your princess harmed, but it's necessary for the mission."

"Necessary?" Price growls, "Watch your mouth when you speak, Graves."

"Alright, alright. I'll leave." He then pats on Gaz's shoulder before turning around

The group immediately approaches you after he leaves, trying to look at your wound

"Whoa, he really gave you a nasty punch." Soap commented, "He wore rings?"

"All over his fingers."

"It'll take long before the bruise heals." Ghost interjected, "Since you're the medic here, I'm sure you know what's best for you."

Price nods before he looks at you, "You don't have to work today, you can rest after a mission."

"No, I'll come to work." You said, "Don't worry about me, captain."

He seems reluctant, but lets you do it anyway

Thankfully, your job requires you to use a mask, so most of your bruises are concealed.

At dinner, Graves brings quite a lot of alcohol to celebrate their mission. (The team had retrieved the important documents, as well as eliminating the target, so It's pretty much a success)

You usually skipped alcohol, but tonight you feel like you need it, so you join in

The table that you're in is pretty big, so three other soldiers are sitting with you and you team

Surprisingly, your team can handle their alcohol very well, but Soap is a lively drunkard, he talks a lot, and keeps the alcohol flows

Meanwhile, you're a chatty drunk. You can't keep a secret when you're drunk

"He touched me with his filthy hand, so of course I'd slap him." You confessed, "But then he dared to punch me in the face. The audacity."

"That's rough." Gaz winced

"But y'know, sometimes our job comes with those kinds of things." One of the men shrugged, "I didn't ask for it when I got shot or tortured, but then again, that's the consequences of my job."

"I didn't ask to be a surveillance." You hissed, "I'm just a medic, for God's sake."

"You could've ask him—"

"I did! I even tried to reason with him but nooo, he did care." You grit your teeth, "Even after roping me into this, he never once gave me any info for the mission and told me to be pretty and meek. At least I could've prepared if he told me things I could be dealing with during the mission."

"Cut it out, boy." Price stopped him before he could reply, "Y'know Graves was in the wrong here. We always brief our soldiers before missions."

"I'm not defending him."

The other man, who's silent for the whole interaction, finally speaks, "Maybe he did it because you've been using his name for unnecessary things."

You snort, "Somehow borrowing his name equals me almost getting raped?"

He shrugs, "Sometimes mentioning a certain name equals death."

"Yeah, okay, I get it." You immediately got up from your seat, "I'm just a spoiled bastard who can't handle the slightest discomfort aren't I?"

"Where are ye goin'?" Soap called when you're walking away

"My room. I'm tired of this shit."

Once you get into your room, you don’t bother to change your clothes as you go straight to bed

Of course, after getting angry and all, you can't immediately fall asleep. It takes about 15 minutes, before you're free from your anger

Then, you hear a knock on the door, before you hear a voice calls your name softly from outside

"Are you still awake?" You heard Price spoke

You contemplate whether you should answer or not, and decide to pick the first one

"Can I come in?" He asked, and you said yes

He steps inside, and pulls a chair by your bed. You turn around to see him, not hiding the tears streak on your face

"I'm sorry for what happened earlier, I hope you know he didn't mean that."

"I know." You frown while looking away, "I know all of those soldiers didn't mean to yell, or use hurtful words, I understand that, but I always try to comfort them, not telling them to grin and bear it."

He nods understandingly, "The constant threat in the field does make people numb to other's needs."

"Why are you here? Are you apologizing on their behalf?"

"No, I just got a feeling that you'd change division if I didn't clear it up."

You let out an amused snort, "I was just thinking about leaving. I hate Graves anyway."

"I won't force you to stay but I'll be very sad if you don't, you know how much I love your food." You roll your eyes at him, he chuckles, "Please hold on for one more month, then we'll go back home, to our base."

"Well, I can't disobey you if you say that, Captain."

"You better be."

You chuckle at him, and he gives you his usual (and sweet) smile. "Thank you, Price. I really do."

"No prob." He pats your arm, "You can talk to me whenever you want."

"I'll keep it in mind."

The next morning, when you're preparing your medical equipments, a patient comes into the room, and catches you by surprise as you recognize his face

"Johnny? Oh—" You hurriedly come to his side, "What happened to your face?"

"Got into a fight last nite." He grins, "Y'should've seen the other guy tho."

"My God, why did you do that? Who was it?" He looked away when you asked him, "... Don't tell me,"

"Ye don't 've ta worry 'bout it, bonnie."

"You can't make me not worry about you." You retorted, "They could've given a penalty!"

"Nah, they won't. 'M too valuable for that."

"Still," You let out a sigh, "You didn't have to do that."

"Yer angry at 'em."

"But it's only for a moment. I'm… used to that."

He looks at you for a moment, before pulling your hand into his. "Bonnie, ye kno' when you asked me to be a fake boyfie, ye told me that no one in the group'd be willin' ta help ya?" You furrow your brows at him as he continues, "Well, t'was a lie. They won't hesitate ta help ya, bonnie. But I didn't tell ya because I don't want 'em to."

You open your mouth to speak, but no word comes out of your mouth.

He chuckles at your silence, before giving your shoulder a pat." Make of that wha' yer will."

With that, he left the room. Leaving you there, dumbfounded, before you realize you haven't even treated him yet

You thought about him for half of a day, until lunch came and you sat down on the table without looking around. You didn't hear when the chair beside you was pulled, before someone took a seat

"Man, I miss your cooking." You snapped out of your thoughts, as you turned to see Gaz. "Everything tastes bland here, I can't even tell the difference between one dish and the other."

You chuckle when he pokes out his tongue in dismay, "I miss cooking too," You stare down at your plate, "... Helped me clear my mind."

"What's on your mind?" He asked, "Care to share?"

"Not sure if you'd wanna hear it though."

"What are you saying?" He retorted softly as he gave your shoulder a squeeze, "You know I'd listen to you."

"You're sweet, Gaz." You chuckled, "But really, I just wanna go back to our base. But at the same time, I feel like I'm just retreating back to my shell. I know that I can't be choosy for this job, but I wish I could be with you guys for a long time."

His gaze stays on you for a while, before he speaks in a hushed tone, "Don't tell anyone that I say this to you, but last night, me and Price were discussing about your contract, and," He leans closer, "It's possible to do a rescission for the contract. Since you've been put in harm's way."

"Really?"

He nods, "He might pull some strings to get you back, but the higher ups would dismiss it since you're not an operator. We're confident that this'll work, since Laswell herself has approved it."

You look at him for a moment, before pulling him into your arms. "Thank you." You said to him, "I don't know what I'd do without you guys."

You feel him smile before he pats your back, "People said that you're a spoiled princess," He grinned, "But we certainly don't mind spoiling you."

"You'll regret it someday."

"You're worth the regret."

His words stuck with you for the rest of the day, and somehow it lifted up your spirit as you took care of the wounded with ease. At night, when you're walking back to your room, you spot the masked man in the hallway. His head turns when you call his name, and you wave at him.

"Hi."

"Hey."

"Are you done for the day?"

"Mostly." He replied, "Just need to fill some paperwork."

"Alright then."

The two of you would bid goodbye, if you both didn't hear the angry stomp echoing in the corridor. You turn your head towards the sound, and your blood runs cold as you recognize the face

"I need to talk to you." Graves said with an unmistakable rage in his voice, "My office. Now."

You're about to open your mouth before you feel yourself pulled, until your body bumps against a hard muscle. It takes a second before you realize that Simon has his arm wrapped around you.

"Get outta the way, boy." He warned with a glare, "It's none of your business."

"No." He stated, as he kept you by his side

He snorts when he hears it. "No?" He sneered

"If it's about the revocation of the contract, she's not the one who filed it." He glared, "I did."

"Oh." He raised his brow in a mocking manner, "So you're the one who wrote those things?"

"Affirmative." He responded, "I was the one who saw her during the assault, so I'm eligible to give the account as a witness."

You see his muscles harden under his neck, as he hisses to the masked man, "I hope you're ready for Russia because that's where I'm sending you."

"Go ahead and try."

Just like that, the storm has passed by.

You don't know how long you stand there, before he reluctantly lets you go from his arm. You clear your throat as you step aside to face him.

"Um… Thank you." You told him while looking down

You feel his eyes on you, before his hand reaches up to pat your head. "It's nothing."

He bids you goodnight as he tells you to return to your room. You obey as you walk to your door, but when you look back to see him, you still find him standing on the same spot

The next morning, when you deliver your report to the Captain's office, you notice a familiar figure by his desk

The two men were talking, before they lifted their head when you walked in

"Hi." You greeted them, "Hope I'm not interrupting?"

"Not at all." Price reassured, "We were just discussing over something."

"Somethin' ta help fo' yer case, bonnie." His captain nudged him when he said it, "Wot? 'M sho she a'ready knew."

"Is it about Graves?"

"Well," He sighs, "It is. We were just talking about the things that he submitted as evidence."

You shot him a puzzled look, before you turn to Soap.

"The letters, bonnie." He grinned, "I gave him the letters tha' bastard wrote."

"You still had those with you?"

"'Course!" He chuckled, "Ah wanted to use it to rile him up, turns out they're useful for yer case."

"While they won't be included as real evidence, they're enough to convince Laswell to give her approval."

You look at him, while hugging the file close to your chest. "Price, I don't know if I could even repay you back—"

"Don't worry about it, (Name)." He dismissed it by a flick of his hand, "It's my job to ensure your safety."

"And out job ta keep the valuable member o' the team by our side." Soap added with a pat on your back, "Graves can bugger off with his shite."

"Oh…" You cover your mouth, trying to contain your emotions. "Thank you, I—"

"Stop it, bonnie." He said as he pulled you against his chest, "You owe us nothin'."

You didn't cry joyless tears, but they didn't know since you couldn't speak through your sob. You feel bad for causing them to panic, since you cry not out of distress, rather, you're touched by their kindness. When you feel Soap's embrace tightens, and your Captain's hand on your back, you can't help but indulge for a little while

[squiddy-god]

Task force T4T

Simon "ghost" Riley

hehehe giggling and kicking my legs thinking of this <3 anyway this is t4t ghost hcs so both ghost and reader are ftm trans men! I don't care if fem aligned people read or interact but please remember that this isn't for you this is for trans men. I'd also like to say I've never read the comics so my knowledge on that is a little limited (if someone who has read the comics wants to educate me I have questions!) 

Tw: tooth rotting fluff, NSFW undercut, masc! Reader, ftm ghost and reader, mentions and descriptions of dysphoria/trama, very self indulgent, allusions to ghosts backstory, period talk, pre bottom surgery reader and Simon. 

Hnggggg where do I even start 

“Task force t4t”- Simons favorite joke (he's not funny) 

There are a few ways y'all could meet honestly 

My favorite two being these : 

1) You meet at a pub, Johnny is bragging and playfully asking Simon why he doesn't get any 

Simon gives him the look™ and soap makes it his mission to get his best bud a date- or at least some ass 

So Johnny scans the bar and is pointing out various people, all of which Simon is… reluctant to Comment on

He's not had a good experience with life in general, much less with relationships 

But then Johnny has to go and point to you, And Simon stares. 

You're a bloody handsome man, you look nervous, like you were dragged out here to this pub. You seem to like layers, black long sleeves with a worn out slipknot T-shirt over top, gloves tucked into your pocket and nails painted black. black eyeliner and the feint growth of a thin patchy mustache and chin stubble.

You've got a few pins, most he thinks are band pins, but one catches his eyes a little blue pink and white flag 

He turns around on the bar stool and mutters while he takes a swig of his Bourbon. 

He can't stop thinking about you for the next few days, hell he goes on a mission and is out drinking after a week. 

Then he sees you again, dressed similar to the first night he saw you. 

Your sitting on a bar stool chatting with your friends, they walk off to get a booth while you call over the bartender and order. 

He can believe he's really gonna shoot his shot. Johnny would be laughing his stupid Scottish head off. 

Your startled when this huge man sits next to you, you aren't nessesarily small by any means but it's not hard to be smaller then Simon when he's 6’4 and beefed up. 

He doesn't look at you, eyes dead forward and half glazed over while he fumbles in his head to think of something to say. 

He doesn't wanna scare you off, hard to do when the skull balaclava and hood aren't doing him Any good. 

“I like your pin mate” he says, voice deep and gruff. Really all he could muster without makeing a fool out of himself. Your eyes scan him, gears in your head turning in realisation. “Thanks- cool mask ya got on there” silence settles but it's not as awkward as Simon would think. “I don't suppose your uh-” you dance around the subject, terrified of being wrong, of offending this bear of a man who could absolutely beat you bloddy. Simon laughs “that's right lovie” his voice is warm like a campfire with a tone like honey. Makes you melt. “‘spose you'd let me Buy you a drink?” You ask turning to face him. “only if I can buy you one too” you chuckle an call the bar tender over, ordering something fruity but not too sweet, he gets Bourbon. “Oh ho a good ‘ole boy are ya?” He chuckles “the best” 

Your friends come back over and are so shocked to see you absolutely smitten with this man. 

Eventually the night passes with you and Simon chatting, eventually exchanging numbers and heading out. 

Meeting number two! Is soap to the rescue tbh

You work at a little coffee shop, soap comes in and orders the same 4 drinks any time he's in. Only place near base (or in general) that has a blend of black tea Simon likes. Johnny is chatty at the counter while he waits, it's never bussy when he comes in- He talks about his friend Simon a lot, 

Reminds you of a mother trying to talk up her son 💀 

Eventually he suggests you go on a date with his buddy, and he suggests to Simon that he go on a date with the cute lad at the Coffey shop. 

You try to tell him that it probably won't work out- asking if his mate would be ok with the hole you being trans thing and Johnny gets the biggest grin, patting your shoulder “aye thats the best part laddie! yer both in the same boat” 

So you agree, and Simon agrees. Johnny is just happy his L.T is shooting his shot! 

Anyway! regardless of how you meet Simon is nervous but a great boyfriend! 

Trans! Simon who where's the mask when he's feeling Dysphoric whitch is often 

He wakes up and doesn't see himself, the PTSD definitely isn't helping but some days the mask helps a lot

Always helps you through your dysphoria, holds you close and assures you that you're a real boy, reminds you that if you're asking “am I fakeing it?” You aren't. 

He has the worst periods smh, horrible cramps, heavy flow and they always seem to last so long. 

Has deadass threatened to throw a tampon at soap. Soap did NOT think that was funny 

He always knows what pads/tampons to get, and once your cycles sync up he's done for, he is irritable and just wants to come home and cuddle you 😤 

Rubs your back when cramps get too bad 

Absolutely melts into a big puddle when you rub his shoulders when he's back home. 

Has beaten up transphobes and will continue to do so<3 his favorite activity tbh 

Works out at home and oh boy is it a ✨sight✨ his top surgery scars are pretty prominent. They come up under where his (now) peck is and they are a bit on the jaged side 

Tossing around the idea of Simon who got either a cool jaged outline over his scars to highlight then, or got smth like barbed wire over them. 

He's proud of his top surgery scars, they're the only scars that HE chose, that he wanted. 

If you still bind he gets you a skull print binder (the dork) 

Matching packers so you both feel less dysphoria! 

Simon “nothing more romantic then helping your s/o take their T-shot” riley. He takes his every morning and if you're comfortable he helps you take yours, especially if you get freaked out by the needles 

Simon is hairall over but complains that the Testosterone goes mostly to his ass 

Que hilarious ass smack 

✨trama bonding✨ Simon has crawled his way out of hell (almost literally) so it feels nice to know that he can confide in you and really have you understand this aspect of him. In a way it makes it easier to open up about the other things he's experienced 

Simon “my dick is huge”/ “my dick is bigger than yours” riley

His idea of real romance is letting you shave down his hair before each deployment. 

If you ever feel Dysphoric and want your hair GONE he shaves your head for you, and lest you shave his head so you match

His pronouns are he/him obviously but he also sometimes uses it/it's when he's feeling like it 

Big star Wars nerd, builds legos but really likes miniatures in general. Will spend hours on making those 3 wooden puzzle things. 

NSFW //

It takes a while for Simon to be comfortable with sex, he has a lot of issues to work through, and a lot of insecuritys 

He doesn't like his body too much, especially not from the waist down, so he can't imagine you like it either

But once he realize that yes, you love his body, that he's safe, that your safe? 

He's a horn dog good Lord he needs a cold shower

Loves giving you head- Simon riley is a munch send tweet 

Can't decide between eating you out like he's trying to drink you or sucking your T-dick like his life depends on it- so he does both 

Oh you accidentally had your binder on to long? Your breasts are tender? He can help- he swears he can make it better lovie just let him massage your boobs so they don't hurt! 

Simon riley is a switch who prefers to top because he likes the control it let's him have and makes him more comfortable 

He can be rough but most of the time he's just so sweet and intimate, I wouldn't nessesarily call it gentle, but its definitely not rough

Strap game is on point so have fun getting that back blown out (or blowing his back out) 

Simon “sweetheart come here, I wanna play with your dick” riley, honestly he's obsessed with it. Playing with your pussy and T-dick while he watches the footie 

Wet dream/fantasys about bottom surgery, he wants a dick, always has, but the thought of being able to really fuck you on HIS dick? Have you choke on his actual cock and not some silicon junk? 

Someone muzzle him fr 

Speaking of muzzling him- he can and WILL leave the WORST hickeys on you everywhere

Looks like you lost a fight to a gang of industrial vacuum cleaners, like dawg calm down nobody is trying to take you away-

Deep deep dark purple with a bit of reddish yellowing around it. 

And boy you are absolutely covered in them. Looks like you where on the receiving end of a paintball firing squad.

[animeyanderelover]

Can i request Black butler with a very quiet darling and how would they approach them

Sure thing. You didn’t specify which characters so I just chose a few.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusion, clinginess, stalking, manipulation

Very quiet s/o

Ciel Phantomhive

☕️Considering that most of the people in Ciel's closer surroundings are a mixture of energetic, loud and chaotic except his butler he would most likely appreciate his darling for being on the silent side. Being in their company is far more peaceful as he can actually do something productive without being interrupted although he does wonder where your thoughts are in such moments. Ciel isn't the most talkative person himself and sort of expects you to not be someone who feels comfortable holding long conversations. So if he does strike up conversations with you, they're always on the short side so he does not make you uncomfortable and doesn't risk losing his face if you would decide to just ghost him. He might show some patience but that doesn't change the fact that Ciel is still awfully possessive so expect any potential suitor to disappear or to tragically die.

Sebastian Michaelis

🐈‍⬛Ever the proud and arrogant demon, Sebastian can't help but see your quiet personality as a little challenge, one he is very willing to take. With the end goal of winning of course. Working for his master automatically means that he's also surrounded by very bubbly and talkative people so he finds the clear difference in personality in you very adorable. Sebastian is quite convinced that he can charm you with his looks and his flawless courtesy. He stalks you in your daily life, figures out your little quirks and uses that knowledge to start conversations with you, hearing your voice makes his dead heart flatter. Don't forget that the man in front of you is a highly possessive demon though, one who appreciates your quietness for the additional reason that it keeps you from interacting with others. Why not only talk with him and let him be the only one to bask in the pleasure of hearing your lovely voice calling his name?

Ronald Knox

😃Ronald blends in really well with others and is quite the chatty person himself which makes for a great contrast between him and his darling. Something that doesn't intimidates Ronald in the slightest though, instead he can't help but dote on you a bit more thanks to your quiet personality. He tries to talk with you quite often although he often ends up being the one who fills the silence most of the time. As long as he knows that he has your attention, he's fine with it though although it is a great achievement if you do reply to him without him having to ask you to do so. If he realizes that his attempts kind of put you off though, he pulls back for a bit, reluctantly that is. After all he prefers spending time with you instead of stalking you. Given your quietness though, Ronald can't help but grow just that tiny bit more protective and possessive over you.

Joker

🤡 Joker pays especially much attention to you, a new member of the circus of his. Initially some just assume it's due to your very silent nature as you rarely speak up or talk to anybody. As time passes by though others, especially his friends, realize that Joker has turned quite obsessed. He's highly protective over his darling and just as possessive as he keeps you around him nearly all of the time and acts hostile as soon as someone asks him about you. You find yourself isolated thanks to Joker who is for the most part the only person you can interact with as he uses his influence as the leader of the circus. Technically speaking he knows that he's doing something wrong but he just can't help it. He loves you so much and your silent nature only worsens his protective tendencies, he wants to hide you from the world. He doesn't mind your lack of words around others but by all means, please talk to him and let only him hear your lovely voice.

Alois Trancy

👅 Probably one of the worst people to handle someone who is as quiet as his darling is as Alois is a demanding and equally bratty person although he highly adores and even worships his s/o to a certain extent. The only thing that is certain is that Alois is bound to be highly possessive over you and very unwilling to let others near you. Talking with you is very tricky as you're a silent person but it gives him the impression that you don't like him which does nothing except triggering his paranoia and if you do have someone you open up to and talk with, you can bet your kidneys that Alois will see it through, after a great fit of jealous rage, that they will be gone. It should be him with whom you share your secrets and worries! He's the one made for you! Count on an abduction sooner than later and after that absolutely no break from the young noble as he's up your arse every minute of the day, all whilst begging you to talk with him.

Hannah Annafellows

🟣 Hannah is cunning and manipulative, especially once she realizes that you are her mate. Considering how silent of a person you are, it's a rather convenient situation for her. There most likely isn't a huge group of people in your life which means less work for her as there is no one she feels the great need to remove instantly from your life. Hannah enters your life very quick though although she makes sure to adjust herself for now to your own personality. She acts docile and careful around you, doesn't want to overwhelm you with her real side for now. If she could arrange it already, she would like to become your personal pillar as soon as possible so that there will be less troubles later on. She makes sure to be the only person you can really interact with as she scares everyone else away, creates an environment where only her and you exist. As it should be.

Ran Mao

🌺 I think it's a well-known fact that Ran Mao herself is a woman known to not be someone whose voice you will be likely to hear all too often too. Maybe that's what sort of sparks her interest in you to begin with, both of you are rarely heard speaking up at all. The lack of hearing your voice leads to excessive stalking as she desperately wants to hear what you sound like and the first time you actually do talk, she seems to become only more obsessed with you. She tries to respect your silence though since she herself isn't talking that much for herself either but if you do talk, expect her to hang onto every tone leaving your lips. Her lack of words is definitely made up with the amount of touching she does though as she's essentially like a cuddly and clingy kitten. Ran Mao is a professional assassin though and that spells danger for others as she grows quite protective over you.

Charles Grey

 🤺 Charles Grey just happens to experience a streak of boredom which is why he decides to entertain himself a bit with you, a simple game to crack your silent shell and charm you as you don't swoon over him nor pay him much mind. The only thing is that you're quite a hard shell to crack as you don't give in much despite the man's attempts to provoke you slightly and tease you. Unfortunately that only earns you his obsessive interest in you as Charles suddenly pops up around you on a daily base to try to chat with you and attempt to get under your skin by teasing you and annoying you. If he gets any reaction out of you, especially a verbal one, he sees it as a win. He'd like to clarify that he doesn't hate you though. He can confidently say that he wants you and for that your silence around others fits rather well since it quenches some of his possessive tendencies. Now how to teach you to only ever speak around him~?

[gojos-thot-patrol]

KNIGHT SUKUNA AND WITCH READER BUT...BUT WITCH READER FOUND INJURED KNIGHT SUKUNA..AND FLUFF FLUFF

Okay, I NEED to work on Kinktober, but I also NEED to work on this, so were gonna do a warm up, 'kay cool? 'Kay cool!

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You always knew when there was something wrong with the woods. The trees told you when something was amiss. And as you made your early morning walk through the woods, the forest was clear: Something was very wrong.

You assumed it was because of the bloody battle from the night before. It took place just outside of the treeline, a battle between the warring kingdoms. You honestly didn't know all of the details, nor did you care. You lived outside of their drama for a reason.

You found yourself making your way to the battle field, pulled by some unseen force to check out the scene. It was about as bad as you expected, a gruesome field where the two sides didn't even have the decency to bury their dead. You took a deep breath, and started to gather flowers.

You weren't strong enough to bury so many people, but you did have a heart. So you adorned the bodies with flowers and blessings as you thanked them for their bravery and wished them a peaceful eternity.

The sun was at it's peak, the afternoon coming and warming the land as you made your way to the final corpse. You began to place the wild chrysanthemums around the dead, only to feel your own ghost jump out of your skin when he groaned.

"Holy shit, you're alive?!" You gasped as the body man groaned, aggressively brushing the flowers away.

"Barely." He grumbled, failing to sit up and coughing up a lung. You quickly turned him over, observing his bloodied armor. There in the space between armor, was a deep and gory gash right into his side.

"Oh that looks really bad." You mumbled as you assess his damage.

"You don't say?" He snapped, and suddenly you felt way less inclined to help. But sadly, you're humanity got the better of you, and you knew you had to help him.

"Can you walk?"

"Do you think I'd still be laid up in this fucking field if I could?"

"Yeah, okay that's fair. That's...Oh boy." You took a deep breath, rolling your shoulders as you got ready for the task at hand. Your cabin wasn't far from here, you just needed to get him there. Okay, feet shoulder width apart, keep your neck and back straight, left with your knees and-

"HOLY SHIT- Are you made out of metal?!" You gasped as you struggled to lift him.

"No, but I'm covered in it!" The man snapped, struggling to roll away from you, "What the hell are you doing anyway?!"

"I'm trying to take you home!"

"You could buy me a drink first." This guy was getting more and more annoying by the minuet.

"You're very chatty for a dead man, you know that?" You snapped.

"Probably because I'm not dead!" He snapped back. "I'm just mostly dead. Big difference."

"Look, If you just come with me I can help you. I'm a-...a cleric."

"A cleric?" He asked suspiciously. He didn't fight you this time as you tried to lift him up, instead working with you to get him semi-mobile. "For which god?"

"One of the godly ones." You (poorly) bluffed as you walked him to your cabin, struggling to support his body weight but managing none the less.

"I've heard better lies from dead men." The knight scoffed.

"Keep this up and you'll be a dead man." Ether due to your threat being just that effective- or all the searing pain he was in, he didn't talk much after that. The only other sound he made was a groan as you got him home and moved his arm to take off his armor.

You worked quick, brewing together a balm to help with the infection. You spread it over the injury before carefully sewing him up, and then forcing him to eat a goodberry for good measure.

He slept after that. Peacefully in your spare bed. Every once in a while you would check his pulse to make sure he was still of this world, and he would stir slightly but never enough to fully wake. He was up just in time for a late dinner.

"What's you're name witch?" He asked as he sat across from you, more playing with his stew than actually eating it. You felt your face catch fire as he asked that.

"What?! I told you, I'm a cleric, why on earth would you call me a wi-" He cut you off by pointing at your alter. Oh. Yeah, that would give it away, huh? You sighed as you told him your name. He nodded, rolling it around in his head.

"Pretty name." He finally said.

"And what's yours?" You asked.

"Sir Ryomen Sukuna of the-"

"Yeah, I don't need your full title. Just Ryomen was fine."

He licked his teeth as he took you in. It wasn't often he found someone willing to go tit for tat with him like this. Most people just shrink in front of him. He liked that change of pace. He might just keep you around.

"Right, I'm reporting you for witchcraft in the morning for the disrespect."

"You do that and I'm taking my sutures back!" you warned.

[imagine-that-100]

Will We Talk? | Part 3 |

Description of Part 1: Alex Turner x Reader | Being Katie Cook’s best friend means you see a lot of a certain band, so it’s too bad that the lead singer can’t seem to stand being in your presence. You’re all too aware that you get chatty when you’re anxious, and despite being around each other for a decade, Alex still makes your heart race (and not in a good way). But then he asks a question you never expected to hear, and it changes everything: “Do I make you nervous?”

Word Count: 17.4k

Warnings: Smut 

A/N: Well... It's been a minute. I can only apologise for how long this part has taken me to write but believe me this will be worth the wait because holy shit. Again a big thank you to @alovesreading and @kennedy-brooke for helping and listening to me complain about me having to write this chapter as I was getting more and more stuck (prepare yourself for me being the exact same with part 4&5 tho). Also a big thank you to @lottiecrabie for beta reading this and lottifying it for me, you're a genius. Thank you to everyone who has waited for this one, I wont keep you any longer, go enjoy it. Thanks a million for reading x

| My Masterlist | 

| Part 1 | Part 2 |

Waking up beside Alex brought everything back to you and it hits you in the same way your hangover does your stomach. Sickeningly. 

Repercussions of what it all could mean give you a worse headache than you already have. Your body aches more than it has in a very long while. It’s easy for you to tell that it's not just the lingering alcohol making your muscles seize, it’s all the cardio Alex was putting the both of you through a matter of hours ago. 

So after lying in complete discomfort for 10 minutes, only focusing on the way your stomach is flipping and the steady breathing of the man on the other side of the bed, you get up. You head to the bathroom and you immediately go for a drink of water from the tap, followed quickly by using some toothpaste and some mouthwash to try and freshen yourself up. 

After using his toilet, you don’t even feel any remorse about turning on his shower. Once it’s a decent temperature, you walk in. You can’t even deny that this might be the nicest shower of your life. You fully let the hot water relax your muscles and you don’t think twice about using Alex’s stuff. 

You’re surprised the man actually has both shampoo and conditioner instead of a 2 in 1. After all, his hair is only just growing back and it’s still shorter than what it was back when they first got famous. You’re grateful regardless because it's good quality and it smells amazing, hints of eucalyptus with a smokey wood scent. 

Taking your time washing your sore body down with his shower gel, you gently start to hum along to a tune that’s managed to stick in your head, and you’re glad the shower seems to rid you of your hangover symptoms. 

You end up in your own little world, reminiscing about last night's activities as you wash your body. Every brush of your fingers, you can feel Alex’s touch. If you close your eyes you can picture it all over again and the ghost of the feelings he stirred up in you. 

It’s like tingles are running through your bones. Just the memory alone throws you back into the moment, like you can feel him on you, inside you, his skin against yours, his lips on y- 

“How are you feeling?” Alex’s voice startles you. 

He walked in a few minutes ago after waking up needing to go to the toilet and he couldn’t hold it despite hearing the stream of the shower. He didn’t want to invade your privacy, but he knew the frosted glass that split the room would shield your body from him if you didn’t want him to see it. It would be silly after last night anyway. The image of you is seared into his retinas. 

So after using the toilet and brushing his teeth, he turned to see that you still hadn’t noticed his presence. He can only glimpse at a blur of a figure behind the steamed glass, the temperature in the room getting increasingly hotter as the moments pass. He can’t help but want to see you again, which is why he decides to open his mouth. 

You quickly whip yourself around and see him standing just near the end of the glass pane that divides the shower from the rest of the room. Alex’s gaze is on your face, staying respectful and not lingering down, even though he’d seen you a matter of hours ago. 

Him startling you when you least expected has your heart racing, not to mention his actual presence. The fact he is still very naked in front of you makes your blood pound in your chest faster. Flashes of last night come back to you and it’s like you can feel him touching you again. Feel him kiss your skin again. Feel him insid-

Not the time Y/N. He asked you a question. Oh shit yeah.

“A little better after a shower, thanks.” You say once the shock of his presence dwindles a little. Unsurprisingly, you start to panic ramble, “Sorry for not asking, I should have- but I- I just didn’t want to wake you up.”

“It’s fine Y/N/N,” Alex brushes your apology off, and after a beat he asks, “Mind if I jump in?”

Trying not to let the anxiety show on your face as it creeps up your spine, you just nod and shrug, “Your shower.”

You were just about done anyway. 

You enjoy the hot water for a second more before you mentally prepare to leave the warmth. Once you say a silent goodbye to the glorious shower, you turn and see Alex has just stepped in, heading for the water. You go to move past him, and trail off, “I’ll just let you…” 

“You don’t have to leave.” Alex says as he catches your wrist, his thumb caressing your skin. 

Your eyes go wide and you can feel yourself about to stutter as you start, “But I-”

Alex interrupts, “Stay.” He doesn’t want to give you time to overthink but he also won’t push you. Though he appears pleased when you gently nod. You let him guide you back to the water. 

Although you’ve agreed, he can see there's still hesitance there and a hint of awkwardness that he wants gone quickly. In the best way he can, he addresses it directly and with a soft smile on his lips. “You know we fucked last night, right?” He holds his grin when he sees your eyes go wide, clearly not expecting him to say that. 

But going through your head is, No shit! What a stupid fucking question! How the fuck could anyone forget a night like that?! Forget someone fucking you like that… What a fucking idiot to even ask.

As it turns out, your thoughts are a little hasty, because Alex’s gentle tone continues as he lathers himself up in shower gel, saying, “You don’t need to feel awkward. I’ve already seen you.” 

Before you even know it your worries spill from your lips, “When we were drunk and we lost all inhibitions and I don’t know if you were blackout drunk or not, I don’t know if-” 

“I still remember.” Alex interrupts you, looking into your eyes and he takes your hand again and moves you back under the shower with him. 

While that in itself makes you feel a little easier, the fact that you don’t know where to look makes your mind spin. It feels uncouth to look down, especially considering you haven’t seen him look down either. But like he just said, you saw each other last night and it shouldn’t be awkward.

Christ, you weren’t built for the stresses of one night stands. Or friends (if you can even call him that) with benefits, or whatever the fuck this is. 

“You’re still gorgeous,” Alex assures you, “Please don’t overthink, just stay.” 

You gently nod again, trying to just not think about the fact that you're standing naked beside a man you barely know. Instead you close your eyes and enjoy the water again, blocking out the man washing his body beside you and you let your body relax as you tilt your head up towards the huge shower head and let it rain over you. 

Having a shower was always relaxing for you, a brief escape from the hectic days you tend to have and if shit goes wrong, a shower can most of the time fix the mood the day has put you in. It’s your safe space to decompress: you just let yourself calm down again, and enjoy the way the hot water makes you relax. 

Alex doesn’t notice what you’re doing straight away, not until he turns to start washing his hair and he sees you standing beside him looking all stoic. Suddenly, he can’t take his eyes off you. 

You look so at peace, as if all your worries and overthinking had been washed away by the water you’re both standing under. You look gorgeous with the way the various lights in the room are hitting your skin, almost making you glow in the warm lighting. 

It’s almost like he's watching in slow motion, how he watches the water trickle down your pretty features. Bouncing from your eyelashes and running down your cheeks until it reaches your lips that still look plump from your activities last night. Alex feels the urge to kiss you again, but he manages to resist. He’s only just got you calm, the last thing he wants it to unnerve you. 

Little does Alex know that he already sort of is. Not through any fault of his own as you can’t expect to be in the shower with someone and for them to pay no attention to you, but you can feel his eyes on you. Not in a creepy way in the slightest, but you can feel his gaze and the awkwardness is threatening to bubble back up your spine. 

Trying your best to suppress it, you take another few deep breaths and roll your head and your shoulders a few times to encourage your muscles to loosen up again. You really hate not knowing where you stand with him, but suddenly your mouth that likes to nervously chat away can’t even open. The last thing you want to do now is annoy him and for him to tell you to leave and it makes things messier than they are already bound to be with Katie and Jamie.

Oh lord, how the fuck am I meant to tell Katie? She’s going to disown me. Jamie will never be able to look at me again. I’ll never be Forrest’s favourite auntie again when I inevitably can’t see him anymore. I- No, stop over thinking. Stop. It.

Alex can practically see you cogs spinning in your head again so he gently encourages you to get out of your head and hopes you start chatting to him again. He’s never been in your presence and you’ve been so silent. The last thing he wants is for you to overthink something as simple as a shower.

“Are you still feeling okay?” The singer can’t help but ask as softly as he can so he doesn’t make you jump by interrupting your quiet moment. 

“I-” You clear your throat, “Yeah, I’m okay thank you.”

“Sure?” Alex questions, wanting to keep your brain as clear as possible,

You nod, smiling a little at the endearing way he double checked. Who is this man and what has he done with the Alex Turner you’ve been used to for the past decade?

“How are you feeling?” You ask, wanting to reciprocate the manners he’s showing you. 

“Good thanks,” He nods and smiles at you, “Little headache but we both drank a lot so it makes sense.” You try not to watch the way the water runs down his neck and his chest as he talks to you, “Was good in that club though. I enjoyed it.” 

“Yeah it was good.” You agree, trying to keep your eyes on his but failing every now and again, “No one bothered you either so I guess that was a little better for you too. Makes a night easier I suppose... Did you have a fun night with Jamie?” 

“I had more fun with you.” Alex smirks a little, not missing the way your eyes have begun to wonder slightly. He’s still sincere when he asks, “Did you have fun?” 

You know that he’s not talking about your night out anymore, he’s talking about your night with him and you’d be a liar if you didn’t answer, “Yeah.” You flush, asking him shyly, “Did you?” 

“Most definitely.” Alex hums. His focus is solely on you now. He takes a step closer to you, as even he can feel the tension from last night stir back up between you. He watches your reactions closely and when he sees his proximity doesn’t alarm you, he lowers his voice a little to ask one more question, his finger coming to trace your jaw as he does, “Do you regret it?”

You shake your head, keeping your eyes on his. You’re not letting your nerves get the better of you. “No.”

“Good.” Alex smiles and his hand moves from tracing your jaw to your neck where he cups it again. Before you can really comprehend it, his lips dip down and take yours in a kiss. 

It’s not a simple kiss. There’s heavy meaning behind it, spinning in the back of your dizzy head, seeping through your panting breaths, gripping his rough hand as it caresses your cheek, flexed and clenched like he’s holding back doing more.

It’s a losing battle. As soon as a moan spills from your hot mouth, Alex grips your waist and pulls you flush against him. Your chests rise and fall in sync, and there’s something even more meaningful knocking at the back of your head. It feels dangerous, like another border you’re crossing without even looking back. At least you know now it wasn’t just the amarettos on rocks making his kisses feel like your stomach might flip. 

You reach up, one hand finding his nape, the other digging into his wet hair. There’s a sense of you trapping him, wrapping him in a deadly trap he, thankfully Alex, doesn’t seem to want to even try escaping. Instead, he moves the both of you back under the stream of water so you don’t get cold, as though that was possible with your temperature rising with every artful swipe of his tongue. His hand practically burns at your waist, strong and present and callused, and soon you’ll need an ice bath just to recover from him. 

Alex steals every breath from your mouth and you give them to him without a second thought. It’s pathetically quickly that you can feel yourself getting wet, and not just from the stream of water pouring on you. It’s everything. His mouth, his tongue, his hands; from the way he’s touching you now to the way you can still remember him fucking you yesterday, like a permanent branding iron on your body that burns, burns, burns. Your heart races in your chest. You’ve never felt more alive.

Alex snakes a hand around your back, firmly holding you against him like you’re his prized possession, like he fears losing you down the showerdrain if he doesn’t trap you in his arms. He gets needy whimpers out of you, muffled by his eager tongue. You pull away when his hand falls to your arse and squeezes tightly, moaning into the hot, heavy air, into his open mouth that’s fucking smirking. 

Cocky, he runs his gentle hand down your cheek, butterfly kisses across your jaw, to settle on your neck. His dark eyes dig into yours as he squeezes, ready to catch every microreaction. You release a pretty soft sound for him, whining. His hand’s heavy and meaningful around your throat, hanging from it like he owns you. 

It only makes you more desperate for him. Needing to get your claws into something, you pull harshly on his wet hair. He groans, mouth hanging open in pleasure, and you use that to your full advantage to catch his mouth again.

Alex is hard against you; the knowledge that it’s you causing this reaction in him boosts your confidence tenfold. Enough to make you want to drop to your knees for him here and now. You’re pretty certain the singer wouldn’t mind.

The idea transforms into a need, soaking your thighs further. Eager, you let your hand run down his wet chest, sweet and worshipping, making him shiver against you. You drop it to his cock, just two light fingers touching his length, teasing him. He pulls away from your lips, moaning. His face looks down to the beginning show in wonder. You smirk. No, he wouldn’t mind at all. Slowly, you wrap around him. “Fuck,” he mutters. 

The noises you pull from him have you pressing your thighs together. Noises that you wish you could record and play on loop when he’s not there to help you; pretty, pornographic moans that vibrate against your cheek. You fall into his neck to kiss and nip and lick at, letting his sounds bloom into your ear. His hips jump into your fist, making you that more determined to continue stroking him, wanting and needing him to unravel, to be entirely at your mercy. 

But you know your mouth is ten times better than your hand, so you climb back up to his lips, leaving a quick, hot kiss, then biting his lower one. You tug and release, smirking at his hitched breath. There's a moment then where you both look at each other, lust the only thing in either of your eyes, and it’s as though the steaming water runs cold compared to the heat between your greedy bodies. 

There's a fraction of a second where everything changes. Time slows for it to happen. Still, your brain can’t keep up. Just as your eyes fall and you back away to allow your knees to sink and hit the tiles below, Alex grabs you by your hair with both hands, bringing you back up and pulling you into another kiss. 

It’s hard and hungry, and it takes you enough by surprise that you stumble back, unsteady on your feet. Alex follows, greedily allowing himself an extra second of the torrid kiss before he spins you around and pushes you up against the glass. The bitter coldness of the glass against your scorching skin makes you gasp, a rush of pleasure spreading down your spine. You can feel Alex’s smirk as he presses himself against your back. 

His arm snakes around your waist as his lips find home where your shoulder meets the base of your neck. Your thin necklace does nothing to stop his mouth attacking the skin there, biting, then soothing it away with his tongue. His fingers trail down between your thighs. With a moan, your head falls to the glass, cool against your skin. You throb for him.

His fingers brush your clit, making you gasp and whine for him before he dips his fingers down further to feel just how wet he’s made you. He can’t help but smirk against your ear, as if he’s not already almost completely hard against your arse. Gathering a pool of your arousal, he finds your bundle of nerves again, gently rubbing it. 

Slow teases on your clit make your head fall back on his shoulder and you can’t help but moan. You clutch his wrist with one hand in a silent beg not to stop. Sweet whines of pleasure escape your lips, filling the hot room with more than just the stream from the shower.

Without fully realising, Alex finds himself rocking his aching cock against you, causing your body to shift. Dragging your nipples across the cold glass heightens your senses more than ever. You’ve never dealt with such different intensities of temperature before, never known such staggering opposites could make your body melt and drip with euphoria. 

“This what you want, sweet?” You can feel Alex’s hot breath against your ear, “Want me to make you feel good again?”

Your moans are answer enough for him, but it delights him how he has you begging, “Please.” 

“Good girl.” He smirks, nipping the skin just behind your ear before he adds more pressure to your clit. 

Your hand blindly reaches to grasp something, but the cool glass beneath your palms doesn’t help at all. It slides off the glass, entirely unable to catch any resistance with the way the scolding water is still raining down on the both of you. 

Alex could get used to this. The way you’re filling up his bathroom with those pretty sounds that keep falling from your lips, making it very obvious that you’re enjoying everything he’s doing to you. He fucking loves how vocal you are, he loves the fact that you can’t keep those swollen lips of yours shut for him, and he revels in the fact he’s the one bringing you so much pleasure.

“Alex,” You whine out after a minute of him concentrating on your swollen clit, circling and circling until your legs shake under you.

He kisses his way up your neck as he huskily asks, “Yeah?” He focuses back on the makings of a bruise he left there in the early hours of the morning, proud and possessive at the sight of it.

“More.” You just about get out.  

You can’t really think of what else other than more. You need more. 

The way you can feel just how hard he is against your arse and how his hips keep grinding into your own is making you clench around nothing, begging and pleading to be filled. It feels criminal to be this empty at this point. You’re aching to be fucked by him again. 

“You’re greedy, sweet,” he tsks as he kisses his way down your neck. You push your hips against his, rolling them, hoping for something. He’s unflappable, pressing you back up against the glass as he asks, “Can’t be happy with what I'm giving you? You want more?” You nod furiously, mind too hazy to hear the danger in his tone. “Little pet thinks she knows better than me?” 

“Please,” You whine, high-pitched and breathy.  

It seems you’ve fallen right into his trap. Alex bites down on your shoulder, pain and pleasure blooming inside of you. The dominance, the power, the possessiveness has you clenching around nothing again. With the way your lower stomach knots and tightens and coils, you know your orgasm is building steadily. You just need more. 

You bite your lip raw trying to hold back cries, but he tuts in your ear, dragging it out of your teeth. “None of that, sweet. I want to hear you.” As though to give you motivation, he pinches your clit meanly. 

“Oh fuck, Alex!” You gasp. He smiles against your cheek, rewards you with tight circles on your bud again. He has you mindlessly begging now, “Please, please. Alex.”

“What is it you need, then?” Your mouth hangs open, incapable of forming thoughts and sentences when euphoria drowns you like this. Alex helpfully provides, “You need my fingers, is that it?” His hot breath sends goosebumps over your skin. He knows you like the way he teases you in these situations after last night's dalliance. He hums against your ear, “Whining and panting like a brat, I wonder if they’ll shut you up?”

Without another second of torment, the singer drops his hand until he can dip two fingers inside you. With how slick he’s made you, they slip in easily, stretching and filling you up. You cry out a, “Yes!” You’re shaking between his arms, so close and ready you might burst into tears if he doesn’t give you what you need. 

When they finally sink fully inside, you have to abandon your useless attempts to hold the glass in front of you. Instead, you reach back and root your fingers into Alex’s hair. 

You wish it was longer again so you had more to pull on, but your hold on him is enough to ground you to the moment, to him. Finally, he thrusts in and out of you, quick and deep like you need it. It’s shocking to feel how much he knows you, has memorised that dark night to the very last detail. And here you thought he wouldn’t even remember. 

He curls his fingers and electricity zaps through you. He easily finds the sweet spot inside you and hits it with every slide, sopping sounds filling the room as he stretches you open. You’re trembling, gripping his hair so tight you might unroot them. Your brain is too gone to worry about hurting him, drunk on the taste of him and pleasure.

“This what you wanted?” Alex asks, and all he’s met with is incoherent whines from you and a slack, furious nod. There’s an edge to his voice when he breathes,“Well, then. Aren’t you gonna say thank you?” 

“Thank you, Alex,” You immediately scream, too scared he’ll pull his fingers away, too addicted to bother arguing. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou.”

“What a good fucking girl, sweet.” You preen under his words. His hand caresses your hair, cooing, “So obedient, so fucking pretty.” He seems to itch to reward you for it when he asks, “Think you can take more?” Of course, you nod, wanting to be good for him and knowing you can handle whatever he has in mind for you. 

You don’t think you’ve ever released such a loud moan like the one that falls from your lips when he slips another finger. You’re stretched out, so full with three of his fingers inside of you. He’s fucking you open, determined and ruthless, pumping out all the sweet, fucked-out moans from you. Your cunt throbs around him, pleasure swooping low in your belly. God, you hope he never stops. This is everything you want and more. With every swipe of his digits, you feel yourself grow closer and closer 

“Taking it so well, sweet,” He breathes, choked from his own want. You grin at him, proud. “Doing so good for me, letting me fuck you like this. My favourite, little slut.” You clench around him at the name. He smirks, biting your cheek as he promises, “I got you.” 

You know he does, can feel it in the way he curls and fucks, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Your lungs feel aflame, burning up in your chest. Your mind is languid from the ecstasy, melting and swirling in your skull. You can’t remember your own name, only his. 

“Are you close?” Alex teases, because he doesn’t need a response to know. “Christ, you’re practically squeezing my fingers to death.” You moan, your head falling on his shoulder, your hand holding him the tightest you ever have. 

Though he’s a little shit about it, Alex makes sure he does everything he can to give you your mindblowing orgasm. He cups your cunt, his palm hitting your clit. You have no shame, rutting against it, chasing that fatal end like it was your one true purpose.  

“Gonna cum for me like a good girl?” He breathes, looking down at the way your glistening body is reacting to him, chest rising and falling rapidly. He moves a hand to your tits, playing with the peaked nipples. Every sensation sends you a hit of true euphoria until you can’t tell where your body burns. 

He pinches your nipple and you whine pathetically. You’re so drunk on pleasure, you feel delirious, barely even able to get your words out. “Please, Al,” is all you seem to know.

“Yeah?” You can feel his smile against your neck. “Good. Cum on my fingers then, sweet. Show me what a whore you really are.” And when he bites your neck again, sheer desire just to make you feel him everywhere, you lose yourself. 

“Alex,” You cry out, and all of a sudden the pleasure is blinding, “Oh, fuck!” 

Your orgasm scorches your body in an overwhelming wave that buzzes to your bones. The singer works you through it, sickly sweet whispers of praise in your ear that intensify your pleasure tenfold. Alex has to practically stop himself from cumming as he feels you clenching around his fingers, along with the sharp tug on his hair as you clutch him tighter.

“That's it,” he whispers as you come back down from your staggering high. Before he slips his fingers out of you, he praises, “Good girl. Did so well for me, sweet. My best girl.”

Finally, he slides three soaked fingers out of you. The sudden feeling of emptiness has you feeling needy, and the haze of your orgasm lingering makes you dazed and unsteady on your feet. Thankfully, Alex has you tight in his grasp and he maintains that as you slowly turn towards him. 

You can’t even be angry at the shit eating grin on his face, you feel too cockdrunk to even care. He can let it feed his ego all he likes, in this moment you would do absolutely anything for him. 

So much so that you pull him in for a messy kiss, clashing teeth and swiping tongue. You’re still trembling slightly, from the orgasm and the intensity and the fact that it’s him. You press your body against his, feeling his hard cock against your belly. You moan. You need to rectify that right now. You pull away with the intent to drop to your knees again, but Alex’s hands holding your jaw clench, keeping you in place again, knowing exactly what you were planning.

Instead he shakes his head, “No.” 

You don’t understand why he won’t let you, especially when you want to make him feel good. So you demand the only other thing that you can think of. “Take me to bed.” 

But, again, Alex shakes his head. “We don't have to.”

He searches your eyes for some give, not wanting to make you do anything. He doesn’t care about his own release; he’s going to cum fast anyway with the show you just put on for him. He doesn’t need you to do anything for him, he just wanted to watch you unwind at his touch again.

“I don't believe I was asking,” You persist, looking at him sternly enough that you hope he doesn’t turn you down again. 

You want to make him feel good. You want him to cum as hard as you just have and you want to be the reason for it, the cause of his pleasure. You want it to be your doing. 

Thankfully whatever was stopping Alex from letting you sink to your knees for him, he seems to get over. “You want me buried deep inside you, sweet?” He coos, holding you impossibly close, looking at you like he can peer into your soul and pull out the most sinful parts of you, “Wanna cum again? Around my cock this time?”

It’s like there’s nothing else processing in your head other than the promise of him being inside you again. And, Christ, you do wanna cum around his cock, practically a need. Still, you whine, admitting, “Wanna make you feel good, too.”

Alex believes you. You’re holding him so tightly and looking at him with those big eyes that are practically begging to let you do something for him. He smiles, rubbing the stress behind your jaw. “Okay, sweet. Whatever you want.”

Alex turns the stream of water off and pulls you from the shower by grabbing your hand to keep you close. Before you leave the bathroom, he plucks you from the ground and into his arms. You squeak, but he mutes that with a kiss.

When he gets the both of you back into his bedroom, the cool air is a striking contrast to the heat that radiates from both of your bodies thanks to the steaming shower. Somehow, it adds to everything, heightens every sense and every touch Alex stimulates you with. 

Before you get used to Alex’s kisses or being in his arms, you’re thrown down on his bed, bouncing on the mattress. It should be embarrassing how much that turns you on, the sheer strength he threw you with, but you can’t bring yourself to care when you open your eyes to see him standing at the foot of the bed, looking at you like he wants to devour you. 

You lay across the bed for him, wet and pretty and ready, and his mouth waters. He knocks your knees apart to catch another glimpse of your glistening cunt. The cool air hitting you makes you gasp, but it’s music to Alex’s ears. All he wants is to lick and suck your swollen clit again, to dip his tongue back inside you, and have you mewling beneath him as he fucks you with it. 

But, of course, he likes to make a show of it. He can’t give you everything you desire at the drop of a hat. He likes to edge the both of you in that way. Instead, Alex takes his time to crawl up the bed between your thighs, getting acquainted and bruising the soft skin at the top of your legs. 

He can’t get enough of hearing you whining and moaning and the way you keep lifting your hips in search of relief faster. He just grasps them tightly and forces them back down on his mattress. Alex, not being strong enough to abstain from another taste of you, licks a bold stripe up from your entrance to your clit, eliciting a guttural moan from you as your hand flies to his wet hair. You tug on it, putty in his hands, as he starts devouring your already sensitive cunt. 

He’s licking and fucking into you, chin wet with your juices, you get a grip of his hair and tug him off you, desperately crying, “Too much.” You’re far too over sensitive after what happened in the shower. Another minute of him doing that and you would be cumming on his tongue again.

“Yeah?” He pouts at you, though you doubt there’s any real empathy in him. He’s far too pleased. “Can’t handle me eating you? Already too fucking fucked-out to survive it?” You nod, like you can’t hear the condescending tone in his voice. “What if I want a taste? You wouldn’t deny me that, would you?” 

Your lungs are burning. You might melt into his sheets if he doesn’t do something now. “Please, Alex.” 

“What is it, sweet? Use your words.” He pinches your thigh, making you look down at him. 

The visual of him between your thighs all wet from the shower and now with your slick on his lips and chin has you clenching around nothing. You beg him, “Need you.” and that makes the singer smirk as he starts crawling up your body, but not before leaving one last kiss on your clit. 

Those sinful lips of his trail kisses up your stomach and he makes sure to pay close attention to your breasts as he asks you, “Need me to fuck you dumb?” 

You swear you almost choke on your own tongue when he kisses up from your tits to your neck and you hear him say, “Have the only thing you can think about is how I fill you up? How good I fuck you? Make sure you can’t remember anything but my name?”

Murmurs of pleases come from you then, but for all you know you could be entirely incoherent as you just revel in the way Alex’s body presses against yours. Still, you must make somewhat sense, because he lines himself up and finally, finally, fills you with his cock again. 

“Fucking hell, sweet,” Alex can’t help but groan as he bottoms out, “Oh, shit.”

It takes everything in him not to cum there and then. But he won’t, he can’t, he has to make you cum first. With the way you look so cockdrunk beneath him, he doesn’t think that your release is too far away either.

Alex fucks you slow and hard first, making you feel every thrust of his cock as it buries inside of you over and over. Every drag of your nipples across his chest as he fucks into you. Every suck and nip and kiss on your neck, which he’s already abused more in the last 12 hours than your ex-husband ever did. Every single sensation is a perfect cocktail for a brain-wiping orgasm. You feel pleasure threatening the edges of you already.

He grunts each time he fucks into you, but it’s nothing compared to how loud you’re being for him. You’ve given up on holding back all the moans and screams, letting them fall down your chin and into his ears. He drinks them greedily, revelling in every way his name can come out of your mouth. 

His head flips to the other side, hand wrapping around your neck to tilt it and give him better access. While he kisses and licks at your collarbone, his fingers press into your throat. You gasp, a rush of pleasure striking through your body. Your body tingles, mouth hanging open. 

“You’re so fucking dirty for me,” he whipsers in your neck, then releases it. Oxygen rushes through you and adrenaline runs through your veins, doubling the ecstasy swimming through you. Your head feels hazy. 

Your skin is on fire. Both of your bodies are damp with a mix of the water from the shower and the new shine of sweat, but the contrast with the cool air and the way your chests are pressed together makes everything more intense. 

Your legs lock around his waist and your heels press into his lower back, needing him as close as possible. The feeling of him so deep inside you is everything you needed. You feel so full, so satisfied. You just need the split, the snap, the break.

“Alex!” He can’t help but fuck you faster, hitting your spot with every thrust. You can’t get used to the furious pace, digging your nails into his shoulders and scratching out your boiling pleasure. 

When you moan his name again, he can’t stop himself from teasing you, “So loud, sweet. Think I need to gag you, can’t stop that mouth of yours running.” You clench around him and he looks up at you gleefully. “Oh, you’d like that? Like being gagged and bound for me? Can’t move or talk as I get you off over, and over, and over, until you’re too dumb to even think?” Your cunt throbs and he laughs, so fucking pleased. “What a perfect, little slut.” 

With the way you scratch at his back, and pull his hair that your fingers are routed into, he assumes you enjoy his foul talking. “Just for me, right?” He fucks you harder and faster, punctuating his words and gripping your throat tighter as he grunts, “So loud, and All. For. Me.” 

Just like that, he has you cumming around him again. 

It's almost difficult for Alex to continue ploughing his hips into your own with how tight your cunt is gripping him, throbbing and clenching in waves that you don’t even notice because a white heat has taken over your body. 

You feel like you’re vibrating with the way the knot in your lower stomach snapped and you feel the wave of bliss tingle through your blood. It’s ecstasy at its finest, lighting you up and making you feel all gooey and dizzy and happy. 

Alex wishes he could continue fucking you, wanting desperately to fill you up with his cum, you haven’t discussed anything like that yet, and he didn’t put a condom on. It’s with massive reluctance that he pulls out of you and gets to his knees. He fucks his fist, arm flexed and strong, ready to cum on your stomach.

But again, you surprise the singer. Despite still being dazed, you push yourself up and before he can make himself finish, you stop him, grabbing his wrist to get his attention. When his eyes lock with yours, you tell him, teasing and filthy, “In my mouth.”

With a grunt, he scoops up to your chest, kneeling above you, hard cock over your head. You raise your head up to wrap your lips around him, smirking. Your mouth is warm and wet, enough to make him see stars. He knows there's no chance he will last. You suckle on his tip, before clutching the back of his thighs harder, pulling him closer and further into your mouth. 

You hollow your cheeks and make it messy for him, all spit and tongue and just focusing on him. But it lasts no more than twenty seconds because as soon as you take him down your throat maybe a grand total of five times, Alex shoots hot cum into your mouth and groans above you as he clenches a fistful of your hair. 

You swallow around him, making Alex choke out a gasp which has you smirking. Pulling off him, you make a show of it, head falling back into the sheets as you let him see what’s left of him in your mouth, before you swallow again. 

Alex's fingers are still rooted in your wet hair, and you look so pretty gazing up at him through your eyelashes, still all drunk on everything he’s given you. Christ, he would give you everything he has and more if he could have you like this all the time. 

“You’re filthy,” Alex grins down, entirely dazed and intoxicated with pleasure. “Where the fuck have you been, sweet?” 

~*~*~*~ One Day Later ~*~*~*~

“I’ll call you later today.” 

Famous last words. 

Because he has in fact not called you. 

Something which has made you question everything ever since he dropped you off about an hour after he came in your mouth on Sunday morning. The rest of Sunday was spent recovering, and today at work you’d been stressed, getting in your head about all the love bites that you had to hide, worrying over the fact you’ve yet to tell your best friend you’ve fucked one of her friends. 

Frankly, the consequences of your decision to go home with Alex were making you feel sick, worsened by the fact he has yet to call you. That’s why as soon as you finished work, you texted Katie asking if she was down for a wine night. Thankfully, she replied agreeing with a smiley face and wine emojis. 

That is how you’ve found yourself sitting in Katie’s lounge, chatting away to her, slowly putting off the inevitable.

You’ve already been here two hours. It’s 8pm and you’ve had more than enough wine to make your lips a little loose. You decide now is the time.

You take a deep breath before you commit to telling her. “Katie.” She hums in response as she takes a sip of her wine, focused on the label of the red bottle.

Here goes nothing.

“You’re going to hate me.” You let it sit in the air for a second. It falls heavily from your chest.

“I certainly doubt that.” She chuckles, but discards the bottle still, looking at you. She raises her eyebrows, prompting you to continue. “What’s up?”

Taking a deep breath, you ask, “You know the other night we went out?” 

“Yeah?” She nods, smiling at the memory of the fun night the both of you had. 

“I…” You elongate the word slightly before finally saying it out loud, “Had sex...” 

“Oh yeah?” Katie smirks, before leaning over to clink her glass of wine with yours, “So did I, check us out.” Clearly she remembers nothing about how you got home because she asks, “Who was your lucky fella?”

“Alex.” You drop the bomb before pressing your lips together.

“Stop.” Katie’s eyes go wide, letting her glass clink and swoosh on the table as she sits up. She leans closer to you and looks into your eyes, asking, “Are you fucking messing with me?”

Shaking your head, you moan, “I wish I was.” You feel your cheeks go hot when you pull down on your hoodie to reveal one of the huge bruises the singer left on you, “This cheap mark would not be here right now if I was messing about.” 

Katie’s jaw drops at the sight. The mark on your neck is so much darker than the rest of your skin tone, and if you didn’t have your hoodie on there was no way anyone would miss it. It’s fucking huge.

You think you’ve fucked your friendship as soon as the gasp leaves Katie’s mouth. When she starts laughing, you should be reassured that she’s okay with everything, but it unsettles you more, the sound entirely manic. A laugh that screams that she believes you’re playing the biggest practical joke on her of all time. 

In all honesty, it just shocked Katie to her soul. She can’t actually believe that you, the chatterbox that is her best friend, has shagged the grumpy rockstar singer that has never once uttered a word to her or Jamie about liking you in that way. She can see it though, she can imagine it was hot, but she is still so very shocked it’s difficult to stop the out of control laughter reaction. 

All you can do is rub your eyes for a second in an attempt to hide your face. After a few seconds, you rest your hands on your burning cheeks and gently drag them down as you ask in a pained voice, “Katie, have I made a huge mistake?”

“You’ve shagged Alex.” Your best friend's tone sounds entirely shocked with too much excitement still there to even answer your question. She has to say it out loud again, this time even louder, to even process it, “I can’t believe you shagged Alex!” But before you can even shush her, she turns and looks towards the stairs, yelling, “Jamie!”

“Katie! What the fuck, stop!” Your eyes go wide and you pray that Jamie’s selective hearing has come into play because you don’t want him here right now. You beg her, your hand even going out to hold her arm, “Please, I'm being serious. I'm freaking out.” 

“What are you freaking out about?” She still looks gagged, but now the excitement creeps in and she giggles, “This is brilliant.”

“How is this brilliant?” You ask, feeling your head whirring with every thought under the sun. You state the obvious, “It’s Alex.”

He’s one of her husband’s best friends. One of her close friends. You’re sure that this must cross some sort of unspoken friendship boundary. 

“Right?” She looks at you as if you’ve grown another head, clearly not understanding at all as to why you think this is an issue. “You’re surely not worried about me and Jamie having an issue with this, right?”

You think she’s losing it because of course that is a reason you’re freaking out. “Well, that is a part of my worry, yes.”

“Well, don't, because I'm buzzing for you.” Katie assures you, and she can practically see the way you let yourself take a breath. 

She wants to scorn you for being so worried about her reaction. It didn’t really matter if they were okay with it. As long as you and Alex were consenting adults and you were both happy with what was happening, then they wouldn’t stand in your way. But she can see your nervousness is deeper than just her blessing.

So your best friend asks, “What else are you worried about?”

“A lot of things.” You tell her as you press your lips against the rim of your wine glass. 

“Like what?” She asks, entirely calm again until her eyes go wide when she realises she needs to know more information, “Wait, how serious is this? Or is this a one time thing?”

If only you got a phone call, maybe you’d know. But alas.

So you just start from the beginning, “When he came to my house, he asked me if I was nervous around him because I wanted to fuck him. And when I stumbled on an answer he kept talking about it and we kissed. And t-” 

“Wait,” Katie’s jaw drops again and she almost shouts, “You kissed before we even got out?!” 

“Yeah,” You nod, trying not to think about the singer's lips on your own as you continue to ramble on, “And then I blurted out that I don’t do one night stands and he said he never said he wanted one. And then I said I’ve never done a friends with benefits thing. And then he kept flirting and teasing me all night and then the next thing I know, he’s going down on me on the stupid fucking orange settee in his lounge.”

Hearing that, your best friend desperately tries and ultimately fails to keep herself together. She wants to scream from the rooftops, but she can see your hand is over your mouth like you’re afraid to open it again. She's never seen you internally cringe so much since the first person you slept with after your divorce years ago. 

She’s trying to be the best friend she can to you, but ultimately she needs all the facts before she can give you her verdict, so she doesn’t really hesitate to ask, “How many times did he make you-”

“Five. I came five times.” You say through your fingers, as if you can’t believe it yourself. 

“Fuck off!” Katie gasps and slaps your arm. You’re in the middle of saying ‘ow’ as she shouts, “Five times! You’re joking?!”

“No.” You shake your head, rubbing the spot she hit. 

“Christ,” Your best friend looks at you a little jaw dropped again before she seems to regain some clarity when she tells you, “Hun, you are winning.”

“Yeah, well,” You mumble, shaking your head and taking a long sip of your wine, “That remains to be seen.”

“What do you mean?!” She hits you again then, and you frown at her as she groans, “I fucking wish-“

“Don’t,” you interrupt, holding your finger up, “You and Jamie have it very good! Don’t say-“

“Hun.” She deadpans, “We have a three year old child, do you think we have time for a session like that?”

“It wasn’t- He didn-“ You stumble on your words, feeling your cheeks get hot again and your heart start thudding embarrassingly fast as you explain in a whisper, “Some of it was the morning after.”

You can’t look at your best friend when you say that. Instead, you swirl your wine around your glass like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. It’s lucky you do though, because your best friend just about manages to pick up her jaw from the ground.

She starts grinning. “I can't wait to ask you every question under the sun about him now. I’ve not had the courage to fully ask the others. You’re my open book.” She chuckles, leaning forward to grab the bottle of wine from the coffee table before going to tip more into your glass, “Here, have some more wine.”

“Katie no, no.” You push the wine away from you, putting it down, your anxiety peeking at her finding this so funny when you’re about to have a meltdown. “This really isn't funny. Not today.” Only when you hide your face into your hands again does she realise you’re really on the verge of having a meltdown. You mumble, “I’m going to spiral and die.”

Katie decides to be serious for a second and comfort you. This has clearly been plaguing you and she can tell that you need her to forget that she knows him for a minute to help you work out what to do. 

“Okay, then tell me, what are you so scared of?” Your best friend asks, looking at you sincerely when she says, “This could be so good for you, Y/N/N.” 

It would be easier to ask what I’m not scared of, you think. 

But you tell her the thoughts running through your mind, “I’m scared I'll be wasting my time. I’m scared he’s going to get bored of me. And I'm scared that I've not felt that good or that comfortable with anyone that quickly in a long time… Christ, we had barely had a full conversation before the other day and now look at me.” You gesture to your neck as you carry on, “Massive fucking lovebite on my neck that I can’t cover up for shit and-”

“Breathe, oh my god, take a minute.” Katie stops you before you can continue any further. Christ, you’ve really wound yourself up this time, so she promises you, “You’re okay. It's okay.”

“Is it though?” You inquire, “Because he said he was going to call and he hasn’t and I’m not sure I want him to because I feel like, I dont know, what the fuck- “

“Hun, listen to me, calm down.” Your best friend stops you from falling down the rabbit hole by grabbing your hand and giving it a firm squeeze as she again promises you, “You’re fine, this is fine. You’ve just tried before you buyed and that can’t hurt. Like if he was shit you could bin him off, but now you know you’re at least going to have exciting sex.” 

“But is that enough?” You can’t help but wonder out loud, “I don’t even know if we’ve got anything in common, Kate.”

You’re not stupid. You know this thing doesn’t mean you’re in a relationship, but you can’t see yourself sleeping with someone for a long time if the only thing you have in common is liking to make each other climax. Christ, it’s too stressful, you’re really not cut out for this. 

“You have lots in common,” She assures you, and she smiles a little as she admits, “I’m surprised that this hasn’t happened sooner if I’m honest.” 

“What if it doesn’t work out?” You have to ask for your own peace of mind, “What if I make it awkward with Jamie and then you-”

“Y/N. Stop.” Your best friend interrupts, not letting you continue, “No spiralling allowed. Just let yourself enjoy it. God knows you deserve it.”

That, you can’t really disagree with. You’ve not been with anyone for a long while. You certainly deserve to have some fun, and considering she doesn’t seem to be fussed that the person you're having fun with is Alex, you guess that you’re willing to continue whatever this is if he wants to. 

“But he didn’t call,” you say, and your voice breaks at the end. 

Katie gives you a look. You don’t like that there’s a hint of pity in it. “I’m sure there’s a reason,” she assures you, then she thinks to ask the obvious question, “Did you give him your number?”

You blink at her. “Well, no,” You admit. You flush, looking away in embarrassment. “He said he’d call me like he already had my number. I just thought you or Jamie might have given it to him way before now. My number’s been the same for years.”

Katie can’t contain her small chuckle hearing that, “You’re stressed about this and you didn't even give him your number, Y/N.” 

You smile hearing how it sounds, but stress, “He said it like he had it already, Kate.”

“I just think that you’re best not to stress out until you know for a fact he has your number. I haven’t given it to him before, I don’t know if Jamie has.” Your best friend smiles at you before picking up your wine again to give it to you. “Can ask Jamie if he has though. Jamie!”

Your stomach drops again at the thought of Alex possibly already having told Jamie and still no phone call from you. It worsens when you hear Jamie start coming down the stairs and Katie turns to you quickly and asks, “Please can I tell him?”

You start to bargain, “You can see if he knows but don't just outrig-“

“Okay deal,” Katie interrupts excitedly before shouting, “Jamie, come here.”

You both see him walk leisurely down the stairs and when he makes it to the hall, Katie waves him over, “J.” When he turns around and walks in, you see he’s on the phone. 

“Yes if you still really want to. Kid is in bed so do not ring the doorbell. Right, bye.” The guitarist says before putting the phone down and back into his pocket as he gives Katie wide eyes and asks, “What darling, I’m trying to put your child to bed.”

Ignoring the ‘your’, Katie asks, “Jamie, did you know that Alex and Y/N shagged the other night?”

“Katie!” You shout, not believing she just told him like that.

“You’re joking!” Jamie’s eyes go wide in shock and he immediately looks from Katie to you asking, “Did you actually?!”

Katie teases and answers for you, “Yes, she did.” You want to curl up in a ball of embarrassment and die. 

“Stop,” You close your eyes for a second, so you can ignore the smug look both the Cooks are giving you. “I’m fucking mortified.”

Regaining his ability to function properly after a shock like that, Jamie shakes his head and thinks out loud, “That makes so much sense now.”

You’re thankful Katie asks, “What does?”

“He’s been asking after you all weekend.” Jamie grins looking at you. “I was wondering why he was asking for your number.”

“Did you give it him?” Your best friend asks expectantly, needing to know to answer your earlier question. 

And all is revealed when the guitarist admits, “Well, no.”

You breathe a little easier at the same time Katie scolds and slaps her husbands arm, yelling, “What the fuck Jamie, why?!”

“How was I meant to know they’d already fucked, Katie. Christ, that hurt.” He rubs his arm and backs away from the settee. “I didn’t think you’d want Alex trying to shag your best mate.”

The blonde shakes her head, “She’s been panicking all weekend because he’s not called her.”

“Wait, is this like a friends with b-” Jamie starts to question but his wife interrupts. 

Thankfully she answers for you, a lot harsher than you would have probably gone, but at least you don’t have to comment after she tells him, “She would know what they were if you gave him her phone number, you moron.” 

“I’m sorry Y/N, I didn’t know.” The guitarist apologises sincerely. 

You assure him, “It’s okay, J,” before finishing what's left in your wine glass.

It wasn’t like he was meant to know. And you’re very grateful that Alex hadn’t already told him. But your best friend isn’t so forgiving. 

“No it’s not.” Katie frowns at her husband, “You should have given it to him straight away. You know they’d be good together, we’ve talked about it before!”

“Three fucking years ago, Kate.” He reminds her, before once again apologising to you, “Sorry, Y/N.” 

But after hearing that, it’s your turn to be jaw dropped, “What?” 

Katie sighs, clearly hoping to never have to tell you this but she admits, “I was going to set you up with him before he got with Taylor, but then he went back to LA and next thing we knew he had a girlfriend.” 

The mention of Taylor and the memory of what happened there cracks open a whole other can of worries in your head, but thankfully you don’t have to deal with that today. You keep that buried as you hear the Cook’s front door open and a familiar voice rings out into their house, “Hello.”

Your eyes go wide as you ask, “Is that?”

“Alex, yes.” Your nightmare is confirmed by Jamie as tells you and his wife, “He’s calling round for his guitar that he left the other day.”

You try and hide yourself back into the settee, mumbling, “Fuck my life.”

“Sounds like he did.” Katie smirks, which makes Jamie laugh. You want to die. 

But unfortunately, you can’t call her out on it because Alex walks into the room. Of course, he looks fucking drool worthy and he’s not even trying, jeans, white top, and a mustard cardigan. His hair still at that awkward unruly length where he couldn’t yet style it so he just let it be and god you hate him for looking so good.

He’s smiling when he comes into the room clearly pleased to see his friends but when his eyes drop to you, there’s a certain look in his eye that has your skin erupting in goosebumps. A knowing look that for a brief moment, everything that happened over the weekend floods back to the forefront of both of your minds.

As you’re silently seething at him for looking like a wet dream come to life, your best friend gets up with a big grin on her face and she hugs the singer quickly. 

“Hey, youuu.” She draws out in a way that is so telling, you want the earth to swallow you whole. 

Never in your life did you think Katie Cook would be so fucking shit at being subtle. But apparently when it's best friends involved, subtlety doesn’t exist. 

“Katie.” Alex smiles at her, clearly realising why she was being so over the top. Regardless, he hugs her back before releasing her, and then his eyes land on you and he nods a silent hello and smiles, “Y/N.”

Your smile back at him, and it's clear for everyone to see that you’re a little embarrassed, but that's no surprise when gossip is in the air. If ever they thought you would be a little more reserved, it was certainly in a situation like this. 

“I’ll get you another glass of wine, Y/N.” Katie comes back towards you, which is a little ridiculous considering your glass is quite full from the hearty pour she gave you earlier. Still, she grabs it, then nods at Alex. “I’m assuming you’re driving, Al, so I’ll make you a brew.”

He nods and smiles, “Thanks love.” Katie grins back, before turning towards her husband.

“Jamie,” she demands, “Kitchen now.”

The guitarist isn’t one to go against his wife, so he stands up without a word and follows her into the kitchen. As soon as the door is closed, Alex looks down at you and states, “So… You told Katie then.”

Please God let the earth swallow me whole right this very second. Please… Please… Please… Fucking dick. 

“Couldn’t really keep it from her,” You shrug, defending yourself. After all, it’s entirely your decision who you tell or not. You can feel yourself get all hot and bothered at the subtle mention of it, “She’s my best friend and you work with her husband so I-”

“Don’t look so panicked,” Alex says as he takes the seat next to yours. He tells you, “It’s okay. It’s not a secret.”

As he passes by, you get hit with the now familiar scent of eucalyptus and it throws you right back to being in the shower, him pressing you up against the glass with his fingers inside of you. It hits you all at once making it difficult to think but ultimately you know you have to carry on and not give into what you can only describe as war flashbacks.

You’re about to carry on, “I-” But Alex cuts you off;

“I’m sorry I didn’t call you,” He tells you sincerely. He looks into your eyes as he softly admits, “I’ve been trying to get your number off Jamie for the last two days and he was being a stubborn piece of shit.”

“It’s okay…” You find yourself relaxing as you tell him, “I think he’s about to be ripped a new arsehole for that, so no need for you to go in on him.”

Alex snorts at that, expecting nothing less from Mrs Cook’s wrath. As his laughter subsides though, he takes his phone from his pocket and holds it out to you, “Can I get your number then, please?”

You’re almost shocked for a second, but instead of letting that show, you nod, “Yeah.” You take it from him. 

He lets you navigate your way around the phone until you’re typing the numbers into a new contact. It takes you less than 30 seconds to create your contact, save it and hand it back to him, but he surprises you when he then taps a button and puts the phone to his ear. 

Clearly, you know it’s your phone that’s about to ring, so you raise your eyebrows and ask, “Did you think I’d give you a fake one?” 

It’s no surprise at all that your phone starts buzzing away on the coffee table where you put it down earlier. You don’t even make an attempt to get it, you just watch as Alex smiles almost victoriously and tells you, “Just making sure.” 

Both of you share a smile then, but unfortunately, it only lasts a minute because the married couple comes back in with your drinks. Katie is still grinning like she's just won the lottery when she sees the two of you beside each other, “Took my seat, did you, Al?”

“Sorry,” He apologises and goes to stand up, “I can-”

“No, no,” Katie stops him, instead she heading to sit on the other side of the settee, “Stay sat next to your l-

“Do not finish that sentence,” you interrupt, but it’s too late.

She trails off singing, “Loverrr.”

Never before have you wished you could die but it looks like now's the time. Fucks sake. 

Alex presses his lips together, finding this a little too funny even though he shouldn’t. He doesn’t mind her taking the piss a little. It wasn’t like he ever told her he was interested in her best friend before, so he guesses this is to be expected. It’s something he needs to take on the chin. Your reaction however, he finds hilarious.

“I hate you,” You frown, rightfully demanding, “Give me my wine.” Your hand reaches out expectantly.

And thank Christ she’s poured you a large glass, because you definitely need it. As soon as it’s in your hand, you take a long sip of it, needing it as a coping mechanism at this point. 

You don’t care if they are all looking at you, you just need the wine. Who would have ever thought this would be a Monday night? You’re certainly going to regret this tomorrow, but you can’t bring yourself to care at this moment. 

“So…” Katie trails off, still grinning. She's now sitting beside Jamie on the other side of the corner settee, so you can’t even kick her.

Alex repeats, “So…”

But you're still looking at your best friend and you hate the way she’s smiling like the Cheshire Cat. You warn her,  “Stop grinning, you’re making me so uncomfortable.” 

“But there’s much to smile about.” She teases, looking at you and Alex and getting even more excited. 

“Stop it.” You tell her, reaching across and managing to slightly kick her shin. She fakes a gasp as the lads laugh. 

“Who knew you were so feisty.”

Jamie smirks, adding to the jokes because he can’t help himself, “Alex might have some insight on that now.” Alex takes a sip of his brew that his mate previously handed him so he doesn’t give away any reaction to that.

You don’t have quite the same reaction. Instead, you threaten him, “Imma ram your guitar up your arse if you don’t close your mouth.”

Katie sees her opportunity to joke and takes it without a second thought, “Ooo, kinky.”

It makes Jamie laugh and Alex can’t hold his chuckle. You just end up closing your eyes, wishing they would just give you a break. This time, you choose not to respond to it, instead taking another long sip of your wine. 

The next five minutes are filled with subtle hints that you don't rise to, and thankfully a normal conversation ends up seeping back in. You don’t nearly speak up as often as you usually would. Although that could be down to the wine, you know it’s because you’re biting your tongue so you don’t accidentally get more jokes thrown your way. 

You’re happy slowly drinking your wine and people watching how the three of them play into their dynamic. It's clear they have been friends for so long, and it’s really endearing to see how comfortable they are together. It makes you all the more glad to have Katie in your life, someone who makes you feel so at ease and gently pushes your boundaries from time to time, but it ultimately makes you closer.

You're so lost in your thoughts that you don’t really pay much attention to the conversation at all. In fact, you couldn’t tell any of them what it was about, but you didn’t exactly mind until Katie realises you’ve been mostly silent for a while now and she can’t help but tease you again. 

“Nothing to add, Y/N/N?” Your best friend asks you, and when you tune back in and realise you’ve got no clue what they are on about, you just press your lips together and gently shake your head. You would hope it’d get you off the hook for not listening, but you’re not so lucky. 

Instead it makes Katie’s smile grow, and she has the opportunity to lightheartedly tease again, “Cat got your tongue? Or is your throat sore?” 

It takes everything in you not to spontaneously combust, because you’re sure you could with how hot your cheeks immediately go. You make sure you avoid all eye contact with Alex so you can get your response out, “Ride on that, slut.” You accompany it with your middle finger.

“Come on, lighten up.” She laughs, “Jesus, who knew you could be this quiet with enough wine?” Your best friend jokes, and your lips tug up into a smile when she continues, “Is this a miracle?”

Jamie knows his wife is just trying to include you in the conversation again, so he chips in on the joke and adds, “Should I check if pigs are flying outside?”

“Nice to finally get a word in.” Alex chuckles in jest, looking from you with a smile and back to Katie and Jamie who are already giggling too. 

His comment feels like a bullet to the chest though and the smile instantly falls from your face. It makes you remember him telling you to be quiet in bed with him, and again now. It makes you want to curl up into a ball and disappear. It's not your fault you’re a chatty person or if you nervously ramble, it makes you feel so insecure and that’s not how you want to feel on top of everything tonight.

You release a short sigh and mumble under your breath, “Like you ever talked to me before you wanted to fuck me.” You take a sip of your wine and focus on the happy couple across from you. 

In your peripherals, you see the singer's head snap back to look at you, but you pay him no attention after that comment. You still just want to disappear into the settee though, especially after that comment. 

Thankfully the Cook’s have continued on with their little jokes and have paid you no attention. Jamie turns back from looking out of the window and tells you like it’s breaking news, “No flying pigs, must mean you’re okay?”

“Mmm,” You hum, taking another sip of your wine like you believe that’s the only reason you’re well. Playing up to it, you ask, “What was the topic of conversation?”

Now, when Katie sees an opportunity, she rarely doesn’t take it. So you’ve pretty much lined it up for her when she lies and says, “We were discussing if mirror sex, choking, or dirty talk is most advantageous to encourage a woman to climax? Care to share your view?”

And with that, you’re gone. 

“Right.” You down your wine then, feeling your cheeks go uncharted hot in embarrassment, and you stand up in protest, announcing, “I’m walking home.” 

Looking at the clock you see it’s almost 10 anyway and you have to be up early for work, so it’s best you head out of this mad house sooner rather than later. And it will give you a break from having fun poked at you.

Katie starts manically laughing at that, and Jamie chuckles. Alex does too, but he can’t help but offer, “I’ll drive you.”

“It’s fine,” you brush him off, not needing the extra awkwardness that a journey home with him would entail. That, and you don’t want to be a burden to him. “I can walk.”

“I literally drive past your house.” Alex turns to you. He insists, “I’ll drive you.”

“Okay,” you give in, knowing you’ll feel safer and it’s fucking freezing out. “Thank you.”

He smiles at you then and you just about smile back, before you turn and go to get your coat

“Ever the gentleman, Alexander.” Katie smiles and just as you're about to leave the room, she stops you and stands up, “Y/N, a word please.”

You suppress your sigh, abandoning your mission to get your coat and get out to head into the kitchen with your best friend. As soon as the door is closed, you wish you never bothered though. 

“What are you wearing under here?” Katie grins, spinning you around so she can get her hands on the bottom of your hoodie. She tries to lift it up as she asks, “Do you need to change into something sexy real quick?” 

“I’m not shagging him tonight, Katie.” You say seriously, but you can’t stop laughing as you pull your hoodie back down, “Stop.” 

“Come onnnnn.” She whines, but giggles again when she starts trying to get at you again. 

“Katie,” You warn her again, pushing her off you and you can’t help but laugh and yell, “Jamie! Get your wife off me!”

Thankfully, your hero Jamie Cook comes to your rescue and when he’s in the room she lets you go. As you make your way out, you briefly brush past Alex who’s heading into the kitchen with the empty mugs he and Jamie had. 

You look at the ground, not daring to look at him after the shite your best friend has just been spouting. You head towards the front door with Jamie in tow behind you. Once the mugs are in the sink, Alex is about to head back towards the lounge to grab his jacket, but Katie gets his attention instead.

“Al, despite what you’ve just seen me do, don’t tease her.” Katie tells him quietly, being serious for a second when she says, “She doesn’t like to be teased.”

He raises his eyebrows and tells your best friend, “I beg to differ.” You definitely like to be teased, both verbally and physically. 

Katie has to mute the laugh that she wants to let out, because she needs to be serious when she tells him, “In this setting, dipshit. Don’t tease her. Don’t make her overthink it.”

“She’s overthinking what?” He frowns a little, not understanding what you could be worried about when everything was out in the open and it wasn’t a secret. 

“Nothing yet.” Katie doesn’t spill all your secrets. She thinks it's best to let you settle for a while now after knowing it wasn’t on purpose that he didn’t call. But she needs Alex to know, “But if you tease her, she will. Be gentle.”

Alex has to press his lips together for a second to try not to smile, because he knows all too well you don’t like it gentle either. He tells your best friend, “You’re making it difficult not to make jokes.” 

“Just give her an easy time of it. I can get away with stuff, but she still doesn’t know you or your humour very well.” She raises her eyebrows when she says, “And you certainly don’t know hers.” 

Alex begs to differ though, “I think we’re quite similar, are we not?”

“That’s something you should be finding out for yourself.” She pats his cheek a few times, and she grins when she says, “You picked a gooden, darling, you just got to not fuck whatever it is up.” But all of that means nothing without the threat of, “Or you’ll have me to answer to.”

And Christ if that isn’t warning enough, Alex doesn’t know what is.

~*~*~*~

“You’re being weird.” Alex finally says. 

You’ve been alone in the car with him for two long awkwardly silent minutes. Looking out of the passenger window like the roads were the most interesting thing in the world in effort to not have to communicate with the singer. 

This time you’re singing a Sam Fender song in your head to bypass the time, trying and failing not to feel disgustingly awkward around him. But you can feel the tension in the air. You can feel the way his eyes keep lingering on you, the way he wants to initiate a conversation but is waiting for you to. Good luck to him. After that comment earlier, you certainly won’t be doing that. 

Clearly he feels the atmosphere between you as well. The ‘you’re being weird’ was entirely unprompted considering you’re just sitting in his car, rubbing your hands slightly in your lap because of the cold. 

“No, I’m not.” You glance at him a little shocked he even said anything. 

“You are,” Alex tells you, glancing at you and when his eyes find yours, you can see they are knowing ones. After you look away from him, he asks, “Do you regret it?”

“No, I-” You pause before deciding to be entirely honest, but it makes your cheeks hot when you admit, “I really don’t.”

It makes Alex very happy hearing that, but it doesn’t explain your behaviour, so he presses on, “Then why are you being quiet?” 

“Because I don’t want to annoy you.” You say quietly, still not really wanting to look at him again. 

“You don’t annoy me, Y/N.” Alex assures you as he looks over at you again before turning the corner at the junction. 

You frown at that, your head snapping back to look at him when you begin to argue, “But you said-”

“I was joking, sweet,” Alex interrupts, not wanting you to feel uncomfortable around him at all. He manages to look at you as he says with a cheeky smile, “It’s endearing when you run your mouth, even more so when you can't keep quiet in bed.”

The mention of it has your body flashing with heat. You have to stop yourself from shuddering at the thought. You warn him, looking away embarrassed, “Not helping.” 

Alex laughs a little at that, but he wants you to open up with him, so he asks again in a chirpy tone, “What’s up? Come on, tell me.” 

“I just- I’m in my head about it a bit.” Trying to explain as best you can, you continue, “Thought I’d really fucked things between me and Katie when you didn’t call… And I know it’s not your fault, I should have just given you my number, but the way you said it made it sound like you already had it. I was panicking thinking I can never be in same room as you and t-” You catch yourself, hearing how you must sound so you stop and sigh, “I'm rambling again.” 

“It’s cute.” Alex smiles almost wishing he wasn’t driving so he could study your reactions.

“It’s not cute,” You shake your head, smiling a little when you admit, “I was ready to bin your albums.” 

Alex’s jaw drops hearing that, and he sees you already looking at him when he asks, “You were going to bin my music?” 

You nod, confirming it’s the truth, “Puppets albums, too. Maybe even Miles’ from the association.” 

“Terrible.” He chuckles, unable to stop smiling as he turns the corner onto your road. 

Thankfully after that, the last 30 seconds of the journey to yours is a silent but comfortable one. You’re a little surprised he remembers your house number as he pulls up exactly outside it, but as you’re taking your seatbelt off and Alex pulls the handbrake up, there’s an expectant air between you where you both clearly want to say what’s whirring around your minds. 

You’re silently talking yourself up. Just do it, Y/N. Ask him. Ask what he wants. Ask if he wants you again. Tell him your conditions. Come on, do it. Don’t be a pussy and do it. 

Do. It.

Before you scare yourself out of saying it, you blurt out, “Do you want to fuck me again?” But at the same time Alex asks, “Can I take you out?”

Alex answers you before you can even really process what he asked, “Yes.”

“Well you’re not going to until you get to know me better.” You give your ultimatum, “I need to feel comfortable around you so if you want this,” You gesture between the two of you, “To continue for a while, we need to get to know each other.”

You don’t want it to seem like you’re asking for a relationship out of him, because you’re really not. All you want is to not act so awkwardly around him all the time. You don’t want to be the nervous rambling girl he fucked once upon a time, you want to be entirely yourself. You want him to know you properly. Experience you at your very best. 

“So I’ll ask again,” Alex smiles, not having an issue with your proposal at all, “Can I take you out?” 

You grin back, trying to ignore the way he’s looking at you makes you want to melt. You agree, “Yeah, when and where?” 

“Tomorrow night?” Alex suggests, “Could just come to mine and we can talk? Start off small and go from there?” 

“I think we’d both just fuck again if we did that.” You say honestly, “Need to go out somewhere to start with.” 

You just know you’d cave if he started teasing you again. You feel all gooey at the thought of it now, and it’s not like you don’t want him to touch you again, but you need to set that boundary for yourself. And you’re thankful Alex seems to be willing to work with you. But not without making your squirm somehow. 

“Is it the worst thing if we fucked again?” Alex grins, and it’s a cheeky one. A smile that makes your heart race.  

“No,” You admit, “But I’d like to feel comfortable enough around you to not be nervous all the time.” 

Alex nods understanding entirely. He didn’t really expect you to be okay with just fucking him and then leaving it until the next time. He knew some work would have to be done in between and getting to know you really isn’t a hardship for him. That would be trying to let himself open up to you. 

“Okay well, what about the cinema?” Alex thinks out loud. 

“I’m not one to not watch a film so if you’re suggesting that so we can just get off with each other in the back like teenagers in American films, that won’t work for you either.” You prewarn him.

“Believe it or not, Y/N,” the singer starts, incapable of not grinning. Of course you would think he’d try to start something in a cinema. He assures you, “I really like watching films, so I’d be sharing popcorn with you and that’s about it.” 

You smile, liking the sound of that, but curiosity gets the better of you, “Sweet or salted?”

“Salted.” Alex tells you.

And that makes you gasp. No one else you know likes salted popcorn. You’re always forced to eat sweet all the time when you’re out with your friends or family.  

“Thank god someone else likes salted popcorn!” You say rather excitedly, already practically tasting it on your tongue. It makes you all the more excited for tomorrow now. 

It makes Alex all the more enamoured by you. And he can’t help but think it's rather funny that you seem very excited by the thought of salted popcorn when he now associates you with sweet. 

“When do you want to go?” Alex inquires. 

You think about it for a second before you realise it doesn’t matter too much, “I finish work at half four, so anytime after five.”

Alex nods, knowing that works for him completely fine. It’s not that he has any work to do considering he’s not due back out on tour until way into the new year. He can work around you entirely, and he hopes that you can make the most of each other's company until then. 

But then he realises he doesn’t know maybe one of the most obvious things he should know about you. He asks curiously, “Where do you work?”

“At the high school that’s like ten minutes away.” You tell him and you can see the surprise fill his features.

“You’re a teacher?” Alex asks with clearly shocked eyes, and when you nod, he looks even more shocked, following up with, “What do you teach?”

You shake your head, finding this a little too funny. He knows how to make you cum but he doesn’t know what you teach. This is so backwards it’s difficult not to laugh, “This is why I need you to get to know me.” 

“You’re letting me take you out on a school night,” Alex realises, sarcastically adding, “Scandalous.”

“Shut up.” You playfully roll your eyes, before you tell him off in true teacher fashion, “And I’m not impressed with you anyway.”

The singer smiles, “Why, sweet?” 

Trying not to get all flushed at the nickname, you scorn him, “You gave me a massive fucking love bite on my neck, and now I’ve got to wear a fucking scarf whilst I’m teaching.” 

Alex chuckles, but he stops himself to say a quick, “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” You narrow your eyes.

“You’re right,” He lets his smile shine straight through now, admitting, “I’m not.”

You tut at that, still trying to be serious when you truthfully tell him, “I had to go out and buy turtlenecks earlier.” 

“It’s the weather for it at least.” Alex smiles, not finding a bone in his body that makes him regret ever leaving a mark on you. He would make them all again given the chance. “I’m sure no one would notice” 

“In what world.” You ask, moving the collar of your hoodie so he can see the mark he gave you. 

And Alex’s lips tingle and his dick twitches at the sight of it. It’s so prominent on your skin, easy for anyone to see that someone had claimed you as their own in the heat of the moment. He doesn’t blame you for covering it, but Christ he wants to make more of them. 

Despite him seeing how bad his mark is, he plays it off like you could have gotten away with it, “I’m sure the kids wouldn’t have noticed.” 

“I teach sixth formers.” You tell him, “They definitely would have and they’d have called me out on it, too.”

“Oh dear.” Alex chuckles, and he promises you with a playful smirk, “Scouts honour I’ll leave one you can hide next time.” 

“One track mind.” You chuckle and shake your head before opening the door and getting out of the car, “Good night, Alex.” 

“Wait a second.” Alex laughs, winding his window down so he can catch your attention again.

“What?” You ask as you step onto the pavement and lean down so you can continue to speak to him. 

“You never told me what you teach.” Alex says as you lower yourself to his height again.

You smile at the fact he even wanted to know. But you don’t hesitate to tell him, “I teach economics.”

“That’s interesting.” Alex hums, his gaze subtly falling to your lips with you being back in such close proximity to him. 

You hum in agreement, “It is.” knowing what he’s doing but choosing not to pursue that right now. 

When his brown eyes look back up and meet your pretty ones, Alex smiles when you say, “Thanks for the lift.”

“Anytime.” The singer grins, “Night, Y/N/N.” 

You smile and maybe it’s liquid courage that makes you lean in to kiss his cheek, but you don’t regret it for a second, “Night, tax evader. See you tomorrow.” 

~*~*~*~*~*~

Over the past fortnight, you and Alex saw each other a handful of times. Two of which you were out with your friends and three times it was just you and him. The first was the cinema like you agreed on which went very well. 

The two of you stopped at a nearby restaurant to get some food before the showing where you found out a fair amount about each other. Thankfully, nothing put you off him in the slightest and with the way you were both quietly giggling and chatting at the comedic moments the film had and still after it finished when he drove you home, you like to think that he had a good time with you as well. 

Nothing happened that night, nor did it on Friday night when he took you out again. This time it was a stand up open mic night he took you to and it was a lot of fun. Again, you felt a lot more comfortable with him, so many less awkward moments than there were when he first picked you up earlier in the week.

Alex couldn’t help but find your nervous rambling endearing though, but with them you always had something interesting to say which sparked up more conversation between you. The singer kept making mental notes of your likes and dislikes and you found that you got on incredibly well and you had a lot in common, just like he previously guessed you would. 

Saturday night followed and per tradition, you and Katie had your wine night at hers, this time joined by Kelly and Kirsten. Yes, you were teased quite a bit by them when they found out, but thankfully when the boys came back from their night at the pub slightly earlier than expected, you weren’t teased when they joined you. 

Instead, the alcohol had loosened your lips and you were very engaged in the conversations going on. There were brief moments when you lost yourself though and they were down to Alex. 

You would catch him looking at you, and the looks were nowhere near friendly like he would glance at the other girls. There was something behind them and he made that clear with the way his eyes would fall to your tits or to your lips. Subtle clearly wasn’t his forte when he was horny and tipsy. 

All of that just increased the sexual tension between you though, which you guess couldn’t hurt if you were to eventually use each other again. Something that as the days went on, you silently prayed for. 

Wednesday ended up being a random night out for you all. It was Kelly’s night with the kids and she invited the Cooks out to go bowling after school, something which you and Alex ended up being invited to so you could fill up the extra spots they were paying for. 

It turned out to be a good game, the kids enjoying themselves which was the most important thing, but it was also fun because you and Alex had a little competition going. When Alex guttered his second ball and he caught you snorting at his mistake, you ended up playing to try and beat no one else but him. 

It was fun, the way you could feel his eyes on you as you threw the ball. And when you’d turn back after each shot, whether it was a good one or not, he would always be looking at you with a smirk. You think he liked that you gave him pretty much all of your attention, but you didn’t even try to hide how happy it makes you in the moment. 

Unfortunately, you ended up losing your little rivalry by a measly 5 points. Alex acted like it’s a 50 points defeat, rubbing it in. You poked his side which made him jump to try and teach him a lesson, but it just made him chuckle. He threw his arm over your shoulder as all of you walked out of the bowling alley. 

Friday night rolled around again and the big group of you went out to a bar together. The way you and Alex were around each other that night made it difficult to keep to your ultimatum. 

Despite knowing him a lot better, you still hadn’t touched each other since your first night together. Yes there were lingering touches, the brush of his fingers on your skin that lit a fire inside you, but nothing more. That night, however, was more than just lust-filled longing glances at each other. 

As soon as there was a hint of alcohol in both of your systems, Alex barely left your side. You always had his hand either lingering around your back in an effort to keep you close or resting his palm over your jeans-covered thigh. Sometimes, he would squeeze you to keep you on your toes. He certainly had your heart racing.

It was difficult to keep your mind from wandering, but you’re only human. You allowed yourself to ever so slightly lean into his touch on occasion, let him press you against his body and subtly flirt back with him both physically and verbally. But even when you bid each other goodbye that night, you didn’t even get a kiss, which left you needy and wanting him after he’d been such a tease all evening. 

Wine night was again the following day, this time it was just you and Katie. You couldn’t get the feelings from the previous night out of your head still. He felt like an itch you couldn’t scratch as you weren’t really aware of the protocol between you, especially since Alex had been the one to arrange your previous encounters. 

Thankfully, tonight Alex had messaged you on the off chance you were free. Since you were doing nothing but spinning your LPs, you agreed to let him whisk you away to an impromptu dinner. It was nice, nothing out of the ordinary now, just the both of you sharing more stories about your lives over a few drinks before you suggested finishing the bottle of wine that you bought for the table back at your house. 

The energy between you tonight was nothing short of electric. Every longing glance between you felt like a bullet striking you. God, was he good at looking at you like he wanted to devour you. He was able to flick the switch between friendly to flirty in such a natural and smooth way that he always took you by surprise. Forever giving you goosebumps, making you press your thighs together, and heating your cheeks. 

You’d been back at yours for about half an hour when Alex got up to search for another record to put on. He settled for an old French album he hadn’t long since discovered which he was surprised to find stacked on your shelf. Again, he complimented your taste and collection. 

His praise still made you feel all gooey inside which mixed with the alcohol was stirring up more sinful desires in you. It only got worse when he spotted tarot cards on your shelf beside a few of your ornaments. It made Alex tease you a little more before he fully realised that you found that sort of stuff quite interesting.  

The singer came and sat beside you, even closer than before, as you explained it to him. And despite you knowing he wasn’t retaining any information, the smile he had on that pretty face of his kept you talking at him. He couldn’t help but grin a little more when you mentioned that you can read palms too. 

“You can read palms?” He asks, all wide-eyed and disbelieved.

“Yeah, it’s really easy.” You grab his hand that’s closest to you to show him what you mean. “See, you have five main lines on your palm: Life, Head, Heart, Fate, and Sun.” You trace each one as you go. 

“The life line, despite what you may already think, doesn't mean how long you’re gonna live. It can mean a bunch of different things like big changes in your life or good genes. People also think that if it’s a bit straighter on some people's hands it can mean you’re more cautious when it comes to relationships.” You say as you let your finger trail up the line that starts from the base of his palm up and around the ball of his thumb.

“The head line is about your knowledge and creativity, so if it's straighter on some people it means they tend to think more realistically. A curved line can mean you're more artsy and creative too.” You smile, seeing that his head line is a little curved, matching what he’s like in life. After that you move on to the line that runs just under the bottom of his fingers, “The heart line is to do with romance and emotional stability, so like yours is short and curved so that tends to mean someone is more private about relationships and stuff which makes sense considering you’re a private person.”

Alex can’t help but mostly watch you as he listens to you tell him about your little hobby. He finds it funny that you know all of this stuff, but he finds himself entranced as he can’t stop looking at your lips as you’re sitting so close to him. He wants them on his own again, the kisses on the cheek when you were saying goodbye to each other the last few times he’d seen you weren’t enough. He’s so enamoured he almost forgets to look at the lines you’re showing him.

“Fate line is how likely you are to follow certain paths in your life. And the sun line means different things for everyone, depending on how prominent it is.” You explain, glancing at him still smiling away as you continue, “Yours is deep and that means you’re successful and it's theorised that you can get famous from it which I guess is right in your case. Mine is quite clear and that means I have good taste in literature and art.”

Alex can’t help but quietly tease, “And you’ve only got good taste in that because it’s written on your palm then, not because you actually have a fully functioning brain and can appreciate masterpieces for what they are?”

“It’s all just a bit of fun, Al. It’s interesting!” You laugh but you have to defend yourself. 

“Very interesting how you know all about it.” Alex grins, loving the way he has all of your attention when he jokes, “Is there a delusional line that I should look out for?”

“Okay,” You fake a pout, but then you remember what you found in his car on the way home from the cinema, “I don’t tease you because you still have Match Attack cards from when you were a teenager.”

“Hey,” He gasps, ready to defend himself in an instant, “My Mum gave me them back, it's not something I still do.”

And you know this. When you saw the files of them on the backseat of his car, you questioned him on them and he told you his Mum found them and gave them back to him. But that’s currently your only leverage so you use it against him. 

“Regardless,” You raise your eyebrows, a smile playing on your lips, “Still just as nerdy.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Alex rolls his eyes and holds his hand out to you, “Let me see your palm then. Let me try and read you.”

You try and fail not to let your smile show as big as you want as you hold your palm out to him. The singer shuffles even closer to you, so your thighs and shoulders are pressed together and you're cosy beside each other. 

He lets a finger trail down your palm as he asks, “Remind me where the delusional line is?” 

You scoff, pulling your hand from his and flipping two fingers up at him, “It's here.” 

The singer laughs loudly at that then before gently grabbing your hand and opening it back up to focus on your palm. He traces the lines there gently and it sets your skin ablaze, tingles running though your skin. 

He looks at your hand so intently for about 10 seconds before gently humming, “Hmmm, interesting.”

“Why?” You ask, a smile growing on your lips as you ask, “What are you thinking?”

He tells you, “I’m seeing quite a lot.”

“Oh, you’re seeing it?” You grin, playing along.  

“Of course,” The singer looks at you, his eyes full of playfulness, “I’m a professional.”

You nod, trying not to laugh, “Of course.”

Eyes back on your palm, you try not to think about the way his touch makes you almost shiver. But then you start focusing on his hands. 

Those hands that made you come undone so easily. Those fingers that had been inside you and made you feel things you hadn’t felt from anyone other than yourself for the longest time. The thought makes your breath shallow and your thighs press that little bit closer together. 

“Wow,” Alex continues, “I can see this really clear.”

You ask, your cheeks starting to hurt from grinning for so long, “Really?

“What?” Alex looks at you again, he makes you feel hot under his gaze when he asks, “You don't believe me?”

“No, I do,” You lie without hesitation, loving how playful this feels, “I’m just curious about your professional opinion.”

“Well,” Alex smirks and then glances at you out of the corner of his eye, “You're in luck because I can see it all right now.”

“Right.” You nod, a little giggle falling from your lips too. 

Alex loves hearing it and knowing he’s the cause of it. Even the way you bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing so you can carry on playing along, he finds it adorable. But he doesn’t stop; he carries on, loving the way you react to him. 

“Wow, oh wow.” Alex drops his jaw, pretending to be completely enthralled in reading your palm. Now he nods, “Yeah, that's really clear.”

You smile, full of curiosity, “What is?”

“I’m seeing,” Alex looks up from your palm with a smile playing on his lips, and tells you confidently, “That you’re going to fuck a rockstar.” 

It takes everything in you not to laugh. All you can do is tilt your head and ask him with your lips twitching up, “Is that so?” 

“Yeah…” Alex nods, intertwining your fingers with his now and he gives you a little tug to encourage you closer, “I’m happy to oblige, if you’d like that?”

You don’t hesitate to move where he wants you, even closer when you move so you’re straddling his lap and Alex’s free hand finds your hip and he pulls you that bit closer before letting his thumb run over your skin that's showing from the way your top has ridden up. 

You’re smirking at each other, knowing exactly where this is headed now. The tension of the night building has hit its peak and this is it.

“You seem very confident about this reading.” You grin.

Alex’s smirk only grows at that, but this time he leans in so he can whisper as his lips brush up your neck towards your ear, “It’s written on your palm, I’m just offering you my body here.”

You hum at that, letting your free hand move to the back of his neck and up so your fingers could root through his hair. What you don’t expect is that when you give it a small tug so you could see him as you spoke to him, it causes the man that's under you to grip your hip tighter and buck up into you. You gasp at the friction. 

Alex moves back from your neck after leaving a gentle kiss there, and he’s smirking when you say breathlessly, “I’m getting the sense that you only wanted me to read your palm so you could tell me that really shit pick up line.”

“Can’t be that shit if you’re in my lap, sweet.” Alex raises his eyebrows cockily at you, a devilish grin playing on his lips.

And God, you want to kiss it off. So much so that you narrow your eyes and say, “Oh, shut up,” before your lips hungrily find his.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

A/N: Really hope you enjoyed this one! I know I did!!! How do we fancy a lil jealousy from both of them thrown into the next one. Let me know what you want to see and I'll see if i can make it happen! Thanks so much for reading and again while you wait for me, please go and read my other Alex fic @nriacc or @alovesreadings fic Constant Repeat. Enjoyyyyy x

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[wizzdot]

Sunshine

Chapter 2

Description: Ray finds out a little more about the 141’s current situation. You meet Johnny, and see Gaz in the infirmary..

What the fuck were you thinking following the Lieutenant that you barely even knew. You’d crossed paths with him, what, twice? And not even spoken a word to him either time. Christ, Y/n you really are a stupid bitch..

You stomp along behind Ghost for maybe 5 minutes before he rounds a corner and nods at a black, clearly military, jeep.

“Get in, we’re goin’ back to base”

You scowl at his commanding tone, and climb in the passenger seat, dumping your bags in the footwell between your legs and slumping in the seat, sticking to the chairs thanks to the absolutely soaking that the rain had given you.

The Lieutenant starts the engine and bounces it roughly off of the curb he had parked poorly on.

“Jeez Louise, LT.. you’ll give the lassie a concussion if you drive like ‘aht”

The tin of soup is held aloft ready to smash the stranger in the head until the Lieutenant’s huge paw smacks it from your hand.

“He’s friendly, drop your weapon, Ray” he jokes.

“Who the fuck are you and why are you hiding in the back of the car..?” You growl at the Scottish man, you already knew was ‘Soap’, a member of the 141. He didn’t need to know that you knew who he was though, and you could tell it hit him in the ego a bit when you pretended not to recognise him.

He recovers quickly though, you’ll give him that. He smiles brightly “name’s Johnny, or Soap, and I wisnae hiding. LT said you’d be more likely you come if we didn’t go in mob handed, so I stayed behind..”

“I can still open the door and roll myself into traffic.. don’t fuckin’ test me. I’m coming back to check Gaz, then I’m out. I’ve not agreed to anything or signed anything..” you threaten in a deadpan tone.

Soap gulps and his smile fades slightly. “LT, Cap said she was…. awkt, how’d he put it? Aye thats right.. a ray of sunshine.. you sure you got the right one..?”

“I’m sure Johnny. Now shut up. Don’t need her rolling herself into traffic…” the Lieutenant replies to the chatty Scot. You catch his reflection in the wing mirror and can tell that it physically pains the man to actually shut the fuck up. His eyes are dart in from object to object, his mouth dropping open only for his brain to kick in and remind himself to keep quiet.

The rest of the drive is silent. Perfect.

The truck pulls into base, and you aren’t even taken through security which you thought was strange. The Lieutenant lurches to a halt and cranks the handbrake on, climbing from the vehicle. You follow suit, donning your two rucksacks and your ratty plastic bag filled with your shitty groceries and wine.

“Here lass, I’ll get that for you..”

“Touch me, or anything that belongs to me, and you’ll lose your hand, Soap.”

He retracts his hand as if you’d given him an electric shock. The Lieutenant huffs a laugh.

“This way” the Lieutenant grunts. You follow, with soap trailing behind, kicking stones glumly.

You’re led to an office.

‘Captain J.Price’

‘TF-1-4-1’

Here we fuckin’ go you roll your eyes. The door is opened and you step through the threshold.

“Welcome back, Soldier” the Captain speaks, standing to shake your hand. You ignore him and turn away.

“Not coming back, and not a soldier. Just want to check Gaz ain’t dying” you reply stubbornly.

“He’s sitting up and chatting today. Took a fall from a chopper, poor lad. He cheered right up when I told him you were joining the team” - “seems cruel to give him false hope, does it not, Captain?”

“What did my Lieutenant tell you..?”

“Whoa whoa whoa. I’d like to start off by saying, firstly, I don’t appreciate being tracked down. I also don’t appreciate sending your fuckin’ guard dog to break into my flat and come and fetch me, I also don’t appreciate that fact that you’re just assuming I’ll fall back into the obedient soldier role. I’m not even your soldier, never was, Sir” you smile tauntingly.

“Now, you will take me to Gaz, I’ll have a quick chat with him, and I’ll be on my way - I’m not signing up for this shit again..”

You stare down the Captain who remains silent before the Lieutenant speaks up.

“This shit? What, like it’s worse than what you’ve been doing for the past coupla’ years? Your shitty, mouldy flat, getting groped by drunks at the Rose and Thorn, the tackiest pub in the East? Really? Like you’ve got anything whatsoever that’s better than this..” he huffs laughing.

You clench your jaw and try not to snap. Physically or emotionally. He was right. You’d been horrifically depressed for years. Considered ending it all a few times but you were too much of a coward for that.

“I’ll find the infirmary myself, and then see myself out..” you slam the door behind yourself and leave the three men behind.

Thankfully, you find signs for the infirmary and follow them, finding the correct place. The lady behind the front desk glares daggers at you. “Visitor for Kyle Garrick” you say monotonously.

“Room 3, you have ten minutes, he’s already had visiting time for the day” she whips sourly at you.

“Yeah, whatever” you spit back, storming to the correct door.

Kyle practically jumps out of his skin as you crash through the door. “Jeez, Ray.. you scared me half to death” he jokes, laughing.

“You don’t look as bad as I was expecting. They made it sound like you were on deaths door..” - “what? Nah, mate. Just some internal bruising and a chipped bone in my hand..”

“So I didn’t need to visit then?” You remark bluntly. Kyle’s smile drops slightly. “Well, it’s nice to see you.. I mean.. you left.. suddenly?” he tries.

“Yeah, and now your team are trying to get me to come back, using you as leverage. Know anything about that..?” you accuse.

Kyle looks guilty as sin.

He gulps before starting to attempt to explain.

“Well.. Cap’s been trying to get you since I joined. Laswell only gave him clearance to take on one rookie. He noticed your file remember..? And when I mentioned about my wallet.. and then I got hurt.. the plan sort of fell into place. We’d track you down and try and make an offer… we really need someone like you on our team, Ray..”

“Yeah, the wallet was a sneaky fuckin trick, Garrick. Not gonna forgive you for that one. And now that I’ve seen you’re not on death’s door…” you speak as you walk back towards the door.

“Y/n!”

No one calls me by my real name..

“Wait.. please..”

You don’t want to. You want to leave this god forsaken place and not look back. But I hesitate. And that hesitation changes everything..

[darth-mortem]

GhostSoap fic according to poll results.

Tired Ghost returns after several months on duty without Soap, who has been recovering from an injury. Despite the late hour, it’s not only Johnny who meets him at the airport. 2385 words.

Fluff, domestic, love, OC child, MDNI

Lieutenant Riley was deadly tired. He sat on the plane, sandwiched between a chatty old woman and a snoring man, and pretended to be asleep. He was wearing camouflage pants, military boots, and a black hoodie. His face was hidden by a fabric mask with a skull print and a hood. Simon looked menacing, but that didn’t stop the old woman from trying to talk to him, so pretending to be asleep was the lieutenant's only option to avoid the conversation.

You can keep reading here or on Ao3

The last few months have been difficult for TF 141. Soap wasn’t with them; he was recovering from a severe injury, so three soldiers had to do the work for four. And there was a lot of work. A variety of scums had activated around the world; TF 141 has been fighting them, thwarting sinister plans, and not even having a couple days of rest at their base. The last mission was the most intense: terrorists threatened to use chemical weapons against civilians, and time was very short. Members of TF 141 did the impossible—managed to neutralize both the bastards and their deadly missiles, but they all were injured, so Captain Price arranged a leave for them. He stayed with Gaz, who’ll have to spend a few days in a hospital, and Ghost took a ticket for the nearest plane to Manchester and went home. The lieutenant’s shot leg hurt, but he didn’t think about it. He didn’t think about missions, either. His tired mind was filled with thoughts about home, about his beloved Johnny, who must have almost recovered, and about Olivia.

Olivia, this adorable little girl, came into Riley and MacTavish’s life a year ago. She was Simon’s own daughter, the only good thing the lieutenant had done during his very short and failed marriage, which he had entered into almost immediately after he took his revenge on Roba and became a member of TF 141. His wife, Emma, left him when she was pregnant, saying she didn’t want the child to grow up with that kind of father, and Simon didn’t try to stop her. He was too traumatized and broken by everything that happened to him; he was tormented by nightmares and drank a lot during that time. Simon regularly sent money for his daughter, and in return, his ex-wife sometimes sent him Olivia’s photos and briefly shared the girl’s milestones. Riley only saw his child once before Emma died in a car accident.

At that time, Ghost was already dating Soap; they spent their leaves together in the lieutenant’s apartment in Manchester and made joint plans, but Johnny still knew nothing about Olivia. It was a difficult conversation that led to an even more difficult decision. The girl had no other relatives; Simon was the only one who had custody of her after her mother’s death, so he and Johnny became Olivia’s new family.

The plane shook, and Ghost raised his head, looking around. The flight attendant announced that there is a turbulence zone ahead, and all passengers should put the backs of their seats in a vertical position, remove the tables, and fasten their seat belts. The lieutenant did everything with a slight tension, which didn’t hide from the gaze of his chatty neighbor.

“Are you afraid of flying?” The old woman asked.

“No,” Ghost answered. “I’m afraid of falling.”

“You're saying that as if you've already fallen.” She laughed cheerfully.

“Yes,” the lieutenant said. “Three or four times.”

The old woman fell silent, suddenly realizing that her gloomy neighbor wasn’t joking. The plane shook again, and it reminded Ghost how he and the others had to jump from a dangerously low height to save themselves from a crashing airlifter. The parachutes managed to open, but the landing was very harsh. Simon escaped with bruises, but Price then severally sprained his leg.

However, today everything went well. The plane left the turbulence zone, and flight attendants began serving drinks. Glancing at his watch, Ghost realized that they had less than an hour to fly, so he quit pretending to be asleep and asked to pour him some tea. The old woman livened up and began to tell something again, but the lieutenant hardly listened to her, automatically nodding from time to time and thinking that very soon he would hug Johnny and kiss his little daughter.

The plane was arriving late, so Simon didn’t expect to be met. He was one of the last to go for his luggage, and he was given his backpack and a large military bag with his gear and weapons in a special case. Slowly, limping on his injured leg, he made his way to the exit, where the passengers and those who met them were still standing. The lieutenant walked with his head down, concentrating on his steps and the weight of the bag in his hand, so he absolutely didn’t expect what happened next.

Suddenly, the noises of the airport were interrupted by a sonorous child’s voice, and Simon, raising his head, saw his daughter.

“Hi, daddy!” She exclaimed loudly and then ran to the lieutenant, holding out her little hands.

The girl was dressed in denim overalls, Simon’s huge camo shirt, and Johnny’s military cap. Ghost dropped his bag, awkwardly dropped to one knee, and held Olivia to his chest, feeling his eyes start to sting. The girl kissed him on his cheek above the mask; then Johnny came up to them and lifted the lieutenant’s bag with a shiny smile.

“Let’s go home, mo ghaol*.” MacTavish said.

“Aye, let’s gang hame, da!” Olivia exclaimed with a strong Scottish accent.

Simon slowly stood up, lifting the girl in his arms, and looked at smiling Johnny.

“Wha’?” He asked. “Wee children quickly pick up everything ‘n’ easily repeat it.”

Ghost sighed silently and said nothing. He was too tired and very happy to see his family that met him here. Holding his daughter with one hand, he hugged Johnny with the other one, and they walked straight to the exit to the parking lot.

Johnny got behind the wheel, and Simon got in the back seat because Olivia wanted him around. She clung to her dad’s hand and told him about the school she had just started going to, about her new friends, and about the neighbor’s dog named Butch. The girl also told how she and ‘da Johnny’ were cooking pancakes and almost burned down the kitchen, but everything ended well.

“Hey!” Soap exclaimed, looking at her through the mirror. “Ye promised nae tae tell daddy Simon aboot it!”

Olivia laughed and showed Johnny her little tongue. Ghost noticed that she spoke with switching up Scottish and Mancunian accents, and he mentally felt sorry for her teachers.

The girl’s enthusiasm was short-lived. It was getting very late, so she fell asleep in Simon’s arms halfway home. He gently stroked his daughter’s blond hair and looked in the mirror, catching Johnny’s gaze in it.

“I missed you.” Ghost said silently.

It used to be very difficult for him to say such things out loud. Every time Simon wanted to tell Johnny how much he loved him, how much he appreciated him, and how much he trusted him, it was as if invisible, icy fingers were squeezing his throat, preventing him from making a sound. The ghosts of his dead relatives surrounded Riley, reminding him of what happens to those he loves. Soap, however, was patient; he asked nothing and demanded nothing, and gradually the icy grip of the terrible past began to loosen and let go of Simon’s crippled soul.

“I missed ye too.” Johnny answered and smiled gently. “How is yer leg?”

“Solid.” Ghost said. “And how are you, my dear?”

“Solid too.” Soap winked cheerfully. “After yer leave, we’ll return to th’ duty th’gither.”

Simon carried Olivia into the apartment in his arms, and together with Johnny, they changed the girl into pajamas and put her to bed. She didn’t wake up; she just mumbled something in her sleep when Ghost and Soap took turns kissing her on the cheeks before leaving her room.

“God, I missed ye sae much!” Johnny hugged Simon tightly, just down the hall, and reached in for a kiss. “Are ye hungry?”

“Uh… yes.” Ghost wasn’t able to answer immediately, not wanting to tear himself away from his lover’s lips. “I also want to take a shower. I still have fucking sand on my teeth.”

“Then go.” Soap smiled. “I’ll heat up the dinner in th’ meantime. I didn’t eat either, was waiting fur ye.”

“Just don’t burn the kitchen, copy?” Simon smiled, kissed Johnny again, and, turning him towards the kitchen, sped him up with a slap on his ass.

Riley stood under the streams of hot water for a long time. Then he put a new bandage on his thigh, put on his home sweatpants and a black T-shirt, and left the bathroom. Once, it was also absolutely impossible for Ghost; he always wore his mask or balaclava. But those days were long gone, and he didn’t want to remember them now, when Johnny was waiting for him. Johnny, who wasn’t afraid of Simon's scarred face and body, who accepted him as he is, who loved him without any conditions or compromises.

Johnny really was already waiting. On the table in the small kitchen were plates of meat and vegetables, a bottle of whiskey, and a couple of candles.

“So, it’s a date?” Ghost asked, smiling.

“Aye!” Soap answered. “Sit doon, mo ghaol, ‘n’ remember that this date must end in bed, if ye know what I mean.”

“Fuck yeah!” Simon nodded, taking the fork.

Johnny was curious about the TF 141 missions and how the captain and Kyle were doing, but he didn’t ask any questions. Now wasn’t the time for that. Now Simon was tired and didn’t want to speak; he wanted to listen, so the sergeant told the lieutenant about Olivia, about his rehabilitation, and how he took the girl to his parents, not forgetting to pour whiskey for both of them.

“It was very tasty, my dear.” Simon said gratefully, when their plates became empty. “Did you cook it yourself?”

“Aye!” Johnny answered proudly. “This is ma maw’s recipe!”

Of course, he didn’t tell how he called his mother every minute, asking so many stupid questions that even Mrs. MacTavish’s angelic patience finally failed. The main thing is that Simon liked everything, right?

“I want ye tae drink coffee while I’ll wash th’ dishes.” Soap said. “Ye need energy because you'll need to work a lot tonight. I want ye, ye know?”

“Aye.” Ghost nodded and then smiled. “I want you too, Johnny.”

They went to their bedroom. Riley closed the door, and MacTavish, meanwhile, quickly pulled off his T-shirt and fell on the bed that had been spread in advance. Simon piled on top of him and started to kiss his lips, his neck, and the scar on his chin greedily.

Soap slid his hands under Ghost’s T-shirt, running his fingers over numerous scars. He let out a breath, closing his eyes for a second before pressing his knee lightly into Johnny's groin, making him groan. They quickly removed the rest of their clothes, throwing them on the floor, and then Soap pressed Simon against the bed and began to kiss his stocky body as he moved down.

“Fucking hell…” Ghost gasped as Johnny reached his cock and began to lick it.

He ran his fingers into the mohawk, squeezing and lowering Soap's head. He gave in, wrapped his lips around Ghost’s huge cock, took it in his mouth, and then pushed deeper into his throat. Closing his eyes, he let out a low moan, expressing complete satisfaction at what he was doing.

“Do you like it, yeah?” Simon asked hoarsely, running his fingers through Johnny’s hair.

“Mmpf!” He smacked his lips as he let Ghost’s cock out of his mouth and looked at his partner with his amazing blue eyes. “Hell yeah, I lik’ it sae much!”

Simon pulled him closer, and Johnny fell on his chest. A second later, he felt his partner's large palm: Ghost's long fingers wrapped around both of their cocks, pressing them together. Soap shivered with satisfaction and started to move, thrusting his hips and feeling the pleasant friction. Simon looked at him, holding him close before sliding his other hand from Johnny’s back to his ass and squeezing it, making his partner moan again.

“Harder!” Soap begged, and Simon clenched his fingers tighter and started to move his hand faster.

“Come on, Johnny,” he said, “cum for me.”

It was the last straw, the last thing Soap needed to make the pleasure wash over him and carry him away on its sweet waves. He was clinging to Ghost's broad shoulders, sobbing and moaning as he buried his face in his partner’s neck, and it was so unbelievably beautiful that it didn't take long for Simon to catch him up. Ghost groaned, throwing his head back, and it was one more thing he had never done before. The icy lieutenant was so used to suppressing his emotions that, for a long time, he couldn’t get rid of them even in bed, even when he was really good. However, Johnny had fixed that too, and now he was enjoying watching Simon cum.

They smoked in bed lazily, then got up and went to the shower. Soap couldn’t stop smiling even when Ghost was kissing him, standing under the streams of hot water. Simon and Johnny put on their pajama pants before going back to bed. The appearance of a child in their home forced them to get rid of some habits, such as going naked to the kitchen at night to drink water. However, none of them regretted or complained, because both managed to love little Olivia very much.

The girl quietly slipped into her dads’ bedroom early in the morning. Careful not to worry them, Olivia climbed onto the bed and snuggled between Johnny and Simon, who hugged her without waking up. Soon, the girl fell asleep again, and the room, illuminated by the rays of the morning sun, fell into a warm and cozy silence, which was disturbed only by the sounds of the calm breathing of three people.

*Mo ghaol (Gaelic) – my love

[keresnotceres]

Ghost, Soap, & Gaz: Tattoo Parlor

SYN: headcanons if you (their lover) were a tattoo artist

[sfw] cw(s): needles.

GN Reader! this is actually fluff!! (mostly) enjoy dovies <3 (p.s it’s been a hot sec since i wrote for these mfs so i’m sorry if they’re ooc 😔🫶)

Ghost hadn’t planned on getting any more tattoos after his half-sleeve, he barely even made plans to get it retouched. However, if you asked, he’d absolutely let you ink him.

He’d have restrictions on what you could put on him; he likes his tattoos to be cohesive — to have a personal meaning. But if you came up with something he liked, he’d have no qualms sitting still while you did your work. Is particularly drawn to Fine Line and Blackwork styles of tattooing, but, again, if you come up with something he really likes, he’d let you put it on him regardless of style. (He might be really picky if it were a watercolor style tattoo, though). Is down for matching tattoos but will be damned if he’s asked to explain it when talking about the rest of his tattoos.

I like to think he’d like watching you tattoo yourself. The pure concentration on your face and the whirring of the needle creates a pretty calming atmosphere for Ghost. Do NOT let this man pick out your tattoos though. He will absolutely try to make you get some ugly ass army tattoo and you will have to convince him why you shouldn’t do that to yourself.

Gaz, while he doesn’t have any tattoos to show for it, wouldn’t be opposed to having some. Put him in coach!! He’d be excited if you told him you’d come up with a design you think he’d like/would look good on him. Would probably be a champ when it comes to actually getting the tattoo; he did tense up a bit at first due to the unnatural sensation but ended up calming down after the first half hour or so.

Intrigued by Neo Traditional tattoos, but would probably settle for anything as long as you were confident in the style. Though I do think he wouldn’t like the Patch style of tattoos. Something about them just creeps him out and he cannot explain it. I feel like Gaz is also the type to not choose a tattoo on a whim; he’s another guy to need it to have some sort of meaning behind it. For example, Gaz is the type of person to get a tattoo that is a representation of someone he loves. However, despite his sentimentality, he wouldn’t get a date or writing tattooed on him. He would be very picky if it came to matching tattoos. He doesn’t want it to be sickeningly sweet or anything but he also wouldn’t want it to just be dull and boring. Trying to find something that suits his tastes would take a lifetime, probably.

Does not like watching you tattoo yourself. Is scared of accidentally making you mess it up so he tends to stay out of your way when you’re inking yourself. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t like to pick out tattoos for you, though. He actually likes doing that! Let him do it!!

Soap will absolutely let you tattoo him, he’s just a little wary of the tattoo gun at first. He’s watched other people get tattoos, hell, he’s watched you tattoo yourself more times than he can count; but there’s just something about having it done to him that makes him squirm a little bit.

He finds that Blackwork style tattoos draw his attention the most, but if you were to present him with a pretty good Old School tattoo, he wouldn’t say no. He’s difficult to focus with, though. He likes to chat you up; whether it’s just striking up conversation or flirting with you non-stop, he’s chatty. At least it’s endearing that he wants to talk to you. Soap isn’t particularly keen on the idea of having matching tattoos. He is, if anything, aware. He knows that, if things were to go wrong between the two of you, he’d have a reminder of you until he could get it covered. If he was KIA, you would have the memory of the two of you immortalized on your skin.

Surprisingly really good at picking out tattoos for you to give yourself or get done. He always manages to find something that will suit your personality or blend well with the rest of your tattoos if you have a menagerie of them.

[yjhariani]

Doon

Task Force 141 X GN!Reader

A/N: Another dedication, this one is for @itzclouding who got me inspired by this post to write this little something about getting influenced by Soap's accent and dialect.

Disclaimer: This is mostly taken from observation by the media I'm consuming. Please, educate me if I'm pragmatically off. I'm not sure how to categorise this one, maybe for non-English native speaker!Reader? For non-British!Reader? Non-Scottish!Reader?

The stages of a human being learning languages started by the listening phase followed by the speaking phase. It seemed that spending quite some time with three English men and one Scottish man got you into those phases unconsciously.

Firstly, of course, you were listening to what they were saying and how they said it. You started stressing a part of a word differently, adapting to whoever you spent the last few days with. Then, you started picking up some slang they were using in the different ways they were saying them.

When you started using them in your own way of pronunciation, they did not actually notice it. It was as if the slang had been part of your vocabulary this whole time. 

Things started to get apparent over time. Like the first time you spent a week on a mission with Soap and you returned a different person.

After that mission, the squad members were gathering for a catch up. All of you were about to have a movie night in a meeting room.

“We’re short on food,” Price realised.

“I’ll fetch it doon at the mess,” you volunteered, not realising that you sounded almost identical to Soap.

The whole group turned to you. Soap had gotten used to it and he still looked entertained. Ghost raised an eyebrow under his mask. Gaz let out a scoff of amusement. Price tilted his head a little.

“Doon at the mess?”Soap asked, a smug smile on his face.

“Where else am I getting food, mate?” you replied before making your way to the door.

“Haste ye back,” Soap yelled.

“Aye,” you replied.

As it turned out, your obliviousness was even funnier to them.

“I swear to God, Soap, if you influence them any further, I will kick you in the throat,” Ghost warned.

“I never did,” Soap insisted. “They just picked it up like that time with you.”

“With me?” Ghost repeated, offended.

“Oh, I remember that,” Gaz nodded. “It’s like hearing a more chatty version of you, LT.”

“I can’t believe back then, of anyone, they have to pick up your accent, Simon,” Price said. “You’re already incomprehensible half of the time, having two of you isn’t an improvement.”

“Incomprehensible? You’re talking about yourself,” Ghost replied. “The thing is, we don’t need to suffer dealing with two of Soap.”

“You mean to say, ‘Thank you, Soap, for leading our good friend to a better path’,” Soap said.

“Fuck off,” Ghost scoffed.

“What? Everyone always wants more of me,” Soap said.

Eventually you returned with another bag of snacks, some canned drinks, and a bowl of something the cook could spare. The bowl was immediately snatched by Soap and Gaz exhaled in disappointment.

“You just brought one bowl of that?” Gaz asked.

“I didnae ken you wanted it,” you answered.

Everyone turned to you again. There was a pause before Gaz chuckled whilst the other—save for Ghost—grinned in amusement.

“What now?” Price asked.

“Shite—I mean, shai—shit!” you struggled to respond, realising what just happened before exhaling. “I didn’t know you wanted it.”

Price patted you on the shoulder, still very much amused.

“Oh, come on, you didn’t make fun of Soap after Las Almas and he’s way worse,” you pointed out. “Also that one time Gaz spent too much time with Farah and can’t stop calling people habibi.”

There was a pause.

“So, where do you wanna sit doon?” Ghost asked.

“Fucking bollocks,” you muttered under your breath.

[xo-cod]

I absolutely adore your hyperfem!reader I cab totally see her making bakes for everyone and picking up coffee (and tea) in the morning and of course she knows all their orders by heart because that’s just who she is

thank you sm love :") <33

and it comes naturally w hyperfem reader <33 seeing each of them work themselves to the bone day in and day out, they come to appreciate the small things you do for then. when it's just between you and him, no other interruptions.

especially in the morning when all of them are sleep deprived and gearing up to prepare for the field, no matter how missions they partake in the threat of their lives at risk never gets old. still this time is different when they wake up

price takes his tea with a warm smile on his lips, his hands reaching out for a side hug. only this hug allows you to be buried into his side while he gently squeezes you. he's captain, his team are calling his name but he always stops to thank you genuinely whenever he can. sometimes by words, other times by actions

ghost is a man of actions, he appreciates you more than words can say. he holds his tea but his touch is lingering, his fingers coming out to stroke your skin softly and standing so close to you it could technically be considered a hug lmao. he's too tired to do much but you always notice his appreciation

gaz smiles softly, his arms coming on your shoulders to pull you in for a cuddle. he would take these moments over gifts any day, he loves it all. and he always makes sure to repay you the favour back no matter what, it melts his heart every single time he sees that you've made his tea the way he likes it. cannot help but give you a few kisses and gentle squeezes

the fact that you know johnny's coffee order makes him so :( he didn't think he would ever find someone to do the little things for him and he greatly appreciates it every single time. his energy is low and he's not much in a chatty mood in the early morning but he always bundles you in a sweet hug, a gentle kiss to your forehead while he sips on his coffee

mornings are always busy and silent but they always cling onto the quiet moments where the love lies right underneath, it always starts their day off right <33