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soaps-mohawk · 4 months

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 23: Regrets

Summary: Depression: a common mental health condition characterized by a low mood or loss of pleasure or interest in activities for long periods of time.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 9,940

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, angst, mental illness, depression, very heavy emotionally, angst, Johnny gets his feelings hurt (but only for a moment), angst, everyone is having big emotions, Bella Swan-esque sad montage, angst, kissing, slight suggestive content, angst

A/N: Did I completely rewrite part of this during the editing process? Yes. Are you going to thank me for that? Also yes. I'm trying something a bit different with this chapter, so let me know what you think. It probably won't be a regular thing, but I just thought I'd give it a test and this chapter was the perfect time to do that.

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They say you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.

They’re right. There’s a hole in your chest, an empty void. The squeaking of your shoes on the tiles sounds far away as you numbly walk back towards your room.

“Ye alright, kitten?” Johnny asks cautiously as you pause in front of your door long enough to turn the handle.

You turn to look up at him, his brows pinched and his eyes shining with concern. “He's gone.” Your voice cracks and shakes, breaking over the words like you're speaking the finality of the situation.

You are.

“I know.” Johnny reaches out, his fingers wrapping around your arm. “I wish there had been more warning, but this is usually how his solo assignments go.”

You swallow thickly. “He'll come back, right?”

Johnny grimaces. “Ye know I can't promise that. But, there's no one quite as capable in the field as him, except maybe Price.” Johnny squeezes your arm gently. “He’s been doing this for a long time, kitten. Have faith in that, and his skills.”

Johnny’s words do nothing to help the turmoil inside you, the fear and anxiety. One split second mistake, one wrong decision and you know it could be over. Everything could be over before it even started. Why didn’t you confront him sooner? Why didn’t you pick up on his true feelings, his emotions as quickly as he seemed to decipher yours? It’s not fair that they can be taken from you so easily and so quickly. There’s no room for argument, no room for any begging or pleading for them to stay. They have a job, and they’ll always choose that job over you.

“Ye gonna be alright?” Johnny asks, letting his hand fall from your arm as you push open your door, entering your room before closing it in immediately, clicking the lock into place. You lean against the door for a moment, biting your lip to try and stop the tears as you begin to shiver from the dampness of your clothes.

You leave your shoes in a pile next to the door before you pad silently to your bathroom, stripping off your clothes once you hit the tile. You’re shivering, a cold chill starting to seep into your very bones as you start the tub, letting it fill with water. The tears blur your vision, dripping into the steaming water as you sink into the bath. You can’t stop the tears as you sit there, not caring how hot the water is, not caring how it makes your skin feel like it’s on fire. You’ll take the pain, the discomfort. Anything to ease the pain that’s ripping your chest wide open.

It hurts, he won’t lie, when you close the door in his face. Well, it wasn’t entirely in his face. He was a foot away from the door, but it still causes a little ache in his chest, a little upset in his mind that you just cut him off like that. The click of the lock is like a finality, the gavel falling on your decision to distance yourself for now.

The rejection of his offer for comfort has his beta stirring uncomfortably in his mind. Tears fill his own eyes as he stares at the handle of your door, wishing he could reach out and grab it, fling it open and take you into his arms and hold you until you stop crying, until the pain of Simon’s sudden absence goes away.

“Come on.” John says quietly, wrapping his arm around his shoulders. “Give her some time.”

He lets John lead him away from your door and back towards the rec room. He shouldn’t be so hurt by your abrupt dismissal. You were quite obviously upset, upset enough to run out into the rain after Simon. He saw you race out the door, his stomach clenching in worry, but thankfully the rain had forced most inside. There was little threat to you, not with Simon there, but he had been worried you might not be able to catch him, that you might run blindly into the rain to try and find him.

He had spotted the tears trailing down your cheeks as you walked back to the barracks, mixing with the rain that soaked straight through you. He’s used to his alpha having to leave suddenly, the distance and the worry are second nature now thanks to their jobs, their lifestyles. You’ve never been through this before with him, though, and so soon after the two of you were finally beginning to give in. It’s like a curse. They begin to get close to you, and then suddenly they’re ripped away.

He almost feels guilty, like he’s responsible for your pain. If he hadn’t forced it, if he hadn’t put you both in that position, maybe you wouldn’t be so upset. He couldn’t have known, though, that Simon would be called away like that. It could happen at any time, they all know that. They always have to be ready, always have to be prepared to be called out. Even on leave they can’t guarantee there won’t be an emergency. It’s just the nature of their job.

It wouldn’t have bothered any of them before you.

“She didn't take it well, did she?” Kyle says as John guides Johnny to sit on the couch next to him.

“Christ, she's so upset.” Johnny says, leaning his head in his hands. “If I hadnae pushed them, then this wouldn't have happened.”

“You couldn't have known this was going to happen.” Kyle says, squishing Johnny between him and John to try and comfort the upset beta.

“We didn't even know until a couple of hours ago.” John says, draping his arm across the back of the couch.

“If she's this upset at one of us leaving...how upset was she when we all left?” Johnny says, his stomach churning at the thought. No wonder you were so shaken when they came back.

“The best thing we can do right now is leave her alone and let her do what she needs to do.” John says, pulling Johnny so he's resting against his chest. “She'll come out when she's ready.”

The afternoon comes and goes, the rain slowing to a light drizzle. You still haven’t left your room, sealed inside, secluded from them. Johnny casts the closed door a wistful look every time he walks down the hallway, half tempted to try the knob and see if it’s been unlocked, but he stops himself. The last thing you need is to be scared by someone trying to get in. John is right. You’ll come out when you’re ready.

John knocks on your door as they get ready to head to dinner, waiting a moment for some type of response. “We’re going to dinner, sweetheart.” He says through the door when there’s no answer to his knock. “Do you want us to bring you something?”

There’s a quiet noise from your room, some muffled response to John’s question.

“We’ll be back soon.” John says, somehow able to make out what it is you said. Or maybe his plan was to bring you something regardless of whether you agreed or not.

It feels strange, just the three of them walking to the mess. It’s not the first time they’ve gone just the three of them, but it feels different this time. It’s not Simon’s missing presence that weighs so heavily, it’s yours.

There’s a tenseness that’s settled over them as they sit at the table, avoiding eye contact with each other. Simon’s empty space at the table wouldn’t have felt so much like an empty chasm if you had been there to fill some of it.

They’re not sure what to do, the feeling similar to what they felt upon their return. They knew it would be bad, but they hadn’t expected you to be in shambles like you were. Their pack mate is hurting, their omega is hurting, and there’s nothing they can do. They don’t know what to do. Johnny wants to kick in your door, rush into your room and envelop you in a hug so tight you’ll complain that you can't breathe. He just wants to help you, but that’s not what you want, what you need right now.

He knows it’s his beta instincts, his need to comfort and soothe and support. If Kyle is feeling the same way, which Johnny knows he has to be, he’s hiding it well. Though, perhaps that’s just for his sake and John’s. He can’t even imagine what John is going through, knowing his omega is suffering in such a way.

All because Simon is gone.

How easily one missing piece could tear the pack apart. If something happened to one of them, or god forbid something happened to you, they might not be able to recover. They had always assumed their training would win out, that they could move past it in the way they would had there been nothing but the bonds of camaraderie between them.

How silly that idea had been.

It’s no secret death disrupts pack stability, shakes the bonds that tie a pack together. He remembers how his Grannie’s death had shaken his family for weeks and it had taken months to return to what could be considered normal after a partially expected death of a member of the pack. What kind of damage would an unexpected and sudden death do to a pack?

Johnny shakes the thought from his head. There was always a risk. They all knew that, they all agreed to that when they signed up. He knows Simon is highly skilled, well accustomed to working alone, to completing solo assignments successfully. The risk of something happening was always high, but he trusts Simon and puts faith in his skills.

John goes back through the line once they finish, making a tray for you and piling it high as usual. It always makes him happy to see how well cared for you really are. Despite the circumstances of you being added to their pack, he knows it could have been so much worse. There’s worse packs, worse alphas out there. At least with them, you’re an equal. You’re their precious omega, and they’d make anyone who threatened you regret that decision.

John is surprised the handle turns when he tries it. You’ve gotten up at least, but he’s not surprised to find you back in the same place you’ve likely been all day. He closes the door behind him before moving to your bed, setting the tray of food down on your nightstand. You squint as he flicks the lamp on, reaching up to rub your eyes. The bed dips as he sits on the edge, a quiet sigh leaving his lips.

“I know this is hard for you.” He says softly, brushing his fingers across your bare arm. Your skin is warm, likely from being burrowed under the blankets. “I can't even imagine what you're feeling right now.”

“He's gone.” You say quietly, your voice hoarse from crying.

“Just for a while.” He says. “He’ll be back.”

“But you can’t promise that.” You argue, pushing yourself up to sit. Your cheeks are still damp with tears, eyes red and lips still trembling.

“There’s always a risk,” He says softly. “But you have to trust Simon. He’s not going down without a fight.” He sighs quietly as your gaze drops to your hands, your fingers picking at the skin around your fingers. He slips his hand into yours, stopping you from continuing. “What’s eating you?”

“I should have told him.” You sniffle, your eyes on his hand as your fingers close around it. .

“Told him what?” He prods gently, curiously.

“That I love him.” You say, lifting your gaze to look at him. “I should have said it but I didn’t and now what if he doesn’t come back? I love all of you, and I don’t want you to leave, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.” The words end in a sob, tears sliding down your cheeks again.

Your words take him by surprise. It’s no secret how they feel about you, how their feelings have grown from curiosity to companionship to attraction and now to love. All of them have come to love you in their own ways, even Simon in his resistance wasn’t immune to his feelings, to their shared feelings towards you.

“Look at me.” He cups your face gently, his thumbs wiping the falling tears. “I wish things didn’t have to be this way, I wish they hadn't picked us to be first for this. It's not fair to you, it's not fair to put you through this. I wouldn't change having you as my omega, but forcing you to live like this, to be left behind with the worry over something none of us can control.” He shakes his head. “It was a selfish decision by those who created the initiative.”

“What...what happens if the initiative fails?” You ask softly.

“We’re not giving you up.” He says, holding your gaze. “We wouldn’t want to, and we wouldn’t let it happen. You’ve been part of this pack since the day you stepped foot on this base. We wouldn’t have let you go then, and we sure as hell won’t now.”

Your breathing is shaky as you stare at him, and he can see the wheels turning in your head, the hesitation as you debate whether you want to speak. He hates that you still feel this way, that you have to hide your thoughts from them out of fear or worry that they might be angered by them. He’s not sure there’s anything you could say that would anger him.

“Would you ever leave for me?” You speak the words slowly, hesitantly, like they might bite you if you're not careful.

He's not expecting it, though he has wondered if you'd ever ask it of them. If it might come to be too much and it leaves you no choice but to ask, to give them the ultimatum. He lets out a breath, all the answers he'd thought up in response gone as he sits face to face with you, as he faces this question out in the open for the first time. Tears are gathering in your eyes as you stare at him, taking his silence as second thoughts, as possible rejection.

“Please be honest with me.” You whisper shakily, a tear slipping down your cheek.

He watches its path as it slides down your cheek, pausing at the line of your jaw before it drips down onto your shirt. He lifts his gaze back to yours, the pain in them stabbing straight into his heart. He wants to say yes, that he'd leave in a heartbeat, give up what he'd worked his whole life to achieve, all for an omega. His omega.

He wouldn't be able to sleep at night, knowing the kind of evils that exist in the world, the kinds of threats that linger in the dark. The evils that may pose a threat to you and his pack. You’ll never be truly safe, not so long as there’s others who know of your existence. Very few of them he’d truly trust with the knowledge that you pose a threat to their efficiency as a team, a weakness that could be exploited.

What bloody fucking fools they were, leaving you alone like that.

“Part of me wants to say no,” He admits honestly, ignoring the flash of pain in your eyes. “But it would depend on the situation. If your life was ever in danger because of us, then without question. If the initiative fails, if we can't adjust, then we may have no other choice.”

“The job comes first.” You say quietly, sounding defeated.

“But there may come a time when it doesn't.” He says, trying to reassure you. “Don't worry about that too much right now.” He brushes a hand over your hair. “If a situation arises, then we'll talk about it further.”

He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You lean into him, letting out a quiet breath. He pulls you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“I love you too.” He says, his lips brushing the top of your head. “And Simon knows how you feel.”

You shift in his arms, pulling back just slightly to stare up at him. Your brows are pinched as you stare at him. “What do you mean?”

“Simon is very good at reading people. Their scents, their emotions, their body language. Years of training paired with his own natural abilities.” He smiles softly at you. “He knows how you feel.”

“Oh,” You say, shrinking into yourself.

“He'll likely convince himself it's not true, knowing him and how he thinks. You'll have to tell him to make him believe it.” He pats your leg under the blankets. “Don't worry too much about him. He'll be back before you know it.” He pushes himself up to stand. “Eat your dinner. We'll be around if you need anything.”

“John?” You ask, stopping him before he can leave.

He turns back around to face you. “Yes?”

“Thank you.” You say. “For everything.”

A small smile pulls at his lips. “Of course.”

You're just stepping out of the bathroom when the knock sounds on your door. You had gotten up to rinse your face with cold water, your skin starting to feel tight and itchy after nearly an entire day of uncontrollable tears. You freeze at the sound of knuckles tapping on the wood, your heart leaping into your chest. Is it one of the guys coming to tell you bad news? Has something happened to Simon?

Or is he coming back already?

You’re half scared, half hopeful as you make the short journey across your room to the door. You feel like you’re moving in slow motion as your fingers close around the handle, slowly pulling it open.

Johnny is standing on the other side, his face a mix of worry and sadness. It doesn’t help the despair already starting to manifest in you. Something must have happened to Simon. Something’s gone wrong. He’s not coming back, or they’ll have to leave to help him.

“Ye doin’ alright, kitten?” Johnny asks, his brows furrowing as he stares at you.

“Yeah.” You can’t help but wince at the way your voice cracks around the word. You sniffle, wiping at your nose with your sleeve.

“I have somethin’ for ye.” He says, his hands fiddling with the fabric he’s holding. You hadn't noticed it before now. “I was gonnae do Simon’s laundry, but I thought ye might want this.”

It’s one of Simon’s shirts he’s holding out to you, one of the black standard cotton t-shirts he often sports. Your fingers tremble as you take it, bringing the fabric to your nose. You don’t care that it’s dirty, having likely been soaked in sweat at one point. You inhale deeply, nose pressed into the fabric. It smells of soap and deodorant and him. Tears well in your eyes as you take in the scent, almost as if you’re getting it directly from the source.

You’re moving before you realize it, your arms wrapping around Johnny’s middle. He seems almost surprised by your action, his body tensing for a second before it relaxes, his arms wrapping around you.

“Thank you.” You murmur against his chest, a couple tears slipping from your eyes. You’re so tired of crying, but you can’t stop.

“Yer welcome, kitten.” He says, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Ye need anythin’...”

He leaves the other half unsaid, but you know what he means. You’re hesitant to pull away from him, wanting to just stand there and cling to him until Simon returns, but you know he’s busy. Eventually he’ll have to leave you too. You’re not sure you could handle watching him leave your nest, close your door behind him as he’s forced away to do his job.

Your door clicks as you shut it, holding Simon’s shirt to your chest. You’re tempted to wear it, to slip it over your head and bathe yourself in your scent, but you know if you do that, his scent will just fade faster and become overwhelmed by your own. The desire to bury yourself in it is strong, let his scent sink into your body and overwhelm your own.

Your eyes pass over the giant bear sitting in your desk chair before snapping back to look at it. An idea begins to form in your head as you set the shirt on your bed.

You grab the bear, hauling it to your bed and sitting it on the edge. You pull the shirt over its head, stretching the neckline slightly. The shirt is slightly baggy on the bear, but you don’t care as you maneuver it so it’s laying on the bed, trying to picture Simon in its place. It would be a tight squeeze, but then again it always is with any member of your pack. Their bodies don’t leave much space on the narrow mattresses by themselves, much less with you curled up with them. You can’t help the stirring in your chest, the yearning for more space, for a bed big enough to fit all of you at the same time. Big enough for Johnny to starfish himself comfortably, for you to escape the inescapable suffocating heat of their bodies that will build up inevitably.

Tears burn behind your eyes as you crawl onto the mattress, draping yourself across the giant bear. Simon’s scent wafts up around you as you press your face into the shirt, pretending it’s Simon you’re laying against. You can almost feel his arms wrap around you, holding onto you like you might disappear if he lets go. You squeeze your arms tighter around the bear, letting Simon’s scent seep into your mind and take away your fear and your worry and your pain for a little while.

It’s two days later when you finally leave your room. You’ve managed to stop the onslaught of tears, calming down enough to exist without being a weepy mess. There’s still an ache in your chest, though, the gaping hole that won’t close. A piece of you is missing, a piece you hadn’t even noticed was there until it was ripped out of you suddenly and violently. Your hug with Johnny had been the first time it had felt less intense, the aching abating just slightly.

They’ve just returned from their afternoon training, earlier than usual meaning they have some downtime before dinner. You can almost tell where he is before you leave your room, following the sounds of the TV. Your steps are slow and quiet, the cold tile biting into your bare feet as you approach the rec room.

He’s seated on the couch, spread out as usual. His eyes flicker to you as you hesitate in the doorway, tugging at the hem of the baggy shirt you’re wearing. You’ve long forgotten whose it is, the name on the tag worn off and all hints of scent erased by the many times you’ve worn and washed it. The thought tugs at the hole in your chest. Eventually Simon’s shirt won’t smell like him anymore, faded and rubbed away by time and your own scent.

“Hi kitten,” He says, breaking the silence between you.

You let out a shaky breath before entering the rec room, approaching him. You can tell he’s expecting you to sit next to him, to curl up against his side by the way he moves his arm, but instead you straddle his lap, all but throwing yourself against his chest. He grunts quietly in surprise, his arm instinctively wrapping around your back. You lay your head on his shoulder, going limp in his hold.

It doesn’t fix the hole, doesn’t remove the ache entirely, but you can feel it start to lessen as you sit there, getting as close to Simon as you possibly can through his beta. You wrap your arms around his neck, fingers twisting the fabric of his shirt. He wraps his other arm around you, holding you tightly as his scent begins to project around you. Nothing is said, but nothing has to be. He knows what you need, and he doesn’t even have to use his instincts to figure it out.

A week goes by without a word from Simon or even about him and how he’s doing. You return to your normal routine in a numb, almost dazed state. You follow the rest of your pack around like a lost puppy, going to meals and following them to training when John allows, withdrawing back to your room like a recluse when you can’t. You sit in the rec room with them in the evenings, but you feel far away, distant from them and reality. You stare at the TV, but all you can see are blurry moving shapes. You can’t even read, often finding yourself staring at the cover until the words mesh and blur into something else.

You never thought the distance could feel like this. You almost miss the fear of them all being gone. At least that had made you feel something.

You see Dr. Keller twice as usual, both appointments unproductive as you fight to force some kind of life into yourself to drown out the numbness that’s settled. You’re far away, distracted from everything. Even food tastes different, more mushy and flavorless than usual.

They’re worried about you. Even in your numb state you can tell that. John hovers closer, allowing you to follow them more than he probably should. It’s not like you’re paying much attention to what they’re doing, seated far away from anything that might put you at risk as you stare up at the sky, or off at the trees in the distance. Even when you’re inside, your gaze is far away, never quite focusing on anything.

Johnny and Kyle keep you close as much as they can, squishing you between them on the couch or when you walk to meals. They’re always touching you, holding your hands, brushing your skin, wrapping their arms around you. They’re trying to comfort you, and it works for a little bit, not even your numbness impervious to a beta’s soothing presence. They hold onto you like they’re trying to keep you grounded to the earth, like you might float off and disappear into space if they don’t.

You don’t sleep well, electing to sleep in your room every night. It’s a vast difference to what you had been doing, avoiding your room as much as possible. You’re seeking out the safety of your nest, a comfort only it can provide despite everything that’s happened. You feel bad for pushing them away, keeping them at a distance, but at the same time, you don’t care.

You just want Simon back.

“I’m worried.”

“I know. I’m surprised you didn’t come here sooner.”

He feels strange, sitting in Dr. Keller’s office alone. It’s not the first time he’s been here, spoken to her about you. After their return from their first assignment, he had sat with Dr. Keller and gone over everything that had happened during their absence, or at least as much as she could tell him. Anything you talked about was considered confidential, but at least she could tell him if there were any issues or incidents.

“She’s depressed.” Dr. Keller answers before he can even ask. “It’s not uncommon for omegas to become depressed after separation. Even when there’s necessary splitting of a pack into a satellite, there’s a risk for all omegas to develop depression because of it.”

He should have known. He’s seen it happen to soldiers, when the blood staining their hands grows to be too much and they begin to recluse in their own bodies, becoming empty shells of who they were before. You’ve become a shell, a body simply existing out of necessity.

“What can we do?” He asks, unable to keep the mask up, to hide his concern and fear.

“Not much more than you have been.” She says. “Keep supporting her, reminding her that you’re there. There’s an adjustment when a bond begins to weaken. Omegas are especially susceptible to it, and with how strongly connected and aware of her instincts and emotions she is, it’s going to affect her more.” Dr. Keller sighs, leaning her arms on her desk. “I don’t think anyone has ever taught her how to balance or even use those purebred instincts. Institutes are supposed to, but from what we know, they teach subservience over anything.”

John shifts in his seat. Of course no one would have cultivated those abilities. It would have made you too aware, made the risk of you being able to manipulate them too high. Your job was to serve them above all else, so why would those teaching you want to give you that ability? Those instincts would have made you a perfect omega, able to pick up on the slightest changes, the needs of your pack. Yet, if you became too aware of your own abilities, it would give you too much power over them. That’s the one thing institutes don’t want...an omega that knows how powerful they are.

“How do we teach her?” He asks.

“I can help her with balancing those instincts and emotions, but only someone who knows can really teach her how to be successful at using them.”

“Simon.” He says, the pieces beginning to come together.

“If he didn’t know how before, his military training would have cultivated those instincts. That’s why purebreds are so sought after by militaries. Of course, it’s a bit different for alphas and omegas, but you are two sides of the same coin.” Dr. Keller smiles. “She’s smart. She’ll begin to figure it out on her own once she’s aware she can do it. In the meantime, just keep doing what you’re doing. If there’s some way she can talk to him or get in contact with him, that may help alleviate some of the depression.”

He knows it won’t be likely, but if it will help you, he’s willing to take that risk. “I’ll see what I can do.”

He stands outside your door, staring at the knob. It’s late, his eyes burning from exhaustion. He’s stressed, not just from the day to day stressors of his job, but your obvious pain and discomfort has been affecting him. It’s affecting all of them. Kyle and Johnny’s times on the course have slowed, their aim is off, and he knows they’re not sleeping well either.

Even with you beginning to return to your normal routine, your distance from them has proven to affect them more than your presence. Even with you around them, your numbed, absent state has disrupted their abilities to function, to exist as a normal pack. He’s relayed the sudden change to Kate in an attempt to prove his decision not to leave you alone is the right one, and it will help his case should they decide to try and separate you from the pack.

He can’t think of a reason why they would now. The bonds are too strong. The separation of just one of them has proven to disrupt the bonds between all five of you. He can only imagine how Simon is feeling, being apart from everyone. It’s never bothered him before, but that had been before your presence. If Simon was incapable of fulfilling his duties and performing the task he had been assigned, they would have forced him out of the field and sent him back by now.

Perhaps your fears were right and Simon isn’t as in love as John thought he was.

He shakes the thought from his head. He’s seen the way Simon looks at you, the obvious change in his demeanor since your trip to town, the changes that have happened in your demeanor around him. Simon cares for you deeply, more than just as an alpha in your pack.

He tries the handle of your door, surprised again when it opens. He might have thought you’d start locking it at night again with how much you’ve regressed. Maybe this was your silent plea for help, for comfort, for something other than the emptiness inside you. He slips into the room, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light of your nightlight in the corner. He can’t see you except for your arm tossed around the giant bear. It’s wearing a black shirt, likely the one Johnny had given you. It was a good decision, offering you at least an extension of the missing alpha.

He approaches the bed quietly, not wanting to startle you. He doesn’t want to climb over you either, but he knows moving the bear will wake you. Perhaps you’re exhausted and sleeping hard enough he won’t disturb you.

He picks the lesser of two evils, lifting the bear. He curses silently when your body shoots up as soon as the bear slips from your grasp.

“No!” You shout, almost like an angry child having their toy taken away. It’s a desperate sound, a shocking one, ringing loud in the silence. You’re reaching for the bear, trying to tug it from his hands.

“Easy, easy.” He says, putting his hand on your arm, your movements slowing to a stop as his touch brings back to reality. “I’m just moving him.” He shifts the bear to your other side, your body rolling to follow it.

He climbs into the bed, barely managing to fit on the mattress. It’s a tight squeeze with the two of you and the bear, but he’ll manage it. He’s slept in tighter places. He slips an arm under you, the other reaching across you to settle on the bear.

“Tight squeeze with the three of us.” He says quietly, trying to ease some of the tension.

“Need bigger beds.” You murmur, voice slightly muffled from where your face is pressed against the bear.

He chuckles quietly. “I won’t argue with that. Perhaps someday.”

You shift slightly at his words, obviously not expecting him to continue your conversation from earlier this week. He normally tried to avoid thinking too far into the future. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up for something he might never get to have. Or, at least he used to feel that way.

Things have changed.

“I used to think this job would be all I did.” He continues, speaking almost to himself. “I’d never grow old enough to retire. Someday I’d die in the field and that was good enough for me. Then, of course, things changed. Had those three other muppets to worry about.” He slips his arm from the bear to wrap around your stomach. “Then another little muppet got added. Now I’m thinking about a nice little cottage by the sea, big enough for five, with a nice flower garden in the front. Just a short walk to the beach, where we can sit and watch the sun set.”

“White picket fence dreams.” You say quietly.

“Or at least the British equivalent of that.” He says, a smile tugging at his lips.

You shift slightly in his arms, pressing back against his chest as you turn as far as you can. “You mean it?”

“Of course.” He says, his thumb gently rubbing your stomach through your shirt. “Things have changed. Priorities have shifted, and not just for me.”

He presses his forehead against the side of your head, breathing in the soft scent of your strawberry body wash and the new vanilla scented shampoo Johnny had gotten you. There’s a faint hint of leather beneath your scent, the smell rubbing off from Simon’s shirt you dressed the bear in. He can almost imagine Simon in place of the bear, both of their arms tangling around you as they surround you and keep you safe from the outside world. Just a moment of peace in the hectic violence and chaos of their lives.

“John?” You say quietly, pulling him from the edge of sleep that had settled in his mind.

He hums quietly in response, forcing himself back to consciousness again.

There’s a moment’s pause, a second of silence, and for a moment he wonders if you’re going to speak at all. “Don’t let go.” You finally say, your voice quiet and broken in the silence.

“Never.” He says, tightening his hold around you.

John's phone ringing drags you from the light sleep you had managed to slip into. It hasn't been long since you drifted off you think, but then again, it's hard to tell. It's still dark out, and you're still in the same position. John lets go of you to reach for his phone on your nightstand barely managing to grab it at the awkward angle he’s at.

His voice is rough with sleep as he answers. “Hello?”

It's quiet for a moment. You can't hear much aside from a male voice on the other side. You can't tell who it is or what they're saying.

“Good to hear.” He says, slipping into the Captain again.

Something stirs in your stomach as you try to listen, try to catch who it is. Just one word, just one hint.

“I'm sure.” There’s another pause, this one feeling like a lifetime. “I have someone here next to me that would like to talk to you too.”

You nearly elbow John in the stomach in your frantic attempt to turn over. You yank the offered phone from his hand as you lean the top half of your body on his stomach. “Hello?” Your voice wavers as you say it, the emotions beginning to stir within you again.

There's a second delay before you hear it. “Hello, love.”

You nearly cry at finally hearing his voice again, the pet name causing a fluttering in your stomach. You've never heard him call you that before. “I missed you.” You finally say, managing to get the words out.

“That's what I'm hearing.” He says, and you can imagine the lifting of his cheeks under the mask, the slight crinkle of his eyes as he smiles.

“When will you be back?” You ask.

“Soon. Won't be much longer.” He says.

“Be careful.” You say, your breathing shaky. “You better not come back hurt.” You're not sure you could handle it if he came back on a stretcher, or even with a single bandaid.

“Yes ma'am.” He says seriously, but you can hear the humor in his tone. “I'll try my best.”

“Good.” You say, wanting to lay there, to listen to him breathing for a while, just so that you know he’s really there, he’s really alright. You know you can’t though, your fingers shaking as you pass the phone back to John.

He speaks to Simon for a couple more minutes while you lay across his stomach, listening to the rumble of his voice in your ear. Relief is flooding through you after hearing Simon's voice. He's really alright, he's fine, he's coming home.

“You alright, sweetheart?” John asks after hanging up, his hand coming to rest on your back.

A thousand words want to come out of your mouth, but you can't get them up past the lump in your throat. “He called me love.” You finally say, replaying the pet name over and over in your head.

“Did he?” John asks, and you can picture the way his lips turn up in a smile.

“He's never called me that before.” You say.

“Well then I'm sure he meant it.” John says.

You sure hope so.

It's a week later when you get to stand on the tarmac again, waiting for a plane to land. It's early, the sky clear and the sun just starting to rise over the trees, casting everything in a golden light. It’s so vastly different from how the world had looked when he left, the weather seeming to convey your inner feelings. The rain and darkness a perfect symbol of the dread and pain of him leaving. Now that he’s returning the sun is out and the sky is clear, conveying your relief. You’re beginning to feel again, the ache in your chest beginning to lessen. It’s the most alive you’ve felt since he left.

You're in a dress today, the yellow sundress that Johnny had bought you. You wonder if he’d done it on purpose, perhaps knowing something you don’t. Despite the sun rising, there’s still a chill in the air, and you had quickly stolen his sweatshirt to cover your bare shoulders.

You squeeze John's hand as the plane comes in to land, watching it approach in eager anticipation. You're going to hug him tightly, throw your arms around him and refuse to let go until you have no choice. You're going to give him the greeting he deserved weeks ago when they all came back.

He's like a magnet, halfway down the ramp when you start approaching, moving without even thinking. He's in his full mask, the one with the half skull sewed to it. He looks dangerous and deadly, the true visage of a Ghost, but you approach without fear, without hesitation. Underneath all of it you know there’s Simon, the man you’ve quickly fallen in love with.

You're ready to hug him, to feel him again, to wrap yourself around him like you could sink right into his body.

You're not prepared for what he does next.

One of his hands reaches up, the fabric of his gloves rough on your skin as he grips your chin, his thumb on one side, digging into your jaw, the other four fingers on the other side holding your head still. His other hand pulls his mask up over his mouth, giving you a glimpse of his stubble and chapped lips.

You don't get to look long as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours.

It's like time freezes as he kisses you, your skin erupting in goosebumps, and it's not from the cold air. You weren't expecting this, your brain trying to catch up, to process that this is really happening, that this is real.

He tilts your head to the side, deepening the kiss as he leans closer into you. Your hands reach up, closing around the sleeves of his jacket. He's real, he's really here, and he's kissing you.

The moment likely doesn't last more than 30 seconds, but it feels like forever as his lips move against yours. It might be cliche to say fireworks are going off, but that may have just been the engines of the plane shutting down.

He finally pulls away from you, his hand still gripping your jaw. You could melt into a puddle right there, his eyes speaking volumes of what's going on in his head. He's done a lot of thinking in his time away. You wonder how many thoughts you've shared over the last two weeks.

“Should have done that before I left.” He says, his voice rough, but just as you remember.

Tears prick behind your eyes as you stare up at him. His fingers are digging into your jaw, but you don’t care. He’s here, he’s back, he’s safe, and he just kissed you like you’d wanted to before he left.

“I wish you had.” You say, as he slowly releases your jaw, his hand brushing your throat before it drops to his side. You let out a shaky breath before throwing your arms around him, holding onto him tightly.

“What are you doing?” He says, taking you back all those weeks ago to when you hugged him the first time. There’s no confusion in his tone now though, instead there’s an amused lilt to it.

“Giving you the hug you deserve so you don't get mad at me.” You say, your voice slightly muffled from your face being squished against his chest.

“You think I'd get mad about not getting a hug after kissing you?” He asks, patting your back.

“Just making sure.” You say, his chuckle reverberating in your ear.

You don’t release him as he begins to walk to where the others are, keeping your arms wrapped around him tightly. He greets the others, Johnny squishing you between them as he hugs his alpha. You don't care as Ghost's armor digs into your body, it's just a reminder that this is real. He's really here. This isn’t a dream.

He's really back.

You sit between Simon and Johnny in the back seat of the car. It's a tight squeeze between the two, but you don't care one bit. Johnny's hand rests on your thigh as John drives back to the barracks. Perhaps you’re still reeling a bit from the kiss, or perhaps it’s Simon’s scent, but you want to push Johnny’s hand higher, hike up your dress and hope Simon gets a peek at what's waiting underneath. You won’t though. You want him to be comfortable. You want your first moments of intimacy to be just the two of you, something special.

Dread begins to fill you again as the car rolls to a stop outside the barracks. You know what to expect now, having gone through it once before. He’s not truly back, he still has to leave you again. At least this time, you have the others.

“I'll see you soon.” Simon says, squeezing your arm.

“Hurry back?” You stare up at him.

“As fast as I can.” He says, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

You're tempted to kiss him again, but you don't want to push his boundaries. Sure, he had kissed you, but it could have been a fluke, a one time thing born out of desire and time spent apart.

You won't care if he never kisses you again. At least you know what it feels like.

Thankfully he makes the decision for you as he turns his body slightly towards you, as much as he can in the tight space. He lifts the bottom of his mask, leaning down to kiss you again. You purr against his lips, your scent exploding in the car like a smoke bomb.

Johnny lets out an extensive curse as he fumbles for the door handle, forcing it open in an attempt to escape the sudden onslaught. Kyle is quick to follow, allowing more air in to disperse the intensity of your scent in the confined space. John rolls his window down, lighting a cigar, trying to do anything to keep your scent from going straight to his head.

You feel giddy and almost proud as Simon places one last soft peck against your lips. You don’t want to let him go, but you know you have to. He’s not quite yours yet. He still has more of his job to do before then.

Always the job first.

Your lips are still tingling as you walk into the barracks, your heart still fluttering in your chest. Johnny is staring at you, almost walking sideways. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, your face warming.

“What?” You ask, finally looking at him. He’s wearing that stupid, smug grin on his face again.

“Been a long time since I've seen him like that” He says, squeezing your arm gently. “Not since his first romp with Kyle.”

You turn to look at the other beta behind you who simply shrugs. “What can I say? No one's immune to my charm.” He gives you a dazzling smile. He’s not wrong, his smile causing butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

“Cannae wait to see him glowin’ after his first taste of our sweet omega.” Johnny says, backing you against the wall.

“Yeah, well, you might be waiting forever for that.” You say, stopping his approach with a hand on his chest.

He tilts his head at you, his brows furrowing. “What do ye mean, kitten?”

“I'm not even sure he's going to want that, much less if he'll do it.” You shrug. The thought has been going through your mind despite the kiss in the car. Though he’s kissed you twice, that’s a big leap to make, a leap you might never make.

Johnny snorts at your response. “Kitten, he's been holdin’ himself back for weeks. He's just worried he may...be too much for ye.”

You give Johnny a look. “I can handle you, can't I?”

Johnny grins. “Aye, but this is...different. He's not gonnae make the first move. If ye want it,” He leans in closer. “Yer gonnae have to do it yourself.”

“Well,” You slip under his arm, nearly making him faceplant on the wall. “Then I best save my stamina for him, then.”

Kyle laughs, patting Johnny's back. “Set yourself up for that one, mate.”

You peel off Johnny's sweatshirt, adjusting the top of your dress before tossing his sweatshirt to him. “I'll see you both later.” You give them a smirk before turning on your toes, heading back to your room.

Johnny curses quietly behind you, and you just know his eyes are glued to your ass.

Johnny’s words replay over and over in your head as you go through your day as usual. Simon had returned to the barracks, going straight to his room to shower. You had been tempted to step into the hallway, to wait for him, but you know he’s not free yet. He still has paperwork to do, which you know from experience that could take a long time.

Thankfully, that gives you plenty of time to think about what you’re going to do. You're going to have to make the first move, but what if you move too fast? How do you even broach the subject?

“Hey Simon, welcome back. Would you like to rearrange my guts?”

“I cried the whole time you were gone, would you like to make me cry for a different reason?”

“Bend me over and fuck me like a real alpha.”

You facepalm at your own thoughts. You could just slowly initiate it. Start with touches, getting closer, more kisses. Leave yourself open to him in hopes he gets the message, that he pushes past that boundary and finally fucks you like he wants to.

Heat blooms in your stomach, sinking between your legs. You're all worked up and he’s only kissed you twice. Johnny’s words don’t help the fantasies in your mind. He’s scared you won’t be able to handle him. A shiver runs down your spine at the thought. He’s a big man. You know, you’ve felt it before. It’s hard not to, with some of the positions he’s put you in during your training, nothing but those grey sweatpants and his underwear as a barrier.

You wonder how he'll do it. Bend you over so you won't see his face? Keep the mask on and put you on your back so you can hold eye contact with him? Or will he finally take the mask off, finally let you see his face?

You assume the others have seen it, so when will it be your turn?

It’s not until after dinner when you hear footsteps down the hall. Johnny had gotten food for Simon who was still deep in his paperwork when you left for the mess. Despite his absence at the table still, it had felt less gaping, less like a black hole threatening to suck you all in. He’s back, he’s here. Soon he’ll fill that empty space again.

You try to stop yourself from running out of your room when the steps get closer. You’re not even sure it’s him. You don’t want to disappoint the others if you leave your room so excitedly in the hopes that they’re Simon. So instead, you stay seated on the edge of your bed, staring at your unlocked door. You want him to open it, to step into your room, but you know he won’t. He’s never been in your room. The furthest he’s entered is your doorway.

You’ll have to make the first move.

Your stomach nearly leaps out of your body as the boots stop in front of your door. You hold your breath in anticipation, too scared to move, too scared to throw open the door and risk your excitement being too much. You might push him away in your eagerness, but you’re not sure you can hide it much longer. You’d let him bend you over with the door open, hell, you’d let him take you in the hallway.

One step at a time. One step at a time.

You repeat it over and over in your head as you push yourself off your bed, moving to the door. He’s not going to knock, he’s going to wait for you to open it, for you to remove that barrier between you. He’s giving you the chance to change your mind, to go back, to call the two kisses enough and draw the line where you want it.

The doorknob is cold in your sweaty hand as you grasp it, turning it slowly. The gavel is falling, the slow opening of the door marks the finality, the crumbling of the final barrier. There’s no going back. The bond is too strong, the line has been removed completely.

You stare up at Simon as the door swings as far as it will open. His eye black is gone, washed off in the shower revealing the pale skin underneath. He smells good, cleaner than he had on the tarmac. You can smell it despite the space between you. Under the smell of his generic soap you can pick up his natural scent. Leather and eucalyptus and the musk of alpha. You want to drown yourself in it, rub it all over your skin until your own scent is gone.

“Hi.” You say, goosebumps forming across your skin from the intensity of his gaze. You’d forgotten how sharp it is, how easily he can peel away your layers as he stares at you.

“Hi.” He says, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. You’d forgotten how deep it really is, the roughness around the edges harsher than usual, but you expected that. They had all been a bit hoarse after returning from their group deployment.

You continue to stare at him, lost in his earthy gaze. The hole in your chest has lessened to almost nothing, slowly the bond repairing itself just from the knowledge he's here, he’s standing in front of you. He’s real.

You clear your throat, smoothing your hands over your dress. His eyes drop, following the movement. “I thought you'd want to rest.” It's the first thing you can think of to say, speechless in his presence. He must be tired.

“I slept on the plane.” He shrugs.

“Yeah, but surely a real bed is a relief.” You say. You’d half expected him to retreat to his room, seeking out a comfortable bed. They’re not all that comfortable, but compared to what he probably was sleeping on these last couple weeks, it must feel like heaven.

“Probably is.” He says, his gaze shifting back to your face.

You sink your teeth into your lip as you stare up at him. You’re testing the waters, pushing into new territory as the last walls of the barrier crumble around you. “You could go rest.” You say, shifting on your feet, giving him the option to turn away, to change his mind. “I’m sure you missed your bed.”

He’s still as a statue as he looms in your doorway, his frame filling it easily, making you feel small. “I'd rather relax in yours.”

Your face warms at his words, not expecting him to say that. The warmth pooling in your stomach intensifies, your heart fluttering in your chest. You’re not sure what happened during his assignment, what caused such a drastic change. You want to know what went through his head, what he was thinking about. Did he picture you at night when he got a moment to rest? Was he imagining you there with him, curled up against him? Or was he picturing you in other positions?

You might never know, just another secret hidden between you.

A shudder runs through him. You can see it, the slight twitch in his body, his hands closing into fists. He’s responding to you, to your scent. Such power you could hold over him if you were brave enough to try.

Such power he could hold over you, if he wanted to.

“You could come in.” You say, taking half a step back in invitation.

He doesn’t move, still frozen there like a statue. You wonder how he stays so still, but that was probably part of his training. Be as steady as possible while shooting, how to be invisible even in broad daylight. “You're sure?” He finally rumbles out, his foot shifting just a centimeter, but you catch it.

You shrug. “Why not? You are part of this pack. You could have entered sooner, if you wanted to. I wouldn’t have minded.”

He hesitates for just a second before moving his foot from the tile and into your room. He pauses there for a moment, watching you, waiting for a reaction. It’s your turn to stay still, staring up at him as he makes the slow transition into your room, venturing into your sacred space, a place he’s never been in before.

He moves the other foot, taking the first step over that line, pushing himself past that barrier, leaving it crumbling behind him.

There’s no going back.

Something shifts inside you as he enters your room, a weight you hadn’t even realized was there lifting off your shoulders. The hole in your chest is gone, the missing piece back in place. All the tumultuous emotions, all the stress and the fear and the anguish is gone. Your room is safe again, complete again with him in it. Tears prick at your eyes as relief floods through you. No one is getting in, no one can get in now, not with him here. You want to hug him, to kiss him again, drag him onto the bed and make him hold you for a while.

You don’t. You stay still as he takes in your space, his eyes scanning your belongings and your decorations. He’s never truly seen it in the light. The only time he’d stared into it was that morning when you thought maybe someone had broken in, when your fear had fucked with your emotions enough to think they’d truly let someone enter without their knowledge.

How silly that thought had been.

His eyes move to your bed, landing on the giant bear wearing his black shirt. Your teeth sink into your lip as you stare at it as well, suddenly thinking you should have removed the shirt, shoving it into your laundry and moving the bear back to your desk. Yet, you want him to see it, want him to see that you tried to comfort yourself in his absence, tried to make a placeholder for him. You won’t need it now, though. Not with the real thing standing in your space.

He shakes his head as he stares at it, rolling his eyes as he lets out a sigh. “Fucking hell.”

NEXT ->

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #task force 141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #soap x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #a/b/o #omegaverse #alpha/beta/omega dynamics

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st4rrth0ughts · 8 months

Note

Hello!! How are you doing? Is everything okay? How did you sleep? In any case, don’t forget to have a snack if you haven’t already!

I really enjoyed your Argenti fic! I actually have so many more ideas, but I don't want to push myself too much.. But anyway! What did you think of Blade with a fellow immortal reader? Again, ignore if you don't like it!

-🌾anon

im running on 6 hours of sleep and Subway so im fine :33

Bladie with immortal reader who's indulgent in his desires. 🗡️🩸

tw, cw: a little bit of knife play. bladie is a maso, and your all to happy to indulge him (going into uncharted territory)

Blade and you weren't so different, other than the fact you were in the IPC and he was a Stellaron Hunter. But you two could care less about that. Damned be your bosses, your both immortal, what the hell were they going to do? The cosmos were infinite, and there were millions of planets the two of you could run away and settle down in. If you were to describe your bond with the man, its passionate, sweet, everything in between. But even then, new things were always being explored by the two of you, like how the both of you could heal from wounds instantly. Might as well make use of it.

Tracing the knife over the exposed skin of Blade's neck made him shiver, his hips already trying to grind against your thighs as soft sound escape him, his eyes tearing up. You click your tongue disapprovingly, pressing the tip over the side of his neck, breaking just a little bit of skin to draw blood, but not enough to be too painful, as much as he wants that. He whimpers, watching his blood trickle down the knife, the deep red of the liquid making him grind faster, a growing wet spot more and more visible in his pants.

He's bucking himself on your clothed cock, gripping your shoulders tightly, whining as he buries his head in your shoulder, soft pleas of 'wan' you to fuck me' and 'I'll be a good boy, please?'. Its rare to get him to even submit so willingly, to get him to be begging and panting like a little bitch in heat is even rarer. Savouring how his fingers dig into your arms, pretty tear filled eyes closed in pure shame and arousal as he grinds his bare pussy against you, your own self restraint is broken when he lets out the smallest whimper.

The normally cold swordsman is thrashing against the pillow as your tongue is plunging into him, cuffs forcing his legs open as he twitches from overstimulation, sobbing as he squirts on your mouth as your finger his clit roughly, flicking and fiddling the nub as he arches his back and grinds his head back into your mouth, fisting your hair as your tongue grazes the soft spot that made him squirm against the mattress. You trail the knife over his stomach, lightly touching his abs as you press it right above his cunt, eliciting a squeal from your love.

When you finally push your cock into him, he splutters as he rubs a bandaged hand over the bulge in his belly. He's babbling some stupid shit about how you were going to fuck a baby in him and being your cute baby momma. How adorable, he cant even speak properly. He really was mushy in your hands, wasn't he? You start off slow, pumping your cock into him as he grips the sheets, soft moans spilling from his lips as his eyes close in pure delight.

of course, it quickly progresses into you pounding him into the mattress, Blade swore that you were trying to fuck his womb with how roughly your cock his hitting his cervix, making his body spasm and loud shrieks of 's' too big-!' as his pretty red eyes are shut as tears spill from them. Your finger reaches out to pinch his clit, flicking and pulling it roughly as your length impales him, making his back arch violently against the bed, dark hair spreading around the bed, giving the illusion of a sea of darkness, the prettiest void you set your eyes on.

The immortal doesn't know how many times you've wrung a orgasm out of him, you haven't even came yet! he's sobbing stupidly into the pillows, pleas of 'cant- s' too much-!' and 'n-no, cumming! m' cumming, please, don't-!' as he fists your ponytail, trying to get you to stop, he cant even think straight and speak anymore? Perfect! Afterall, your goal was to break him and make him a cute little cocksleeve greedy for your cum! You finally decide to end your lovely swordsman's pleasurable torment, movements slowing as your seed fills his womb, making his eyes roll back as you pull out with a wet sound, cooing in his ear as you finger your cum back into him, making his body weakly squirm. You'd honestly thought he would have been able to handle you better, but oh well, being able to fuck him stupid on a daily basis is awesome too.

#✪fics!#✪anon!#☽tw: dark content!#✦honkai star rail!#dom male reader #dom reader #sub honkai star rail #sub hsr #dom gn reader #sub character #honkai star rail smut #hsr smut #sub blade #blade smut #blade hsr #blade x reader

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babybatss-blog · 4 months

Text

SUMMER HAZE

Sirius x f!reader (850 words)

authors notes: Warning, this is a little bit of a horny one! Things are getting warmer so I thought this would be fitting

cw: sexual suggestions, kissing.

summary: a summer black lake day with your favourite black bf <3

The new summer breeze brings Hogwarts Academy a rare yet opportune streak of bright blue skies, accompanied by the welcomed buzz of bumble bees and students flying above in the warm sunlight. With the holidays drawing near and end of year exams coming to a close, students are often finding themselves with nothing better to do than spend time by the black lake, soaking in the bright rays. You and your friends are no exception.

It’s a lousy Sunday afternoon when you present to Lily, Marlene, Mary, and Dorcas the possibility of going for a swim, which they jump at as an opportunity to distract from the blistering heat. The castle may be a solid freezing temple during the winter, but it seems that it is not well equipped for rare heat streaks such as this. You pack your towels and put on your bathers, luckily finding a spot on the pier empty for use.

Today appears to be another relaxing end of school term day, as you, Lily and Mary bring books and Marlene and Dorcas go for a swim, but these meditative plans are abruptly put on hold as soon as you hear the ruckus jeers from the marauders.

“Merlin, your boyfriends here.” Lily pouts, clearly unenthusiastic by the appearance of Sirius, James, and their two best mates. The boys take no notice of this, confidently strutting over to you in their overtly tight trunks and cocky smirks. Sirius and James seem much too pleased to see the staring crowd at their arrival, while Remus and Peter loiter behind as to not draw in anymore attention than has already been caught.

“Hello my darling” Sirius greets you, a signature smoulder on his pale face. Although you have been with him for a considerable amount of time already, his smooth words never fail to make you blush. He plops himself down next to you, throwing an arm around your shoulder and pinching your book from your hands despite your protests. “No need for that my dear. After all, your gorgeous, sexy, amazing boyfriend is here.” You roll your eyes, despite secretly agreeing with this notion. You would never let him know though; his ego is already big enough as it is.

“Hey Sirius” you smile, taking in his beautiful features. He isn’t necessarily buff in physique, but nevertheless his lean abs gleamed in the sunlight along with his rosy cheeks and long eyelashes. How you managed to garner his attention you never know, but sometimes he makes you feel so beautiful you almost see his point of view.

And today is no exception. You take your book back from him so you can enjoy the day how you please, but it appears Sirius has other plans as he runs his hand up and down your thigh. His hand inches further and further up your leg, causing you to find it difficult to focus on your page. You glance over at him, and he smirks. He knows exactly what he’s doing. In order to stop him, you hold his hand, which doesn’t necessarily work either. Instead, Sirius kisses your neck soft and slow. “Sirius…” you mumble, slightly embarrassed by the fact that some students are looking over at you. He hums but continues to leave soft kisses up to your jawline. Rolling your eyes you give up on reading and set the book down, knowing that it was never going to last anyways. “I won” he murmurs, before locking lips with yours into a passionate kiss. You get lost in the moment, adrift in your bound love display as your hands tangle in his silky hair and his roam your back. You almost forget where you are, before Sirius picks you up and jumps of the pier!

The cold water hits your body and surrounds you, only void in the front half of your body that is still enveloped around Sirius. Once your heads break the water you gasp for air, but Sirius merely laughs. “You prick!” You exclaim, Pushing away from him despite the smile on your face. You don’t even get the moment to recollect yourself before James, Lily and Peter Jump in over you leaving a massive splash in your direction. You laugh, shocked by the sudden shift in mood before being encased by Sirius from behind. He kisses your shoulder, paddling in the water together as you watch the others swim around. His warmth swarms you, like a blanket on a harsh windy day. You spin around, arms around his shoulders and eyes engaged with one another. “You’re such a dummy.” Although these words seem harsh, your voice is filled with adoration. “And you’re so embarrassing.” He replies, with the same tone.

As the sun shines above, the water shimmers around you and the air is filled with students laughter. The day is absolutely perfect, and spending it with Sirius seems like a dream come true.

#sirius black x reader #hp marauders #marauders #marauders x reader #sirius black #sirius black fluff #sirius orion black #the marauders #sirius x you #sirius x reader

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starchbean · 1 month

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Shen Yuan Breaks the System - Mom AU

In an AU where SY's level of Spite is high enough to defy physics, he fries the system on his way into PIDW. It doesn't get the chance to put him into SQQ. All he cares about as he is bounced like a Ping-Pong ball through the void is thinking of Binghe.

Eventually, his soul finds an anchor that accepts it. He wakes up in the body of a frail washer woman with Luo Binghe sobbing over him. This body is just as chronically ill as his former life, and he feels like he has been hit by a truck. All his organs hurt, but Binghe assures him that it's alright--Binghe is here. Binghe hand feeds him congee and holds him tight, calling him Mama and promising to take better care of him from now on.

SY knows that he doesn't have long in this new life. A few months at most. He tells Binghe everything he can--that he's a demon, how to survive Cang Qiong without hurting himself, who he can and can't trust, and most importantly he tells him about the Holy Mausoleum, which can be used to revive someone.

When SY dies, LBH finds Mobei and gets him to freeze + preserve his mother's body (It's less perfect than the preservation of SQQ's body in SVSSS, but it works in a pinch)

Many years later, when Washerwoman-SY wakes up, there's a woman's soft voice in the back of his mind that also feels like part of him--like a seamless integration. The voice is just as protective of Binghe as he is...

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house-of-kolchek · 1 year

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Leon Kennedy's Bed (18+)

Leon Kennedy x Reader

@obsessedwithtoomanythings said "Leon Kennedy's Bed" and I took that personally. ENJOY THIS AND I PROMISE I'M WRITING DRESS PART 2

Word Count: 1.3k

Leon’s bed was simple. The sheets were a little messy, pillows and covers thrown together as a result of his early morning job requirements. When you had to rush out at a moment's notice, there wasn’t exactly time to tuck the corners in a militant style.

The sheets themselves were basic, light grey in colour and void of any pattern. It was familiar, the way Leon liked it.

Until you were thrown into the mix.

The messy covers were downright rumpled as your back hit the mattress. Sheets clung to your sides, twisted around your fingers when you dug your hands down. Leon barely felt the soft fabric over his own hands, his focus honed in on the way your breath tickled against his browline and the warm velvet of your skin against his lips.

He settled onto his forearms, digging his weight against your hips. With a pleased sigh, you released his sheets, caging your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling into his scalp. Leon hummed his approval, fixing a particularly steamy bite to the junction of your collarbone. He soothed the mark with his tongue, practically preening at the sound that escaped his throat.

It was a moment he almost thought was a dream, even going as far as to pinch himself, expecting to wake up in an empty, cold bed, with a particular problem against the sheets instead. But when he blinked, you were still there, your legs tangling against his waist and your hands gently massaging at the back of his neck.

You reached for his hand first, prompting him to shift his weight slightly as you guided his fingers to trace under the line of your shirt, against the skin of your waist. He growled, drifting his hand up further, and drawing a long sigh from you as he traced the underside of your bra.

“Can I take this off?” he whispered against your skin, chuckling at your eager nod. He helped you sit up, just enough so he could pull the shirt over your head, and unclip your bra with practiced ease.

He sat up on his knees, taking in the sight of you. Your eyes, hooded and glazed. Your hair fanned out against the sheets contrasting against that plain grey he was so familiar with. The smell of your skin that he knew would cling to the fabric, driving his mind crazy for days.

It didn’t take him long to decide that he liked his bed much better with you in it.

With a muttered curse, he moved to strip his own shirt off, beaming at the way your eyes dipped downwards, widening with something he could only define as wonder. Your hands drifted up, sliding against the top of his thighs and just missing the aching spot between, instead brushing lightly against the curves and contours of his abdomen. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, tracing over one particular scar near the side of his waist.

“You’re gonna tell me about all these some day, right?”

Leon blinked. The softness and care in your voice was unexpected, especially given the context of your situation. And yet, his chest bloomed with a fuzzy warmth, and he only knew further that he was never going to let you go. Leaning down to press a tender kiss to your lips, he nearly stuttered on the words against your ear.

“Every one. Promise.”

You smiled against his jaw, your lips brushing across his skin oh so delicate. Gently turning his head, you gave him another soft kiss. And another, until that soft warmth between you grew back into that sparking heat.

Your thumb traced along the length of his collarbone, drifting lower as you teased the skin of his front. Leon sighed against your lips, dipping his tongue against yours and biting softly against your lip. He muttered a curse as your thumb teased the waistline of his pants, tugging the elastic down and shimmying your hips against him.

Oh, he was hard.

His touch growing frantic, Leon stood from the bed to yank his pants off, reaching for your own with a hot kiss just below your belly button. He teased every new inch of skin he revealed, leaving messy kisses all the way down to your knees. And as he came back up, he placed his lips directly on your clothed core, drawing a sharp gasp from you and sending your hands flying into his hair.

Leon caught sight of one of your hands, falling to the sheets beside him and gripping tight. A sense of possession struck him, sending even more blood rushing south. These were his sheets. And he was about to paint them with every part of your essence. With a growl, he wasted no time ridding your underwear, and diving into your core with teeth and tongue.

You arched your back, squinting your eyes shut and twisting the sheets beside you. Leon’s arms looped around either one of your legs, draping them over his shoulders as his tongue drew various patterns over your clit. Your core pulsed against him, tightening over nothing until he teased you open with his thumb, dipping in just the tip and massaging the edges of your walls.

A jerk of your hips had him twitching against his boxers, and he broke his mouth away from you to strip off the final garment. You whined at the loss, lifting your head to look down at him with knitted brows. And in a moment, Leon was pushing you up on the bed, practically folding you in half as he lifted your legs back over his shoulders.

With his name on your lips, you whined, his mouth returning to your head and two of his fingers teasing at your core. As you rolled your hips against him, Leon bucked his into the mattress, groaning at the friction against the sheets.

The mix of his movements and the vibration of his noise had you moaning out loud, your nails digging into whatever they could reach. Leon rutted into the sheets again, setting a lazy, feel-good pace as your breaths grew shallow, your voice rising in pitch.

Leon fell into a haze, the smell, taste and feeling of you drawing every one of his thoughts away. You squeezed his fingers, reached a hand to pull at his hair, twitched to the pace of his jerking hips. Your words were slurred, incoherent as you babbled your praise, pausing mid sentence to let out the loudest moan.

He curled his fingers up, spread them apart in a scissoring motion just as you reached the edge, clamping down on him fully. You shouted his name, told him you were cumming as you pulsed around his fingers. Your thighs tightened around his head, and Leon was so focused on every movement you made that he didn’t even realize he was driving himself to the edge.

His release hit him like a train, his vision flashing with stars as a strangled moan escaped his throat. His hips stuttered against the mattress, the sheets darkening as he spilled onto them. Your legs slipped from his grasp, falling around his shuddering waist.

As Leon finally relaxed, taking in a deep breath, he found your bleary gaze. With a grin, he leaned back, massaging his thumbs into your legs as he took in the ruined sight of his bedsheets. There was something erotic about the darkened stains against the cloth, both from him and you. Evidence of what had happened. And he liked it.

Leon pulled you into a seated position, pressing a long kiss onto your lips as he turned the two of you over, falling to his back with you resting across his chest. His arms wrapped tight around you, your chest rising and falling against his with the long breaths you took.

“So. Round two?”

You hummed, taking in the ruined bed beneath you. “How about the shower?”

Oh, he could work with that.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader

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heavenlyvision · 9 months

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Ok so I was just eating a Candy Cane and my mind went real nasty real quick so I gotta scream into the void :

Imagine if you an Bi-Han were fucking right? Doggy style right in front of a mirror, already perfect. BUT imagine he put a candy cane in your mouth and stops fucking you every time the candy falls out your mouth but you’re so fucked out that you don’t even realize it’s out so Bi-Han puts it back in your mouth and you mindlessly start sucking on it as he fucks your brains out

Anyways-

No this is so valid, I think he would also be mean about it !!! You’ve made me open my third eye, I’m apparently feeling unhinged today because I wrote a short little thing for you over this <33

Smut below the cut | MDNI

Bi-Han has you on all fours waiting for him, you hear him unwrapping something from behind you.

His eyes meet yours in the mirror. “Keep this in your mouth” he growls at you.

Wordlessly you open your mouth, waiting for him to present you with what he was referring to, when you see it you realise it’s a candy cane.

You take it in your mouth, sucking on it mindlessly. He’s pleased by your unquestioning compliance.

He’s positioning himself behind you, dick swiping through your wet folds, the feeling making you both moan lightly. The candy cane threatens to fall from your lips but you suck harder on it. Bi-Han hums appreciatively from behind you.

“That’s it, so well behaved,” he mumbles.

Looking into the mirror in front of you, you meet eyes with him. His gaze firm as he watches you suck at the sweet treat.

He watches your face carefully as he slips the tip of himself inside your tight pussy. A moan falls from you at the fullness and he grunts at you disapprovingly, the candy cane has fallen from your mouth without you realising. He leans over you, slipping inside you completely as he does. He grabs the candy cane and puts it back in your mouth, your lips automatically sucking onto it again, much to Bi-Han’s delight.

“Keep. It. There.” He grunts at you.

Your reply is a thoughtless hum.

Slowly, he draws his hips back, watching the way your face pinches in the mirror. He groans at the cute expression you make but your mouth drops open in a moan again, the candy falling from your mouth.

Slamming back into you, he leans forward again and places it back in your mouth. Almost every time he draws out of you, your mouth drops open in a moan and he has to put the treat back in your mouth.

He slaps your ass, bringing your cock drunk gaze back to attention. You’re looking at him, waiting for him to speak.

“Pay attention and suck on your treat like I’ve told you to,” he says, tone stern, reprimanding.

You look sheepish as you mumble, “Mm sorry, you feel too good…”

He sticks the candy cane back between your lips and you suck again.

“All you have to do is suck,” his eyes are dark as he looks at you.

You nod your head complacently at him.

He starts fucking into you again, rougher this time. You do your best to remember the candy cane but with the way he feels dragging against you, your mind floats away, eyes glazing over at the feeling. Bi-Han enjoys that look on your face immensely but he’s still disappointed at your inability to do one thing.

He stops fucking you suddenly and you whine at him in response, he again, puts it back in your mouth. He doesn’t say anything but his gaze is threatening.

The pace he set picks up again, fucking you dumb on his fat cock. And you must really be dumb right now because it drops from your mouth again. Causing Bi-Han to stop fucking you again. Which makes you whine pitifully at him, again.

He simply picks it back up and shoves it in your mouth again before continuing his brutal fucking. The sounds of your wet pussy squelching around him fill the room and you’re trying really hard to remember to suck but he keeps hitting something devastating inside you and you drop it again.

You scrabble to pick it up this time, placing the candy cane back in your own mouth, desperate for him to keep going.

He has a proud look on his face at your desperation for him to continue. His hands grip your hips tightly, his thrusts harsh. Your arms are barely able to keep yourself up, threatening to give out under your own weight. You drop to your forearms. The angle deeper now, his cock reaching further inside you. A large moan slips from you and the candy cane falls out again.

You don’t even notice this time, too lost in the feeling of his cock deep inside you. He quickly shoves it back in your mouth, too close to his own high to bother punishing you. Not when his own orgasm is so close.

You’re twitching around him, cunt pulsing with how close you are to cumming on him. His groans are loud as he fucks himself into you. His eyes are careful to watch you through the mirror.

Your own eyes fucked out and glazed over, unseeing while you mindlessly suck on the candy cane. You’re drooling around it now and the sight has Bi-Han cumming very suddenly, pumping you full of all his cum.

The way he twitches inside you pushes you over the edge, the force of your orgasm has you biting down on the candy cane, snapping it in half.

You’re both huffing, coming down from your highs together. Bi-Han’s eyes are still on your face, smiling smugly at you and how stupid you look right now. Completely cock drunk from him.

He leans down to your ear and whispers, “Merry fucken Christmas.”

His words send a shudder down your spine. Merry fucken Christmas indeed.

#visions blurb #ask vision #mk1 smut #bi han x reader #bi han x you #subzero x reader smut #subzero x reader #bi han x reader smut #bi han smut #subzero x you #subzero smut

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salemistired · 2 years

Text

@pinchhitsfromthevoid 's Pinch Hit #51 for @darkwitchling 's request of fluffy /r c!beeduo with goat hybrid c!Tubbo and Non-Binary c!Ranboo!

I had a ton of fun drawing these two and hope you enjoy!

#c!beeduo #beeduo #romantic c!beeduo #dsmp #dsmp shipping #pinch hits from the void #c!ranboo #c!tubbo

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cherryredstars · 10 months

Note

Ok so I was just asking maybe you could do something like a curvy reader x ghost like you did with Miguel? If not or you're not taking requests right now that's perfectly fine I'm just asking

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Curvy!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Body Descriptions, Body Image/Insecurity, Labeled NSFW, 18+,

Summary: Simon with a curvy girlfriend!

Word Count: 715 (Not Edited)

SFW

I know every fanfic writer is like, “[Insert Character] would love you no matter your body type! <3333”, but I truly, 100%, believe that Simon wouldn’t care. At the end of the day, all Simon wants is someone to come home to. Someone that he can maybe start a family with someday. Someone who can fill those voids that are scattered around his life. You don’t need to be a stick-figure model or the next Janet Montgomery. As long as you’re patient enough to love a man like him, he’s struck gold.

Loves, loves, loves touching you. He’s so deprived of physical touch that he’s making up for it with you. Whenever he’s home, he’s touching you. He’s massaging your shoulders and back as you do things around the house. His arms are wrapped tight around your waist and hips until you can't breath, hitting his arms in an attempt to get him to let up. You’re like his own personal teddy bear, curves soft and plush in his rough hands.

Loves burying his face into your body when he sleeps. He’ll sigh contently as he stuffs his head into the crook of your neck. Gently forcing you onto your back on the couch so he can drape his body over yours, suffocating himself into the delicate folds and plushness of your stomach. His longest naps are caused by your soft and warm skin, his favorite temporary cure for his insomnia.

He doesn’t like getting out of the house much, but he does find a bit of joy in helping you shop for clothes. He won’t ever admit it, but it’s fun. Only because of you. It’s always like a mini lesson when he follows you around. You go up to racks, pointing out cute styles and the disasters of female sizing. Of course, he’s holding all the hangers as you pick out what you want to try on. Every now and then, you’ll rant to him. Telling him how the fashion industry is “skinny girl” biased, pointing out the major differences between curvy/plus-size clothing and straight sizes. He’ll join in on your distaste, agreeing with how unfair it is.

He loves the fashion shows you give him. He sits patiently in the dressing room seating area or in your bedroom, watching as you walk out to show off your latest finds. He’ll whistle lowly for the ones he really likes, asking you to come closer and spin you around so he can get a better view. The cute giggle you let out in response is an added bonus. He loves how well you know your body, knowing in an instant what will look good on you and what won’t. He’s a lucky man with the prettiest thing on his arm.

NSFW

Loves grabbing onto your love handles when he’s fucking into you. It’s great leverage, and it just means he can touch you more. He’s squeezing and pinching the skin, groaning out as he buries himself inside of you.

Obsessed with the way your body moves when he’s thrusting into you. Loves how the extra skin bounces with the force of his movements. It leaves him hypnotized, practically foaming at the mouth as you moan under him. He’s always thankful for the military’s lessons on self-control or else the two of you aren't getting out of bed until he has to be deployed again.

He wants to be trapped in by your thighs. He’ll throw your legs over his shoulders, encouraging you to cross your ankles and hold him in place with your legs. He has a sleepy look in his eyes whenever you do, moaning against your slick cunt as he laps at you. He’ll massage all the skin he can reach from his position, maybe even press your thighs tighter around his head. If you aren’t too lost in pleasure, you can see the subtle movement of his body as he tries to hump the side of the bed.

His personal mission is to try to get your stomach to bulge. Even if he can’t, he loves the little gasps and pleas you let out as he hits against your warm walls. The times where he is successful in getting through your thick layer of skin, he’s instantly spilling inside of you.

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stray-kaz · 11 months

Text

Starless : a Roronoa Zoro x f!reader oneshot

Summary: A warm summer night under an ink dark sky.

18+

"It's too damn hot" Zoro complained, staring up at the starless sky. "Why won't it rain or something?"

He smoothed a hand over the back of your head and huffed loudly. He had rigged up a hammock outside on the deck of the Going Merry and you were sequestered on it with him, patches of damp skin sticking together where your tank top rode up and your bare stomach pressed to his, shirt discarded long ago.

You shifted so your cheek rested against his chest and your fingertips stroked the bare skin of his sides.

"Drought" you yawned. "No rain in a drought."

He settled his free arm behind his head and scoffed.

"I know what a drought is, smartass" he muttered, but without venom.

You pinched his hip then soothed the skin.

"Just checking" you mumbled, yawning again. "Sleepy."

Zoro sat up suddenly and you yelped, almost tumbling over the side of the hammock. He held your shoulders tightly and you frowned up at him.

"What was that for?" you grumbled. "I could've fallen asleep on you, mosshead."

He didn't even blink at the nickname, just fondly kissed you on the forehead and clambered over onto the sun warmed deck. He stood with his hands on his hips, looking down at you, seeing you sweaty and disheveled and tired out but unable to sleep.

"I know something that'll help you sleep" he said gently. "Tire you out, too."

You raised an eyebrow at him, smirking slightly.

"Too hot for that, handsome" you said, collapsing backwards onto the hammock.

Zoro rolled his eyes.

"Not what I meant, pretty girl" he retorted.

He leaned down and grabbed your hands, pulling you up and onto his boots. You tipped your head back to look up at him, his green hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. He smiled faintly.

"What did you have in mind?" you murmured.

"Midnight swim."

Your eyes widened and you glanced down at yourself, your lack of a swimsuit. Zoro's gaze followed yours, as if he could hear your mind.

"Doesn't matter" he said. "I don't have one either."

Then, as if to prove his point, he unbuttoned and stripped off his pants and boots, leaving him in nothing but his underwear. Taking his cue, you used him for balance as you shimmied out of your shorts and dragged your tank top over your head, leaving you in mismatched cotton underwear and bra.

You caught Zoro's arched eyebrow and rolled your eyes at him.

"So what?" you groused at him. "No one else sees them."

Zoro reeled you in with firm hands on your hips, thumbing up and down.

"That's good" he muttered. "No one else should."

You rolled your eyes slightly again and leaned up to kiss him gently, hands on his shoulders.

"Do we jump?" you whispered against his lips.

"What?"

He glanced from you to the railing.

"Oh, yeah. We jump. Think you can handle it?"

You smiled.

"If you catch me."

He squeezed your hips.

"I'll catch you, pretty girl."

You left your clothes in piles on the deck and climbed over the ship's rail to balance, looking down. Every few seconds, white caps frothed against the hull, but other than those flecks of white, the sea was dark and invisible. It felt like you were about to jump into a void.

Zoro reached over and briefly squeezed your hand.

"I'll catch you" he promised. "Don't worry."

And with that vow, he launched himself out and away from the ship, and you watched him plummet into the dark. Moments later, you heard a splash and saw white rolling away from Zoro as he tread the water and shook it out of his eyes.

"Your turn!" he called up to you. "Let go!"

You tracked his voice, took a deep breath, and leaped. The shock hit you at the same second Zoro's arms locked around you and you both sank below the waves. Moments passed of nothing but dark and cold, but then Zoro dragged you back up, gasping, into the summer air, his cheek pressed to yours, grounding you as you clung to him tightly.

He huffed a laugh in your ear, shifting a hand down to adjust your legs around his middle.

"You okay, pretty girl?" he asked, free hand stroking your back.

Your breathing evened out and you nodded, resting all your weight on him.

"I'm okay now" you mumbled, dropping your head to his shoulder. "Thank you for catching me."

He slid his hand up to the back of your neck.

"I'll never drop you" he said quietly. "Never."

You lifted your head slowly and looked him in the eyes. As usual, they were dark and almost impossible to read, especially at midnight under a starless sky.

"Do you promise?" you asked softly, smiling at him through the dark.

Instead of answering, he kissed you, his mouth cool and tasting of salt. Zoro slung his arms down around your thighs, hugging you to him and giving you a comfortable seat at the same time. You wiggled closer to him, pressing your stomach to his and smiling into the kiss.

His shoulders were damp where you gripped them, his hair soaked through when you moved one hand up to sink into it, teasing the spiky strands with your fingertips. You allowed your fingers to stroke across his scalp and he grumbled into you, moving to dig the fingers of one hand into your backside, saturated fabric threatening to give way under his strength.

You pulled away and pressed your lips to the spot just below his left ear, again tasting salt tang and feeling his body shift against yours. He growled quietly in your ear.

"I thought you were too tired for this nonsense" he reminded you, tugging two fingers inside the waistband of your underwear and snapping it back taut against your wet skin.

You laughed and kissed the side of his neck, perilously close to his pulse.

"The water woke me up" you replied. "But if you like, I can just..."

You broke free of him and cut through the water, away from the Going Merry. You made it fewer than six feet before Zoro caught you and was hauling you back into his chest, shaking his head.

"No" he said simply, and dove back in, claiming your lips with a voraciousness that stole your breath.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, the ocean wet material of his underwear no match for the hardness pressing against you, making you whimper and wriggle over him. Zoro's sneakily deft fingers stole across your collarbone and slipped under your bra strap, sliding it slowly down over your shoulder.

You caught his hint and pulled the other one down, too, and felt his smirk against your lips as he kissed you, hard, once more and pulled away to look down.

"You don't want to lose this one, do you?" he asked, breathing a little harder than normal.

"I'd rather not" you agreed, rubbing your thumbs over his cheekbones.

Zoro shrugged.

"Okay."

He tugged the straps down until they looped over your elbows and then so gently peeled the cups away from your body, exposing your breasts to the night air, summer breezes swirling around you and immediately drawing your nipples to stiff peaks.

Zoro's gaze darkened.

"Huh" he muttered.

Your answering surprised laugh died off on a whispered moan as he cupped the weight of your breasts in his hands, dragging his thumbs over the hardened tips. Twin spikes of pleasure bolted down to your core and you ground helplessly against him, aware that now it was only your own strength holding you up as both his hands plucked and tweaked at you, his gaze switching between his task and your face as you gasped and whined, hips twitching over him repeatedly.

"You're enjoying this" you mumbled.

"Uh huh."

You kissed him out of sheer frustration and felt his smirk before he kissed back, changing to gently circle his palms over your breasts, squeezing occasionally.

"You're lucky I love you" you grumbled, rocking slowly against him once more.

He laughed low and nodded, stamped a kiss on your jaw.

"I know."

You giggled quietly and tightened your grasp on his shoulders, still holding yourself up on him.

"So much for a swim."

Zoro leaned his head back and raised his eyebrows at you.

"I'm sorry, did you not cool off?"

You scoffed at him.

"Zo, I cooled off and then you warmed me up again."

He trailed his lips from the corner of your mouth to your ear, and you shivered.

"Then how about we throw in the towel and finish this on a bed?"

You grinned, shivers still wracking your spine.

"Last one there is on the bottom" you told him, then struck out towards the dock.

Zoro grinned and followed you...slowly.

Tagging: @writingmysanity @elizabeth-karenina @aaubin

#roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #zoro x female reader #opla x reader #one piece x reader #opla fanfiction #one piece fanfiction #liss writes

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cinnabunwanda · 4 months

Text

SELFISH PT. 1 ˗ˏˋ꒰ BUCKY . BARNES ꒱

content warning — angst, crying pairing — Fem reader x Bucky Barnes summary — Bucky learns his best friend Steve Rogers prioritized his happiness over their mission, leaving him feeling guilty for not intervening. They grieve and share guilt. word count — 817

The realization hit Bucky like a punch to the gut. Steve Rogers, his best friend and one of the most selfless men he knew, had just chosen his own happiness over his duty to their mission. As they watched Steve leave, Sam's wave masking his own concern, Bucky felt a weight settle in his chest. How was he going to break this news to y/n? What words could possibly ease her pain and anger at Steve's selfish decision?

Bucky barely registered Sam's hand guiding him towards their van as tears threatened to spill from his eyes. The red veins pulsating around his eyes reminded him of the forceful tugging at his heart, pulling and pulling until it felt raw and exposed.

He tried to compose himself, tilting his head back and taking deep breaths to slow down the tears. Swiping at his eyes with shaking hands, he pinched the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt to stop the emotions from overwhelming him.

"Are you okay?" Sam's concerned voice broke through Bucky's thoughts, but he quickly put on a fake smile and nodded. Anything to distract from the pain welling up inside him.

As they arrived at the compound, Bucky couldn't bring himself to get out of the van right away. It was as if delaying the inevitable would make it hurt less. But as he finally stepped out onto the clean floors of the compound, every step felt like a heavy burden on his soul.

And then he saw her - y/n - waiting for Steve with open arms and a bright smile that instantly faded when she laid eyes on Bucky. He couldn't bear to see her hope turn into disappointment and dread as she realized something was wrong.

"Doll..." Bucky's voice trembled as he tried to speak. Tears were already streaming down y/n's cheeks, her once hopeful expression now shattered into pieces.

Bucky took a deep breath and gently broke the news to her, watching as she sank to her knees in shock and agony. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his lap as they both grieved for the loss of their friend.

She clung onto him tightly, as if afraid he would also leave her like Steve did. And Bucky held on just as tightly, feeling every ounce of guilt and sadness that should have belonged to Steve. As they sat there together, mourning their shared loss, Bucky couldn't help but think that y/n's tears were somehow more beautiful than any other sight he had ever seen.

Bucky's nose nuzzled into her hair, the cool tears that splashed against his cheeks mingling with the strands as he held her tightly. His embrace was unyielding, causing a faint ache in her ribs, but she welcomed the pain. She could smell him - the scent of Steve that clung to his skin and clothes. It brought back bittersweet memories of their time together, a reminder of what she had lost.

But in this moment, holding onto Bucky brought her some solace. It eased the loneliness that Steve had left behind, filling the void with the warmth of Bucky's presence.

"I know. I'm so sorry doll, but he's gone. He's gone." Y/n could hear Bucky's words muffled by the roaring sound in her ears. She couldn't make out what he was saying, but she didn't need to. She knew the truth - Steve was gone.

But Bucky couldn't bring himself to tell her everything. He couldn't tell her how Steve had left her to relive his past with a woman he had kissed decades ago. It would only break her even more. Y/n was already shattered, and all Bucky had said was that Steve was gone.

The thought of Y/n's pain made Bucky feel guilty for not stopping Steve from leaving. But how could he have known his best friend would do something so selfish? After almost a century of selflessness, Bucky understood why Steve deserved to be a little selfish. But he never expected him to abandon their friendship and their love for someone from his past.

That was what truly broke Bucky's heart and brought tears to his eyes. They had been through everything together - saving each other since they were kids on the playground, going on double dates, fighting in wars and facing enemies like HYDRA and Thanos. Through it all, they had always stood by each other and cared for each other.

It hurt to know that Steve had chosen a woman he barely knew over his best friend of almost a hundred years. It felt like a betrayal, a punch to the gut. And the final blow was that he had also left Y/n behind, the girl who now clung to Bucky like a koala, crying her heart out against his chest.

In that moment, Bucky couldn't help but see Steve as selfish.

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jammed-out · 1 year

Text

Dropping to Zero

You were pulled back up forcefully from the endless void. Things came back into focus as the cards in your hand grew. Absent-mindedly your hand moved towards the draw pile, pulling cards from it and into your hand. Some part of you was barely conscious of the fact that you were doing it, taking a new card, one at a time until finally you drew a Wild. You sat it on the pile, a wave of pleasure pulling you back to the surface. You gasped, shivering. A low moan escaping your lips as everyone around you laughed softly to themselves.

“Blue…” You mumbled while biting your bottom lip.

Immediately you felt the pleasure leave you, dragging across your body, pulled away to your left. Juliet shivered, as the wave hit her. You watched her eyes flutter, flickering to her cards. The fingers of her left hand thumbed out a card slowly, arm outstretched, reaching to the center. Her arm shook with microscopic shakes, each one rippling back up into her body.

“Blue 2.” She whispered gasping as the wave was pulled away and across the table to Jamie. He smiled, taking a deep breath, welcoming back the old familiar feeling as the pleasure washed over him.

“Green 2.” He licked his lips as it passed to your right and over to Annabelle.

She held up her huge hand and looked over at you menacingly. “Sorry about this. Green Skip.”

You felt the pleasure waft over her, drifting in front of you, just out of reach. You could feel it tickle your nose as it passed over the center piles and across the table. A part of you whined in desperation and looked down at your hand. The three cards it held were not at all playable, two blues and a red Draw 2. Nothing helpful on green.

You felt the wave go back over to Annabelle, once more passing in front of you. Both Jamie and you leaned in, chests arching forward in an attempt to touch the pleasure. Annabelle sighed smirking and glanced over at you, a smirk playing at the edge of her lips.

“Green Skip.” She whispered looking right into your eyes. You watched the pleasure leave her face as her jaw slowly went slack, eyes dimming, as it drifted across the room. You wanted to be just like her.

“Mmmm….Green Draw 2.” Juliet moaned, setting it on the pile.

You watched as the pleasure wafted over to Jamie, increasing in intensity. He gasped, hand slamming onto the table knocking over the discard pile. Annabelle quickly pushed it back together. He reached up, hand gripping tightly to his cards, and tossed a card onto the pile.

“Red Draw 2!” He cried as his head sunk into his chest, pleasure having moved onward.

“Ahh- Ahh- Blue Draw 2!” Annabelle cried quickly tossing her card on the pile.

You felt the immense wave crash into you throwing your back against the seat of your chair. Your legs instinctively spread, phantom vibrations rushing through your body. Your shoulders shook, soft whimpers escaping from your body. Your throat went dry as your hands shakily reached for the Draw 2 in your hand. Your fingers slipped off of the card, unable to grab a steady hold on it. You squeezed tightly and pinched it between your fingers.

You didn’t want to play it, you wanted the wave to crest. To draw all those cards. To be wrapped in the pleasure’s embrace, yet you couldn’t resist. You had to play, it was encoded in you. The rules of the game forced you to play the card.

“Red…. Draw…. 2….” You panted out heavily as you slapped the card down onto the pile.

The pleasure ripped itself from you, dragging out of your chest and back over to Juliet. She cried out, eyes rolling back as her hand instinctively reached towards the pile. Everyone watched as one by one, she drew a card from it. Each card that entered her hand left her trembling, her breathing growing shallower. You watched as sweat beaded on her forehead, the piercings on her eyebrow twitching, catching the light and bouncing it off into your vision. You could almost imagine how good she must be feeling.

She screamed, drool dripping from the corners of her mouth as the eighth card hit her hand. Her head shot back, legs shooting out under the table as she was brought right to the edge of her orgasm. She shook silently, tears falling down her cheeks as she was held there, just on the edge of pure bliss.

And just as fast as it hit, she began to sink back down, the pleasure fading. Her eyes flickered back and forth as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She blushed quickly, hiding her face in her cards.

Jamie smiled, immediately the pleasure turning its way back to him. “I think a Red Reverse.”

Juliet gasped the pleasure rushing back to her before she could even catch her breath. She moaned quickly looking through her cards and putting one down.

“Blue Reverse!” She whimpered out, breasts shaking under the strain as she sank further down into her chair. Her shoulders relaxed, breath easing as the pleasure rushed back to Jamie.

“Green Reverse! Enjoy this Juliet.”

Juliet gasped, barely sitting in her chair. She reached up just tossing a card to the middle. She twisted side to side, wracked in the throws of the pleasure forced upon her.

“Say the name!” Annabelle screamed at her quickly putting her card on the pile.

Everyone watched, breathing heavily, excitedly anticipating the moment the pleasure would wash over them. You stared knowing it was about to be yours as soon as she spoke.

“Green 5!”

You cried out as the wave quickly pulled itself into your body. Your mouth watered and you felt the excitement within you. Your fingers traced over one of the two remaining cards in your hand. A Blue 5. Once played, you’d be back there. Back to UNO….

You picked it and slowly reached your hand out, fingers gently placing the card on the pile. You looked over everyone and smiled.

“Blue 5. UNO-“

Everything went dark as you fell backwards, your body slumping down into your chair, shoulders and arms going limp, your hands affixed to the edge of the table. Your jaw went slack, drool dripping down onto your shoulder. You were vaguely aware of the sensation of it sliding down your bare arm. You giggled absentmindedly, chest heaving in excitement.

In front of you, your card blurred, both the color and number disappearing into a vague blur. Unreadable. You looked beyond it at the overexposed and hazy image of your friends playing the game. You could see them arguing over what card you might have. What color it could be, how they could stop you.

Stop you? But you felt so good, floating deeper and deeper away from your body. Feeling no sensations but pure empty bliss.

“Green 3.”

Juliet’s voice cut through the fog pulling you up roughly back into your body. You whined as the sensations of the pleasure flooded back into you. You were so close.

You turned slowly, glaring daggers at her as you reached out towards the draw pile. You slid the first card off, looking at it. You smirked, the picked up the card in your hand, a Green card. You quickly put it down on the pile.

“UNO…..”

You whispered and felt yourself sink back down into the darkness. Your arm dropped onto the table with a thud, a blissful happy smile creeping over your face. Your mind floated away, drifting deeper and deeper down. Everything faded away into the wave of pleasure.

“Red Reverse.”

Your head rolled to the side to look at Annabelle, her gasp of delight sending over the wave of pleasure into your body. You felt your fingertips twitch and ache with need. Your legs coated in the steadily leaking juices of your arousal.

You reached for the pile flipping over the first card. “WILD. BLUE! UNO….”

You went limp, your consciousness pulled out of your body by a string as you fell backwards, the chair barely catching you as you dropped further down into the void. You could feel the phantom touches as someone moved your arms from the draw pile and slowly dropped them into your lap. Numb fingertips dancing over your drenched thigh, absentmindedly drawing circles. You blinked, eyes growing glossier, vision blurring even more.

You were getting so close, some part of you knew they couldn’t stop you. You hoped they wouldn’t, you wanted to fall deeper, all the way down.

Suddenly you were pulled up, forcefully ripping you back to the surface. You gasped, shoulders flying upright as if breaking through the edge of the pool. You cried out, body trembling, tears pooled on the edge of your vision.

You could hear the curses of your friends as you stretched out your hand. The last card ready to be played. You set it down, a Blue 9, fingertips slowly dragging off of it, careful to get comfortable.

You felt the pull, like a hook embedded deeply in your mind. It pulled tightly and for a moment it felt as though it might not stick. You opened your mouth only for you jaw to fall slack, your tongue rolling out the side of your mouth. You suddenly felt far away, pulled out of your body, floating freely.

You felt the abyss swallow you up, pulling you deeply down. Your body sinking into the chair. You could feel all of your muscles relax, each one disconnecting, all the tension drifting away from them. Your nerves growing numb, the pleasure in them fading into a soft noise in the background.

Some part of you became aware of a voice echoing around your empty head. Your voice, telling you to go deeper, further down. Letting yourself grow empty, and blissful, giving into the void. You could feel yourself nodding, eyes growing glossy and clear, drool pouring out of your mouth.

You could feel the orgasm you had earned. You could feel it radiate pleasure through your body. It felt like a soft vibration, coming out of you in waves, soft trembling waves of pleasure that you had earned. You nodded, letting the blissful pleasure engulf you and take you further down.

You could hear your voice speaking, a part of you telling you to let it all out. To drop all the way down, let nothing remain.

You nodded and cried out a silent scream, you felt your back arch off the chair, pulled by an invisible string as the last bit of the pleasure you had built up over the game rushed out of you onto the floor below. You felt it pour out of you, pushed out by the commands in your head. You could feel them praising you, telling you how good you were doing.

You smiled, fingertips dancing across your legs. You felt them climbing higher, slowly dragging you back up. They traced up over your knees, up towards your stomach, pulling all those sensations back up into you. They climbed higher, running up over your chest and up to your shoulders. You felt the sensations radiate down into your arms, blending with your fingertips as they climbed higher. They crept up your neck, sliding over your face. You could feel them spreading the drool over you as they rubbed up. Your cheeks, over your eyes, before meeting at the top of your head.

You gasped, eyes flying open as your consciousness rushed into you. You looked at all your friends who sat there applauding you for the show. You blushed embarrassed a bit at what you must’ve looked like.

“So…. Does anybody want to play again?” Annabelle said a mischievous smirk on her face.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ This is a repost of my story on ROM. You can find my other stories at the link: JAMmedOut

#brainwashing #hypnosis #mind control #hypnotism #mind conditioning #my writings

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katz-chow · 9 months

Text

deranged reader my beloved, my daughter, me. back again in the spools of my brain.

warnings: exactly what the title is. fem! reader, pwp, blood, gore, manipulation (?), toxic reader (?), reverse harem w/ soap & ghost eventually the others, pnv, fingering, overstim (fem)

🏷️ | @warenai @reese-is-right

part 1

you came from a normal life before joining the military. your parents love you and so does your younger brother, he's a pain in the ass but aren't all siblings? cookie cutter houses lines the suburban streets, grasses cut, and christmas decorations find themselves on the houses as soon as december hits, no sooner to avoid hoa fines.

It's actually silly how you turned out this way, a small malicious brain in a body of a well cared for girl. in many ways it was like taming a wild animal; your nails were manicured on the regular, hair neat and put together, strands never where you hadn't meant for it to be, and your uniform was pristine, never stained, never wrinkled. on the outside, you truly where just the sweetest young lady that was meant to sing christmas carols at nursing homes and gain pinches on your cheeks as tips.

but you can't fully tame a wild animal though. in many cases, tigers eat their owners, monkeys maul them, and raccoons abandon home after trashing it. you, were simple. you don't bare your teeth to your owners or unsheathe your claws, you pin them. you pin them in a way that artists pin beetles and butterflies, perfect and spayed out for display and enjoyment.

and that's what you did to the 141. you made them yours. it came easy, natural- almost instinctive. everyone wants to be liked, right? so what if you're extra, extra good at that? you're just charming!

it started with soap. he was an easy target knowing how friendly he is. after finding out he's a demolitions expert, you stepped in asking him rather complex questions on the molecular composition of the explosives he found himself building. and he gladly explained it to you, not having a lot of people who know chemistry on such a level outside of an academic space.

the two of you spend lunches together relating his chemistry knowledge to your biology knowledge as an ex-medic. together you were Biochemistry, what a bunch of nerdy POS'.

quickly that lead to more chemistry in the comfort of your bed as well, having the two of you wrapped up in the sheets as he fucked you hard and fast, his name spilling out of your lips like an echo in the void that is your thoughts.

his dick rammed into, your ankles on his shoulders and his grip on the back of your knees as he bends you in half.

after that night, it became many more. soap was now just johnny. the two of you shared loving glances and plenty of playful touches, a slap on each other's ass when the other passed by, a ruffle of hair, and arms wrapped around the other's waist, cheek to the muscle of their back.

ghost, observant as ever, found this quite aggravating as he thought you were his to hold. while you and johnny fumbled with carbons and phosphorus, ghost had picked up more paperwork than normal, training more recruits than he normally would, just to go and ask you for help. which, being the nice person you were, happily agreed to help him empty his plate.

silence filled the air besides the occasional sound of paper shifting and being flipped, or tossed to the side. some pens scribbling on the paper and against the hardness of the wood also found its way into the comfortable silence and the absence of words. ghost's eyes dashed up to look at you, chewing on the flesh of your lip as you focus on the paperwork that he had asked for your help on. he sees the blankness of your face, how nothing else seems to move or show any signs of emotion besides the gnawing of your teeth.

he quirked an eyebrow at this, how unusual you are...how fascinating. almost as if in a trance, a stupor, a daze as your aura pulls him onto his feet and over to you. he hovers over you, only your wooden desk in between.

"you and soap..." he started and as quickly as the daze came, it left him to fumble for the right words. you look up at him, the same bored expression on your face before you wide your eyes just a tiny bit in surprise and realization.

your head tilts to the side, deciding on letting him grumble with his own choked words. and he, in fear of such situation, opted to shut his mouth and walk back to his desk, picking up from what he left off.

a giggle escapes your mouth, "you can ask him." you say playfully, going back to your own sentence to write and finish up.

the two of them were a pair, always have been- and easy to hook both with the same, sweet bait of your kindness. sooner or later, you got what you wanted, two playful dogs that tend to your every need, whether to pick up some food for you, run to your room to get a file you forgot, knock someone's teeth out for your collection, or to pull orgasm after orgasm out of you until you’re a panting mess. that last one was your favorite.

you sat in simon's lap, knee bent with your leg thrown over it, spreading and keeping your thighs from closing. johnny's fingers thrust into your sweet heat as your sharp nails continue to dig into the back of simon's hand, holding onto the flesh of your waist tightly. behind you, you could feel simon's dick twitched as more of your slick dribble down onto his own trousers. his hot breathe against your ear grounded you just a bit as johnny's thumb grazed over your swollen clit. "that's it lovie...one more for us yeah?" johnny snickers from his place, crouched right in front of your pussy, all wet and puffy from the many orgasms that the two of them have taken from you. you whined as he continue to tease you, fingers languidly pulling in and out of your cunt as his thumb swipes over the top edge of your bud. you cry out. even his feather-light touches on your wet clit draws you closer to the edge until your mind goes numb, your pleasure boiling over the edge once again. your body convulses as simon's grasp on you tighten. "good girl, come on now. i kent you could do it..." johnny praises as his fingers pumps in and out of you quicker, pulling every last drop of your pleasure into his palm.

now two of them were playful with you, you were theirs and they knew how to share. their sweet little play thing that was always too good to them, so obedient.

simon now wishes that you were as obedient in the field as you were in bed as he sweeps through the building in search of you. he curses to himself for letting you slip past his field of vision and his attention, going off on your own with a simple "be right back".

he believed it but that was almost an hour ago, and this building is not big. however, the concrete walls and fluorescent lights rendered this place a labyrinth. rifle in his hand, held close and alert, he quickly tip toes up the stairs, observing the twisting quiet hallways, its greenish lights making him feel sick.

he continued on, careful in the thickness of the silence, making his heart thunder and his steps heavy, like forcing through gelatinous air. a wail rung through the concrete walls, not yours, but a shriek of agony, the only sound being made in the longest minutes in his life.

he jogged on, gun tight in his grip, ready to shoot the poor bastard that stood in between his darling and him.

your voice got louder as he got closer, he turned the corner, meeting you and a man in an empty room, door swung open. the man knelt on your feet in front of you. crimson pipes and frayed pieces of his bicep dripped down thick, molten blood onto a pile of rumble from the collapsed wall. simon froze, his own blood flowed thunderously in his ears as he felt his chest shook.

your face showed the same picture as it did when he made you take over his paperwork all those weeks ago. a plain, empty, broken face stared back down at the man on his knees. he mumbles something in russian quickly, petrified in his spot as you held the saw onto the top of his head. his pleas faded into nothing as his voice grew raw from overuse. a simple, broken, "please" breathed out of his exhausted lungs.

simon saw the way his unsteady back raised as he took a quick breath and how it shakily exited his body. blood continued to drip from his exposed bone and muscle. the man's body swayed, weakened from the lack of such plasma flowing through him. a man on the brink of death didn't scare simon, he has been where you are now. he has seen death like an old friend from school, bumping into it every so often.

the dread that filled his body and weighed on his shoulders was your reaction- or lack thereof. you didn't care about his pleas, or how the light in his dull eyes extinguished from tight-lining in between life and death. you didn't care that his arm was discarded behind you. you didn't care about the severed arm, laying in a dark pool, drenched in blackness, just a foot away from your backside. you didn't care.

the man's hand grabs onto your leg, begging, pleading for mercy, even as death was eager to take him. simon sees his breathing becoming staggered, shallow, knowing death is standing over your shoulder, staring on, waiting for you to make the final blow, to end his life.

but you don't. a satiated hum of approval rumbled out of your throat as you dug the jagged blade of the hand saw into his skull. the man pulled from the well of his energy, enough to let out a sluggish, hoarse sob. he bent over more, trying to escape the digging of the steel into his scalp, failing.

you pull back the blade, making you cut deeper and the man choked on his anguished cries. satisfied, you yanked the blade out, leaving the man to hiccup one last plea as you kicked him off your leg. he falls to the ground on his side, his chest rising ever so slightly. you step over him, throwing the saw to the other side of the room, it's weight hits the concrete with a 'thump'. simon doesn't speak, and neither do you. he walks behind you, rifle still drawn. and you know why.

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jolapeno · 1 year

Text

v. a new day

javier peña x dea! f!reader | chapter five of nowhere to run

Summary: Determined to do it better this time, Javier Peña returns to Bogotá to take down the Cali Cartel. With a new promotion, office and team, what he doesn’t expect is the pretty thing outside his office—or why they’re not allowed in the field. chapter warnings: season three narcos spoilers. no use of y/n. smut. oral sex (man receiving), angst. bit of emotions are coming outttttt. Wordcount: 6.3k AN: apologies for the lateness, my personal life has just been throwing things at me and I didn't want the emotions to bleed in when i was editing. also, if there's errors, i'm so sorry, i have had no sleep. pls forgive me. as always, huge thank you to @yeyinde who allows me to ramble continuously and to @guyfieriii who is on her way to get me a magazine and send it to me. I adore you both.

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“I can’t believe you caught him?”

“Me neither.”

You lean back, eyes wide, twisting the cord around your finger.

“I did call you—last night. After we’d seen him. Rang your place, work...”

Swallowing, you smile. “I, um—“

Looking up as Peña steps out of his office, sliding his tie through the loop, eyes staring over you. Drinking you in. Making every part of you burn up under his gaze.

“—had a date.”

“Oh. How did it go?”

Biting your lip, you watch him. How his brows furrowed, letting your eyes descend down before noticing his tie. How it sat off-centre—all threaded in a rush.

You suspect he’s been ordered to attend a meeting. One likely about the day's events, one with a lot of Colombians, officials and higher-ups. So, you gesture.

The corners of your lips slightly rise, watching his smile slowly grow.

“It was good. Nice.”

Van Ness snorts. “You going to see them aga—actually, fuck this, I don’t think I wanna hear anymore.”

“Wasn’t about to tell you, Van Ness. Hey—I have to go, please be safe.”

“Always am.”

“Says the man catching Narcos—anyway, Stoddard is here, speak soon.”

“He best not be making you drinks…”

“Promise he isn’t.”

You place the phone down, standing up as Peña comes to a halt barely an inch away from you.

“That my name now? Stoddard.”

“Well, you’re struggling to sort your own tie, does seem a Stoddard thing to do, sir.”

He twitches his fingers at his side. Has been doing so since he guided Gilberto out to the flashing lights and clicks of cameras.

The significance of what they’d done—what he had done—crashed into him. Not knocking him off his feet, not even knocking him off his axis. But it kickstarted something.

It truthfully only slid over him when he slid into the seat of a car.

They’d done it. Proved that surrender wasn’t the only option—that they could be caught. Because they had caught one of them. The ones they all said were untouchable. Right in his fucking home, hiding away.

A new lease of life spreads as Javi swallows. A thrum of energy, one which has been missing since before he was sent back to the States, rippling through him as though it had never gone. Disturbing the regret he’d been feeling since…

They’d done it. The thought rolls around, his finger occasionally stroking his bottom lip—sometimes pinching his thigh as the streets flash past the window. Doing so even as his knee hits the door, needing to, just to be certain he’s awake, and not dreaming.

The truth it’s all a reality weaves into his muscles, the adrenaline bursting into his bloodstream—beautifully blending with the newly rejuvenated oxygenated cells that swim to his heart.

He knows there's a shitstorm waiting for him at the embassy. For what he’d done—but, then, they hadn’t really wanted him here for the accolades.

Stechner hadn’t vouched for him because he’d been a rule-follower. More someone to blame, to use.

And now, he’d shown them the sheer proof that it could be done—the surrender could be nil and void. They could get more.

That’s what he’d thought as he had hammered his knuckles into Martinez’s door, pulling on a string marked ‘do not touch’. Hoping he’d be forthcoming—that he’d trust him to work alongside him.

Javi hadn’t been sure if a speech on how much he wanted to do right would make up for what had already transpired. Less excuses spoken, and more acknowledged errors that he’d been determined—foolishly so. Blinded and only seeing through tunnel vision. Focused on the wrong thing; determined, but for what? None of it became clear even when he’d sat in his childhood home—or stood out in the field. The more he looked for answers, the less weight his reasonings had—the fewer excuses he could grasp at why he’d let things poison and ruin.

In the end, he was grateful he hadn’t needed to spout any of that. The sheer opportunity that Javi had brought it to him, had been enough.

Not sure any of his truthful ramblings would have made sense, anyway.

It was a true second chance. A hope which had been living in some recess, brushed off and placed front and centre at his feet. His hand outstretched, watching as Martinez shook his—a truce, of some sort, a promise. Maybe, in the smallest way, an element of forgiveness—not that Javi would allow it. It didn’t mean he’d squander or wreck it either, using it to stand a little taller and ensure his shoulders were a little more square.

It’s why he takes a moment when the car pulls up outside the building. Sitting, spreading his palms in long strokes over his thighs. Catching his breath.

He can already feel how things have changed. Already knows there will be faces turning when he steps inside, the burden of it meeting his shoulders again. Having temporarily moved it, placed it on the floor while he focused on what needed to be done. Now, the music was playing, and the true heaviness of what a second chance meant began to rest on his bones. The true power of doing good didn't just provide accolades, but gifted in moon-eyed agents and hopefulness he felt guilty squashing.

It begins when he steps down the embassy stairs, bodies stopping, turning. His cheeks warming, ears burning as they murmur and mutter. Focusing on it, while another part blindly wants to ignore it as he enters the office. It’s why the first clap doesn’t register.

It takes a moment, the applause slowly raining around him, covering him. Layering in thick noise that soaks into his skin and makes him feel cold, rather than joyous.

The worst thing is, deep down, he knows there’s an old version of him who would have smirked at all of this. Who’d have relished in it. Likely lifted his chin, and shook each hand—man or woman—rather than sinking his chin to his chest like he’s currently doing. Trying to shy from it, get through them all as they begin to move closer, ready to congratulate him—shake his hand.

A part of him knows he should be glad. Should be proud he has somewhat earned the notoriety he walks around with now. A slither of it, anyway.

Finding Stoddard’s hand, he’s the only one he shakes. Not sure what to do with the rest of his body as he lets his eyes move across the room, seeing the closing circle of those wanting to thank him, celebrate and pat him on the back. But, his eyes land only on the pair which pulls him to shore.

Yours.

The one person not clapping—leaning against your desk, head tilted to the side, doing your trademark smirk. The one Javi likes to think is just for him because he pulls it from you so frequently. The one which hits your eyes and shines like the sun on a cloudless day and warms him, even if he keeps trying not to let it.

His heart sinks, just a touch. It’s still floating on the surface of the day and is the only explanation for why it doesn’t fall to his feet. Because as he lets his eyes fall over you he realises it’s the first opportunity he’s had to think of you. To allow himself to think of you.

How he hadn’t had a chance to make sure you got home okay. The last sight of you had been in his office, lips swollen, eyes shimmering with post-lust bliss and your clothes a little off-pristine. Your hand on his wrist, sliding circles into his pulse—all thought-out and considered. You’re gonna get him, Javi. Your teeth chewed the skin of your lip as the words washed over him, a nervousness to you he rarely ever noticed—a slight discomfort in your forced expression.

But he hadn’t asked.

Swallowing, he releases the hand in his.

“–Where you going? C’mon, we want to toast you…”

Hearing Stoddard, but watching you. “Start without me.”

He never questioned the tight expression when you released his wrist, his hand grabbing at things from his desk—all set to walk out, to leave. Be safe, Javi.

It echoes through his ears as he crosses the room, watching as you take a deep breath as the gap between the two of you closes.

Javi could let himself feel it now—the spark and the concern. Could question it—let it fill him. He could find the words to ask why Cali undoes a part of you, why you always place one particular type of mask up when it's mentioned—when someone goes. Unpicking it all, seeing it all as though someone was showing it to him all on video.

Having been so laser-focused before, he’d missed it. Placed them all to the side, noticing the other things—the ones inflicted by others' words and actions, and not the looming one hovering over you as you worked.

Something had happened to you in Cali. Something that was left from the reports.

He tucks you away, hides you—keeps you purely for the times he can spare a second to truly think and consider you. Sometimes, it’s in the quiet—in the calm. A welcomed retreat, a safe haven. A person who populates a carved space in his mind, one you had barely needed to hack at to make. Because, in truth, he made it for you, found a place that he could store you in for when he felt safe enough to let you out, and he wasn’t sure what that meant.

Now just watching in slow motion as you try to hide what he assumes is relief.

It’s a gift, how you keep people out. One he would admire if he wasn’t on the other side of it and wasn’t able to recognise how quickly and smoothly you were able to slide up the veil which isn’t breachable. While he doesn’t know what monsters live in your wardrobe or which ghosts haunt you, he knows there’s a reason why you can’t tell him too.

A reason why you talk in riddles whenever bureaucracy is mentioned.

A discomfort which ebbs and flows, but never truly meets the two of you, even if it tries to. It did so before he fucked you on his desk. A look so similar to the one you gave him in his office, all soft eyes he wasn’t sure if he could ever earn deserving.

He knows people consider you to be a storm. A restless bundle of anger and lightning—thunder rumbling with every step of your heel.

But, as he comes to a stop in front of you, Javi realises he hadn't seen you like that, not since the first day when you'd tried to convince him you were. Not even as you slide around your desk, using the wooden furniture as a barrier between the two of you.

Ironic, really. When the two of you used one similar as a surface for relief, hours and hours ago.

Javi thinks you’re something more akin to a rain cloud—all set to burst and let whatever it is you hold close fall like raindrops. Maybe they’d be acidic, maybe they’d burn those unfortunate to be underneath, but he’d only care for the relief on your face.

The one he’s sure is hiding behind the smile he’s being presented with.

“Congratulations, sir.”

He slides his shades from his shirt, nodding at you. Thanking you.

Continuing, you clear your throat, “I think the Ambassador would like to see you.”

You let your words wash over him, before dropping your hand close to your mug, slowly pushing it toward him. A gesture, a bold one in a sea of eyes.

Voice dropping, you flick your eyes up to his, “You can have one sip.”

“And, if I take one more, cariño?”

Your lips scrunch, a real smile—all teeth and lines in your cheek—so desperate to break out. “You wouldn’t want to know, sir.”

Each time he swallows, he tastes your coffee.

Desperate to find a mug, to enjoy one more sip in some silence—even light up a cigarette, if he could be spared. But, it’s one thing, then another. Almost feeling the flutter of anxiety and adrenaline merging into something unheard of.

From the meeting to the note in his file, right to the press conference he had needed to lead.

As soon as it ended, he was led to the staircase—practically shoved off. His feet all heavy, legs like lead as he steps down, ready to hide in his office and release many heavy, simmering breaths.

That had been his plan. His only focus—until he finds you waiting.

Then he thinks of the file room, his place, his desk…

It knots all inside of him—that thrum of disbelief that blends so disastrously with the sudden acknowledgement he doesn’t deserve you. Something he thinks a lot, yet is finding it harder to fight off under tiredness and waning adrenaline.

It isn’t just whatever it is between you—the fun, non-committal thing neither of you are likely to acknowledge—but your mere attendance in his life.

The way you make things brighter, shine something that makes the edges a bit more colourful and meaningful. Not quite ready to allow it closer to the centre, to let it touch the parts of him still tainted in darkness and regret. He doesn’t think even your shine can do that alone.

Wiping a hand over his face, he moves towards you. Absently wondering when you’ve snuck in, having not seen you arrive or between his meeting finishing and arriving here. He’d looked for you, met Stoddard’s eyes and nodded for him to come.

Yet, here you are, shaking someone’s hand as Javi moves past another person, noticing that you’ve removed your jacket, so that he can see the outlines of your bra straps through the back of your blouse. He spots the clipboard pressed to your chest, hand wrapped around another mug—one he soon realises is the one you always give him.

It diminishes, the part of him which wants to protect you from him. From the disappointment he tends to bring and the fact he’s so thoughtless. That even under your occasional frostiness and many secrets, you’re kind… sweet.

It’s why he should blink, and turn away—not that he can tear his eyes away enough to solidify his thought of walking away. Your presence practically demands his attention, even if you’re talking to someone else. Your leg crossed in front of the other, a white pen tucked away behind your ear and hearing, as he moves closer, the Spanish flowing from your tongue. It’s crisp, and clear—rolling beautifully to his ear as the conversation nears an end. The man’s hand in yours, another placed on your arm—squeezing—bidding you farewell.

Something unfurls, and stretches its legs inside of him. Only settling when the man’s hand leaves your arm, leaves the close proximity and is walking away.

“You making friends?”

Shrugging, you smirk. “Apparently so. You looked good by the way.”

“I did?”

Nodding, you hand him the mug. “Yeah. Like you were supposed to be up there. You know, before you get into your head, it should have been someone else.”

He nods, taking a sip, wincing at the strong taste of alcohol—frowning at you as you smile wistfully.

“Thought you could do with something stronger. Also, you doing the conference is smart, I like it—takes the heat off Chris and Dan.”

He nods again, taking another sip. More prepared this time to coat his throat in amber, staring, wondering how you managed to sneak a mug of bourbon to him. Not that he should be surprised. You seemed to manage to do a lot, keep things turning, keep things organised.

“So, sir. How do you plan on celebrating?”

He takes a long drag, raising his brows that hopefully says, I think you already know, and from the smirk, you shoot him back, you do. The two of you fall into a walk, one where your strides match, where your eyes can be on the other but not walk into a thing or soul. Not speaking, not for a minute, your eyes taking him in—raking over him, assessing him for something (or nothing) he can’t be sure.

“Are you waiting for an invite for that or…”

Shrugging, he watches you take the mug back as he narrows his eyes. “Never been one to wait to be asked to be somewhere, cariño.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me,” you comment, sliding closer as you press the button for the elevator. “So, what? You want to take me home and fuck the day away?”

He looks at you, flicking from your eyes to your lips. Watching as you swipe the tip of your tongue against your lower lip. Your body heat is almost smothering his skin—even through his shirt and jacket. “If I ever say no to doing that, cariño. I’ve got brain damage.”

Smirking, you nudge him, the ding of the elevator's arrival making you step back. “If we have a choice, I choose yours. It's fancier.”

“I don't know, I bet you have candles and decorative pillows.”

“That what makes a place fancy in your eyes? The amount of candles someone has.”

“I have no candles.”

Snorting, you shake your head as he presses the button for your floor.

As the doors close, he glances at you, how your expression is fixed on the metal doors.

“I’m glad you came back, Peña.”

He hears it, and conjures another set of words. Ones he heard, ones he had been meaning to acknowledge—until the phone rang. Until life hurtled a thousand things, and then he was flying to Cali.

Javi… I was worried. I was worried about you.

You turn your head, flicking your eyes over him. “Another night, I’d show you how unfancy my place is. Tonight, though…”

He knows. Knew even before the teasing had begun about his place or yours. His thumb strokes over his middle and index finger as he chews his cheek.

“Plus, someone must have come in and knocked all your files on the floor,” you say, a lightness to your tone, “Left your office in a right mess.”

The doors pinged open, only able to watch as you step out—not waiting for him, just leaving him behind, chewing his smirk.

The moment Martinez left his office, he just remained sat on the edge of his desk.

It had taken longer than it should to sink in. The power people had, the corruption, how it bled and rotted in every corner of the place. The enormity of it all, how without his sacrifice and him handing his notice in, it would have all been undone.

Martinez was the good one. The one who hadn't toed the line, hadn't stepped into the grey, hadn't even been selfish. Not like him.

He drained the glass, finished his cigarette—staring at a patch on the floor until his fingers wrapped around the edge, feeling marks along the wood. For a solid minute, he traces them, feels the lines, the deepness to them, until his mind wonders if they’re from you.

No, Javi. Just you. Only you.

It’s instant, the way he darts to his bottom drawer, rummaging through until he retrieves the file—the one marked with your name. The one he’d sourced before, now paying attention to the parts he had ignored then.

From the look on your face, you’re as surprised to see him, as he is that he knocked. A wine glass in hand, the red of it sloshing from side to side as he observes you process his arrival. That he even got out of the car.

“You… know where I live?”

He drops his hand from leaning on the door frame, wiping his mouth. “I know where you live.”

Opening the door, you step aside—hands tugging at your cardigan to wrap it around yourself. “Some could call that stalking, sir.”

“Y’gotta stop with the sirs.”

“Do I?”

You smirk—it spreads up your cheeks until it hits your eyes, before your hand pushes the door closed behind him, keeping your eyes on him.

All he can think is how pretty you are. How beautiful you look, even if you’re all undone—nothing on your face, a baggy t-shirt and some shorts, the thickest socks on your feet.

“Drinking alone, cariño?”

It’s slow, how you lean against the door. Not letting the two of them head further into your place. “Some days justify it. Don’t you think?”

He does.

More than he wants to say—not wanting to spoil your evening. Taint your home with talks of work and bureaucracy. Things he suspects you know more than you’re likely to share. The thick lines through your file are all an indication of it.

You take a sip, and then another.

Adding nothing, just letting him stand there, and he half wonders if you expect him to plead his case here—or whether you’re assessing whether to eject him out of your place as quickly as you left his prior.

Mainly, he focuses on the fact it smells like you. Floral with a hint of darkness—your decor not all that different from his, just with additional touches. Some candles, some colour—some attempt at making the place feel like a home and not somewhere to rest your head.

It’s only in the growing silence does he hear the faint sound of music, something low, involving a guitar thrumming in the background.

“Are you lonely, Agent Peña?”

He places his hand in his pocket, leaning against the wall opposite you.

“No.”

You nod, rolling your lips. “Just in the neighbourhood then?”

He wipes his mouth as his other hand rubs his palm against his index finger in his pocket. Suddenly unsure why he was here—why he’d found your address and come.

Javi wasn’t lonely. Didn’t have the time to be. A sea of paperwork on his desk, the guilt weighing down on him, hearing the colonel's voice over and over—the once pleasant taste of liquor now turning bitter in the back of his throat.

“You forget I know where you live, so I know you’ve come out of your way.”

A laugh escapes and falls from his lips as he dips his head.

It all of a sudden catches up with him, how the day has been a range of emotions. The delicate way things had needed to happen, the thrum of adrenaline—the joy, the meeting, the conference…

Lifting his chin, he finds you still watching him.

No smirk. No smile. All soft edges and a comforting presence—waiting. For what, he can’t be sure, but he kicks off the wall all the same. Sliding his hand from his pocket, softly wrapping it around your hip as he places his forehead against yours, walking you backwards, taking the glass from your hand and placing it down.

He tells himself he needs a moment. A stolen one that doesn’t bleed and change into others. A break in from everything, for a second.

It only shifts when he wraps each finger on your hip, pulling you close. He keeps your shoulder blades against the wall, the guitar strumming increasing as much as his heart is beating. It’s all rhythmic, a remix of a song he isn’t sure of—but one he is tuned into all the same.

It takes his breath away how you look at him. How it’s harder to stop himself from falling into them, worsening as your hand cups his elbow. At first, it’s all shared breath and waiting. Neither moving, his forehead just remaining against yours.

“Are you okay?”

It’s so soft. Barely audible if his body wasn’t pressed against you, as he shakes his head, feeling your fingers slowly sliding in gentle circles around his elbow. Cupping him, keeping him as close as his hands keep you.

“What do you need?”

He says nothing. Afraid that saying ‘you’ is too much. Having hoped the action would speak louder than the words as he stares into you—mixing brown with yours to make a colour artists dream of.

“Hey,” you say again. More demanding, assertive. “Javi, what do you need?”

He doesn’t think, doesn’t attempt to. Embodies the former version of him—the one which had gone to the Colonel’s home, to begin with—the one who takes and takes and takes.

“You drunk, baby?”

He hears you swallow, before slowly shaking your head.

“Good,” he whispers.

Closing his eyes, he lifts his forehead before dipping his head, his mouth captures yours. Javi merges the taste of sweet wine, whiskey and his cigarettes together, creating a taste so intoxicating and delicious he’s not sure he ever wants to come up for air.

Just need you, he thinks as his tongue slips past your parted lips.

Only want you, he urges as he feels your other hand sliding around his neck, deepening the kiss, his tongue able to taste that small whimper you do when he squeezes your hip.

It’s different—but then each time he kisses you is. It has been needy, and passionate. Another, it has been soft, almost meaningful. Now, this time, he’s able to feel how warmth consumes him as you kiss him more purposefully. He deepens it in search of more, kissing you more hungrily, full of need and want.

It’s only when he feels your hand skate over the back of his neck, fingers teasing the bottom of his hair, does he slow. In time, pulling back, pressing his forehead against yours—bruising your hip with his fingers as he takes a few deep breaths.

“Whatever it is…”

“We can’t fix it, cariño.”

It’s cold—the way he says it. Wishing he could retract it the moment he sees your brows scrunch. Instead, he shows no sign of letting up his grip on you. Hoping it’s enough to wordlessly explain that he needs you close, wants you—in fact. Needed to just be around you. Even if he shouldn’t, couldn’t…

He presses two fingers to the side of your cheek, curling them. Your mouth parts, words—likely reassuring ones, knowing what he knows about you—are all desperate to fall and heal over the cracks. But, he shakes his head, watching your lips close as quickly as they had opened, your fingers continuing to draw shapes at the base of his hairline, studying him—searching his eyes.

Then, like a light in a dark room, understanding spreads across your gaze. Illuminating everything, likely connecting the dots in that beautiful—but deeply fascinating—way you do.

“Martinez…”

“Cariño… not, not right now.”

Slowly, you smile, spreading your fingers in his hair—tugging on him, pulling him with far too much ease until his forehead presses back against yours.

“You did this… before.”

A breath escapes his lips. “Yeah…”

“Why’d you come, Javi?”

I needed you.

It wasn’t a lie. If anything, it was more truthful than he cared to admit or accept. Which is why he didn’t say it—didn’t let on that the moment the walls began to tremble, he thought of you. Looked through the blinds, bitterly disappointed you weren’t there to be witty and sarcastic, smirk in that way that gets under his skin and make some flirtatious comment that makes it hard not to kiss you.

He could tell you that. Be honest.

Instead, he says nothing, staring into your eyes until he feels your other hand, the one which has been continuing to grip his elbow, squeeze.

“Okay. Lemme look after you,” you whisper, before kissing him.

Brushing your lips against him, before pulling away and then kissing him again. Testing the waters, looking for some form of permission as he grips your hips, giving it to you. He doesn’t protest when you begin trailing kisses down his jaw. Your fingers sliding around his arm, to his waist, to the belt holding his trousers up.

Holding the base of your neck, he stares into your eyes, feeling your palm brush suddenly over his cock. “You don’t have to, car—“

“Shh,” you whisper.

Slowly, he watches as you lower yourself to your knees, his throat going dry at the mere sight of you. Watching as you grip his cock. All teasingly slow, dragging it out—your tongue sweeps across your bottom lip as you continue to stroke him.

Eyes closing, he lets his head meet the wall. Needing more—almost asking for it.

It’s what you want, he assumes. Because as soon as he reaches the point where he’s going to ask, you wrap your pretty lips around him. Taking note of the way you run your tongue around the head of him before licking a stripe along the underside of his cock. Finding that your eyes don’t leave his—watching what you do to him, enjoying it.

It’s endearing.

A desire building, suddenly wanting nothing more than to watch—how he wants an unrestricted view of such beauty—of you taking him down your throat, of your cheeks hollowing, even if your actions are compelling him to close his eyes.

You’re always pretty—but this is something else. You are on your knees for him.

Taking as much of him as you can, your hand working what you can't fit—his own hand tightening around your head as you wrap his cock in warmth.

He feels you smirking, your mouth pulling back as you swirl your tongue over the head of his cock, a hand grasping the back of his thigh as you hum around him.

“So fuckin’ pretty, cariño.”

The tip of your tongue slides over his slit, making him hiss again—making your name tumble freely from his tongue as he leans himself against the wall for leverage.

“I know,” you whisper, tracing your lips with his slick head, “Come down my throat, Javi.”

He grunts, nails digging into his palm as you take him down your throat. His other hand bites into your head as you take him deeper, his hips spluttering, thrusting against your tongue.

Your eyes have closed.

The window into your need to please him vanishes, and he wants to ask you to open them. To let him see. His finger strokes the top of your cheek, feeling the dampness from a tear at how deep you’re taking him.

How deep you want him down your throat.

His hand aids you, fucking into you as you hollow and moan—it vibrates all around him. It covers and smothers his own grunts and groans. The one you pull from him with ease, because everything with you he is slowly learning is easy. Not complicated—even if the situation is.

All he can think is you’re a fucking goddess, an angel—something he’s now one hundred per cent sure he doesn’t deserve.

He hisses out your name, feeling your hands clutch at him for balance, his moans filling the hallway of your place until he’s coating your throat in his pleasure. You lap up every drop of it, swallowing it—swallowing all of what he’s given you.

You don’t move, not for a minute. Him slowly pulling himself from your mouth, your hand wiping any spend from your lips to your tongue.

“You’re… fucking—”

“Something?”

He snorts, arranging himself before he fastens his trousers, shaking his head. His hand offers out to you, pulling you up from your knees as he adjusts your cardigan—as he places his lips against yours.

“I didn’t… this wasn’t why I came around.”

“Why did you… come round?”

His muscles tighten, swallowing as he stares at you.

Then you smile, placing a hand over his chest, palm flat, fingers spread. “You got anywhere to be, sir?”

Javi is frowning, before the rest of your words sink in. His hand captures yours, holding it flat against him as he shakes his head.

“Because you’re here, may as well let me toast you.”

Some mornings greet him loudly—sweat clinging to his skin, head hammering, and the world chirping.

The morning, it greets him gently, softly. The sun slides through open curtains, a calmer sound of occasional passing cars greeting his ears.

It’s only then that he registers he’s waking beside you. Your warm, soft skin curled against him—his own arm holding you close, keeping you close.

It takes a second for the sleep to flutter past his eyes, glancing at the clock on your bedside table—the one which ticks ever so loudly now he’s awake. It’s obvious the two of you have managed to catch a few hours, remembering how he’d brought you in here—thrown your decorative pillows to the floor with a smirk that you kissed immediately from his mouth.

He had told you he wouldn’t stay.

But, here he is. Now, though, he should move—even if he’s unsure if he wants to.

It’s never been his favourite thing, waking up outside of his own space. Never mind besides someone else. There were occasions and exceptions. He’s not prepared or currently capable of assessing whether you’ve slotted yourself there, either.

All he knows is… he likes it, being here.

Enjoying the fact he’s been allowed to steal a moment of this—of you. Letting himself enjoy it, the sound of your soft inhales and exhales, the way you fit against him—not in a way that looks perfect but simply feels it.

And it scares him. Just a little bit.

That thought returning, the one which bellows and beats the drum that you deserve better: than him, than what he can give you and the life you’d have being around him.

Pinching his nose, he knows he should go to the office. Should begin to unravel the highs and lows of the day prior. Make a start on the paperwork that is already mounting higher than he expected.

Instead, he turns his head. Selfishly admiring the way you sleep so peacefully, how he’d somewhat expected to find a creased forehead or a tightened jaw. A part had also expected to hear nightmares plague you, knowing there’s something there—living in your mind. A bad memory, a past which hammers at you to get out.

He’d half expected to have his own rear its head too.

Instead, he’s sure none had greeted the night air.

If anything, he slept peacefully, soundly. Almost oddly, for the most consecutive hours since way before Escobar was caught. He shuffles against the pillow, eyes widening when he realises and feels your head rolling ever so slightly on his chest. The smallest of movements that had rippled out into hearing you murmur.

Freezing, it dawns on him that he doesn’t want the bubble to burst. Studying, secretly praying he hasn’t woken you, as your lashes flutter and your lips don’t press back together. He’s a passenger, unable to stop the undoing as your brows dip, your fingers spread over his chest—

“J-Javi?”

It’s full of sleep, his name. And fuck, it has never sounded so nice.

He thought it bellowed or screamed as he fucked someone was good, but this… is something else. It takes a chunk from him, snatches it, and renders him thoughtless as you turn your head on his chest, looking up at him, blinking.

“Morning,” he whispers, thumb stroking your cheek. “I’m… I should go, cariño…”

You frown, not like normal—smothered in sleepiness that it doesn’t quite form.

A string is plucked in his chest when your fingers slide over his chest, watching them rub at your face. A desperation rises in him to kiss you, to taste what morning and goodness is like—even if it's coated in unbrushed teeth and last night.

But, it’s his moment to move—his chance. To relieve you of his presence.

Not that he takes it. Instead, he absorbs the moment he was robbed of the first night he took you to his—of seeing you without armour or walls.

“If y’give me…”

“—cariño—“

“… like fifteen, maybe twenty minutes,” you say, words monotone and low as your hand slowly drops from your face to his chest. “I need… really need a shower. Then can come wit’you.”

As soon as you sit up, cool air brushes over the places you’d been against him—goosebumps appearing over his skin as you stretch. His hand lightly grasps your forearm, keeping you from sliding out the sheets completely as he whispers your name.

Lets it slide into the air of your home, around the two of you—the room he secretly wishes could pause time so neither of you had to leave.

Not ready to face the fallout from Martinez, the look of ‘what’s next’ on everyone’s face. Never mind the note clearly from Stechner.

“You don’t… you don’t have to, I need…”

His fingers move to your cheek, sliding over your jaw, only managing a half-breath as you flick your eyes to look over him—stunning him in a shade, he’s not sure truly has a name.

“W-what?”

“Nothing,” he lies.

Following your suit, he sits up, your sheet falling to his waist as he marries his lips back to yours. Fingers finding your chin, keeping you there, stealing another moment, and another. Doing so until your hand wraps around his wrist, thumb stroking a line up and down his wrist.

“I need a shower…”

He snorts. “You don’t have to come with me.”

“I’m normally in an hour or two later anyway—plus…”

“Plus?”

Your lips slide, less of a smirk but more than a smile. “I have to come and ensure you don’t fuck with my organisational system. No other reason.”

“Not one?”

“No.”

He tuts. “I can keep things organised.”

You scoff, light and airy. “Peña, you’ve been here five minutes, and your desk already looks like it’s amassed ten years of files, so—I’m gonna call bullshit. Respectfully.”

“Respectfully?”

“Yes.”

He allows a laugh to escape, light and airy, it falling from him with far too much ease. Pulled from some depths he hasn’t allowed himself to explore.

Sliding from him, you stand, grasping at a t-shirt that begins to mist over your body—hiding your skin, your curves and the marks he’s left from view.

“I… I should say, I don’t mind that you showed up at my place, Javi.”

He traces his mouth with his thumb, looking at you. “Javi, huh?”

You smile, rolling your lips as you sigh. “You wore me down.”

“Go shower, I’ll wait for you.”

Pausing at the door frame, you glance at him, half your body framed in shadow and the other in the morning light. He’s not sure he’s ever seen someone look more beautiful in the earliest hours of a new day.

chapter six ->

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