#sighs gravely. i need to draw so bad

[linkvcr]

good evenin skysword nation

[postmortemnivis]

no grave can hold my body down, i'll crawl home to her.

simon really meant it, every bit of it, he’d come back to you somehow. he would find his way back to you. wether it was walking through the front door quietly not to wake you up in the middle of the night or cold in a coffin. he’d rather have you hold his dead body than not to have you touch his skin ever again.

that’s what simon was thinking about as his ear ringed so loud he couldn’t focus on his surroundings. he looked up at the sky, so blue it almost didn’t feel right. why so blue when so much blood was being shed?

he occasionally would feel the ground he was laying on tremble, maybe a hand grenade, maybe a body falling next to his. the smell of gunpowder filled his covered nostrils and he could feel his lungs collapsing on themselves from the thickness of the air he was breathing. his eyes weren’t doing good either, filled with dust and sand from the dry earth.

it took him a few more seconds to focus his eyes on something, something that possibly wasn’t moving, his head spinning each time he tried to sit up. something was weighting on his legs, holding him down. he struggled to raise his torso and groaned at the sight of a large body blocking him. he let himself fall back down.

he was ready to go, a sharp pain to his side telling him he wouldn’t last long alone. he’d been through worse, way worse, the scar provided by the meat hook was proof of that, but something was telling him this was as bad. he was ready to go.

the only thing he could think about in his last moments was you. he thought he could see glimpses of you, maybe your hair in the corner of his eyes or he’d hear your laugh as another fire shooting started. his eyes searched for you frantically. he wanted to tell you to leave immediately, scream it at the top of his lungs, but his voice was caught in his throat and you weren’t really there. his mind just playing cruel tricks on him.

your name was repeated like a mantra in his head, repeating it so many times it almost lost a meaning. almost. a prayer, a chant. he sure needed to pray, for you.

he had been shelving the thought that tormented him for months. he wanted to go and confess his sins, he almost felt the need, his palms itching with haste anytime he thought about it. years had passed since the last time he had set foot in a church, so many that he had almost forgotten the reason for the visit. the ghosts of the past never abandon you, especially if they are people you love, especially if they are family, the innocent. its always the innocent who pay the highest price.

‘i wonder what she’s doing now, who’s gonna knock on her door and tell her im gone.’ he thought. ‘hopefully price. he’s the one with tact and the most considerate. he’ll help her when i’m gone, keep an eye on her.’

the sweet smell of your hair replaced for a moment the one of blood and gunpowder, your laughter still echoing in his ears. he pictured your sweet face and big innocent eyes looking up at him.

“promise me something?”

“mhm?” he hummed, surprised you were still up. his hand hadn’t stopped caressing your hair since you laid down on his chest, your hand resting on his collarbone as your ear listened to his calm heartbeat. “yeah, anything.”

“promise me you’ll always come back.” you whispered in the dark room. “promise me, simon.”

he nodded, taken aback by your request. you weren’t the fondest of his job, he knew it, he hated to concern you like he did.

“yes.”

“promise.” you urged. “please.”

he bent his head down and kissed the top of yours, his arm sliding down your back and drawing you closer by your waist. “i will, love. i’ll always come back to you.”

you sighed, the knot of thoughts in your worried head began to untie. “mh.”

“better now?” he softly asked. his voice was hoarse from his constant shouting orders at the obstreperous recruits. you gave a short nod. “i mean it.”

he groaned as he managed to get the body off of himself, struggling to get on his knees.

fucks sake, he couldn’t let you live with him gone like this. it was selfish of him to leave you in such an abrupt way, really. he tried to push away the image of you opening the door to find price with a carton box filled with simons stuff from the barracks with the balaclava and skull mask on top and your knees hitting the floor before he could even say anything.

his legs didn’t feel like they could hold his weight up, he immediately fell to his knees as he heard another rapid fire too near him for his liking. his gun was long gone, he had to manage to survive alone, again.

“crawlin’ it is.” he breathed as he started to drag his tired body with the strength of his arms alone. you had always praised his strength: he could lift you with one arm alone, you loved to be held and hold on to his arm anywhere and at anytime. that was the main reason he always pushed for more while training, and the motivation your sweet compliments always gave him now were gonna save his life. he made a mental note to kiss and hold you a little longer and tighter if he ever made it home alive.

he could see the building his team was supposed to meet up in case things got bad. it looked so far away that it was alarmingly close. maybe it was just his messed up vision, a mirage, but he could swear he saw you from a window looking at him, urgently motioning him to come.

he brought the thick balaclava above his nose so he could breathe better and as enemy gunfire continued to flow, he kept his head low as he moved dead bodies from his way.

he could hear your voice calling for him and he wanted to call you for you back, but the noises of the battlefield were hurrying him to get to the safe zone first.

he stumbled by the door as he brought himself up, one hand stabilizing him as he held on to the doorframe as the other went to press on his wound.

“lt!” johnnys voice called before he rushed to help him. “ye cheeky bastard, i told them not to leave yet, to wait for ye.”

“gaz saw you get shot.” price swung simon’s arm over his shoulder in order to help him to the nearest table, where he laid down.

“he saw that right.” simon bit the inside of his cheek as price inspected his wound, pressing on it. “is he a‘ight?”

“he’s fine, hit his head but had his helmet on, he’s getting checked out by the medics.” price informed him as simon winced at the sharp pain. “there’s at least two bullets in here, didn’t pass through, stuck.”

“just take ‘em the fuck out.” simon groaned. “how’s it lookin’?”

“you’ll live.” price patted his shoulder in comfort before he went to call a medic.

“we really thought we’d lost ye there, lt.” johnny’s face was glowing with sweat and blood, the black war paint smudged messily all around his face and his mohawk dusted.

“helicopter’s leaving in thirty, boys!” price’s baritone voice called from the other room.

simon scoffed, sighing and closing his eyes, finally letting himself relax as your figure started to fade from the corner of the room where it’d been standing, silently looking at him. “won’t lose me, can’t wait to go home, johnny.”

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

Prompt: You are blissfully unaware of how deep exactly Rook and Vil's affections run for you; of the extents they would go for you, and the boundaries they would cross in your name.

Pairing: Yan!Vil x Reader x Yan!Rook

Genre: Yandere

TW: Yandere Vil and Rook, talk of killing someone, Reader is not Yuu/Prefect.

AN: Rook and Vil ily but why are you both so hard to write for 😭 Like, yall are fun to think for but it was so hard to write down the concept in my mind ysgshskejd. I genuinely don't know if I was able to do them justice, please forgive me if they're a bit ooc in this. This started off as a joke thing because of a friend, but then it turned yandere for some reason that I don't know but we're vibing so it's okay ^^

You groaned as you flopped face first onto the couch in Vil's room, uncaring of the fact that you were still wearing your shoes. Vil glanced at you from the corner of his eyes as he sat at his vanity, narrowing his gaze at your unmoving form.

"(Name), remove your shoes."

" 'm too tired," you grumbled, and Rook chuckled from his place on Vil's bed. "My, my Chevalier de Beauté, how bold of you to reject Roi du Poison's order," he teased you, getting up from the bed to walk over to where you were.

" 'm tired," you whined once again, drawing out a chuckle from both of your boyfriends.

"Still, as Roi du Poison's devoted hunter, I cannot let you get away with such a grave crime," he hummed, his voice light and sweet to your ears. Kneeling on one leg, Rook carefully untied your shoelaces, gently placing your shoes on the floor by the couch. Each movement was smooth and reverent; one would think he was handling a priceless treasure with the way he made sure to not make a single noise as he rid you of your shoes.

He watched in amusement as your only reaction was to sigh and turn your head slightly to look at him. Ever watchful, he immediately zeroed in on the eyebags that you had tried to conceal under layers of makeup. Rook removed the glove from one of his hands, raising it to smooth back your hair into a somewhat presentable state.

"Pray tell, what has you so stressed?" He asked, and you could see Vil sit straighter (if that was even possible since his posture was always impeccable) at his words, no doubt listening to the two of you.

"Its nothing too bad, really. I'm just stuck with uncooperative assholes in Professor Crewel's class-"

"Language," Vill gently chided, but you could make out the concern in his voice. You continued speaking, eventually fully ranting to Rook and Vil about how absolutely bull-headed and uncooperative your group members were, and how you were practically the only one working on the project.

Both the boys stayed quiet as they heard you vent your frustrations out to them. Once you were done, Rook gave you a smile. His eyes held a dangerous light, sharp gaze befitting the hunter he prided himself in being.

"Would you like me to kill them for you?"

You felt a shiver run down your spine at his tone, the familiar smile on his face somehow turning malicious in front of your very eyes. Very slowly, like prey trying to not agitate the predator in their bid to escape, you silently sat up on the couch. Your eyes were trained on his, caution and hesitancy swirling in them (a very pretty mixture, if you asked Rook; what he wouldn't give to see that look of confusion and fear in your eyes more often-)

"No killing, Rook," Vil spoke from his seat in front of the mirror, turning completely to face the two of you. Immediately, Rook turned back into the playful boy you always knew, as he chuckled, "Ah, I jest, of course." He winked at you, and you wondered if your senses had played a trick on you as the heavy atmosphere that had been in the room mere moments ago dissipated instantly.

"Perhaps I could speak to these classmates of yours, hm?"

"O-oh, there's no need for that," you nervously chuckled. "I already informed Professor Crewel about it, and he said he'll give them a fitting punishment," you hurriedly explained. Your fingers fiddled with the cuffs of your blazer, a clear sign of your discomfort at the thought of Rook potentially talking to the people from your group. As irritating as they were, you didn't really want to get them on his (or for that matter, anyone's) bad side, especially with how... weird and quite frankly terrifying Rook had been earlier.

Your nervousness did not go unnoticed, as Vil chuckled, crossing his arms elegantly as he looked at the two of you. "Rook, you've scared them."

Vil stood up from his seat, making his way over to you. Carefully, he lifted your face to make you meet his eyes and smiled. "Rook was only joking, my dear. Don't worry." The gentle touch sent butterflies fluttering through your stomach, and the soft smile complementing his words made your earlier worries go away.

Rook looked at you, a mix of surprise and amusement in his eyes as he took your hand in his own. "Ah, dear Chevalier de Beauté, you need not worry at all," he said as he placed a light kiss on the back of your hand.

"You are precious to me, so I cannot help but wish to take care of anything that may displease you. But, my apologies if I went too far with my joke."

His voice was sincere as he spoke, and you couldn't help but smile at him despite his... slightly concerning words. Rook was a weirdo most of the time. Maybe it was just a well-intended joke that you just overthought about?

You chuckled, missing the way Vil's shoulders seemed to relax and how Rook's smile became a little less forced.

"It's alright Rook."

"You nearly gave us away, Rook."

Vil's voice was uncharacteristically cold as he stared down at the hunter kneeling in front of him. You had gone back to your own dorm room some time ago, saying that you needed to finish one of Professor Trein's assignments, giving the two boys some much needed privacy to have this conversation.

"My sincere apologies Roi du Poison. I did not mean to, but to see their beautiful face contorted in such anger, such frustration... it caught me off guard. I was careless in my wish to take away some of their burden, and I shall accept any punishment you deem acceptable, my fair queen," Rook said, his voice repentant as he stared at the hem of Vil's dorm clothes.

Vil sighed after a long and tense silence. How could he remain cross with his beloved hunter any longer, when he was this remorseful? Besides, Vil had been quick enough to salvage the situation in time, and you were still blissfully unaware of how deep exactly their affections ran for you; of the extents they would go for you, and the boundaries they would cross in your name.

"Get up," he ordered, and the hunter rose to his feet, finally daring to look his queen in the eyes. "Go, and find every little thing there is to find about those useless students. Every. Single. Thing. But do not, touch a hair on their heads. That will be your punishment."

Vil's voice was calm and collected, like a queen delivering a death sentence. Rook bowed reverently.

"As you wish, my dear queen."

[babybluebex]

i’ve had this scenario banging around in my head since the movie came out but imagine a fic where the reader has a massive crush on angus but they see him kissing elise at the christmas party 😭 like i loooveee angst and i would write this fic myself but i lost my last neuron when i fell off an electric scooter and got a concussion 😔

oh no concussion!! :( i'm so sorry about that honey, hopefully this'll make up for that!//word count: 2.1k, tw for grief/loss

You couldn't help but notice the way Angus grinned when Ms. Crane said her niece's name. It was a real smile, not the firm, thin thing that he had given you at lunch— you supposed that he hated being stuck at Barton as much as you did, maybe even hating you in the process. Being the only girl at Barton was hard, but especially at the holidays, when you really felt like your choices were the school or a fucking grave. It hurt, sure, but that smile on Angus's face hurt worse.

Elise pulled both you and Angus into the basement, where children sat, doing crafts with paste and glitter and pom-poms, and you smiled at one of the little girls, playing a popsicle stick as a little doll. You heard Angus and Elise talking to each other as they crossed the room, and you lifted your eyes to him just in time to watch him raise his arms in a silly pose and pull a goofy face. You almost started to laugh at him, as per usual when Angus was doing his antics, but Elise laughed first. Her laugh was gentle, her eyes bright, and your heart sank. She really was beautiful, and she was creative and knew whatever painting Angus was talking about. She was something that you weren't, and you sighed gently. And, based on the way that Angus reacted to her, he wanted what she had.

You took to playing with the little girls, keeping an eye out for Angus and Elise across the room. He didn't look at you one single time, keeping his gaze on her the whole time, spreading paint around the page with his long, thin fingers. You tried to distract yourself, but nothing worked, and you looked at the pair just in time to watch Elise lean over the table and press her lips to Angus's mouth.

Your heart stopped and your mouth went dry. Of course. After everything, all the time you spent with him, the tells of friendship and maybe more that was building throughout the vacation, he still chose her over you. Would anyone ever choose you? Even at your old school, you were cast aside, forgotten. You thought that there was something with Angus, little flirtations and lingering glances, you could have sworn there was something there, but apparently not. You rubbed your lips together and lowered your eyes, feeling hot tears prick to the surface, and you quickly got up from the short table and made your way upstairs. You needed the bathroom, or the kitchen, or somewhere where there wasn't other people.

Unluckily for you, as you pushed into the kitchen, you heard a shuddering sob, and you stopped dead in your tracks at the sight of Mary Lamb bent over the counter, crying. Danny, the janitor, who you had interacted with a handful of times, stood in the corner, obviously wanting to help her but not wanting to aggravate her.

"Mary?" you mumbled. "Everything okay?" Even in your upset state, you hated to see the strong and smart Mary in a bad moment. If she was crying, something was wrong.

She said nothing, drawing in a breath and weeping, and your heart clenched. You turned back out of the kitchen, going in search of Mr. Hunham, but before you could even think about his whereabouts, you collided straight into Angus's chest. "Oh, hey," he said with a crooked smile. "You disappeared really suddenly; you okay?"

Seeing his stupid smile made your tears return, and you struggled to breathe. You could worry about yourself and your complicated feelings towards Angus later; you needed to worry about Mary. "M-Mary—" you started, pointing towards the kitchen. "She's— Where's Hunham?"

"What about Mary?" Angus asked, looking past you to the swinging door of the kitchen.

"Where is Hunham?" you repeated firmly, and Angus's smile fell.

"I'll go find him," he mumbled, and you turned back to the kitchen without a word. Mary's head was hanging now, her tears dripping on the counter, and you carefully approached her. "Mary?" you started softly. "Do you want some water or something?"

Mary sniffled and shook her head, and you frowned. She obviously didn't want anything, and you took a step back as Angus and Mr. Hunham noisily bustled into the kitchen. One look at her had Hunham closing the door, and Angus stood in the corner, arms crossed, as he watched Hunham lay a hand on Mary's back.

You felt sick as you listened to her sob about her Curtis, the boy you never met but would always admire, and the group of you was quick to grab your jackets and decide to go home. You were glad; if you ever saw Elise again, you might have dropped dead. But, of course, Angus was whinging the whole walk to the car about leaving Elise behind. "I was having a good time!" he complained. "You can take Mary home and pick me up later!"

"Yeah, having a good time sucking Elise's tongue," you scoffed before you could stop yourself, and Hunham's head snapped to you with intensity.

"I can't believe you two," Hunham grunted. "This poor woman is bereft with grief—" Mary interjected that she didn't need anyone feeling sorry for her, but Hunham paid her little mind— "And all you can think about is that silly girl!"

"What did I do?" you gaped. "All I said was—"

"I heard you, miss," Hunham said. "Mary and I are going to get the car, and by the time we get back, you two had better fix whatever this is."

Your face heated up with shame and embarrassment as Mary and Hunham scuttled away, and you couldn't even bare to look at Angus. But you did, and you saw, on his pale and sharp chin, the smallest red mark, a cut, a nick from shaving. "You have a cut on your chin," you mumbled.

"I know!" Angus spat. "What's your fucking problem suddenly?"

"Hey, don't yell at me," you said quickly. "Look, I'm sorry that you're being pulled away from the love of your life or whatever, but you've got to start giving a shit about other people!"

"Like who?" Angus asked. "Like you?"

"Like Mary!" you said, even though your heart was screaming, begging for Angus to see you. For him to really see you, see through your timidness and shyness and see how badly you liked him. "Oh my God, this is her first Christmas without her son; Jesus Christ, at least act like you've got a heart inside your chest!"

"Why do you care so bad about her?" Angus asked. "And, for a matter of fact, why do you care about Elise?"

"Trust me, I couldn't give less of a shit about Elise," you said, crossing your arms in front of your chest in the cold. "But Mary, I... Fuck... My dad died in January. S'why I didn't wanna go home for the break... It would just be me and my mom, alone in our place, not being able to avoid the empty space on the couch where my dad should be. I don't know what Mary's going through, I'll never know how that feels, but... I get it. It hurts like fucking shit, and, like, you'll never understand how that feels because your parents are alive—"

"My dad's dead."

The way Angus venomously spit out his words made you feel rotted inside. "But..." you started. "I thought your dad...? Saint Kitts...?"

"That's just some rich prick my mom married," Angus said.

"So you should get it," you sighed. "The first holiday without family is hard, every day is hard, but Mary... I can't imagine how she feels, and I'm trying to be as sympathetic as possible, try to make it easier for her or something, y'know?"

Angus was quiet for a long moment, pressing the toe of his shoe into a snowy patch on the sidewalk. "I guess I like Elise because she likes me," he said softly. "S'not everyday I find someone who likes me."

"God..." you sighed, squeezing your eyes shut. "Is that what that was?"

"Shut up," Angus sneered.

"Hey, easy," you said gently. "Angus, I..." You didn't know what to say to him. You had no idea how to start the conversation, let alone get to where you wanted to be quick enough— Hunham only parked around the corner, he and Mary should be coming back at any second— and you said, "Was that your first kiss? Just then, with her?"

"All-boys schools don't make it easy to find a girl to kiss," Angus mumbled.

You sighed heavily. Your eyes drifted down to a snowbank at the edge of the street, watching it glitter under the streetlamp for a moment, and, before you could stop yourself, you leaned into him and pressed your mouth to his, grabbing his upper arms to keep you upright with your shaking legs. He started for a moment, shocked and surprised, and his hands hovered above your hips, wholly unsure of how to proceed, and you broke the kiss quickly. His owlish eyes stared you down, his mouth open, but he didn't look upset.

"Say something," you whispered, and he let out a breath, the warmth of the air hitting your lips. "Fuck, please, just say something—"

He kissed you again. His hands grabbed your hips and tugged you against him, and you easily looped your arms around his neck and rose up on your tip-toes to reach his height. His lips were warm, if a little dry, and his nose bumped yours as he went to deepen the kiss, his fingers itching in the skirt of your dress. You smiled, unable to control yourself, and Angus did too, pulling away from your mouth.

"Oh," you whispered, and you smoothed your thumb across his top lip, wiping off a little bit of the rosy lipstick that you had worn to the party. "Sorry 'bout that."

"Whatever," Angus said breathlessly, his eyes soft as he gazed at you. "You taste good."

You chuckled lightly, lowering your eyes to his shoes. That shyness returned as your skin flamed, and you worried your bottom lip between your front teeth. "S-So I guess you see why I wasn't too jazzed about Elise," you said, trying to attempt a lightness in your voice.

"I'll say," Angus said. "How long have you liked me?"

"Since I met you?" you squeaked. "Since, um, I got sat in front of you in Hunham's class...? I don't know, it's dumb."

"Nuh-uh, that's not dumb," Angus said. "I've liked you for... I don't know, I guess since that first day too. We had, um, heard that a girl was coming to Barton, and I didn't really care too much, but I heard how much the other guys cared, and it... I don't know, it became a contest on how little I cared. But then I saw you... Heard you laugh... Watched you sneak a cigarette behind the bleachers during a football game..." You laughed, as did Angus, and his big hand came to cup your face, angling you to look at him. "But I think I really, really fell for you when I kissed her."

"Huh?" you asked, wrinkling your nose.

Angus rolled his eyes, obviously a little abashed by his admission. "Listen, I'm a teenage boy, it's in my nature to daydream about you," he started. "I had dreamed about what it would be like to be your boyfriend, to kiss you, to have my first kiss with you... Then, Elise kissed me, and, when I opened my eyes, I was sorta disappointed to see her and not you."

"Oh," you said softly.

"You went upstairs, and I went after you to try to talk to you about that," Angus said. "And then Mary, and... But yeah. I've just been too chickenshit to tell you before now."

"Well..." you whispered, listening to the quiet rumble of Hunham's car come from around the street corner. "Thank God for Elise."

"Don't you ever say her name again," Angus told you, and he leaned down to kiss you again. You were acutely aware of how Hunham and Mary could certainly see you two necking in the middle of the sidewalk, but you didn't care. Hunham said to work it out, and so you had.

The blaring of the old Buick's horn made Angus pull away from you, and you heard the window squeak down before Hunham shouted "Will you two quit and get inside the goddamn car?"

"Take it easy on 'em," Mary said as you slid into the backseat, followed by Angus.

"Yeah," Angus said. "Take it easy on us."

"I don't need your sass, Mr. Tully," Hunham said, glaring at you two in the rearview mirror. "Now I have to find a way to separate you two at night, no more sleeping in the same room, no more..."

You didn't care to hear Hunham's ramblings; you leaned your head on Angus's shoulder, you took his hand in yours, and you closed your eyes. Maybe the rest of break would be okay.

[youlikefanficdontyousquidward]

By moonlight

Adar x Fem!Elf!Reader

Part one, two Three- My heart

Summary: Adar steals moments from his Sunset before heading to battle.

His Andúnë remained, her soft light illuminating the depths of Adar's heart. She stayed far from the tunnels edge, away from the men who swore their loyalty. He missed her warmth when there and found himself often trudging through the uneven mud to the children's tents.

This day she lay on their soft bedding. Spread like he had been on the breaking wheel. But there was no pain to be had here. Instead each limb had one or more Uruklings curled around them. Atop her breast lay the baby she'd saved, drooling into her clavicle. He smiled gently down at them, leaving her to rest.

He walked with her when he could. Into the sun to watch over her while she gathered herbs. He knew he didn't need to, that the Uruk scouts in the trees would've protected her. Still the stolen moments were irresistible to him. Her hair catching the light, her laughing with the children. Sweet as bird song. He longed for her to look softly at him. To bend her lips into that perfect smile just for him.

It was a foolish dream. He was a broken and twisted thing. She was not bound to him and never would be. Her light was meant for someone better.

...

You felt Adar's presence for a moment before that shadow passed. You couldn't move, so covered in the Uruklings as you were. It was warm, suffocating even but pleasant. They all slept in a pile together when their parents were gone. It seemed they felt the cold more keenly than their mothers.

Uruk women were hard working. None would dare put in less than their men. A deserved pride, you saw how strong they were yourself. You admired them greatly. You'd been a passive thing in your home. Never given the same opportunity for greatness as your male kin. Your small skill with a sword had been behind your father's back.

Glüg's mate, Vusha, and other pregnant women stayed with the children and the wounded. Still there were no idle hands here. They worked mending and healing alongside the children. Building supports and covers if their stomachs weren't too swollen. Vusha swiped the tents flap open. She chased the little ones off, with a bark of laughter and brought you out to the tunnels beyond for the day.

Vusha was a brash, vulgar tongued women and you liked her greatly. Often her jokes and stories brought a fierce blush to your ears. Of late she'd focused much of her energy on your own lack of relationship experience.

"Far too pretty a thing not to get a little messy in your bed roll." She said with a wink. You'd buried your face behind the tunic you'd been sewing.

"What about the men-folk. Not too bad to your eye I'd imagine." She nodded to the group beyond.

You followed her eye to the men. They came from a village that Adar had taken a day ago. Most were barely out of their childhood and the ones that were, tended towards harsh and unfriendly. One looked to you both with a curled lip.

"I think not." You said, drawing your eye to the baby. He was large now, able to toddle on fat little legs between you and the other children.

"Suit yourself." She huffed and you breathed a sigh of relief. "You know Glüg's brothers' meant to be a good ride?"

When night fell you felt a shadow pass by the tents. A familiar shiver ran up your spine and you fought the smile threatening to split your face.

"Andúnë." Adar's gravely voice spoke. You turned still crouched by the children. He bowed his head to you his bare hand over his heart. He did this each time and still it made your heart flutter. He greeted you so softly, like you were a Lady and not a lowly Elleth in the muck.

"How are they." Adar spoke, turning to the tent and away from your gaze. You blinked, shifting your own too. You hadn't realized how intensely your stare must have been. You cursed how awkward you'd become in front of him now.

"Well, my Lord. The baby has a tooth now." You smiled, rubbing your ankle absent mindlessly.

Adar turned back to you, his brow furrowed a moment before he reached his hand to you. You savored the roughness of his skin against your own.

"Ah yes, fret not." He rasped as you stood. His hand left yours cold. "They set one another right in time."

You watched where he did. The baby toddling, falling and crawling quick after giggling children.

"Their skin is tough, yours however..." Adar turned back to you. You pulled your lips tight, he had broken skin but it was healing well. Likely to scar however given your resources.

"I am fine Lord Adar." You said.

"If you won't tell me truthfully, I'll check myself." He hummed.

You didn't respond right away. His gauntlet shifted on his swords pommel and Adar dropped to his knee. You frowned, his hand touching the torn edge of your dress. Adar's rough fingers barely touched your ankle when your mind returned to you. You shrieked, skipping back as your heard the children laugh. Staring back at Adar's wide eyes you flustered.

"I'm fine! I swear!" You urged.

"Are you in pain?" Adar's rough voice spoke gravely. Your heart thundered in your chest. His eyes darkened, baring into your own as he stood.

"No! No, no. I just." You fumbled, fingers tightening on your dress as he approached. The room felt silent as you cast your eyes from his. That soft meadow green that felt like it could swallow you whole. He paused, before you saw him bow in your peripherals.

"Please, forgive me." He whispered. "I didn't mean to... impose."

"Oh, please my Lord rise." You gasped, placing a hand to his armored shoulder. "I'm well, everything is well."

He rose, your hand slipping from where it had rested on his chest plate. You felt your heart in your throat, your face was so hot. There was tightness in your chest that felt for all the world like it could crush you. Your eyes left his, traveling over his scared skin. Your finger tips buzzed, a desire so deep in your soul to reach out. Too feel him beneath your hand, beneath you.

A sudden giggling shout broke what spell had been cast on you. Adar too stiffened his face turning to the baby as his nails dug into your skirts. Your face burned as you stooped to him, lifting him up to your chest.

"I must go." Adar rasped, rushing out before you could speak a word.

...

There was much at hand. The last of the Southlanders gathered in the Eleven watch tower. The hilt among them, the key to his Uruk's home. Adar couldn't let his mind wander, couldn't imagine her flushed face, the heat of her skin on his fingers.

He gripped the pommel of his sword tighter in his hand. Even through his gauntlet he could feel the spiked end digging in. The sharp bite to his skin grounded him in the moment.

He laid out the plan ahead to his most fearsome warriors. Glüg had been disappointment not to be amongst them. Adar hadn't thought less of him as a fighter, he merely wished he would stay to look after the others. He was sure at least his mate would be appreciative of his task and there were few others he trusted his Andúnë to.

He wished to see her. To ensure she was well, to see if he was truly forgiven for his trespass. Adar cursed himself. It was a foolish act, a bold move he'd intended as playful fueled by a fear she was actually injured.

Adar also wished to look upon her just in case. If he were to fall this night, he wished to do so with her face in his minds eye. He was so certain she held no real fondness for him but he swore he saw something. Just a glimpse when their eyes met. A flicker that could be fanned if it weren't for his ruined form. Her eyes had moved to his scars and he'd bit back hope.

Instead Adar dug his fist into the dirt. Softly planting seeds and covering them with care. Tomorrow his children would have a home.

...

You waited with the children, with the pregnant. You felt an anger rising in you, burning behind your eyes. How could he leave without saying anything? Without giving you a chance to raise a sword. You didn't relish the idea of taking the villages lives but to protect what you had?

"You named him yet?" Glüg spoke from your side. He sat on the hill with you, looking towards the tower.

"Gurbaur. Though it feels wrong for it to be my choice." You spoke softly. He rested in your arms, his scars paler and pinker than the ashy complexion of his skin. They'd shift with age, maybe it wouldn't cover so much of his face then.

"He's yours now. Far as any are concerned. Gurbaur? Vusha give you that one?" Glüg asked.

"She's been teaching me yes and she said it meant stone son. Thought he deserved a strong one after all he's survived." You smiled despite yourself.

"You see far too right?" Glüg asked again.

"Beyond the horizon if I like." You answered. Elven eyes were keen and yours were focused on the village now.

"Do you see him." Glüg said, leaning forward to try and look himself.

"The fire in the village there..." You pointed, sure he could see the glow at least. "Lord Adar is there, he walks towards a large building at the center."

You watched still as the sun began to rise. Glüg wordlessly took the your Gurbaur before the sun could reach him. You watched still as a shadow of a fear began to grow in your mind. Something was wrong, something was very wrong.

...

Adar sat in the barn, bloodied but alive. The chains kept him to the post, kept his wrists together. Outside his children huddled under cover, guarded by the men from the sea.

If that man was true to his oath, if he wouldn't be discovered, it wouldn't be long now. He was far closer than he'd imagined, not nearly in a safe path. From what he'd read the mountain's peak would explode. Rock and fire would rain upon the land and a great smoke would blot the sun for millenniums to come. He closed his eyes, Adar could rest. His work was almost done now.

He didn't do so for long. There was a creak on the boards above him, the hayloft. Some man to slit his throat no doubt, taking a hidden entrance to do the deed. He prepared to counter, to kick out their legs. He would see his children's new home, this would not be robbed by the likes of them.

"Adar...?" A soft voice called. Sweet and filled with a fear that cut through him.

He opened his eyes. Past the rays of sun and dust floating in the air. She was here, his heart, Andúnë. Perhaps his wounds had been worse than he'd thought. That something beyond had taken pity on him and sent this vision to guide him into the darkness beyond. His eyes slipped closed, ready for her to take him away.

"Adar... zo zemar. Come back to me." Her voice grew closer, a soft warmth encompassing his cheek.

"My heart, I am with you." Adar rasped in return to her black speech. The apparition was so real, so soft. Even past the horse he could smell her, her scent so close it had him dizzy.

Adar opened his eyes again. She was knelt between his legs, her face close and tight in concern. Against his chains Adar lifted his hand to her, brushing his knuckles against her temple and down her cheek. Her face broke into an uneven smile, real and more beautiful than any sunset. Tears like stars glistening on her lashes.

"How are you here?" Adar breathed. She was real, solid in his vision. She wore a soldiers cloak, stolen and pulled over her ears and an had a hatchet in hand.

"I saw from the hill. I cannot leave you here. Oh what have they done to you." She fretted over him. Her hand came away from his cheek to run across the river patterns on his armor.

"Nothing that cannot be mended but..." Adar paused. Your face turned to the sound, a great cracking and rumble. He saw your face pale, fear setting in as the rumbling grew near. You took your hatchet to the metal, swinging down at the chain that bound him. Adar didn't think you had it in you but your strike was strong and true. It hit a weak point and broke away.

"Lay with me, listen." Adar sighed. He shifted to the wooden boards, ear pressed and hearing the water rush bellow. You followed, facing him as you did so. He saw your brow furrow at the sound, laying so close to him. He felt your breath against his cheek and smiled.

"Come, we must move." He said. Again you followed him, hands at his elbows to brace him as he stood. He didn't need your support but he let your hands grasp him. Let an arm wind around his middle and take his injured hand in your own.

Adar let you guide him to the doors, you moved ahead pulling with a grunt to open them for him. Chaos sounded, a clamor of soldiers rushing past not even paying either of you any mind. Adar pulled you back to him, a hand wrapping around your arm.

Your eyes were far, fixed on the mountain. A great clap sounded out, louder than any thunder. A bright light erupted with it and a force rushed out. Adar turned then, taking the blast to his back with you pressed now against his chest. You yelped but covered your mouth quickly, looking up to him through your eyelashes.

Adar kept his arms around you, turning back to the great mountain as it spewed ash and rock into the sky. His children cheered and yelled, breaking free and running to him. Great rocks, flaming and bigger than houses soared through the skies.

"What... what is this." You whispered.

"Home." Adar answered.

[rhiaghostriley]

MDNI - Ghost × reader - toxic relationship

The loud thud resonating in the mess hall draws all the attention on it, including yours. As you turn your head toward the noise to see what caused it, you freeze on the spot : Lieutenant Simon Riley, looking at you with furious eyes, his hand deeply buried in the plywood next to his head. Looking at you, and the guy you are openly flirting with.

Dammit.

Before you can even think about moving, he’s gone. But you know you will hear about him soon enough.

Fuck it, after all. You were doing nothing wrong. You were not together anymore. And it was his call, this time. This hundredth time… You don’t even remember how it started, to be honest. In the beginning, he was the stern, cold, forever masked Lieutenant of Task Force 141, and you were nothing more than one of the new recruits. But you made a joke during a meeting, and it made him smile, a rare occurrence for him. He got intrigued, wanted to know more about you. And from a few drinks at the nearest bar with the team, to asking him his opinion about the outfit you should wear, you’ve grown closer. And you’ve grown to know the man under the mask. With all his good and his bad sides. A lot of bad sides. But red flags are just flags when you look at it through pink glasses, right ? And you would have managed to stay away from him if the man wasn’t able to make you cum just by looking at you. But God, in his infinite cruelty, gave him the power over your body and your feelings. So here you are, wondering whether you should go after him or not, even when you know it will end badly. And remembering the first kiss…

“Ya gonna be late for meeting.” A husky voice behind you, one which can belong to only one person, especially with that thick British accent.

You smiled, blowing out some smoke from your cigarette. “Gonna report me, Lt ?”

“Don’t give a fucking shit.” He sat beside you on the bench. “Ya too young to smoke that much.”

You giggled, looking at the cigarette between your fingers, then held it out to him. “Just have to ask, if you want one.”

He chuckled, taking the cigarette from your hand. “Ya know me, I don’t ask. I take.”

“The only right way to live.” You chuckled back.

You stayed a few minutes silent, until his gravely voice speaks again. “Gonna tell me what’s wrong, or I’ll have to get it out of ya ?”

You sighed. No need to pretend, he knew. He always knew. You gave a sad smile, and trying to sound playful you said “Been dumped. Again.”

He chuckled. “Ya gonna have to stop dating boys, and try men, little one. Ya’re too much to handle for these kids. Ya need someone who can handle himself. And you.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you chuckled. “Like you ?”

These two words. The words you should never have said. The words that made your life heaven on earth and a living hell at the same time. Because next thing you knew, you were sitting on his lap, kissing him ravenously, his lips demanding, his hands wandering, making your skin tingle and your insides clench. He was proving you that indeed, he was the kind of man taking without asking, and you let him.

From then, it all went spiraling. Addicted to his touch, repulsed by his toxic demeanor, when he was pulling, you were pushing. And when he was the one pushing, you were crawling back to him like a lost puppy. He hated that he needed you, loved that you needed him. You hated that he made you lose all common sense, and loved every second spent naked against him. The damn man did know how to get under your skin as much as under your sheets.

Without realizing, you are walking around base, trying to spot him everywhere you look. Not that you feel bad for what you did, but you’d rather find him than run into him at the least expected moment and let him have the upper hand. The hole in the wall of the mess hall was enough of a proof that he was pissed, and he was like a bottle of coke that you shook too much. You would never know when it would explode, but it would. But he was nowhere to be found, and as your steps start to lead you back to your quarters, you feel your eyes water in apprehension. First for you, and then for him. For all you know he could be either in his quarters, letting out some steam on video games, or in a bar, trying to put up a fight with any bloke who would look at him in a way he wouldn’t find acceptable.

But there is also sadness in your heart. Because as much as you want to keep him away from you, you can’t. And you dread the day your ways will split for good. But this day hasn’t come yet…

As you enter your room, slamming the door shut behind you, before you have time to turn the light switch on, you feel a hand wrap on your throat and pin you against the wall. In a matter of seconds you try to comprehend what is happening, and not to freak out. But then, things get crystal clear. From the gloved hand around your throat, to the smell of Bourbon and tobacco hitting your nostrils, now you know.

“Think ya can replace me so easily, little one ?” The grip on your throat is not tight, barely uncomfortable, just strong enough to keep you still. It’s not meant to hurt you, just to remind you who is in charge.

“Ghost, let me go.” Your breath is a little uneven, your voice trembling.

“Now why would I ?” He grunts. He is still angry. “We have a few things to talk about before. Who is he ?”

“No one.” You sigh. You know it won’t be enough. “Name’s James. I don’t know more about him. It was the first time we talked.”

His grip loosens a bit, but not completely. He presses his forehead against your temple and inhale deeply, taking in your scent. “Why would you talk to him ?”

Your breath shortens a bit, because you know that whatever your answer might be, it wouldn’t be good enough for him. And the worst part is that there was no answer, you were just making small talk while lining up at the mess hall for lunch. But still you have to answer something. “We are planned on a mission together next week. We were just trying to get to know each other better. That’s it.”

“That’s it ?” He growled, then chuckle. “That’s it.”

After a few more seconds he finally lets go of you, and turns around, walking toward the nightstand where a half-empty bottle of whiskey is waiting. He takes a long swig, then shakes his head. “It’s the first time I see you talking to another guy. I don’t like it.”

You stand against the wall, not wanting to come closer, your arms crossed over your chest. “Yeah, I got the hint when you punched the wall.”

He scowls. “Don’t go there. It was the wall or his face. Better the wall, right ?” He takes another swig.

You look away, shaking your head. “I don’t understand. You left. Why do you mind ?”

He chuckles bitterly and sit on the edge of the bed, taking a sip of whiskey again. “That’s a hell of a good question.” He rubs his face with one hand, the bottle dangling from his other hand as his elbow rests on his knee. “I have no fucking clue. Ya’re my fucking Kryptonite.”

You sigh, feeling your eyes well up. “No, not Kryptonite. You’re like heroin. You feel like heaven when you’re inside me, but when you’re not I miss you as much as I hate you.”

He growls. “Then find a damn cure. Your own version of methadone, I don’t give a fuck. Stay. Away. From me.”

You let out a bitter chuckle without looking at him. “I tried. You punched a wall, remember ?”

He scowls, his voice raising. “Not a cure that means making fun of me in front of the whole goddamn base !”

You raise your voice to match his. Not something you’re used to do, but today you’re too angry. Today, it reached a new level of toxicity. And you, as well, can play dirty. “Oh, so you’re okay with me being fucked, but not by another soldier ?”

He yells even louder. He needs to have the upper hand, to show that he is more, in every way. “Ya want to play the base’s slut ? Get laid by every fuckin’ soldier around ? Fine, be my guest ! I won’t stop ya ! But don’t come back crying like you always do !”

That stings. More than it should. Because that’s not what you want. But god are you able to, even if just to piss him off a little bit more. “And what, you’re going to punch another wall ? Plus, I wouldn’t come back if you were strong enough to say no, for once !”

You knew. You knew it wasn’t a good idea to use the words “not strong enough” when talking to him. And as the bottle of whiskey crashes on the wall right next to your head, you could only think that you should have known better…

You’re both frozen. Him in anger, you in shock. Your body starts to tremble as more tears runs down your cheeks, and you stare at him, through him, eyes wide and face strained.

He, on the other side, stares back at you, chest heaving with every ragged breath he takes, anger creeping in his mind like poison as he tries to convince himself that it is your fault and not his. As he tries to persuade his scarred mind that he is not a violent guy, that he is not like his father, that it was an accident.

He takes a deep, steadying breath, taking a shy step closer to you. Then another. Then a third one, closing the distance between you two. Slowly, like dealing with a scared animal, he raises a hand to your face, putting it on your cheek, tilting his head as he whispers “I am sorry.”

And as you burst into tears, his other hand reaches for your other cheek, cradling your head in his hands, burying your face in his chest. “Ya know I would never hurt ya.”

But the truth is that he does. Every goddamn day. When he looks at you, when he touches you, when he ignores you. It hurts. But the brain is a wicked machine, and you like it rough.

He presses his lips against your forehead, whispering sweet nothings as he tries to calm you down. How beautiful you are, how soft you feel against him, like a snake trying to convince you to bite the apple, he sneaks into your brain, telling you what you need to hear.

His lips leave a trail of soft kisses from your forehead to your temple, then down to your cheek. Your jaw clenches, knowing what comes next, trying to gather the strength to say no. Not because you don’t want to. Quite the opposite.

When his mouth finds yours, awaking the familiar warmth in your chest, you try. You really try. But it comes out barely above a whisper. “Ghost, no, don’t.”

But he doesn’t listen. He doesn’t ask, he takes. He shuts you up with a kiss, his lips soft and tender at first, but quickly turning more demanding, more hungry. More desperate. And you can’t help but give it back.

With a sharp intake of breath, he buries his hands in your hair, grabbing a fistful of it to hold you still as his tongue presses against your lips, demanding entrance. Your lips part and your tongue reaches his, addicted to the bittersweet taste of bourbon and the lingering scent of smoke.

His body pins you against the wall, giving you no other choice than to put your hands on his waist, his chest pressed against yours, his hips pushing. You can feel how turned on he is, the bulge in his pants rubbing on your lower stomach, making you gasp. And he takes it as a green light.

His hands move from your hair to your chest, his touch rough when he grabs your breasts through the thin fabric of your top, eliciting a small whimper from you. It doesn’t stop him though. He knows you like it that way, despite you trying to pretend otherwise the first time. That is certainly why you and him were a match made in hell. You like when it hurts and he doesn’t know how to be soft.

Before you have time to say anything, his hands are under your top, tugging at your bra to try and move it down. His lips haven’t left yours still, his tongue fighting yours for dominance in your mouth, even if you know he will win.

His fingers find your nipples, pinching them hardly, sending a jolt from your breasts to your cunt. When you moan softly, you can’t feel him grin against your lips. “That’s it, baby girl. Let yourself go.”

As one of his hands keep working on your breast, the other moves down toward the buckle of your belt, calloused fingers grazing the soft skin of your belly, making you shiver. You know what comes next, and the heat between your thighs forbid you to act like you don’t want it.

He works fast on your belt and the buttons of your jeans, his hand already slipping in your panties, eager to touch you. He is neither slow, nor soft, but you don’t mind. All the pent-up tension from the last hours needs to be released, for you as much as for him.

When his fingers reach your pussy, tracing your slit to find your entrance, he stops kissing you, keeping his lips glued to yours, and groan. “Fuck, so fucking wet already. You like me angry, angel. Good to know.”

Inside, you want to scream, the wave of feelings coming at his words overwhelming. Anger. Pain. Self-loathing. Because he is right. He might be a walking red flag, but your red flag is that you like it. But as overwhelmed as you feel, it’s not enough to mutter the craving you feel for more of his touch. And all you can do in response is to let out a soft moan as he slides a finger into you, his thumb rubbing your already throbbing clit in expert circles.

His voice rings in your ear like poisoned honey, dripping from his lips right into your brain. “Come on little one, talk to me, use your words. Ya want more ?”

All you can do is nod, and whimper a small “yes”, because of course you want more.

He chuckles, nibbling at your earlobe as he slips a second finger into you, shutting your brain out. You find yourself grinding your pussy in his palm, feeling the too well known sensation of your orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. Damn him for knowing so well how to play your body like a violin.

He is all over you. His lips kissing the supple skin of your neck where it meets your shoulder because he knows it is your favorite spot. His left hand still pinching and rolling your nipple because he knows it helps the tension building faster. And his right hand in your panties, fingers pulling in and out of your pussy at the rhythm of your moans flattering his ears. He loves it. He needs it. He picks up the pace of his fingers, going harder and deeper, with only purpose to make you cum. And it works.

You keep grinding against his palm, your moans getting louder by the second. “Fuck, Ghost… Don’t stop.”

You can hear the smirk in his voice as he whispers in your ear “I don’t intend to, baby girl. Do me a favor, make it loud.”

And you comply. Not that you could help it, anyway. When your pussy starts to clench around his fingers and you keep moaning his name louder, he moans as well, still rubbing his cock on your lower stomach, needing the friction to help him holding back. He revels in the feeling of making you break so easily, feels powerful when you moan his name without being able to stop, relishes knowing that you still want more. “That’s my good girl.”, he praises softly.

But the softness doesn’t last long, and before you have time to get back from your high, the hand that was delightfully torturing your nipples is now unbuckling his own belt and buttons, letting his jeans fall down to his ankles. He steps out of the pile of clothes, and the same treatment is given to yours. In one swift motion, he picks you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, pinning you against the wall, rubbing his cock against your slit like his life depends on it. He doesn’t care that you just cummed and that your body is too sensitive still. He is starving. And you’re the only meal he wants.

With a growl coming from deep inside his chest, still carrying you, he takes a few steps back and sit on the edge of the bed with you still in his lap. His hands let go of you, just enough time to remove your top and his. He needs to feel your skin against his.

Without warning, he grips your hips and moves you down on him, just enough to let the first inches of his cock slide inside you. And you don’t even try to protest, because you want it too. You need him to fill you up, to stretch you out. You need him deep inside you so you can feel that for a few minutes you two make one.

When your eyes roll back in your head he lets out a groan. “Easy, little one. Ya’re going to take it all like the good fucking girl you are, but I don’t want to hurt ya. I told ya, I’d never.”

Still, he bites down on his lip, the effort of holding back from pounding into you already taking a lot from him. He starts to move slowly, giving you a few more inches of his dick with each thrust, letting you adjust and at the same time craving for more. His grip tight on your hips, dirty reminder of who is in control, he keeps moving, nice and slow, until he is buried into you to the hilt. “Fuck baby girl, you feel too good for my own sake.”

There it is, the hint of desperation in his voice, the only sign he would give you that he needs you as much as you need him. Only when he is deep inside you, body and soul.

When he feels you relax a little around him, his left hand wraps around your waist, his right hand reaches for your throat. Not too tight, just enough to control you. He uses it to settle the pace, his face buried in your hair as he takes in your scent. Your moans are like music to his ears, he is not far from cumming already. “Come on, little one. Ride me. Ride me hard.”

Your grip is tight on his shoulders, holding on for dear life as you move your hips up and down. Every move you make makes you whimper and moan, your eyes closed tight in pleasure, a thin veil of sweat covering your skin.

His grip on your throat tightens a little. “Look at me. Don’t you dare close your eyes. Look at me when I fuck you senseless.”

His grip not loosening, he uses it to make you move faster, making you take him deeper, seeking for both your and his release. He needs to make you cum again, it’s the proof that he has a total control over your body.

Your jaw hangs open in a silent gasp and you open your eyes to look at him, your moans turning into cries of pleasure as he keeps pounding into you faster. His gaze never wavers from yours when he starts to groan with each erratic breath he takes. “Come on, angel. Cum for me. I know your close. Cum for me again.”

And as if your body was listening to him more than to you, a second orgasm hits you like a freight train, making you squirm and writhe in his grip.

“That’s it, baby girl. Let it out, I want to hear ya fucking scream my name.” He keeps pounding, milking you out of your pleasure, and cumming right after you. “Fuck, you’re going to be the death of me, ya know that. I. Fucking. Hate ya.” That’s the last words you hear before he slams into you one last time with a loud groan, and stops moving.

His grip on your throat loosens, his hand moving to the back of your head, bringing you close to him and burying your face in his neck. He stays silent a few minutes, his hand stroking his hair. And your eyes fill with tears, knowing damn well what’s coming.

He has sobered up. Still stroking your hair, he whispers in your hear. “We have to stop it, love. We’re just hurting each other, and I hate hurting you.”

His body tenses as he feels your tears in his neck. He takes a deep, steadying breath. Not out of anger this time. Out of desperation and pain. He keeps whispering. “You deserve the world, and I leave nothing but chaos in my wake.”

He pulls you away, just enough to look into your eyes. He lays on the bed, keeping you in his lap, his arms around you like a vice as you rest your head on his chest. “You were right earlier. I am not strong enough to say no. You will have to be strong for us.”

He pauses as he feels his voice trembling. He hates being weak, but he knows that if there is one person in the world he can allow himself to be weak with, it’s you. “I hate that I have to ask you that, but you have to stay away from me. I love you too much to keep destroying you.”

And your grip on him tightens as tears keep straining your face. Because you know damn well that you will never be able to stop coming back.

[jungle-angel]

Under The Stars In Spring (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: You and Rhett finally have some time alone so you decide to make use of the barn loft for once

Warnings: SMUT (18+ no minors allowed), breeding kink, Rhett being too sexy for his own good etc.

Tagging: @floydsmuse @callmemana @attapullman @bradleybeachbabe @bradshawsbaby @sebsxphia

You and Rhett practically jumped from the truck, running towards the barn and riding the high of his win from that night, his last and final ride of his career which had ended in a quick and sudden victory.

You and him slipped quietly into the dimly lit barn, all the critters having come in from the fields and pastures just hours before. Spring had officially come to Wabang and with it the warm weather which would allow you and Rhett to sleep in one of two places, either on the enclosed part of the porch or in the barn loft and it looked like the latter might just be where you ended up.

The two of you were giggling and laughing like a pair of naughty schoolkids, even as he drew you into his arms, his cobalt eyes staring into yours. You swayed against each other, filled with a longing you had only known once before. You didn't know where it came from or why it was there, only that you desperately needed and wanted Rhett.

"Sweetheart, look at me," he said, his voice deep and gravely.

You hummed as he tilted your chin up to meet his face. Yours and Rhett's eyes fluttered shut, only to be met with his warm lips pressing gentle kisses to your own.

"Want you so fuckin bad," he whispered. "M'so hot for you baby."

You reached up and gently brushed your fingertips against his cheek, shocked at how warm he was, burning even. You eagerly returned the kiss, your fingers gently hanging onto his shirt collar.

"Hayloft," you whispered in between.

"Hmmmm?" Rhett purred, brushing his cheek against yours.

"Hayloft," you whispered again. "Can't fuckin take it anymore, I need you."

Rhett laughed, low and deep in his chest as he followed behind you, right up to the hayloft. No sooner had that trapdoor shut than he pulled you into his strong arms and attacked your neck, drawing a moan from you. God it was heaven, the feeling of his warmth against yours and Rhett kissing every sensitive little spot.

"So sensitive," he chuckled naughtily.

You laughed a little before your hands gently pushed him onto the soft haypile, a cheeky look of admiration in his eyes as you straddled his lap and kissed him full on the lips. Your kissing grew sloppier and more needy as he pulled you against him, his denim clad hips rubbing against your own and in desperate need of just a little bit of friction.

"Aw fuck....." he hissed. "Gotta get this shit off."

You eagerly helped him push off his jacket, then his mint green flannel and the grey t-shirt he wore beneath, your hands roaming across his warm body, up and down his chest.

His hands roamed across your lower back, slipping up the fabric of your t-shirt to unhook your bra. He carefully pulled it off from under your shirt, pawing at your now freed breasts. Rhett pulled your t-shirt up and over your head before tossing it to the corner where his own lay in a heap.

"Oh honey," he groaned, your tits pressing against his own. "Feels so fuckin good, feelin your titties against mine."

You giggled a little before you trailed a kiss down his cheek and over his neck, ghosting across his collarbone and over his chest. Rhett sighed and moaned happily as you sucked and licked at his nipples, trailing over his sternum and down his belly.

"Wait......wait....." he said suddenly. "C'mere darlin......c'mere......"

You let your husband guide you up so that you were once again face to face as he pressed gentle little kisses to your lips. His belt clinked as you undid it, both of you freeing yourselves from the last few pieces of clothing.

"Want you to fuckin ride me," Rhett said, gently cupping your cheeks in his hands.

"You sure?" you asked with a sly grin.

He nodded before pressing another kiss to your lips.

With Rhett's guidance, you eased yourself onto his hard, throbbing cock. You gasped at how easily it slipped into your wet, aching pussy and how gently his big hands had gripped your waist.

"Easy, easy there darlin......here we go....."

You gasped at the sensation, the pleasant tingling between your legs as your hips started to rock back and forth. It hurt a little, but it was only because your husband was so big.

"Shhhhh.......sweetpea it's alright......" Rhett murmured, holding you close to his body, his hips rocking against your own, his gentle thrusts causing your stomachs to flutter. "Shhhh.......calm down now........there we go.......look at you takin me so well honey, I'm so proud of you......"

You pressed another kiss to his lips, overwhelmed by his praise. "You're too good to me Rhett," you sighed.

Rhett smiled into the kiss, taking careful pains to keep his own rhythm steady. "Shhhh darlin......." he hushed. "Wanna enjoy you........wanna feel you........there we go.......good girl.....damn honey, wanna fill you up so fuckin bad....."

You felt your legs clench and an explosion of warmth suddenly blooming between your legs, the both of you cumming at the same time. When you had both regained your senses, you helped clean each other up as best you could, snuggling under some of the barn blankets as you gently explored each other's bodies.

"You think it'll feel good to finally retire at thirty one?" you chuckled.

"(Y/n) I'm lookin forward to it," he said, pressing his lips to your forehead. "Still gotta work that teachin job at your school but it'll be worth it."

You leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips before you both fell asleep in each other's arms, the sounds of the peepers lulling you both to sleep and the moon shining in through the skylight above.

[constant-mason24]

The Gut Feeling

Soap MacTavish x Reader

⚠️MODERN WARFARE THREE SPOILERS⚠️

Reader (Nicknamed Klepto for her scavenging skills) has a tendency to sense terrible events before they happen.

°•°•°•°•°

Klepto stood behind the others, leaning against a table full of weapons and gear. She wasn't listening as Laswell and Price spoke about whatever move they were making next, and her focus was suddenly brought back when Soap came and leaned up next to her.

"You good, lass?" He asked, quietly so they others wouldn't be interrupted. Klepto nods.

"Just thinking... Too much has been happening lately."

"Aye," MacTavish agreed with a sigh, moving his gaze to the others who were discussing some suspicious shipment at the moment. "The sooner we catch this bastard, the sooner I can rest easy."

"Same here." Klepto breathed. "I've got that feeling again."

"The stomach thing?" Soap raises a brow, looking over at the woman. "Like before Graves turned on us?"

"Exactly like that," She nods. "But twice as strong and it hasn't stopped for a week. I think something bads about to happen."

"We should let Price know."

"What good will that do? 'Hey, Cap. I don't feel so good, can I sit out this mission? No I know we need to kill this ultranationalist before he kills more civilians, but my tummy hurts.'" She elbowed Soap gently in the ribs, who pushed her back with the same amount of force.

"No, we should tell him you've got that... premonition again."

"Premonition?" Soap nods in response.

"That gut feeling of yours have saved my life quite a few times now. I know better than ignore your stomachaches."

"It's saved you?" Klepto asked, glancing st Price as he looked their way.

"Aye. It saved me in Las Almas. Twice. And in Chicago, and again in Verdansk." He lists them off on his fingers, about to speak again when Klepto waves her hand.

"But that doesn't mean Laswell and Price will just... what, stop everything? Because I seem to have an acute sense of danger?"

"They just might rethink their plans." Soap shrugs, clapping a hand on her shoulder and leading her towards the team. "Can't hurt to mention it."

Klepto just hums and nods, allowing MacTavish to lead her to the group. The conversation seemed to have lulled to a stop as they stepped into the circle.

"And what were you two discussing over there?" Price tilted his head, half teasing the pair. It was no secret they had a soft spot for each other.

"Klepto's sixth sense has been going haywire recently." Soap patted her shoulder before lowering hand. Ghost leans his head back with a slight nod, knowing full well about her 'sixth sense.' Everyone else just looked confused.

"She can always tell before something terrible is about to happen." Ghost grunts out, drawing the groups attention back to himself. "Took us a while to figure out that's what it meant. She's our very own canary in the coal mine."

"I just think something going to go wrong here. I can feel it. But I understand if that's not enough to act on, Captain." She nods at Price, trying to convey some kind of desperation in her eyes. "Still, I ask you not to take this lightly. I've never felt it this strongly before."

"We can't stop what's coming." Price shakes his head. "We can't afford to back out on this one. But we'll be especially careful, I can promise you that."

"I understand." She frowns. "This is too important."

"Right." Price went back to discussing the hacker Makarov had been working with. It seemed he was in London, and the taskforce was hoping to catch him this time...

°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The feeling was only getting worse. They were pushing through the train tunnel, Soap and Klepto following the Captain's lead. Between dodging fire from the Konni soldiers and the trains passing through every so often, Klepto was finding it hard to focus on anything happening.

The squad reached a point in the tunnel where the Konni men seemed to be staying in place. As they cleared the place, Soap pointed out that they were guarding a bomb, and Klepto's stomach did a flip.

"This is it!" She yelled, firing on an enemy and watching him bite the dust. "I feel it."

"I'll defuse the bomb. You two cover me!" Soap yelled sliding into place next to the bomb. More soldiers came from behind the team, and Price and Klepto laid down cover fire as Soap got to work on the bomb.

She planted herself right between Soap and the incoming troops, firing into the clouds of smoke that the enemy had popped. Soap called for Price to come help with the bomb, but Klepto didn't move from her post. She felt damn near nauseous now, the feeling only worsening as Ghost called through the radio.

Makarov was here. And he was closing in.

She back herself closer to the bomb, and her teammates with it. She focused all her attention on the tunnel ahead of her, trying to swallow down the feeling of illness climbing up her throat. Suddenly a shots rang out and a bullet slipped past Klepto- hitting Soap right on the plating.

Price tried to get Soap to return fire, but Soap argued he couldn't due to the bomb. Klepto took her place firing back at the enemy until it was clear and Price returned to the bomb.

Just as the two were about to defuse the bomb, footsteps and a gunshot came from behind Klepto, and she turned to see Soap falling to the ground as Makarov made a run for Price. One of Makarov's men fired at Klepto, and as she tried to hit them back, the bullet hit her shoulder and she went down.

Makarov tried to shoot Price, but as Klepto was recovering from her wound, so was Soap. MacTavish stood and leapt at Makarov with a knife, plunging it into the man's shoulder. Makarov grabbed Soap's arm, breaking it and raising his gun right to Soap's temple.

By this time, Klepto was on her feet, but she had lost her weapon. Still, she knew had to move, and she dropped her uninjured shoulder in front of her, charging at the man aiming at MacTavish.

Makarov's gun went off just before her hit the ground, and Klepto threw herself on top of the man. She landing punch after punch to his face before Makarov's soldiers reacted. One of them fired at her, hitting her right in the chest plate and knocking her off the man. As Makarov stood up, the second team suddenly came barreling behind them, shooting down the Konni.

The enemy took off running, and Gaz and Price ran quickly to the bomb. As much as they both wanted to give chase, defusing the explosive took priority.

The two cut the wires and the bomb deactivated, leaving Gaz with a sigh of relief. Captain Price seemed to take a moment before turning to Soap, Ghost, and Klepto.

Ghost was kneeling next to Soap's body, and Klepto sat with his head pulled into her lap. She had a piece of cloth ripped from a shirt held to his head, and Ghost moved his hand away from Soap's neck.

"Is he-?" Gaz asked, unable to finish his question.

"He's alive." Ghost breathed heavily. "Broken arm and a graze to his head, but he's alive."

"Thank fucking God." Price groaned, standing over the rest of the team. Gaz knelt down to put pressure on Klepto's shoulder, chastising her for ignoring her own wounds as she was losing blood.

"All stations- this is Bravo in the blind. Threat neutralized. Bomb is safe. Two WIA." Price huffed into his comms, as Gaz took Klepto's weight upon himself as he helped her stand.

"He's okay." She mumbled, feeling dizzy from blood loss. "He's okay."

"You won't be, if we don't get you medEVAC soon." Ghost grumbled, lifting Johnny up as well. Price led the way, gun raised as the rest of his team limped to freedom behind him.

[itsohh]

Death Goes to Disco Part 1

A/N: Female reader, this was long so I'm chopping it into two chapters. This ones ah a little more... less plausible than some of my other work but bear with me okay. Also this work may be named after a (honestly banging) song but does not fit it (much) lmao. oh yeah and yer got a callsign.

Summary: Second in command in Shadow Company you're someone that Graves can trust and rely on. Yet that trust is put to the test when he follows out his orders to betray both your ally's trust.

Word count: 4505  

Warnings: Smut, angst

AO3 Masterlist Part 2

A curse left Graves's mouth as he grumbled away from Hassan. All that effort to get him, only to let him go. "Rough." You placed a hand on his shoulder. You had been silent the entire time, allowing the big fish to play.

"Two minutes, leave me alone with him for two minutes." He hissed towards you.

"That would be an act of war wouldn't it?" You hummed and felt for your pocket. Slowly you pulled out the lolly and undid it.

"Not if no one finds out about it." You stuck the lollipop in your mouth as you listened to him vent.

"At that point, I think it's just murder."

"Something people get away with on the daily."

"Want one?" You pulled it from your mouth and aimed it in his direction.

"Not today. Hate this by-the-book shit." He muttered and you shrugged.

"It be like that sometimes." The pair of you turned as you were approached. Soap, you had heard them call him.

"So who's this?" He flashed you a smile and your eyes glanced over to Ghost who hovered behind him.

"This here is my second in command. Lieutenant Co-"

"Tsk, hate it when you call me that." You aimed the candy at him and he laughed.

"Alright then, this here is Disco. Best shot I ever saw." He praised.

"I'm alright. Everyone has their bad days."

"Pleasure to meet you. You were up with tv right? Think I heard your voice once or twice." Soap had a relaxed expression on his face.

"Mm, not that I did much. I prefer my feet on solid ground." Your eyes glanced to Graves before you looked back towards Soap.

"Ah don't be like that, you're our good luck charm. Nothing goes wrong with you around." Graves slapped his hand on your shoulder and you let out a huff.

"Everyone has their bad days sir. I would say adequate planning, resources and skilful execution allowed us to do well today." When Graves went to open his mouth you cut him off. "Not your notion of good luck."

"Nothing's never gone wrong with you yet."

"Arguably that may be because you don't put me on risky work." You turned fully to face him.

"Well, you're here now."

"Would you call this work risky?" Soap's voice had you both turn to face him. You had to admit, it was a good question.

"I'd call this high consequences. Needs to be done once and done right. Speaking of, pack up Disco, we have work to do."

-

Rudy was an interesting guy had to admit. Yet he sucked at cards. The pair of you had hidden away in the corner up on top of a massive pile of crates in a hangar. "You have to be cheating." He sighed as you put your cards flat for him.

"Just lucky that's all. Got a good draw." You shrugged and pulled forwards the bullets you have been using as currency.

"What in the hell are you two doing up there?" It was Soap's voice that broke you both out of your game.

"Ah, losing horribly hermano."

"Wanna come join?" You gathered all the cards and flexed them in your hand. John paused for a moment then shrugged.

"Ah, why the hell not?" He climbed up and sat next to you. "Surprised you two don't have to get organised for the raid."

"That's gonna be at least two hours away, Shadows gotta get everything sorted out." You hummed and started to deal.

"Huh, don't you have to I don't know supervise them as a Lieutenant?"

"Nope." You popped your P. "They know what they're doing. Besides I'm more combat focused. All the transport and gear n shit isn't my area of expertise."

"Where is your expertise?" Rudy asked.

"Graves."

"Graves?" Soaps raised a brow.

"He doesn't like being told no or something can't be done. I deal with that shit. He hates hearing about problems. I deal with that. In all honesty, though, I'm no leader."

"You sound like you don't like being a Lieutenant." Rudy looked up as you sorted out the bullets.

"So far things normally go pretty well. Nothing I've been responsible for has gone wrong which means he's slowly been putting me onto a higher and higher pedestal. Not looking forward to the day it all goes to shit."

"Scared of being fired?" Soap asked and you paused and looked up from your cards to him.

"Scared for the consequences that will affect the people under my charge. Terrified for the lives that will be taken for any mistake I make. Graves was instant on promoting me." You sighed.

"If you could, where would you put yourself?" Rudy asked and he pushed forward some bullets.

"I think I'd like to go back to when I was a Sergeant. High enough for my opinion to matter but lower enough to not have that pressure."

"Is that what being a Sergeant for Graves is like?" Rudy asked.

"Oh- no that was um before I started working for Graves."

"You were in the Military before going to Shadow Company? He pays that well?"

"It was never about the money. I lost a lot of friends and needed a change of scenery. Eventually, I'll go back, when the time is right."

"I'm sorry for your loss. It's never easy." Soap offered.

"It's part of this life. I should be used to it by now."

"It's never easy losing the people you care about. It's what makes us human." Rudy smiled and for a moment the three of you shared that moment. A nice understanding.

A few minutes later Rudy slapped his cards down. "I give up, you have to be cheating." He started to get up and you let out a whine.

"Ah come on, it's just luck. One more round."

"Never playing with you again." He huffed but his voice wasn't too hard. Still with the light tone, he hopped off the crate.

"Ahhh Rudy, stay."

"Yeah, you might be a witness to me thrashing her." Soap offered and Rudy waved him off.

"I better go check in with Alejandro."

"Good luck!" You smiled as he waved and when you turned back Soap's eyes were on you. You paused, there was a certain look to them that had your breath hitch. Hungry. Yet the second he noticed your gaze it softened and resumed to normal.

You went to open your mouth when you come lit up.

"Disco."

"Yeah, boss?" You looked at the channel, it was your private channel with Graves. You made strong eye contact with Soap, just to see his reaction.

"This is your hour and a half warning. If you want to take one of your stupidly long baths. Now is the time." Soap looked down to the communicator before his entire head lift up with a laugh. You sighed and could feel a flush wash over your face.

"Thanks for the warning. Will do, sir." It fizzled to nothing.

"You take two hour-long baths?" Soap asked as you cleaned up the area.

"No I take hour baths, the half an hour is to get ready. But fucking Phillip forgot we aren't at home. Which means I don't even have a fucking bath to use." You rolled your eyes and Soap laughed.

"That being said the shower in my room does look pretty inviting." You started and you saw Soap wet the bottom of his lips. Moment of truth. "Would you like to join me?" You boldly asked and he cocked a brow in response.

Something flashed over his eyes for a moment and he paused. "I have a partner." Dread washed over you and you swallowed.

"Oh! I'm so sorry, I uh misread things don't worry about it." You looked away and started to get up. He grabbed your wrist.

"That's- uh it's a little more complicated than that. We have an agreement if well." He let out a sigh of frustration. "I'd like to join you, maybe not for a shower but maybe some fun. He likes to... watch." Soap cleared his throat.

"Oh, ohhhh. I see I uh. I've never done anything like that. Do you do this often?"

"Talked about it a few times but no one's taken us up on this."

"Huh, why? Who's your partner?"

"Ghost." He looked at you deadpan.

"Yeah okay." You immediately said without any hesitation. Soaps brows raised at your nonchalant expression.

"Just like that?"

"We are all adults, aren't we? If your relationships solid I'm fine for a little bit of blowing off steam." Soap let go of your wrist at your answer and went for his communicator.

"Hey LT where you at?"

-

Outside of your door, you had a lollipop in your mouth while the pair of you waited for Ghost. "You look nervous as hell, don't need to be shy because of me." You leaned against your door.

"Not you that I'm nervous of."

"Ghost?"

"Yeah I mean we have talked in depth about this. If we wanted to ever do anything with a woman, spice it up."

"Scary going through with it?"

"Yeah."

"If it makes you feel better. It's not my first time doing something similar to this."

"Been with a couple before?"

"No, but had a third once. It was a pair of twins. They were identical and did everything together. Almost like a hive mind."

He laughed at your recollection. "How did that go?"

"Fun for the first time. The third time? Got a bit weird."

"Why was that?"

"Their older sibling wanted to get involved. Heard great things about this tongue of mine."

"Yeah?" His eyes glanced down to your mouth.

"Shame is that they just happened to be my CO's ex."

"Shit."

"Yeah, all I could think about was the one time I caught my CO blackout drunk crying over 'em. Never saw any of them again after that." The lollipop made a decent sound when you popped it out of your mouth. "Least I get a good story out of it."

"Is that what you're looking to get tonight?" You swore you could feel another pair of eyes on you as John spoke but when you turned towards the direction, nothing.

You looked back toward Soap and pointed your candy towards him. "I'm looking for this cunt of my mine to get fucking destroyed. The exact specifications are up to you. Considering we are still at work I presumed it was a mutual unsaid agreement that this would all be kept between the three of us."

"Glad we're on the same page." He took your hand and slowly brought it towards his mouth. The pink lollipop passed between his lips and gave a decent suck on it before it popped out of his mouth once more.

"I didn't say you could have that." His lips curled up on his face as you pulled it back from him.

"Oops."

"Better take back what's mine then." You pushed your lips against his. A groan was muffled against your lips and John returned it. The sweet taste of your candy mixed with the taste of him that you had to admit was one of the best flavour combinations you had ever had. Trapped between him and the door, his body pressed against you firmly and your arms hung around the back of his neck.

He felt for the door nob and suddenly pushed it open. John grabbed your legs and lift them up around his waist. He smiled against your lips and slowly started to carry you towards your bed. All the while the sound of your constant wet kisses filled the room.

It was subtle and barely noticeable. The door clicked behind the pair of you and the lollipop was taken from your hand. It was just enough to gain your attention. Your lips broke away from Soap and you panted slightly for air. Not one to stop, he found the side of your neck and started to kiss down it, sucking on your skin.

You pushed his head into your neck with your hand while you threaded your fingers through the thick hair of his Mohawk. Over his shoulder, your eyes found the dark figure in the spare chair in your room. Ghost. Completely silent, he sat rather comfortably. His legs were spread and his ankle rested on his knee. The mask on his face was lifted up ever so slightly and you noticed the small white stick that stuck out.

His eyes roamed not only over Johnny but you. It had an idea form into your mind as his eyes soon locked with yours. With your gear already gone, it was rather easy for John to remove your shirt. Then your bra.

A moan stifled in your throat and your eyes closed when John kissed down your chest and sat down on the bed. Now faced away from Ghost, you were mounted on Soap's lap. Soap's hands found the base of your ass where he started to grab at the tightness of your pants and roll your hips against him.

"Fucken gorgeous you are." He mumbled against your skin only to whine when you pushed away from him and got off his lap.

"Shirt off Sergeant." You took a few steps away from him, aware of both sets of eyes that were on you. John started for a moment before you spoke up again. "Don't make me ask twice." You could see the strain in his already tight pants and he breathed out before he ripped the shirt over his head.

"Good boy." The praised has his eyes lids hood for a moment and his throat bob.

Your fingers went to your pants and popped them over. Leaning forward slightly, you pushed them off giving Ghost a perfect view.

With your black underwear still on, you settled down onto your knees in front of Soap and undid his pants. His cock quite literally sprung free when you pushed away his briefs. Pre cum had already started to settle on the tip and he let out a hiss when your hand spread it.

"Been a while since I've seen one as pretty as yours." You kissed the tip before your lips wrapped around it. Soap let out a long choked moan and his hand snapped to the back of your head.

Your mouth popped off his cock and you looked up to him. "I didn't say you could touch now did I? Be a good boy and sit there for me." His eyes met yours and made a small nod and let go of your head. Soaps hands found the sheets on your bed and balled into them when you resumed.

Each bob of your head had you going just a little bit deeper, the curvature of his cock making it a little hard to swallow down your throat.

Your throat couldn't keep the abuse up forever though. It constricted around him as you choked for a moment. A loud moan fell from Soap's mouth and his head tilted back and slightly bucked up into your mouth. He was twitching, throbbing inside of you.

At his disobedience, you ripped your mouth off only to lick from his base all the way to the tip of his cock. "Getting a little carried away were we?" You pushed up off the ground to his whimper. Behind him, you crawled onto the bed. The tips of your nails racked down the front of his bare chest as you pressed your chest against his back. Soap's head fell back against you as you nibbled down the side of his throat.

"What do you want? Use your words."

"You, oh fuck I need to be inside of you." In reward, you pressed kisses against him and gave a light tug on his nipple that had him curse out to your amusement.

"You know…" Your voice trailed off when you crawled off the bed and stalked to the front. You gave John a short kiss before you turned around and placed your legs over his. Spread apart you grabbed his cock and settled it just between your folds while he gripped onto you almost bruisingly hard. It was obvious he was holding himself back.

"I may be borrowing John here for today from you. But that doesn't mean I don't mind sharing. I'm sure I can handle the both of you." Your eyes looked up and for the first time in a while, all attention was on Ghost.

Obviously affected, his hand has settled to rest over his cock. Even in his pants, you could see the long outline against his leg. It was an open offer, if he didn't want to participate, that was up to him. Yet it told him exactly everything he needed to know if he wanted to. Under you, you slipped John's cock inside and sat down properly.

"Fucking hell." You looked over your shoulder, your hand on his chin and kissed his lower lip. With his eyes shut and mouth open, you couldn't deny it was a beautiful sight.

"You may touch." You whispered and his eyes snapped open. Soaps arms wrapped around your waist and he used his grip there as an anchor to start thrusting up into you.

His eyes were locked onto yours as your moans mixed with his and the wet sound of cock spreading you wide. One hand reached up to your breast and placed his entire hand over it. Palming it, Soap's cock twitched inside of you and his head fell forward.

Only when another presence was felt did you turn. Facing forward, your eyes wet met this Ghost's torso in front of you. You had to crane your neck up to make eye contact with him. He was tall. Really tall. His gloves hand came to your throat. Right away you knew you wouldn't be able to control him like you did with John.

"You think you can handle both Johnny and I."

"I know I can."

"We'll see." His free hand went to his pants and undid it without looking down.

"Mask stays on?" You asked and you could hear John chuckle lightly behind you.

"Always," Soap answered and you shrugged.

"Your choice, are you going to be showing us that chest of yours. Or is it cock only?" Your brow raised. Silently Ghost removed his shit and you were greeted with his strong chest and the sleeve of tattoos on his arm.

"Nice piece of art."

"Isn't he?" Soap grinned in your ear and looked over your shoulder. He seemed almost proud to be showing off Ghost to you.

"She meant the tattoo Soap." He made eye contact with him and John's eyes fell on his arm.

"Ah, right." Hesitantly, you let go of Soap and settled your hands on Ghost's thighs. "Don't worry, he doesn't bite. Masks like a muzzle." He pressed a kiss against your throat and side-eyed Ghost.

Your hands undid his pants while he stroked the side of your throat with his thumb. Right, where your artery was. Ghost allowed you to pull his cock from his pants and you could feel the blood drain from your face. Happily still and buried inside of your cunt Soap could feel the way you clenched around him at the sight.

"He's big, isn't he? Was a long night the first time I took him."

"Still sure?" Ghost's hand went from your throat to your cheek and rubbed it ever so gently with his thumb.

"Maybe not."

"Ah no one's blaming you, he is stupidly big-" Soap started before you interrupted him.

"-In this position. On the bed Soap. You in front of me big boy." You climbed off John and dragged him onto the bed behind you. Soap let out a laugh at your enthusiasm and soon slid back inside of you from behind. The pair of you moaned together and John pressed his face into your neck.

"Fuck your so tight, no idea how you're going to handle the both of us." Ghost found his place in front of you. With his pants now removed, he settled on the bed and lift your leg up to give him that perfect angle.

Ghost's finger went to your cunt and swiped a decent amount of your juices. He pulled the now empty plastic stick from his mouth and placed it on your side table. He replaced it with his finger and let out a hum. "Johnny." The finger slipped from under his mask and repeated the action. This time instead of his own mouth, he pushed it into John's mouth. Still slick with his saliva.

"Mmm, now that's a good-tasting cunt you got there. If we'd had more time…" Soap trailed off. Your eyes met Ghosts and you grabbed his cock to line it up with your already stuffed cunt.

"So wet but will it be enough?" Soap hummed and you put the tip of the cock at your entrance.

"Go for it."

A chorus of moans was drawn from all three of you as Ghost pushed in. Your cunt greedily accepted him until he was completely buried inside, both of them pressed together.

"You actually took us." There was amazement in Soap's voice, slightly hazed out.

"You doubted me?" You tried to sound smug but it ended up coming out as a small whine. "I know my limit, now. Move." Ghost's grip on your leg tightened and his eyes twitched slightly before he slipped back and then slammed himself back into you.

The action had a ripple effect among the pair of you. John started to move with him, slipping out when Ghost thrust in. A perfect synchronisation that had you holding onto Ghost's shoulders for dear life.

The feeling of them both being inside. It was unlike anything you had ever had before. You could feel both of them so distinctly, the long thick vein that ran up Ghost's cock, the curvature of Soap's cock that had it straining against Ghost's. The way both of them pulsed and throbbed inside. Never had you been so full of cock. They were overwhelming, delicious, perfect. Never in a million years would you accurately be able to describe the pure pleasure the pair of them brought you, fucking into you.

Then came John's hand on your clit. With a cry you clenched down on their cocks, whimpering and panting out as you clenched around them. Together they lowly groaned. Soap swore and lightly bit your shoulder as your cunt milked him of all his cum. Overcome by your cunt clenching him through his orgasm it was impossible to hold back. A reaction that tipped Ghost over the edge and joined the pair of you in ecstasy. Slowly Ghost lowered your leg and you all lay there like that together.

Time ticked away and the two men cuddled up towards you rather content. Your eyes fell on the side table clock. You had about forty minutes before you would need to leave.

Despite the two men's sleepy protests, you wriggled free from them with the intent to go shower. At first, you were a little sore but when the warm water washed over you, you couldn't help but almost feel energised. It was like they had washed away all the stress that had been building up over the last couple of years. You felt like a new woman.

Out of the shower and all cleaned up. Your eyes glanced towards the two men still asleep in the bed. In your absence, they had found each other. Ghost despite being the far larger man, had cuddled up to Soap with his head on Soap's chest. John had an arm wrapped around Ghost while their legs tangled together. The display was cute and heartwarming. Yet, it also made you painfully aware of their relationship. It was obvious that they cared about each other. A lot. The content smiles on each other's faces, the way they were so comfortable- so in love. It made you a little envious. In the end, you were an outsider. Someone lucky enough to spend an hour or so intruding upon that relationship.

Your eyes cast down as you got dressed. It was clear from the beginning. This was just a bit of fun. You knew that you would all finish up this work with the missiles and never see each other again. Perhaps it would be kinder for you. With your shirt now on, you set an alarm for about twenty minutes. It should give them enough time to shower and get dressed. In the meanwhile, you left your room.

-

The mission went well. Really well. Soon you found yourself on the ride back to the base. Until you were stopped. A little confused you got out of the car and subtly Graves handed you his pistol. "Boss, what's going on?" You whispered.

"New orders, bare with me here." Your eyes glanced over to Alejandro, Soap and Ghost.

You could feel your heart race as Graves continued on. As things started to escalate. How did you not know about this? Why hadn't he told you about this?

"Disco." There was an accusation in Soap's voice. Venom. Hatred. A look you couldn't handle. You glanced down under his gaze.

"Now now, she's not dealing with this. I am. But if you want her input I'm sure she would be a lot happier if you boys stand down." Graves glanced at you for a moment.

"I would prefer if no one got hurt." You swallowed out.

"See, this can all resolve peacefully."

"Peacefully? Peacefully? My men are in there!" Alejandro took a step towards them. He was right, you had no idea what happened to his men.

"Your men have been… detained." All hell came loose and soon Alejandro was knocked out beside you. To your right, the Shadows were killed by Ghost and everyone's attention was on Johnny.

"Johnny go!" Ghost's voice came while Graves shot at the man. You, however, were still on the side with Ghost. He turned and was met with your eyes. The pistol raised in your hands. He didn't move. For a split second, the pair of you stared at each other. He didn't go for his knife. You didn't shoot. The image of his soft closed eyes asleep on your borrowed bed flashed before your eyes and you lowered the gun. "Go." Almost silent. There was no way he could have heard it but he certainly read in on your lips. Ghost didn't hesitate and dashed away from the vehicle into the night.

Slowly attention went off John and Graves was focused on Ghost. "He's already gone, sir. He was too fast for me." The lie came out of your lips perfectly. Just the right amount of disappointment and frustration in your voice to sound believable. With no other witness and no reason to question your loyalty, Graves accept it and swore out.

[enigmatist17]

It's so quiet.

Everything has been so quiet since the funeral, and for once, even the demons of Sunnydale know the Slayer grieves, so they've stayed away. She'd tried to patrol once, still clad in her black ensemble and tears running down her face, and had come across a vampire nest.

The nest had not survived, and Buffy had sobbed when the last vampire dissolved to dust in her hands, crying until the sun covered her like a warm blanket.

It's been days since then, and as much as she hurts, Buffy knows she needs to patrol. The chirps of crickets and other wildlife are distant as she aimlessly wanders, the cold that should make her shiver settling over her like a silk shroud, its reception barely registered. It's dangerous to be like this, Buffy knows, but she has to do this.

She supposes it's why the familiar leather that is draped around her doesn't make her jump, the faint smell of cigarettes almost comforting.

"You shouldn't be out, pet."

"I have to be." The weak answer is responded to with a slight scoff, the clink of a lighter following soon after.

Vampire and vampire slayer stand side by side, over a grave that Buffy hadn't realized she'd come back to.

"She was a good one she was." Spike's voice has a tremor that finally has Buffy tear her eyes from the ground. "Never treated me like a freak, bought me those little marshmallows an' all just cause I like 'em."

"I was wondering..." She knew damn well who they were for, but then again, Mom loved practically everyone who was in the house longer than five minutes.

Spike continues to smoke, the white clouds trailing up and into the night.

"I heard you left flowers, or tried anyway." The sudden coughing makes Buffy crack a tiny smile, catching a peek of wide blue eyes that seemed to shine with...well, something, for just a moment, before Spike is back in control.

"Lies."

"Mhm.."

They trail off yet again, and Buffy draws the familiar coat tighter around herself, as if it'll ward away the pain that permeates her very life.

"I know you're the Big Bad...but Dawn could use your company." Buffy's voice is barely above a whisper, but she knows he can hear all the same. "So could I."

"Look, I'm many things, but even I know when to avoi-"

"I am inviting you, Spike." Protests died on pale lips as Spike stared at her, clearly unsure of what to do or say. "Please."

"....aight." Spike swallowed before flicking his spent cigarette on the ground and snuffing it out with his heel. "Let's go pet, you're freezing."

"Probably..." He nearly jumps when Buffy hugs his closest arm with a quiet sigh, wondering what god answered his deepest wishes as they begin to head for Revello Dr. That would be for later consideration. Right now, they were both hurting, and if his company was what she needed, then Spike would offer his corpse if needed.

Unseen by both of them, high above the town that settled down for sleep, Joyce smiles.

[queenieferelden]

A03 fanfic: A Spy in the Desert

❤️Excerpt❤️ from chapter 46

(Yeah, I know he technically had a shirt on in this scene but I wanted to draw that BACK)

As if she’d been summoned, in walked Reina with a large backpack strapped to her. Her expression was unreadable as she looked at both of them, pausing in the lamplight of the doorway. Logan’s heart beat into his throat nervously. She’d pulled her short hair back into braids, the shorter parts of it still hung loosely around her shoulders, and she wore a pair of jeans with an Atara University t-shirt. She glanced between them, pursing her lips.

“What is this? The awkward room?” She gave a tentative smile.

“Rainy…” Logan’s jaw felt slack, the relief washed over him like a clean, hot shower. “Ya came.”

“Well, I felt bad that Haru was stuck with you walking around half naked.” She pitched a lip up, walking a few steps forward and swinging the pack off her shoulder and onto the floor so she could dig in it.

“Oh, you didn’ seem ta mind.” He said, grinning from ear to ear. She glowered at him and Haru smacked a hand to his face with an inward groan.

“Nice job taking my advice on subtlety.” He jeered, low enough so that Reina couldn’t hear, then in a louder voice spoke to her as he stirred the concoction in the mortar. “How was sand sledding, Reina? Who won?”

“A rock.” She shrugged.

“What?” Haru and Logan asked together.

“Unsuur strapped his pet rock onto a sandsled and it ended up beating everybody that was actually racing.” She chuckled and blindly threw a shirt and pants at Logan, who caught them with his injured side and hissed in pain.

“Weird guy.” Logan said, putting the clothing on the table gingerly.

“He’s growing on me.” Reina smirked to herself, and Logan couldn’t help but feel a small pang of irrational jealousy. He couldn’t even get her to look at him right now and the man who’s friends with a rock could keep her attention. Click. Shink. Click. Shink.

“So… er-” Logan didn’t know how to start. He looked over to Haru desperately for guidance, but his friend merely cocked a brow at him as if to say dig your own grave. Logan closed the knife and placed it on the table, then threw the white shirt she’d brought him through his arms carefully, beginning to button it. “Does this mean I’m off the hot coals here?”

Reina did not respond, she just looked at him, her expression amused. He gave her a tentative grin, and she tilted her head and returned the smile. He blew out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in, and felt his body relax as she walked closer. Then, without warning, she reeled back and slapped him hard against his left cheek. Logan stared at her wide eyed, a hand pressed to his stinging flesh, and she sighed and sunk into the chair next to him.

“I feel much better.” She said, face serene.

“Me too.” Haru held his stomach against the laughs rolling from him. “Thanks Reina, he’s been needing that for weeks.”

“Hardy har.” Logan grumbled, rubbing his cheek sullenly. Then, he turned to her with a softer expression, trying to get her to meet his eyes. “It’s late. Are ya plannin’ on stayin’ the night? Yer not gonna go back in the dark, right?”

“I’ll be fine.” She opened the front flap on her pack and handed him a small, thin package. “Found that in your house… and I figured you might want it.”

He gently ripped into the fragile brown paper that had been taped over it, realizing that it was a simple wooden frame with a pane of glass. The wood, inlaid with swirling white patterns, was familiar to him. He ripped further down to expose the photo. It was one of the photos from his old apartment. Howlett held him, a child no older than Andy was, on his lap. They both sat smiling and waving at the photographer in black and white.

“I…” For once, Logan was rendered speechless. He set the frame facedown and looked away, coughing into his hand, and suppressing the tears that threatened to rise. Haru took the frame and smiled warmly at it. They hadn’t been able to go back after the temple bombing. It had been a year since he’d seen his pa’s face.

“You don’t have to say anything.” Reina looked away, blushing. “I also brought some pastries that Mabel made for me. We can share them if you’d like.”

“Thanks Reina.” Haru gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder before returning to his bomb making, taking the mortar from the fire with a small metal instrument and spooning the thick sludge into a bowl with the dye and baking soda. “Hey Logan, why don’t you show Reina her new room.”

“I… what?” Reina scrunched her eyebrows together, looking over to Logan in confusion.

“Ah, yeah, almost forgot.” Logan stood and offered her a hand. She just stared blankly at it, and he instead shoved it in his pocket awkwardly. Okay, so she was still a little mad at him. He deserved it after putting her through the wringer for eight months. “Follow me.”

Logan led her down the hallway into the small chamber that they had sat in a few nights ago during the sandstorm. His throat bobbed at the memory of her hand in his, how close she’d been to him that night. He gestured her forward through a thick curtain that was held up by rebar. She paused, looking at the room with wide eyes.

“So, I know ya have trouble sleepin’ here.” He rubbed his neck, feeling incredibly nervous as she walked around what lay in the middle. A small hut that Haru had helped him construct out of an old shipping container and metal sheets. It wasn’t large, just wide enough to hold a bed, with a door that latched shut from the inside. “I thought that if ya had somethin’ to sleep in, a room to yerself and all that… it wouldn’t be so bad if ya got stuck here again.”

“You… did this all for me?” Reina placed a hand on the metal roof of the structure and looked over at him, eyes a bit shiny. Logan looked upward sheepishly. He’d never been smooth when it came to giving important gifts to people, all the emotional stuff made him embarrassed. Her honey eyes bore into him.

“Well… er-yeah.” He said. “Yer a part of our team now, and I care about ya gettin’ a good night’s sleep. I don’t mind sharin’ a space with Haru, but I know yer privacy is important and… well… I know it’s nothin’ special.”

“It is special…” Reina walked to him with a shy smile. “This was… really thoughtful.”

“Well,” Logan chuckled, gazing into her eyes. “I think about ya a lot so…”

She extended her hand, then gripped the collar of his shirt. For a brief moment Logan thought she might slap him again and was completely caught off guard when she tugged him down into her. His lips met with hers, soft and supple, and he breathed sharply out his nose, drawing her further into him, ignoring the pain in his arm as he held her body against his.

She draped her arms around his neck, lips moving in rhythm to his own, their kisses growing hungrier as time ceased around them. She bit his bottom lip, and he growled in approval, twisting her sideways against the wall, wrapping his hand into her silken black hair and pressing himself to her. There was not an inch of their bodies that weren’t melded together. Still, he wanted to be closer to her. He wanted to be inside her. His body ached with need as the force of the kiss unraveled him.

[yellowfingcr]

"Tell me, is there one that you carry close in your heart?"

A gentle question, her thumb carefully rolled over the knuckles of the hand she carefully held, "Is there a name that comes to mind when I invoke the thought? You, with your heart so full that it must ache. And should you have no wish to tell me, I will not fault you. Instead I simply inquire; tell me what love is to you, what does it mean to love so much? To be so full that you're bursting with it?"

(Feel free to treat this as more ask rather than thread, if this does not work for you then def let me know and I'll rework something for you! I got you I got you)

Heysel blinked. Heysel, her fingers half-buried in the cold grave of Helena’s ashen palm, lifted an eyebrow. Heysel, a snort later, burst into a laughter so full it startled birds, and tilted her head back and back and trembled her shoulders like plucked string.

“Oh, come on now, warfield confessor! A finesse for peeling peaches put into proffering this question and it’s something you already know!” she said, once the mirth had left enough space for language. “I am almost certain- almost!- you are aware and if you’re not then you at least suspect a name. As for the rest: you flatter me. I must reply that your mentioned fullness is not unlikely to be an alloy with a shocking density of bad ideas and worse puns, however.”

A light tilt of her hooded head, left, right, considering, smiling a jester’s self-aware sort of smile.

“Love is… quite the enormous word! I love a great deal of things. I love life. I love being alive. I love that I am an animal of many tiny lenses, made to experience. I find that the notion never fails to render me speechless. You and I are here right now upon this sliver of spacetime, wet with organs and rife with the filaments necessary to detect the world- electrical inputs are right now swimming minnow-quick up my limbs saying ah! cold!, and saying person! Black hair, grey eyes! Person just like me composite of the very same instruments of navigating and learning what is around oneself. I was made to understand you. Do you get it? Isn’t it grand?” Her free hand, reaching out, drawing a light quick line from the middle of her friend’s brow to the tip of her nose. Contact! What were the chances that you and I would be two things that ever collided in the endless oceans of history? “I guess what I was about to say was sort of said already. I love, deeply love, humanity. Which is- perhaps absurd, coming from a killer, but that’s quite the thing, isn’t it? We’re capable of so many vile and wonderful things. We cherish and want and hurt each other. We need each other. We desperately do not wish to forget each other. I am just… in awe.”

And the sigh that followed! An unending map of fondness. That she could splay herself across the whole of it, heartbeat to concept, not even her ribs between them, not even her skin. Grassplains and hills of love drawn from the epicenter of a little nothing-woman, yet behold, at one place convergence, like a capital underlined red- 

“...Still. Well. All this universality in my words, yet there is he, isn’t it? He who you either know or suspect. Mountain-cut, fire-strong. I have been called in the past a clay-and-marrow figurine in moments of deserved unkindness- he stands so tall at the opposite side of that definition, realer than real, a concentration of brightness like the pinhole end of a black hole, where all caught light knots. I’m aware that given the opportunity he would outline himself by his capability for destruction first and though he is magnificent in battle and I shan’t speak of how exquisite he looks when cloaked in the blood of his foes it is his kindness that I must mention to the world first. How else can someone so willing to build something out of thin straws of hope, if not for himself then for others, be called? Someone so willing to see fellow human beings as something just as true as himself and to suffer for them. I have never witnessed a heart such as his. I do not think I will ever witness it again.” A pause. “I will be candid. I do not know what he sees in me. But that too is part of loving, I think. To not try to understand and just… consign yourself to gravity, trusting you’ll be caught. I know he will catch me, always. And I will do the same for him. There is nothing I wouldn't do for him, because he is worth all. This spectacularly precious man. My knight beautiful, my sweeter half. My lodestar. My Brom.”

[rockcollector3000]

Right-Hand-Man

Graves x Shadow!Reader

Word count - 723

Warnings - mention of suicide, violence

Genre - fluff (?)

Notes - reader’s callsign is Delta.

Working for the Shadow Company wasn’t too bad, especially when you’re a high-ranking officer. You were Graves’ second in command, so you got a lot of privileges that other Shadows didn’t. One of those privileges was being in a relationship with your commander.

You were sat by Graves in the briefing room, looking at the map he had laid out on the table.

“We go in here,” he said, pointing at a spot on the map of the building. “Our sources say that the target should be on the second floor in the VIP lounge.” His commanding tone rang out in the room.

“We take the target alive, with minimal injuries if possible.” His words left no room for discussion. “Should any harm come to him, he will be useless to us anymore. We can’t afford to fuck this up, Shadows.”

You nodded silently, understanding the importance of this mission.

“Delta, you’ll be with me. We focus on giving the orders and ensuring the target makes it out of this alive.” He explained. “Am I clear?”

“Yes, commander.” You replied. “I’ll ensure the mission goes smoothly, sir.”

“That’s what I like to hear, sweetheart.” He said with his characteristic smirk. “Stick close to me, hm?”

Graves knew he didn’t have to tell you to stay close; at this point, it was second nature for you to be by his side at all times. He loved that you were always close to him, where he could see you and protect you.

He gave you a squeeze on the shoulder before standing up.

“Shadows, meet me at the hangar in ten minutes.” Graves ordered. “Dismissed.”

His hand was still on your shoulder. You looked up at him with a smile. “You alright?” You asked.

“Just admirin’.” He replied, leaning down. He gave you a soft kiss on your lips, one of his hands cradling your face.

“You know I love you, right?” Graves asked, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“I love you, too.” You said with a smile, leaning into his touch.

(Time skip to beginning of the mission)

Guns were drawn and tensions were high as you and Graves entered the building on the first floor.

“Delta, on me.” Graves said, scanning the room as he moved toward the stairs.

You signaled to the Shadows behind you to follow silently.

You made your way up the stairs in silence, ready to fire the moment anything happened.

A gunshot rang out through the building.

“Son of a bitch.” Graves huffed, running up the rest of the steps. “Delta, door.”

You waited for his signal to open the door to the VIP lounge.

He tilted his head, the signal. You opened the door quickly, drawing your gun to have Graves’ back.

The target, a middle aged politician, was already on the ground, dead.

“Dammit.” Graves groaned. “The bastard shot himself.”

The anger was evident in Graves’ posture as he stared down at the corpse.

“Exfil, we need a body bag at the ready upon pickup.” You said into your radio. You put a hand on Graves’ shoulder, a grounding touch for him.

“Shadows, file out.” Graves ordered.

The Shadows did file out, but Graves held you still with him. He sighed, looking at you.

“This makes our jobs a whole lot harder.” He said. “Without this asshole, we’ve got no leverage. I’m gonna have to completely change our plans.”

“We’ll figure it out, Phil.” You said, putting a hand on his face, stroking his cheek gently. “We always do.”

He visibly calmed down at the contact. “We’ll figure it out.” He echoed.

Graves leaned his forehead on yours, sighed. “Love you, darlin’.” He said quietly.

“I love you too.” You replied.

The trip back to base was tense, no one dared to speak. Graves had his hand on yours, running his thumb across your knuckles gently.

Debrief went quick, there wasn’t much to say. You and Graves were the only ones who really did anything.

After it was over, Graves looked over to you. “You wanna go get dinner?” He asked.

You thought for a moment before nodding. “I was thinking burgers, does that sound good to you?” You asked.

“You know burgers always sound good.” He sighed. “I’ll meet you at the car in twenty minutes. Go get changed, alright?”

[lirusstories]

Sharpened Stones - Septic/Egotober Day 2

Tw: Panic Attack, Flasback

Egotober: Stone(sorta)

Septictober: Sharp Objects (Sorta)

Word count: 792

”I do think-“

“Henrik I'm fine I can go up and down the stairs just fine.”

Henrik gives Jack a Look that has him looking away.

“You need to take it easy, you are still recovering and-“

”Alright Alright I'll stay downstairs while you guys are gone.“ Trying to keep from sounding upset.

Henrik sighs, ”Look, Chase will back in a couple of hours, he's picking Angus up from the airport, just. If it weren't for Jackie you would have fallen yesterday.”

“That wasn't my fault!”

“I know, your legs gave out and that is the issue. You need to keep using your legs yes but I am begging you to use your cane and refrain from using the stairs.” Henrik tells him concerned.

“I know Marvin's potions are helping but they are not a cure all, you were-” Henrik takes a deep breath as he tries not to get upset further, he doesn't want to make Jack upset either but at this point it feels rather inevitable sometimes. He doesn't blame him it's just, frustrating.

“I'll be fine Henrik, I'll walk around down here and if I'm hungry I'll just grab something from the kitchen.” Jack assures.

Henrik still looks concerned before eventually caving and nodding.

”Alvight, Alvight. I'll leave you alone. Just, call one of us is something comes up, alvight?“

”Alright Alright, I'll be fine. Don't forget you have other patients to look after.“ Jack attempts to joke lightheartedly.

Henrik gives him a different Look.

”Jack, you are my brother, you are who I'm most concerned for.“ Henrik tells him softly.

Jack can't help but feel warm and nod a little.

”Now, I do need to go to work before I have to deal with Randy calling me.“

”Fuck he's still around? You'd like he'd retired by now.”

“Yes well he likes ruining my day, so I better go before I send him into an early grave. I love you, and remember to call if you need one of us.”

“I know, I know. I love you too, now go before Randy starts blowing up your phone.”

Henrik chuckles and nods, far more relaxed about leaving jack at home. “I'll see you soon.”

“See ya, and be safe!” Jack shouts after Henrik before falling into a coughing fit after the door closes.

Damn he's really pushing is voice right now. He imagines his asthma isn't too happy with him either.

He sits back and manages a few breaths before taking in the silence.

He hates it.

He was alone that night too, if Jackie hadn't come home and found him...

He shakes his head, wincing as his memories make his throat throb before turning on the TV to drown out his memories. It's his first time home alone since he woke up and he will not let the anxiety get to him.

It's a few hours later when Jack's stomach starts rumbling and he realizes he should probably get up and make himself something.

Grabbing the cane given to him by the hospital, he pushes himself off of the couch before slowly making his way to the kitchen.

He rummages through the cupboard first, going to grab a bag of chips before Henrik's words ring through his head, reminding him to eat healthy for at least the first few months. Jackie, Chase and Jameson still slip him some chips or candy bars when Henrik, Marvin or Jacques aren't paying attention or home but still.

He sighs before grabbing the oatmeal. Hopefully he'll remember it on the stove.

-

Good news! He did, bad news, he's forgotten where the spoons are.

He remembered them yesterday he knows he did, he remembers that he grabbed them just, not from where.

So now here he is, opening and closing draws as he tries to remember where before freezing dead is his tracks.

He stares at the drawer filled with the knives.

He swears he can feel his body painfully and forcefully glitching again as he stares at them and for a moment he swears one of them is coated with red.

And he knows it's not real. He knows it's not because they've replaced them after that night.

He slams the drawer shut as he stumbles back and into the dinning room table as he gasps for breath.

It feels like there are stones in his stomach as his appetite vanishes as he desperately tries to ground himself but he just can't.

He can feel the cold metal opening his throat when he couldn't even twitch a muscle. And then his voice, oh god it sounds like it’s right in his ear.

”Look at you!“

Chase and Angus come home hours later to find him passed out under the dining room table.

Hello! If you enjoy our work and wish to see more, including spoilers, cut scene's or replaced scene's feel free to join our discord!

And if you really enjoy our work and want/are able to help us out, feel free to buy us a ko-fi or send us somethin on paypal!

Taglist:

@malaboos-bodacious-blog @glitchyartist @brokentimewatch @secondary-objective-active @randowaffle @jselorekeeper

(are we supposed to tag the lorekeeper or am i being silly)

[2af-afterdark]

licking eyeballs for erotic gratification

i dont wear them often but i have contacts and this is horrifying. i demand a fic of him licking your eyeballs only for your contact to fall out

Everyone stand back! I'm going to try writing crack and that can only end poorly (because I do not have a whimsical bone in my body).

Tags: Andrealphus x MC, Badly written crack, eye licking, mentions of spitting in mouths, MC swears

"That sounds absolutely disgusting," you deadpanned when he asked you if he could lick your eyeball. "Do you know how many germs are in a mouth? Do you know how much germs want to get into my body through all my orifices? Why would I make it easy for them? Plus, I don't want a close up view of what you ate for lunch."

"I literally spat in your mouth the other day. You swallowed it."

"Yeah, but that's hot. Especially when you called me a filthy whore."

He sighed. "You really are related to him."

No need to play the pronoun game on that one, because him could only ever refer to one person in that context.

"Yo, leave my grandpa and/or past life out of this. Our kinks are between us," you wagged your finger quickly between him and you, "and there is no faster mood killer than thinking about your (very distantly related) grandparents judging you from beyond the grave." Except Solomon would probably be proud of you for being able to still get it. He was a bigger horndog than even you were.

"I won't force you, so if you don't want to-"

"Oh no. I'll do it. It just sounds disgusting." You emphasized the final word in a way that made it sound more like disgoosting.

You took his hand and pulled it against your cheek so he could feel where you were. You let his thumb brush against your bottom eyelid so he could get a feel for the structure of your face. He used his pointer and middle finger to pull at your eyelids and force them to stay open. Then, he leaned in.

When he was close like this, you could actually smell how much he reeked. Well, it wasn't him so much as it was the dead things littering his clothing. The wing on his back needed to be replaced soon because the muscles and flesh were clearly starting to go bad. Plus, there was just... so much blood that tickled your senses and made you grimace.

But you let him get closer anyway and watched as his tongue lulled out of his mouth like some kind of fat, slimy, pink worm. You instinctually wanted to blink, but only one eye closed while the other was forced to keep watching as the tip of his tongue finally made contact.

You had no idea what a tongue against your eyeball was supposed to feel like, but it reminded you of a sponge scraping against a plastic dish. Honestly, it felt like something was rubbing against your cornea and was really uncomfortable.

"Okay. That's enough," you finally said when you couldn't take it anymore.

He huffed and hummed before drawing back. When he was far enough away, you realized something concerning.

"Oh shit! You're blurry." You looked around the room, taking in the half-crisp, half-fuzzy edges of the furniture. "Scratch that. Everything is blurry."

Andrealphus chewed something in his mouth for a moment, swishing it back and forth before sticking his fingers in his mouth and pulling out a small, clear, circular piece of plastic. He squished the thing between his fingers as he faced forward blankly.

"I have no idea what this is."

"That, my sweet Andrealphus, is called a contact lens and explains why I can't see shit right now." You took the contact from him, staring down at it still glistening with saliva. "I am not putting this back in." In fact, you would probably get a new pair altogether.

"Here." You grabbed his hand, put the contact into his palm, and closed his fingers around it. "You can keep it."

"And what am I supposed to do with it?"

"I dunno, but I don't want it."

"Truly you are the spirit of generosity," he said with no expression on his face or in his voice whatsoever.

"Was that sarcasm?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Even though he was still speaking bluntly, it was clear that he was pouting in his own special way.

"Oh, don't be like that." You grabbed the hand you hadn't put the contact in and put it against your face so he could feel your smile. "I love it when you're having fun. Won't you smile for me? Please? You're so handsome when you smile."

"You're incorrigible." But he chuckled and gave a small smile anyway. Very small. Nearly microscopic.

"There it is." You leaned into him and planted a kiss against the side of his mouth. "Your kink is weird though."

"So is yours."

"Yeeeeah. I know."

But he indulged you anyway, just like you would him... as long as you remembered to take the contacts out first.

[anurapoda]

Could you write some Grian + Etho? Don't care about type of pairing

HELLO ignore the fact it took me several months to write this, but I did it! I did a thing! I even had it beta read!! Just for you! The beginning and middle were written about 2 months before I got around to the ending, so if there's a mild shift in quality that's why. I haven't actually watched the episode where Grian enacts the sword so this isn't going to properly follow that AT ALL but it is inspired by it because at the time it was fresh on the ol' brain

Pairing: Grian + Etho Relationship: Platonic/Ambiguous Content Warnings: blood, injuries Words: 1335

The Sword

In Episode 8 Etho finds Grian exhausted, gravely injured, and without the supplies needed to heal himself. Instead of taking advantage of the situation and ending the last Bad Boy, Etho offers to enact the sword. Fluff ensues as the T.I.E.S member tends to the Bad Boys wounds.

[story under cut]

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

Grian's breathing was staggered as he clawed his way up the hill towards what was once The Clockers home, now abandoned with the once chaotic family that inhabited its walls dead somewhere in the small world they had called home. The blond knew he'd soon meet the same fate, the blood steadily running down his neck ensuring he’d bleed out if someone didn’t get to him first.

As his nails dug into the soft soil at the top, the avian pulled his body up and breathed deeply. Behind him, his wings hung limp, useless even if it weren't for his cut flight feathers.

Shaking some dirt from them, he didn't hesitate any longer as he made his way onto unsteady feet and dashed towards Bad Boys Bread Bridge and the mansion. There would be supplies there for him to heal. There had to be.

Limping as he made his way across the bad boys bread bridge, he thanked Mojang that no one else seemed to be around. Reaching the top of the mansion, Grian practically collapsed on top of the first chest he saw. Opening it with trembling fingers, he peered inside only for his heart to drop.

Moving to the next one he checked again, surely there would be food or medicine in this one! When the second was also empty he checked a third, then a fourth... his breathing only grew more unsteady as chest after chest yielded no result.

Frantically checking the chests once more, he didn't hear the footsteps approaching him from behind. Didn't hear the sword as it was drawn. Didn't hear the object swing through the air, making contact with his already injured shoulder and sending him tumbling to the side.

Gasping as fresh pain infected his entire being, Grian quickly caught himself on the dark oak roof and fumbled to draw a sword as he stared up at his attacker. Etho.

The man above him didn't give him a chance to stand, quickly bringing another swing down which nearly missed the blond's head as he rolled out of the way. With shaky hands he swung back but was easily countered, the diamond sword clattering to the ground as its owner tried crawling away.

A foot dug into the younger man's back, stopping him in his futile attempt at escape and cutting off much of his already shallow airflow as Etho bent down to whisper in his ear. A shiver ripped through Grian’s spine as he spoke.

"Hi, little birdy~" He sounded almost smug, waiting a moment for a response before giving a small laugh, "Cat got your tongue?"

No response still. No, Grian’s breathing was far too staggered to even dream of responding to the man above him. To the man who was about to end his life. His breathing only staggered more at the thought as splintered nails dug into wood, trying desperately to pull away from the constant pressure on his spine.

Etho seemed to move away from him, foot staying steadily on his back but at least now his mouth wasn’t practically touching Grian’s ear. Awaiting the final swing that would remove the head from his limbs, the blond closed his eyes.

But it never came. Instead, Etho sighed and evenly asked, "Do you want to enact the sword?"

The sword? Grian’s mind raced, what sword? He couldn't think straight, his mind racing far too quickly to properly compute anything intelligent. After a few moments of continued struggling as the pressure on his body only increased, it hit him. The sword!

"Y-yes!" Grian gasped between sharp breaths, immediately feeling the pressure lift from his back. Without a word Etho flipped the man over, checking his pulse as the younger continued to breathe irregularly.

"Ok bud, I need you to calm down, can you do that for me? One breath in," Etho said, taking a deep breath in as though to demonstrate.

Once Grian followed the motion, the white haired man breathed out, Grian did the same. After repeating this motion for several minutes, the blond's breathing evened out as well as it could. It was still rather shallow and not completely even, but it was far better than it had been when the encounter began.

Brushing some hair out of the younger man's face, Etho smiled, "Good birdy, got any healing supplies?"

Grian shook his head, opening his mouth to brush off Ethos concern only to be shushed as the white haired man reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of bandages. 

As the older man reached out for Grian’s shoulder the blond pulled away and shook his head, “You can’t use your supplies on me, you need them.”

Etho only tilted his head, giving the younger a smile through his mask as her cheerfully replied, “Don’t worry, I got more. Plus I’m not injured right now.”

“Right now.” He echoed, pulling away as the older tried to bandage his shoulder again, “What if you get hurt later, what then?”

Shrugging, the fox hybrid shifted his weight, “You don’t have to worry about me, just let me fix your arm.” He began reaching out again.

“No!” Grian almost yelped, trying to pull away once more only for the older man to snatch his arm up and drag the avian closer with considerable force. Etho barely acknowledged him as he began wrapping the shoulder, ignoring his various protests and pleas to save the supplies for himself.

When the fox finished bandaging the blonds shoulder he leaned back into a crouched position and studied his work with a faint smile before pushing himself to stand properly. Looking at Grian, he tilted his head, “Got any food?”

The avian huffed, staring up at the man with feigned anger, “You’re not giving me your food.” 

“Who says it’s my food?” Etho asked with a smirk, pulling half a stack of bread from his inventory.

Grian squawked, “You evil man! You stole our bread!”

Tossing the slightly stale loafs on the ground before Grian, Etho watched as the smaller scrambled to grab them before they got completely coated in dirt. The two stared at one another for a few moments before Ethos smile widened.

“Are you not going to eat?” The man asked, mischievous slipping through his words.

The avian stared at him skeptically, picking at a piece of bread as he asked, “Why are you helping me?”

“You enacted the sword,” Etho replied with a shrug

“Yeah but that just means you won’t kill me right now, we’re still enemies.”

“True,” The fox looked into the distance, eyes squinting as he focused on something just out of Grian’s sight, “But you’re still my friend, even in this hellscape. I’m not going to leave you when you clearly need help.”

Grian snorted, “But you’re ok with killing me?”

“No,” Etho gave a pained smile, turning his attention back to the avian, “But we both know what will happen if we refuse.”

The two fell into a silence after that. Grian finally popping a piece of bread into his mouth as Etho watched intently, eyes occasionally wandering somewhere else only to snap back to the smaller man. By the time two loaves were gone, Grian sighed.

“I guess this is where we part ways then?” The blond asked.

Nodding, Etho gave a small smile, “Just remember, there’s no sword left to enact - next time I will kill you.” 

The man said the words so nicely, as though speaking to an old friend, that they sent a shiver down Grian spine. He didn’t wait for a response before the fox hopped off the side of the bridge, the sound of water echoing from where he landed as Grian was left alone.

Taking a moment to gather himself, the blond gripped the fourteen remaining bread before stuffing them into his inventory. Getting to his feet, he brandished his weapon and continued on down the bread bridge. Next time he saw Etho he would win, he wouldn’t need to enact a sword.