#so i postponed it and ended up with this somehow

[zerozeroren]

Suddenly drew @an-aura-about-you as a witch magically wishing into existence an anteater familiar

[killerpancakeburger]

Breaking Point (1/2)

SUMMARY: Civilian!Reader, who works as Price's assistant, has a breakdown at work. Soap+Ghost help the best they can. Hurt/comfort. Can be read as platonic or romantic. Gender Neutral Reader.

PAIRINGS: Ghost x GN!Reader

Soap's version.

TAGS: Hurt/comfort. Military inaccuracies (I make shit up for the sake of the plot). Ghost is... Ghost; taciturn, blunt, aloof, but Not An Asshole, protective, trustworthy, He's Trying ☆.

WARNINGS: Mention of relative in the hospital, suicide ideation, depressive thoughts, swearing. Ghost's part is significantly darker than Soap's (in terms of suicide ideation, not as in he's a yandere).

WORDS COUNT: 3.6k

A/N: Very self-indulgent, Reader is going through it and so am I. 🙃 Ghost role-plays (NOT SEXUAL) as the world's worst psychiatrist. Yours truly suggest to listen to "Strong For Somebody Else" by Citizen Soldier to set the mood. (Song includes suicide ideation and depressive thoughts too, so listen at your own risk).

The news you’ve just been told cannot be real. Life could not possibly be that cruel. What did I do to deserve this? you wonder helplessly. It’s like every time you get back up, life knocks you down again, sending you tumbling on the cold, hard ground.

After ending the call, you put down your phone on your desk in a daze, hand shaking.

Clenching your fists, you stare into space, a thousand thoughts disorderly swirling inside your brain, all bursting with anguish, until a burning tear running down your cheek brings you back to the present. You’re at work, your boss is in the next room; a breakdown is a luxury you cannot afford right now. Better bite your tongue hard enough to draw blood than be caught sobbing. 

Inhaling a shaky breath, you take your head between your hands, shoving your fingers into your hair, trying to convince yourself to postpone your nervous collapse. Only one hour left, and you’ll be free to cry your eyes out at your flat. Or on the way home, even. It’s not like the other passengers ever paid you attention the other times you’ve cried on the bus.

But somehow your attempts have the opposite effect, and more tears roll down your face, staining the papers beneath it. As you furiously wipe your face with your sleeve, with a blend of frustration and despair, pissed at yourself, and wanting to get rid of the evidence of your fragile state as fast as possible, the unmistakable sound of your office’s door opening makes you look up.

The sight of the dark, bulky silhouette standing in the frame does nothing to appease your worries - quite the opposite. Of freaking course of all bloody people that could have walked in on you, it had to be fucking Ghost. The most intimidating - not to say terrifying - man on the whole base, but also the most cryptic. 

Towering over 190cm and built like few were, even on a military base, you had recoiled despite yourself the first time you met. Every single detail regarding him was redacted - you knew because you had checked his file, consumed by curiosity -, including his own face - unvaryingly covered by a black mask adorned with a white skull. That semblance of halloween mask and an alias was all that he shared with the world. 

He dispensed his words in dribs and drabs to a handful of privileged people, which seemed limited to your supervisor, Captain Price, who was also his direct superior, and his teammates of the Task Force 141. He couldn’t have offered you more than ten syllables in the six months you’ve been there. Yet, everyone knew who he was, what he was capable of, and crowds systematically parted with his passage like the Red Sea. 

You had wisely taken the resolution to not heed the rumors about him, which ranged from hardly believable to frankly ridiculous, but you couldn’t help the knot in your stomach every time he was nearby. It wasn’t only his imposing stature that put you on edge, but mainly the fact that he was always impassive. His mask effectively hid his emotions, sure, but his voice didn’t let anything show through either. Most of the time you had no idea what he was thinking or feeling, leaving you puzzled at how to interact with him. Not that there were that many interactions to begin with, but the few that happened left you with a lasting impression.

However you were pleased with yourself after you quit agonizing over his opinion of you, focusing instead on doing your best to treat him like the other soldiers. He may not be friendly, but he never had been disrespectful either.

You stare at him in horror, a deer in the headlights, unable to emit a sound. You didn’t even have the time to fabricate a bunch of excuses to get you out of this situation.

Shit, shit, shit. What do I do? WHAT DO I DO?

“Ya good?” 

His tone is gruff, as it always is, but not hostile. The question feels like a way out of this awkward situation, a lifebelt. You cling onto it like you're lost at sea.

Maybe you can still turn this around - pretend everything is OK. He will follow the implicit rules of politeness and leave you to it.

You hasten to reply.

“Yeah, yeah, it's fine. I'm fine.”

As you finish drying your face, he steps into the room, stopping in front of your desk.

“Did you need something?”

Your voice automatically switches to “customer service” mode, and you plaster a fake smile on your face. The mental image of a puppet, strings forcing the corner of its lips to lift, comes to your mind.

Ghost doesn't respond. His eyes are searching your face like it's an encrypted message that could provide a target's position.

Your smile vacillates under his scrutiny. The examination is cold, clinical; there's no warmth nor sympathy in those brown eyes.

“Doesn't look fine to me.”

He announces the statement like a fact, voice dull, neutral. He doesn't provide sympathy, but he doesn't cast judgment either. It’s not less irritating though.

Your first instinct is to snap at him, tell him to mind his own business, ask why he even cares. You resist it. Picking quarrels will only make matters worse. You grit your teeth and lie some more, trying to sound carefree.

“It's nothing, really. I'm just being a crybaby.”

Crybaby.

Ghost turns the word over in his mind, unconvinced. He still recalls vividly the moment he stopped considering you like another faceless office worker amongst others and made an effort to remember your name.

He was mindlessly killing time in the break room with Gaz and Soap until you showed up at the door, a forced smile on your face, attempting to look casual but your body language betraying your nervousness. He spotted you first, the other two engaged in a lively conversation. Relief spread on your face when you saw he had noticed you, sparing you the trouble of having to call out for him, and you approached.

“Ghost, can I have a word? … in private?”

He straightened up from the wall he was leaning on and followed you wordlessly, feeling the prying stares of his teammates lingering on him. You stopped in the hallway to face him.

“You forgot to fill out the medical part in your last report.”

Fingers linked together, you were anxiously twiddling your thumbs. His eyes followed the movement unconsciously.

“I haven't.”

You frowned in uncomprehension. 

“Your medical file said-”

“I know what the medical file said,” he retorted firmly, hoping that you would understand his intention without him having to spell it out loud.

The furrow in your brows didn’t go away, quite the contrary.

“You want me to lie.”

The statement wasn’t an accusation, but a request for confirmation.

“You catch on quick.”

The sarcasm and patronization unintentionally slipped into his voice. You were just a newbie trying to do your job well, after all. However the others before you never took the trouble to confront him about this, either out of fright or negligence, and this felt like a waste of his time.

He watched you search his face for something, an explanation, a way out? You bit your lips, conflicted, before replying:

“No.”

“No?” he repeated, raising a skeptical eyebrow that you couldn’t see, crossing his arms. He didn’t know whether to be annoyed or amused. He wasn’t used to being turned down anymore, except for so few individuals, like Price or Laswell, that they could be counted on the fingers of one hand. That the first person to oppose him in so long wasn’t an uptight high ranking or a gutsy enemy, but you, an average civilian, was definitely a surprise. 

“I'm not taking that risk”, you added with a determination he didn’t expect.

“Ya wouldn’t be takin’ any. Nobody will be none the wiser.”

“That's not what I- urgh. I am not letting you go back injured on the field! I don't care if you're the ghost or whatever, you’re not invulnerable. So either you fill that damn file or I'm telling Price.”

“Oh? You'd snitch on me?”

“I'd do it to save your life, yeah.”

And with that, you shoved the papers in his chest, turned around and walked away. You had barely disappeared around the corner that he was already mentally calling himself a bloody idiot. Why had it been so tempting to provoke you? Because out of nowhere your usually bashful self showed audacity? Because you were absurdly hellbent on defending his expandable life? No matter the reason, he started to look at you differently from that day on.

Clearly you and him had a different definition of “crybaby”.

He deposits the stack of files he had been holding on your bureau, but as you reach to seize them, he covers your hand with his own and leans in.

You would have stared in disbelief at his gloved hand over yours if the proximity of his face wasn’t a much more pressing matter. You can feel your face warm up and you loathe it.

“Those'll still be there tomorrow, love.”

You blink in surprise at the pet name. It's like you're a spooked horse and he's trying to soothe you with sweet nothings.

“But the paperwork-”

“Fuck the paperwork.”

Easy for him to say.

“But Price-”

“I'll deal with Price.”

“My mom's in the hospital”, you brutally admit, having run out of pretext.

You look each other in the eye for what seems forever. 

“Ye take yer coffee with three sugars, yeah?”

“Uh, yeah?”

You reply hesitantly, stunned by the ask that, a priori, has nothing to do with your wholehearted confession. How did he even know that? The words have barely left your lips that he already disappeared into the corridor. You stare in disbelief at the door, mouth agape. You poured your fucking heart out and that socially inept bastard in his goofy ass halloween costume just ditched you after wringing the truth out of you like you were an interrogated enemy soldier.

Sipping the content of your mug with the Ghost's unblinking stare fixated on you is an unsettling experience, to say the least. Seated on the chair facing your desk, legs wide open, wearing a black hooded sweatshirt and gray pants, one hand holding his mug of tea, he hasn’t taken his eyes off you since he sat down. 

Does he seriously not realize how unnerving his starring is?

He exudes an aura of tranquil power; the unchallenged authority of someone who is used to being obeyed without question, combined with the nonchalance that comes with being unmatched. Even casually sprawled like this, he remains formidable.

A few minutes ago, he set down a steaming mug in front of you and a box of tissues - a delicate attention that sent a pang in your chest -, before taking a seat. The fingers of his free hand are softly taping his knee.

“Guess I won’t need to kill anyone tonight,” he declares in a detached manner.

You blink in incomprehension at that.

“But you don’t have a mission tonight…”

“Won’t have to kill anyone for makin’ ya cry,” he clarifies.

“Oh.”

What else can you possibly reply to that? The murder machine lounging in front of you has enough confirmed kills to make a sniper of legend green with envy.

“So…”, you initiate, not without uncertainty, “is this the moment where I get everything off my chest?”

“Do whatever ya want.” he placidly counters, shrugging.

It really, considerably, sounds like he doesn't care at all; but if he did, he wouldn’t be here.

You take a deep breath, staring at your desk.

“She's in the ICU. Paralyzed, intubated, put in a coma.”

Tears flood your eyes again. This time you don't try to fight them.

“I'm terrified for her. But, what's worse is…”

You swallow your saliva; blink in rapid succession - the tears sting.

“I can’t help but think the worst. About what'll become of me without her.”

Water overflows your eyes. The dam ruptures abruptly. Raw honesty spills from your lips.

“She’s all I have. Without her, I have nothing. I am nothing.”

The ensuing silence is deafening. You wonder what the hell you’re doing. There’s something about the man in front of you that, paradoxically, makes you want to confide in him. Despite his lack of warmth, he feels steady, reliable. A rock to lean on when your whole world is crumbling. Solid ground when it feels like everything is caving in around you. Like you could lay all your burdens on him and he wouldn’t even flinch under what feels like the weight of the world.

You feel awfully selfish to entertain that thought, but you doubt he'd ever give you the opportunity to return the favor. 

“Bollocks.”

His tone is surlier than before. You look up at him to be sure you heard correctly.

“What about yer job? Ye enjoy it, right?”

You scoff bitterly at that.

“It's just a temporary gig. I'll be kicked out in two months.”

“We can make it permanent.”

You shoot him an incredulous look.

“You're just saying that.”

“‘M not. Wouldn't lie just to make ye feel better. Not my style.”

A cynical chuckle escapes you before a mischievous smirk stretches your lips.

“I’m sorry big guy, when did you get nominated as the commander of the base? Cause as far as I know this is outside your jurisdiction.” 

A similar smile spreads behind his mask. He’d take your sass over your tears any day.

“I have my ways,” he replies tranquilly.

From anyone else, you’d call it bragging or bluffing. Coming from the Ghost, it doesn’t sound as anything but the truth. He stares at you intensely, as if daring you to doubt him again, or intent on proving you his integrity through gaze alone. 

You look away, your cheeks heating up.

Ghost never minded that you can’t maintain eye contact. Just like he’s not into small talk, or physical contact. He knows most people tend to take it the wrong way, interpret it as contempt, when it couldn't be further from the truth.

“Thank you, but I can’t.” 

“Why not?” 

“I’d feel like I’m manipulating you.” 

He chuckles darkly, sending a shiver crawling down your spine, one you do not know if it was born of fear entirely or attraction. 

“Oh sweetheart, you couldn’t even if you tried.” 

Another tingle. Definitely pleasant this time. You desperately busy yourself with the content of your mug, the effects of that sentence on you too intense for the solemnity of the situation. 

Your strategy proves itself fruitful until a movement at the periphery of your vision attracts your gaze. You peek without thinking, and freeze at the sight of Ghost lifting his mask above his nose to drink from his cup. One scar crosses his mouth, another departs from the corner of his lips, both ancient but deep. They don’t faze you though - truth be told, the omnipresent mask made you expect him to look like a world war one veteran, so heavily disfigured that you wouldn’t be able to bear it. 

“Enjoyin’ the view?”

He doesn’t sound even remotely annoyed, but you lower your eyes in shame all the same.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”

“If I didn’t wantcha to look, I wouldn’t have taken it off.”

As you need a moment to take in the implications of that sentence, he talks again.

“What's your poison?”

“Pardon?” you reply, genuinely lost.

He snorts at your exaggerated politeness.

“Coffee isn’t gonna cut it. Whataya usually take when you feel like this? Alcohol? Cigs?”

A pause.

“Sex?”

You choke and set down your mug out of fear of dropping it.

“No, no… and no.”

“Nothing?”

He sounds doubtful.

“I… cry myself to sleep?”

It makes no sense to formulate it like a question, but everything about this is surreal.

He hums, contemplative.

“You’re not making this easy.”

“What?”

“Helpin’ ya.”

You scoff, suddenly irritated.

“You could lend me one of your guns and let me blow my brains off with it. That would help.”

 “Not gonna happen,” he counters with emphatic authority that leaves no place for rebuttal. 

“Worth a shot,” you say, trying to get the last word. “Ha, shot. Get it?”

“Very funny.”

You roll your eyes at his comment, like he’s a tired parent indulging you, a tireless child.

“You just don’t have any humor.”

The words left your lips before you could consider their impact. Yes, you never heard the Ghost laugh, but maybe he has a very good reason for that. Maybe several. Maybe you’re just a fucking asshole.

“Why are colds bad criminals?” 

Your head pivots towards him so fast you fear your neck is going to snap.

“Why…?”

“Because they’re easy to catch.”

You stare at him in bewildered silence, not quite believing what just happened, before starting to laugh, first softly, then, carried away, louder and louder, bordering on hysterical. You don’t even giggle because of the joke, but because the contrast between the silliness of it and how deadpan Ghost was when enunciating it is simply too good. That, and the nerves are probably getting the better of you.

“Never had anyone laugh that much at this one before.”

You attempt to get your breath back, alternating between pants and laughs, wiping a solitary tear at the corner of your eye.

“It’s just… you… I didn’t see it coming, jeez.”

Sighing wistfully, you take in the quietude of this fleeting moment.

“This is nice.”

“I'm always nice,” grunts the lieutenant. 

You let out a good-natured scoff, then reality catches up to you.

“SHIT! What time is it!?” you shout in panic as you violently get up. “Maybe I can still catch a bus-”

You log out of your work session, turn off your PC and shove all your belongings inside your bag in record time. Ghost barely bats an eye, still like a languid cat; a very big, very dangerous cat.

“You can spend the night.”

“No I can’t!”

You push your chair under your desk and pick up your coat.

“We can make some sorry bloke sleep outside.”

“Noooo- That's horrible!”

You have no idea if he’s messing with you or not.

“Not worse than what's waiting for ‘em on the field.”

“Well, I still can’t do that.”

“Good for you that I can, then.”

You finally look at him, an half-amused smile on your lips, raising a skeptical eyebrow. 

“Lemme guess. This is you ‘having your ways’ again, isn’t it?”

His offer is tempting. You really don’t want to be left to your own devices tonight.

He stands up and takes a step towards you while pulling his mask down and, oh, with him sitting this all time, you would have almost forgotten how much he towers over you.

“S’that a yes or a no?”

You could almost detect a hint of playfulness in his voice.

“It’s a yes, sir,” you retort while pronouncing the “sir” with as much impertinence as you can muster.

“Better keep up, then.”

And just like that, he vacates the premises, and you do have to focus to keep up because those long legs of his ain’t just for show.

As you two travel across corridors unknown to you, you wonder once again what the hell you’re doing, hanging out with this mountain of a man who’s more myth than human, and breaking the rules of a military base on a whim. Lost in thought, you don’t pay attention to the voices edging closer, and you’re completely taken aback when Ghost grabs you by the back of your shirt and drags you in a dark alcove with him. You’re so astounded, you don’t even make a sound. He takes hold of the back of your head and presses you against him to occupy as little space as possible, effectively hiding you from the men walking by. Only then you recognize Captain Price among other officers.

“Sorry ‘bout that, love,” whispers the man you’re squeezed against, barely audible, imperturbable as ever, like this is an everyday situation for him.

You don’t answer - you can’t, anyway, essentially muffled by his pecs. You should be more irked by those circumstances, but the sudden proximity set your face ablaze, therefore you’re very happy with its current concealment. 

“Price will have my head if he thinks I made you cry.”

You’re about to protest, but then you remember that one time when Soap tagged along when you were carrying a huge box back from the archives, and when Price saw you two, Soap unconcerned with empty hands, and your face almost disappearing behind the imposing cardboard, he called the sergeant a bloody useless muppet and then proceeded to call into question his ability to transport his rucksack for days. Nevermind that you were the one who insisted on carrying the crate on your own as it provided a nice workout, and that you had to bare your teeth at Soap to prevent him from taking it from you.

When the peril has walked by and Ghost releases you, you silently thank the shadows around you hiding how affected you are by this ersatz of a hug. Later, he drops you off at an unoccupied bedroom, small but including a bathroom and furnished with everything you could ever want. You say your goodbyes and your thanks at the door, and he. pats. your head. You don’t even have time to be outraged that he states he will see you tomorrow, something that sounds like a promise as much as a threat, probably in reference to the morbid fantasies you shared, and he vanishes into the shadows like a… ghost.

A/N : The real reason Ghost ran out:

He be googling “how to comfort female civilian age between 20 and **”

In the TF Group Chat (Price not included):

“We have an emergency.”

“Send as many kitten pics as possible to [Reader] … stat.”

[poppadom0912]

Holding on

Warnings: Guns, shootings, blood/injuries, hospitals and lots of angst.

Summary: When going to visit your older brothers, things suddenly take a turn for the worst.

Submitted by @lokiswife18

A/N: I'm so sorry, this was sent in ages ago but with some free time now, I can finally get all of these done. There's multiple medical inaccuracies so I apologise in advance. I somehow ended up writing over 2k words, so this is a long one. Hope you enjoy this, it feels like i haven't written angst in a hot minute so this was super fun to do. Enjoy!!

Today's dinner had been planned for months now and every single time, something came up and it had to be postponed.

First, Jay was unexpectedly gone undercover, and you and Will didn't want him to 'miss out'. The second time, you were pulled in last minute to supervise the annual school camping trip. The third time Will had been unavailable to what you guys later found out was a massive pile up at the hospital that he didn't reply till two days later. And the other four times after that were all results of mainly your brothers work lives getting in the way.

Today had been the day where nothing would go wrong. You'd all messaged earlier on and nothing had come up to change your plans. There was going to be nothing in the way to stop this dinner from taking place tonight.

The high school you worked at was having their parent teacher meetings today, your last one being half an hour before the reservation Jay booked.

Your work best friend who you always drove with had a later meeting and so you were taking the train, your make up in your bag. Your clothes were good enough for restaurant you three frequented growing up.

Waving the other teachers goodnight, wishing them luck with the remainder of their parents, you made your way to the train station, phone in hand as you updated your brothers that you had left work.

It was dark out, the sun had almost fully set, and it was at that time during the autumn when the sun started setting earlier. But the station was close enough and having a detective as a brother meant that he taught you things that would be useful just in case.

Rummaging through your bag looking for your card, you cursed yourself for how messy your things were and with the addition of your makeup, searching for your card that wasn't in its purse was very difficult.

Stopping in your tracks, you huffed in frustration at not being able to find your card. Taking your bag off your shoulder, you used your dominant hand to dig deep. You definitely put it in this morning, you never left the house without it.

Finally finding the card, you resumed your walking, rounding the corner from the train station when you heard very familiar popping sounds went off.

Ducking around the corner, you stood still as you waited for the shooting to pass. Your hands trembled slightly as you dialled 911.

But before you could press the call button, a wave of immense pain washed over you.

Time seemed to move in slow motion. Your surroundings all started to blur; the shootings no longer audible to as a ringing sound drowned your ears.

Following such intense pain was numbness. Your phone and card fell from hand, pins and needles enveloping your fingers as you lost all feeling in your entire body but your chest.

In the far back of your mind, you could hear Will's words from a night he taught you and Jay first aid. At the distant thought, you tried moving your hands to put pressure on your chest, but nothing moved.

Your breathing was now shallow, gasping out of rhythm the more you struggled. Everything was becoming so blurred to the point the flowers on your dress were no longer visible.

Coughing increased your pain tenfold; blood was now trickling out your mouth. With whatever consciousness remained, your panic sank in even further.

What had been a good day at work and a supposed even better evening spent with your brothers had taken a sudden turn for the worst when you'd been caught in the crossfire.

Here you were, bleeding out in the dark in the middle of the street with no one nearby.

Forming any sort of thoughts became even more difficult the more time passed. While thinking about what was going to happen next, your inevitable thought were your brothers who were completely oblivious.

And they were the last thing on your mind when you were no longer able to fight against your heavy eyelids.

*****

Jay arrived first. Everyone was still at the precinct but after asking very politely, Voight let him off early. Jay was sat at the reserved table for twenty minutes before Will showed up, apologising for his tardiness as surgery ran over a little longer than expected.

They had put off ordering till you arrived, only asking for drinks as they waited for you.

The first ten minutes they simply thought you got caught up with more parents but then ten turned into twenty and they were concerned.

You were usually very punctual so being this late was out of the ordinary but to also not tell them in advance that you were going to be late. Something was clearly wrong.

Confused, they both took turns messaging and calling you, both of which you didn’t reply or answer.

Now they were concerned.

Luckily, all three of you were sharing your locations with each other after leaning from many past experiences. Quickly checking your whereabouts, they found you not too far away from your school near the train station but looking at your movements for five minutes, you remained put.

Without any words, both brothers were out their chairs and apologising to their waiter who had been so patient with them. Getting into Jay’s truck – Will being dropped of by Natalie – they drove towards your location, their concern transitioning into anxiety at the unknown.

It didn’t take too long to get there. Jay parking his truck on the side and Will getting out without waiting for the car to stop.

Walking around the corner, they weren’t too sure what to expect but it definitely wasn’t this.

There you were, unconscious, leaning against the side of a building, legs sprawled out forward and your head tilted to the side, blood trickling out your mouth. Your hands were limp around your abdomen where your floral dress was clearly ruined, drowning in blood.

Instantly, Will sprung forward, kneeling besides you as he called your name several time. You never responded nor did you even move an inch.

“Y/N? You with me?” As Will switched into ‘doctor mode’, Jay wasted no time in calling it in, relaying his badge number and stressing the importance of this emergency to dispatch before calling Voight, knowing the man and a few of his colleagues were still working.

Placing his fingers on the side of your neck, Will tensed up as he felt your weak and irregular pulse. Swallowing harshly, Will took inventory of every injury, not matter how big or small.

He addressed the obvious first, your chest that was still bleeding profusely. Taking off his jumper, he ripped it in half, wrapping one around your chest as tight as possible to try stop the bleeding. You had lost so much already and even with the clothing around your chest, his jumper was already soaking in so much blood.

“I’m so sorry Y/N.” Will apologised before tightening a knot, wincing when you finally whimpered. Your whimper was ever so soft that if he wasn’t so focused on you, he wouldn’t have heard it.

“Hey- Y/N, open your eyes for me please.” Will’s resolve was struggling at the sight of his little sister bleeding out and there only being so much he could do to help. But Jay, he felt even more helpless, standing back only being able to watch as his brother did his best to help with so little resources.

Surveying the area, Jay tried looking for anything out of the ordinary, but it was fully dark now, no people out as they all got ready for bed.

Turning on his phone flashlight, Jay easily caught sight of several stray bullets littering the road and pavement. With this new lighting, you looked even worse for wear, your bloody chest even more alarming now that they could actually get a good look at you.

“Shit. Will what- “

“I’ve got her Jay.” Will said firmly, looking him in the eye but his own were watery. That didn’t assure Jay as much as he wanted it to.

All of a sudden, before Jay could say anything, Will’s head snapped back towards you, his fingers going back to your pulse before moving even more forward, ducking his ear near your nose.

Will’s fast movements could only mean one thing. Before Will could even do anything, Jay already knew what was happening.

You weren’t breathing anymore.

Laying you flat on the pavement, Will winced as he placed his hands on your chest, apologising before he started chest compressions.

Each compression produced more blood, Will’s hands absolutely coated and dropping in your blood. It made him feel sick.

“Jay, I need you to take over.” Will said after some time had passed, his arms slowly starting to aching, knowing he had to take a minute before he could continue.

Kneeling on the opposite side of Will on the other side of your body, Will counting him in before he took over.

As soon as Will’s hands were off your chest, they were immediately replaced with Jay’s, almost as if it wasn’t two different people.

Will’s fingers were sticky, your blood dripping down his fingers, glued under his nails and coating his sleeves. It felt so surreal.

“Alright Jay, swap back with me on three.” Will told his brother after two minutes, not wanting him to get too tired either.

Jay’s hands were in the same state when he stopped.

“Will, its so much blood.” His voice was shaky, reality setting in as Will continued chest compressions when nothing changed.

Will only looked up at Jay with a certain glint in his eyes that he hadn’t seen since their dad died-

“Will she’s-“

The blaring sirens cut him off, blue and red lights blinding them as the appeared around the corner.

Jay got up, walking towards the newcomers when he recognised the cars in front.

“Jay, what happened?” Hank asked, approaching his detective first. His eyes clocking Jay’s bloody hands before asking “Who-“

“It’s Y/N.” Jay said, leading Intelligence and the paramedics towards the scene. “She’s been shot. I think she got caught in a shooting- she’s lost so much blood and she’s not breathing anymore but there’s no culprits anywhere and-“

“Jay, it’s okay, we’ve got this.” Hank physically had to stop the younger man, looking him straight in the eye. “We’re gonna get them, I promise.”

Hank never made promises, it was sworn off by every first responder but everyone knew that Voight never broke his promises.

“Alright Desmond, on my count I need you to take over for me.” Will said, taking charge as soon as the familiar paramedics joined him.

Instantly complying, the paramedic took over the compressions, letting Will sit back on his toes. “We need to shock her, she’s gone without a pulse for nearly thirteen minutes.”

Both paramedics looked up at him knowingly, their sombre faces ones which Will purposefully ignored even with the bitterness heavy on his tongue.

“Will I’m sorry but…”

*****

You were now connected to the portable monitor in the ambulance and to hear the repeating beeps, signalling there was no heartbeat only made things more real. But Will hadn’t given up, even with the sympathetic looks he received from the two paramedics.

Jay had joined them in the back of the ambulance, leaving the crime scene in the capable hands of Intelligence and with the promise that he’d be kept in the loop.

In what felt like recording breaking speed, they arrived at Med. Wasting no time, the stretcher was pulled out the ambulance, Desmond swapping places with Will on top of the stretcher over your body, who now took over the chest compressions.

“Maggie, is Baghdad open?” Will asked, raising his voice as they rolled into the ED, his back to all his colleagues.

“It’s all yours. Connor, Ethan!” The two men were already moving before Maggie had even called out their names.

“She’s been shot in the chest, the bullets still inside. Pulse was weak before it was lost, been doing CPR ever since and was shocked twice in between.”

“How long Will?” Connor asked, looking at the redhead worriedly, eyeing the bloody states of all three Halstead siblings. “Will, how long has she been unconscious?”

But Will never replied. “Ethan, come here and take over.”

The Korean shared a knowingly glance with the trauma surgeon but obliged anyways.

Stepping back, Will stood besides Maggie who was hooking you up to all the monitors necessary.

“The bleeding finally stopped en route.”

“When was she shot?” Connor asked, surveying the rest of your body for any other bullet wounds.

“We, we don’t know.” Will’s voiced cracked from the emotion and uncertainty. “Gosh, it’s been over fourteen minutes since.”

Will physically couldn’t find it in himself to finish the sentence.

“Okay, paddles Maggie.”

*****

Both brothers were forced out the treatment room and Will could not convince Maggie to change her mind one bit.

“She’s in good hands. Ethan and Connor will be in surgery for hours so I need you two to rest.”

Will and Jay were way too tense, their faces grim at the unknown future of their younger sister.

“Let’s wash your hands first and get into a change of clothes.” Maggie was as gentle as she would be with kids, smiling softly as she helped the brothers somewhat get their shit together.

The blood wouldn’t wash away. It remained stuck under their nails, speckles stubborn like glitter. Knowing your blood was on their hands, it was gut wrenching.

Will always kept a change of clothes in his locker. He and Jay rid of their stained shirts with whatever was left in the locker but even in a new change of clothes and washed up, they still felt disgusting.

“Will…” Jay softly called his name, clearing his throat when his voice cracked. “What did they mean about not breathing for more than fourteen minutes?”

The doctor screwed his eyes shut at his younger brothers question. His tone insinuating that he knew but was in denial and wanted confirmation that his suspicions were wrong.  

“There’s-“ Will struggled to face reality, ripping off the bandage for his brother. “There’s a very low chance she makes it. And, and if she does there will be consequences- like, really bad side effects.”

Jay clenched his jaw, turning his head away to look out the doctors lounge window into the surprisingly mellow emergency department.

“We broke our promise.”

“I know.”

“What are we meant to do?”

Several beats passed before Jay received a reply, one in which caused silent tears to finally start falling.

“I don’t know.”

[scoonsalicious]

5.4 Major*

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, explicit sexual content (hand stuff, fingering) Minors GTFO: I don't serve your kind here.

Word Count: 900

Previously On...: Lily knows Bucky's been lying to her, and she's surmised he's on a date. That's got to end.

A/N: Posting a little early today to make up for yesterday being so late!

I've decided to postpone my break by a few days, so I will give you Chapter 6 in its entirety before I take my mini-hiatus. It's only three parts long, so I will start my break on Thursday, 5/16 and resume posting on Thursday, 5/23. It's a better place in the story to leave you, a little bit more dramatic than at the end of this chapter, like I had originally planned, lol. It felt off leaving you all here.

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

You flopped your body down onto your bedsheets with a giggle. “Full marks, Sergeant,” you gasped between panting breaths. “Once again.” It was all the two of you could do to get back to your apartment without ripping each other’s clothes off.

Bucky laughed and came to lay down alongside you, propping his head up on his vibranium arm. Leaning over, he bent down to kiss you. “I couldn’t have done it without you, doll” he said with a grin, but then his face grew serious. “Seriously. It’s never been like this with other girls.”

You blushed and playfully pushed at his rock hard shoulder. “Come on, Bucky,” you said with a laugh. “You’ve already got me naked and exactly where you want me; you don’t need to sweet talk me.”

Bucky placed a hand on your sweat-slicked hip, gently turning you to your side so you were facing him. “I’m not,” he told you, searching your eyes with the utmost sincerity in his expression. He pushed back a strand of damp hair away from your face. “I’ve been with… well, a fair number of girls over the years.” At the raise of your eyebrow, he held his flesh hand up defensively. “What? I’m 105 years old, doll. I’ve been around the block.” You couldn’t hold back your laugh at that, and he kissed your nose before continuing: 

“Like I said, a fair number of girls. And none of them, not a single one, ever made me feel the way I have when I’m with you.” He cupped your cheek in his hand and you felt your cheeks flame in a blush. “Come on, sugar. Don’t tell me you don’t feel it, too. That this,” he took his hand off your cheek to motion between your two bodies, “isn’t something special.”

“It’s been a little over a day, Bucky,” you chastised him gently with a smile, afraid to admit that you, too, felt this was something unique. “Maybe thirty hours?” Thirty hours in which the two of you had somehow managed to have sex eight times, not that you were counting. You couldn’t believe how quickly he was able to get it up again after he came, but he’d assured you that was his favorite side effect of the serum that had made him a super soldier. It had quickly become your favorite, too.

Bucky’s face fell, and you realized that he wasn’t going to judge you if you told him the truth, because he felt it just the same. “The best thirty hours of my life,” you clarified, tucking your fingers under his chin so you could bring his gaze back up to yours. “And yes, I feel it, too. It’s never been like this before. Not with anyone else.”

“Not even with your ex-husband?” Bucky asked with a playful smirk.

“Especially not with Conner,” you told him with a roll of your eyes. “Took me years to teach that man where my clit was, and even on his best days, he still needed a map.”

“Oh, you mean this, right here?” Bucky deftly slid his hand between your thighs, finding your hub of nerves almost instinctively and began to lightly trace it with his finger, sending an electric tingle through your body. 

“Fuck, yes,” you exhaled, reaching up to grab Bucky’s shoulder for support as he increased the pressure. He moved his metal arm from under his head and slid it behind your shoulders as he pulled you flush with his chest.

“I got you, sweet girl,” he murmured into your hair as he moved his fingers faster against you, occasionally dipping them down to your entrance to collect some of your slick for lubrication. You hitched a leg up over his hip to allow him better access to your core. 

“Jesus, Bucky,” you moaned, feeling yourself building to the crescendo. Taking your hand off his shoulder, you grabbed his wrist, guiding his movements so you could grind your desperate cunt against his hand.

“Do you want my fingers, sugar?” Bucky panted. You looked up at him to find his gaze locked on where his hand had vanished between your thighs, his pupils completely blown from lust. “Do you want me to fuck you with my fingers until you squirt all over me?”

You couldn’t even get out a coherent word, just a pathetic whine that turned into a near scream when Bucky plunged three of his digits into you. The air was full of the frantic sounds of your combined breathing, along with the rapid squelch of his fingers driving in and out of your cunt with a speed you didn’t know was humanly possible. It felt like he was hitting every part of you, even parts you didn’t know existed until now. Every time with Bucky felt that way.

“How you doing, sugar?” Bucky asked as he continued to drive his fingers home. “You okay?”

You nodded and grunted in the affirmative, loving how he always checked in on you. You were so much more than okay. You were transcendent. 

Soon, you felt that intense, unfamiliar build up that only he had been able to pull out of you once before, on the living room floor. The pleasure was so intense, you couldn’t see straight and you were exploding all over again, clinging to Bucky for dear life as you screamed his name. 

<- Previous Part / Next Chapter ->

[oceantornadoo]

can be read as part of the duckie universe?? standalone tho. here

“‘ello, duckie.” john’s voice was smooth gravel in your ear, honeyed and sweet. “hey john. date was ok. won’t be a second one though, it felt like i was talking to a colleague, not a potential lover.” john was silent on the other end, just gruff breathing. you bit the tip of your tongue, cursing yourself for giving so much information. he was supposed to be your best friend, your confidant, but somehow this felt like crossing a line. but you weren’t anything, he never tried anything, so really this wasn’t even your fault.

“where are you?” what if you didn’t tell him? what if you ignored the fact that he has your location and was probably already on his way? what about the sound of an engine turning on in the background? “that one thai place off base. john i-“ “took him to our spot?” shit. you were in for it.

john pulled up ten minutes later in his worn truck, the transport he took when he was undercover or off duty. when he was wearing those jeans that hugged his ass way too well and that black henley you bought for him two christmases ago, his biceps practically bursting out of it. “john, it’s not a big deal.” he refused to meet your eyes, taking your bag and guiding you to his truck door, ever the gentleman. “get in, duckie.” instead of complying, you turned and placed a hand on his chest, an attempt to make him meet your eyes. instead, he gazed at your hand, your left hand, with its bare fingers. “don’t make me say it again.” to postpone a fight in the parking lot and to quicken the time it would take you to get home and out of these extremely uncomfortable shoes, you rolled your eyes and made your way to the passenger door. you ignored how he opened it for you, how he placed a hand on your ass to help you up into the truck, even thought it was just a few inches off the ground.

the ride back to base was silent, your fingers itching to press the radio button just to break the tension. the minutes passed quickly, john pulling up to his base quarters with practiced ease. he backed into a parking spot, a hand on your headrest that you tried valiantly to ignore. the smell of his cologne reached you anyways, a pavlovian reaction relaxing your body on instinct. he helped you out of the car despite his anger, rough hands guiding you towards the familiar path leading to his room. never mind that you desperately wanted to go to your own room, change into sweats, wipe off your makeup, decompress with a glass of wine or two. instead, you were walking to john’s room like a prisoner, heavy steps echoing your own as he opened doors and tugged you through them.

finally you were at his room, watching his nimble hands open the door with the slightest shake. that couldn’t be right. he only shook when he was angry and - you did a quick catalogue of his bunched shoulders muscling through the entrance, the sharp way he toed off his boots - maybe you were wrong. he knelt down before you before your brain could even register, grasping at your ankle and tugging off your shoes. he did it with too much force, causing you to stumble into him, stomach squishing against his face. “i’m sorry.” he grunted in reply, still not meeting your eyes. “sit.” you gulped at the sight of his bed, tucked in with military precision.

“explain.” john was looking down at you, arms crossed against his chest. instead of answering, you tugged him down to sit next to you. the fact that he let you? he wasn’t that mad. “we were supposed to eat at the pub but it was closed so that’s why we went to the thai place. and he suggested it, ok? it wasn’t on purpose.” he shook his head, shoulder brushing your own. “he’s a bloody idiot for not checking beforehand.” you giggled, laying your head against his shoulder. “right? i would never betray our restaurant like that, john.” john was silent, lost to his thoughts. the anger was still there, a simmer instead of a boil. he wasn’t hearing you, so you decided to take matters into your own hands.

“john, you’re not listening.” you stood up, walking in between his open legs, your hand on his shoulders. his eyes were still glazed, brows furrowed. deciding on drastic measures, you dragged yourself into his lap, straddling him into the mattress. finally, his eyes met yours, all blue and wanting. his hands on your hip, your pelvises kissing. “duckie.” you shook your head, biting your lip. “there a reason why you’re so mad at me, captain?” john’s hands tightened against your body, holding you in place. “don’t play that, sweetheart.” you dragged your hands into his beard, tugging lightly on the strands. “then why did you pick me up all stoic?” he brought his face closer to yours, noses touching. eyes flickering to yours, searching for something. you were tired of this caveman act. “kiss me, john.”

his eyes widened. "stop playin', duck. not the time." you shook your head, giving him a roll of your hips. denim brushed on denim, stirring his cock to life. "don't you want to kiss your future wife?" his eyes widened at the mention of the marriage pact that usually only he brought up. "you told me to wait, so i'm waitin’, sweetheart." he wasn't getting it. you finally saw past it, past the wall of anger he portrayed. "well, if you won't, then maybe i'll call my date and-"

john's lips smashed against your own, his hands tugging you closer into his laps. he was searching, for what you didn't know, chasing you with a kiss. his cock was hard against you, the brush of denim against your clit sending shock waves to your system. "not gonna fuck you, duckie. not yet." you frowned, breaking the kiss. "why not?" he moved to your neck, kissing it frantically.

"'cause you're not as deep as i am. 's okay, i can wait a few more years." you started bucking in his lap, chasing the feeling in your stomach. "john, you're so hot when you're mad. please please please fuck me." he chuckled at your tone, one hand moving from your hip to grip your jaw in place. "y'r so whiny when you're horny, baby. can't wait to fuck you one day." his beard was scratching your neck, the sensation setting you on fire. you kept grinding, his hands pulling you in and own, helping you chase your orgasm. "gonna come like this for your husband?" you didn't even try to correct him, too lost in the waves of pleasure. just a bit more and - he bit your neck, sending you over the edge into blissful orgasm. you worked out the waves in his lap, slowing down as the exhaustion hit you. "john, i-' you ended with a yawn, sinking into his embrace. "'s okay, duckie. all the time you need. i can wait."

[kinardsevan]

Evan grumbled underneath his breath as they walked down the frozen vegetables aisle, grabbing supplies as he did.

“Babe, it’s gonna be okay,” Tommy chuckled, rubbing a hand over his eyes. The last thing either of them wanted to be doing right now after coming off shift was shopping, but the fridge was completely empty, and the cupboards were sorely lacking too after their schedules not lining up for the past two weeks. Still, they were on a long turnaround now and had a few days together.

“Somehow I doubt that,” Evan replied, a bit snarky. He turned on his heel to look at Tommy. “This is three now. Three weddings cancelled where I lose out on the reception.”

Tommy smiled at him. He knew Evan was being ridiculous. Evan knew Evan was being ridiculous. Still, there was an unspoken knowledge between them that sometimes Evan really relished in the open PDA with Tommy around their friends. It made him feel seen, and loved.

And for the third time, it wasn’t going to happen.

Granted, Maddie and Chim couldn’t help that their reception ended up being in the hospital. And then one of Evans friends from the training academy had invited him to their wedding, only to decide to postpone their wedding and then elope. And now Eddie and his fiancé had just decided to do something small in their back yard, no major celebration. He wanted something calm with just him, his fiancé, and their kids.

And Evan understood that. Eddie, Chris, even the fiancé and her daughter, had all done a big to-do before in their previous marriages. When he’d finally found someone who understood all his quirks and the way Shannon would always be a part of things, even though she’s gone, Eddie and his fiancé just wanted to settle in. And Evan, nor Tommy, could blame them for that.

But it was still the third time Evan was losing out on dancing at a reception with the love of his life.

Tommy grabbed a bag of frozen broccoli out of Evan’s hands—they had more halloumi and broccolini on this weeks menu—and settled it in the basket before grabbing Evans hand and turning the younger man towards him.

“You know we have our own reception in just a few months,” Tommy reminded him before pecking him quickly on the lips.

Evan couldn’t help smiling into it, even if he was a little annoyed.

“Months away,” Evan retorts a bit cheekily. “And I’ve gotta throw the party in order to do it.”

Tommy just laughs at him before grabbing his hand and placing it up on the cart, pushing them forward.

“Come on, Ev. I’m hungry, and you promised me dinner,” he teases.

They finish shopping fairly quickly—Tommy has a system to keep him on track after their first half-dozen trips took more than three hours—and then head out of the store, into the darkness of the parking lot. It’s almost 9 PM on a Wednesday night, so there aren’t many cars in the parking lot as they fill the bed of Tommy’s truck with their food. Evan returns the cart, and when he walks back over to Tommy and the truck, he’s setting his phone on the ledge of the truck bed, extending a hand to Evan.

“Come on.”

Evan furrows a brow at him as he takes Tommy’s hand, but Tommy reaches out and taps on his phone screen, and music starts to play. Tommy slides his hands down to Evan’s hips, fingertips slipping just inside the pockets on the back of his jeans.

“What are we doing,” Evan says with a giggle—a giggle—as he slides his arms up around Tommy’s neck. Tommy leans forward and nuzzles his face. He waits a lull, until the lyric comes up on the song, and then sings it softly at Evan.

“Making the most of whatever we got Even if it’s just slow dancing in the parking lot…”

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Warrior's Wrath - Part 2

Source for pic

Word Count: 5994

Tags: Medieval Scotland AU; Highlander Kid; Blurry non-con; Angst without happy ending; Fluff and angst; have I mentioned ANGST? soft Kid; feral Kid; Blood and gore; Killer might have a crush on reader (didn’t notice I did this until I was editing); MDNI!!! 🔞

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: You and Kid, the fiercest worry of your village, get married and happiness is just within your reach. Until Blackbeard, the laird, comes to claim prima nocta and takes you. Somehow, you are able to placate Kid’s anger before you go, yet, when you return filled with marks and bruises, Kid can no longer be controlled.

Notes: Highlander Kid lives rent free in my head and I can’t help it. This one got away from me, though. I meant it to be around 5 or 6k words, it turned out to be almost 13k. Historical note, there’s no concrete historical evidence to support the existence of prima nocte, but this story was heavily inspired by Braveheart - God, I love this movie. I do hope you enjoy it! I’m so sorry for breaking your heart again. I thrive on angst! 

PS: Decided to compromise and split this into two parts but posted at the same time!

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane

MASTERLIST

|Part 1|

Kid slept through lunch and most of the afternoon and when he woke up, you had already instructed Killer to ask him for help with a very important task that needed his craftsman expertise, so he wouldn't observe you too closely again. 

Killer gave you a frown and a veiled judgmental look that you decided to ignore and, by the time they returned, you had dinner on the table. Kid's portion had a special ingredient in it. 

And it wasn't just love. 

He fell asleep the second his head hit the pillow and a soft sigh left your parted lips as you cleaned the table and applied more poultice to your wounds. They seemed less inflamed now. Their colour was a bit more faded and the swelling on most of them had gone down. 

You nodded as you prepared for bed. You could do this. 

-*-

You were woken by a wave of heat and pleasure. Something so strong that immediately pulled a moan from your open mouth. 

The room was dimly lit by the light of the crescent moon coming through the window and the small flame of the burning embers in the fireplace, but you could make out Kid’s fiery red hair between your parted thighs. Though you didn't need any sight to realise what he was doing.

His tongue licked and lapped at your lower lips, tasting, sucking nibbling. He was teasing you awake with the gentleness of his touch, purposely dragging his tongue around your clit. 

“Kid!” You huffed, eyes shutting hard as your fingers clenched the sheets. 

“We still haven't tried this bed out, lass. I don't know why I've been so tired, but I'm not postponing this anymore.” His calloused hand grabbed the back of your knee as he hoisted your leg over his shoulder. “The other one.” He commanded you as you silently obeyed and placed your other leg on top of him. 

The room was dark. He wouldn't notice the dark finger-shaped bruises around your hips. There was barely any light, he wouldn't notice the crust already coating the bite mark on your right thigh. You could scarcely see the orange of his eyes so there was no way he would notice the purple of the bruises on your buttocks. 

Right? 

Besides, you couldn't even think straight as he plunged two digits inside you and bullied your throbbing nub. His efforts now only aimed to get you off as you were already awake, all previous gentleness quickly forgotten. The pressure building in your core made your legs clench around his head and he groaned into you, the low vibrato of his voice adding another layer of pleasure, tightening the coil and making your back arch. 

The pain from the bruises on your back and the bites on your nape mingled with the waves of pleasure that overtook you almost without warning. 

“Mmph, Kid! I'm gonna-...” You didn't even finish your sentence as it turned into a litany of moans and mewls, thighs clenching and squeezing Kid's head, pulling him further into you as you rode out your high on his face. “Stop, enough, love.” You tapped his head lightly as your legs released him from your grasp, clit aching and throbbing, begging for rest. 

He emerged with a wicked grin on his face. “All tapped out, lass? This is just the beginning. I'm not done with ya.”

Your heart leapt and rejoiced at his words, but your body was so tired and sore that it begged for rest. You needed to stall him. 

“My love, let me just brew us some tea. I'm so tired that I need a little pick-me-up.” You kissed his forehead and swung your legs to the side to get up. You were naked - Kid's work - but quickly stirred the embers in the fireplace, adding some kindling and bringing it back to a roaring flame so you could heat some water. You planned to mix a bit of nightshade in Kid's tea. That would put him to sleep. 

Except you didn't notice how your husband silently followed you to the brightness of the fireplace - he was the fiercest warrior for a reason. 

As big as he was, he moved with the stealth of a stag, so you didn't hear him until his hand was on your arm, stilling your movements. Biting your lip you tried to suppress a hiss. He could see you clearly now. 

All of you. 

All of your bruises and marks and cuts. 

All of your shame. 

Your eyes searched for his, embarrassment and fear written all over your face. He gazed at you with a piercing scowl on his lips, orange orbs scrutinising every bit of skin, taking in the full extent of what the laird had done to you. 

To his wife! 

“Kid…”

“So ya weren't disgusted by me.” He grunted. “I thought ya just didn't want me anymore. But ya were just hiding this.” He dragged out the last word, his growl shifting the sound to something dangerous. 

“I…”

“That fucker.” The eerie calmness of his voice made all the hairs on your body bristle and brought tears to your eyes. This was what you wanted to avoid.

The tea, he needed the tea. 

“Let me just-...” He cut you and your movements off by grabbing your waist and laying you down on the deer pelt you had on the floor - you had put it there for cuddling. 

“Shut up, lass.” His voice was hoarse and pained. He forced you to lie back as his eyes ran over your body, taking in all the wounds, bites, scratches, cuts and bruises. There were so many. You knew. 

You lay still. Your eyes shut as you tried to keep your tears hidden inside. You never wanted to hide something like this from him, but you had to. 

“Did ya really think I wouldn't notice this?” You had never heard him speak so calmly. It was another stage of rage you had never encountered. And it was terrifying. 

“I hoped I could hide it from you.” The whisper that left your lips felt foreign and odd. And you still couldn't meet his gaze. 

“For how long? Ya were going to deny me for how long?”

Biting back a sob you shook your head and scrunched your shoulders. “How long it took.”

“That fucker hurt ya. Why? Ya fought back? If ya wanted to fight I was ready for it before he took ya! Ya didn't have to do it alone!” He emphasised his anger with a punch to the floor and you inhaled deeply. This type of anger you were familiar with. 

“It wasn't like that. He realised I wasn't a maiden anymore. Then he ripped my wedding dress and told me he would make me forget you.” Finally your eyes met Kid's as you smirked and a silent tear ran down the corner of your eye. “I told him there was no chance of it happening with his tiny dick.”

You saw as your husband's lips twitched, and his orange eyes brightened with the slightest hint of humour. Yet he didn't laugh. 

“So he did that.” He gestured to your body and you nodded solemnly. You had to find a way to drug him before he did something drastic. 

Except he just inhaled. A deep breath as he closed his eyes. You could almost feel his anger draining away from him so you didn't dare speak a word. 

When he opened his eyes, there was nothing but love in them. Kid lowered himself above your body and you felt his lips on yours, very softly, then they moved towards the bruise on your jaw. You let out a low hiss because of the pressure but he didn't say anything. Instead he continued, kissing every bruise on your neck, on your breasts, chest, belly, legs, thighs… 

Your husband worshipped your body like he had never done before. You knew he loved you deeply, and you loved him beyond anything rational, but he showed his love with coarse gestures, with brutish affection. Never like this.

Slowly you laced your arms around his neck, pulling him back to you just as you saw his fist clenching, knuckles turning white and veins protruding from his biceps. He was stuck on your thighs, where there were some of the worst bruises. 

“My love.” You brought him back to reality, pressing your lips firmly against his, noticing the lingering scent and taste of yourself in his mouth, not caring one bit. “It’s still me. I’m fine. Forget it, please forget it.”

Kid didn’t say anything. He pressed his knee against your legs and you parted them so he could slot himself there. He kept trailing kisses all over your body. Soft kisses. So, so soft. He was trying to caress you at the same time, but with only one arm he couldn’t find support to keep upright.

Grunting and cursing about his limitation, he sat down and used his arm to hoist you up so you could sit on his lap, one leg on each side. You used this leverage to grab his face with your hands, tracing your fingers through the scar on his face and kissing him gently. “Kid…” You didn’t quite know what you were about to say. Something to try and steer away his anger. 

Whatever it was, it was quickly set aside when he claimed your lips again. A kiss so sweet and so soft, so unlike anything you were used to, that it almost brought tears to your eyes. Clawing with your hands, you pulled his shirt over his head and aligned yourself with his hard dick.

His arm circled your back as his hand settled on your nape, deepening the kiss and he gave a gentle thrust, sheathing himself completely and swallowing your soft moan. You rocked your hips gently, following his slow pace. 

It was utterly different from all the times you had been together with him and yet, still as pleasurable as when he was using you brutally. You couldn’t explain why this heat coming from within you felt different, except that it just did. It built in soft waves, spreading slowly to your toes and making your head light. So much so that you had to bury your face in the crook of his neck, your fingers tangling themselves amidst red locks as faint moans escaped your lips, just to keep you tethered to reality. 

His head fell on your shoulder as well, lips kissing softly instead of biting angrily; his hand caressing you instead of pressing and bruising. He was treating you as if you were a delicate flower instead of the wild thistle he knew you were. 

And for all the old gods and the new, you didn’t even know you needed to be treated this gently until the tears started streaming down your face. Hot droplets, one or two at first, and then an unending torrent. You saw them fall on Kid’s shoulder, and you were sure he felt them because he stopped for a second before resuming his languid, soft thrusts. 

“It’s ya and me lass.” He whispered near your ear while his arm gripped you tighter. “Always ya and me. Always.” He punctuated each word with a harder thrust and the wave of pleasure that hit you with the last ‘always’ came unannounced, crashing over you like a raging tsunami, making you cry out his name as your whole body clenched around him, locking him in a desperate embrace.

He finished a few thrusts later and you remained locked together for a while. You don’t really remember falling asleep, you recall him softly cleaning you up and helping you to bed as you muttered softly: “It’s me and you Kid.��

And then darkness took over.

-*-

The dawn came too fast. Light seeped through the window lazily as the birds chirped their morning song, too close to your window, reminding you that it was time to get up and get ready for the day.

You felt happy. Your heart lighter than it had been since your wedding day. Last night you had made love with your husband. You loved the way he roughed you up, taking you hard and possessively, claiming you as his whenever and however he pleased.

But last night felt different. And it was healing in more ways than one.

Your hand reached for his side of the bed, searching for his body so you could claim some cuddles and kisses. Even if he protested a bit, you knew he was a softie for your affection. 

But the bed was cold and he was gone.

Gasping, you jolted upright, stifling a cry of pain as your body protested with the effort. Your eyes immediately went to the mantle, to the designated place of his axe, silently praying and begging all the gods for it to be there, resting idly against it. 

It wasn’t there. 

Nausea overtook you and you barely had time to find a bucket to vomit of bile that surged up from your stomach. You knew where he was.That was why he had been so gentle and so caring last night. 

He had gone to seek vengeance. 

-*-

After he put you to bed, Kid donned his kilt, a scowl on his lips as he regarded your spent, sleeping form. He could still recall the shape and indent of every bruise, every bite mark, every scrape and - that fucking fucker - every cut. 

There was no way he would let this pass.

Throughout the night you were gone, he had come to terms with what happened. Flanked by his best friends - Killer, Heat and Wire - they had drunk themselves into a stupor. He was willing to forgive that laird bastard for what he had done. 

Kid had promised you.

But now he was seeing red. After what he had seen, after the marks that useless arse had left on your body and your soul - your tears had broken Kid in two - he would never let that bastard live another day. 

With you tucked safely in bed, he pressed his lips to your forehead. You were the love of his life. He had never felt this way about anything or anyone. He had learned long ago that vulnerability was a weakness, something to be taken advantage of. 

Except with you.

With you he could be vulnerable, kind, gentle, warm… you would never judge. Only reciprocate.

“I love you forever.” He mumbled into your hair as his hand lingered with one last caress before he left your home.

He was going alone. With all the rage he felt, he knew he could take on the world if it stepped in his path. Except the one who did was Killer.

“Where ya going?” Killer asked, a soft chuckle letting Kid know he already knew the answer.

“Claim some blood. Wanna come with?” The growl that accompanied his statement was involuntary. 

“Been waiting for it. I saw that fucking bruise on her jaw. That fucker.” 

They both started to pace towards the dense forest. “Those were not the only ones. He scarred her all over. Fucking bastard, I’m gonna carve a grin on his fucking face.”

“We’ll help.” Heat and Wire said, emerging from the shadows.

Kid grinned maniacally. Fuck, the four of them would burn the world down.

Just for you.

-*-

As you left the house, looking frantically for Kid, hoping he was just sparring with Killer, you realised that all of the four warriors were gone. Your stomach churned again and you threw up some more behind a bush.

Your worst fears had come true. This was all your fault, you forgot to give him the tea.

Tears streamed down your face as your heart clenched in your chest. He would come to you alive, you knew that perfectly well, but he would never live down the murdering of a laird. He would be sentenced and executed. Hanged, most likely, beheaded if there was any justice left in this world.

But he would be torn from your arms. For eternity.

As you slumped to the floor, your wet eyes fixed on the battered path that came from the woods and led straight into the village, you heard him. A boisterous laugh, a thunderous cocky roar of victory. He’d done it.

-*-

Kid had gone straight to the laird’s quarters, leaving his men to handle whatever else came along. They were told to try and hold back on the killing, but they were free to do as they pleased. 

Fortunately for them, most of Blackbeard’s household hated his guts. They let them pass without bothering them. Only some of his personal guards gave them trouble. But Kid strode on. His eyes burned with rage, his hand clenched around the handle of his axe, which was calling for blood.

Kicking the door of his room down, Kid rejoiced from the startled yelp that came from the bed. The bastard had been in a deep slumber, but Kid wanted him wide awake for what was coming next.

“Lass, go away.” Your husband growled at the girl that was in bed with Blackbeard, a very young girl. And that only managed to fuel Kid’s rage.  A groggy Blackbeard tried to get up, but Kid drew a knife from his belt and threw it at him, hitting his nose with the hilt and eliciting another yelp. 

“Ya stay right there.”

With two long strides and while the laird was still clutching his nose in pain, Kid approached and, as soon as his enemy removed his hands from his face, he delivered a powerful punch to the same spot where the knife had hit, effectively making him lie back down. 

“I said, stay down, fucker.”

Kid snarled, his lips curling back, revealing his menacing canines. 

Blackbeard opened and closed his eyes between groans, as the punch from your husband had made him very dizzy, almost unconscious. A perfect stage for what came next. 

With dexterous fingers, Kid tied Blackbeard’s wrists together, threw them over his head, and secured them to the bedpost. He repeated the procedure with his legs, and then nodded in approval.

“Just like a fucking pig ready for slaughter. Ya fucking asshole.”

The laird blinked, his mouth opening and closing, revealing his many missing teeth and lending him a terrified look. Your husband leaned down, putting his face right next to Blackbeard’s bleeding nose. “Remember me?”

Blackbeard spat in Kid’s face, which only managed to make Kid's cackle more menacing. “I remember your wife very well. She squirmed a lot beneath me and-...”

Kid didn't let him finish as his forehead collided with Blackbeard’s mouth, knocking out a few more teeth. “Keep my wife's name out of ya filthy fucking mouth or I make this last way longer than it needs to. And ya won't like it.”

“Her name wasn't the only thing in my mouth.” He taunted and Kid cracked his knuckles against his leg. 

“The long way it is, then. Even better.” It was a good thing that Blackbeard was too busy blinking back tears from the sting of the headbutt, or he would've noticed the unhinged glint in Kid's eyes. 

It was also fortunate that he was spitting out teeth and blood for a good part of the minute because he missed seeing Kid lay out his knives, ready to exact his vengeance. In the slowest, most painful way possible. 

-*-

You got up on shaky legs, nausea still making you wobbly, but you strode with purpose towards your husband, your eyes wide as saucers and your mouth hanging open. 

You had seen him bloodied from fights and hunts before, but right now he was soaked in blood. Head to toe, there was barely an inch of skin that was clean. 

With each step you took, more tears fell from your eyes, and your heart clenched more tightly. Breath hitched in your throat as your limbs trembled and shook relentlessly. 

“You idiot, reckless, careless, moron!”

Killer whistled as he, Heat and Wire stepped out of your way. 

“Feckless gowk, you're always, always, thinking with your fist instead of your head, Kid! Why?” Your voice grew louder and louder, reaching a screech so high that would make a forest banshee squeak in fear. As soon as you reached him, he greeted you with his cocky smirk, tilting his head sideways and looking down at you with a bit of blood smeared near his lip. 

“Hello, lass. Miss me?”

You clenched your fists, relentless tears still dripping down your face, drenching you in sorrow. Pressing yourself against him, you punched his chest, over and over while your eyes tightened and sobs clawed at your throat. 

Somehow you still managed to speak between heaves and hiccups. 

“You promised me a lifetime! A lifetime entails an actual life! Why did you do this, Kid, why? Gods, why?” Your legs gave out but before you collapsed, his strong arm enveloped your waist, pulling you into a crushing embrace. 

You locked eyes with him and his were filled with tenderness. Something he reserved only for you. 

“Lass, for ya I'd make the whole world bleed. Over and over again until all the rivers ran red.”

His words hung around you, heavy and painful and you kept sobbing into his chest, your fingers clawing and clenching his blood-soaked shirt. 

“It's ya and me, love. No one in between.” He finished as you felt yourself drifting into unconsciousness. “Forever.”

-*-

You barely had a few hours with him before the sheriff came to take Kid away to the gaols. He didn't protest. You however did. 

Your screams were heard all over the Highlands. How it wasn't fair, how the laird was dreadful and terrible and how no one liked him or thought he was fit to lead. You even showed them most of your bruises. 

When none of that worked, you dropped to your knees and pleaded. You begged like never before. 

To no avail. 

They didn't even let you say goodbye to him properly. 

-*-

Kid had weeks to ponder his wrongdoings as he sat in jail. He was pondering all right, but they were not wrongdoings in his eyes. 

He thought about the way it felt as the tip of the knife sank into the laird’s thigh, right where you had a mark. He thought about the cut he made from Blackbeard’s lip to the exact place where the bruise on your jaw was. He also thought about the joy it gave him when he ripped the laird’s balls out with his bare hands. 

It was such a shame the bastard passed out from shock and blood loss immediately afterward. Such a shame. 

On other days, most of them, actually, Kid thought about you. Your scent, your touch, your lips, your hair, your smile… 

But mostly, your love. 

-*-

You tried everything. You spoke with the highest ranks in the clan - the ones who were deciding both Kid's fate and who ruled the land - but they quickly dismissed you. 

You spoke with the druid who had officiated your wedding but he couldn't do anything to help. When you managed to speak with the sheriff, he told you Kid had made a deal of his own. He would gladly pay the ultimate price and serve as an example: even if the laird was a total bastard, there could be no rebellion, much less from within the clan. 

But only if his friends were spared the repercussions. Killer, Heat and Wire wouldn't be charged. 

The sheriff accepted. 

-*-

They decided on a beheading. Which was much more humane than just leaving someone dangling from a noose. That was torture if the neck didn't snap right away. 

Kid was grateful for that. 

They were going to make an example out of him, but they were still thankful for the service he had provided. Blackbeard had been in charge for a short time but the damage had been extensive. Both to the vaults and to the towns and villages under his command. 

The sheriff confessed - over drinks Kid should have been denied but wasn’t - that he should be made a hero instead of a martyr. But life was just like that. ‘One minute you're here, the next you're dead.’

Kid tried to push his luck a bit more and asked to see you. 

The sheriff said he would see what could be done, but his smile and wink gave Kid hope. 

Kid just needed to make sure you were all right. He knew you would be mad at him, cursing him, condemning his soul to wander aimlessly with all the grudge you held against his actions, and he needed to apologise to you. 

Not for what he did, he would do it all over again - except, maybe, leave the laird  conscious for more time - but for what he put you through. And for breaking his promise. 

He would love you forever, that he would. Except his forever would be far shorter than yours. And perhaps that was something you couldn't forgive. 

-*-

When the sheriff came to get you so you could see Kid, you almost wept. You were knee-deep in your herb garden, trying to gather some peppermint and chamomile to brew a tea that might help keep food in your stomach, as you didn’t seem able to hold anything down these days.

You were mistaken, though. You thought he meant you could bring Kid home to you. But it was just so you could say goodbye. His execution was scheduled for the next day. 

Quincy and Killer had to help you through your shock as you tried to regain your breath. Even the sheriff seemed flustered by your fit. Yet how could you help it? When the love of your life was going to be executed?

After your friends forced you to drink some of that tea, you accompanied the sheriff to the gaols, dread making your stomach churn as the nausea returned tenfold. The smell of the gaols alone was enough to make anyone queasy. 

But soon enough the sheriff led you to a small room - not his cell - where Kid was waiting for you, his wrist shackled to the stone wall. As soon as his bright orange eyes fixed on yours, you became a sobbing mess. 

Closing the distance between you with a small sprint, you jumped and dangled from his neck as he took two steps back gaining enough leverage from the chain to hug you back. “Kid! Kid! Gods… oh, gods…” Burying your face in the crook of his neck, you sobbed and cried until your throat was raw and your tears had dried.

“There, there, lass. It’s okay. It’s okay.” He kept repeating those soothing words, his dry lips placing gentle kisses on your skin. You showed no signs of letting him go anytime soon, so he slumped against the wall and slid down, cradling you in his strong lap as your arms held on for dear life around his thick neck. 

After what felt like an eternity, you heard the soft thump of Kid’s head against the wall and you moved to look into his eyes. He looked pained and exhausted as he let out a deep sigh. 

“Forgive me, lass.” His mumble made his chest rumble and, instinctively, you pressed closer to him. “I broke our vows. I cannot give ya forever. But I’ll always love ya.”

Fresh tears ran down your face, gathering at your chin and dripping off. You didn’t even bother with cleaning your face as the tears would only carve new paths, like a river that keeps flowing, shaping the earth as it passes. 

“Will ya? Forgive me?” You should. You wanted to. But his parting would leave a chasm so big within you that you didn’t know if you could. Besides, there was something else he needed to know.

“I’m carrying a child in my womb.” You said softly. You had suspected it for a while, but now that your monthly cycle had fully stopped, you were sure. 

You felt him stiffen against you, the soft caresses of his hand against your back suddenly halting as he turned his head to look into your eyes. You indulged him by lifting your head, a strained smile pressed upon your lips as you realised, far too late now, that this information was bringing regret to his eyes.

If you had known sooner, perhaps you could have prevented this. He might’ve stayed home instead of seeking vengeance. He would still be with you tomorrow, and the day after, and the one after that. Because there would be a child to tend to as well. 

Except there was a slight problem.

With a trembling lip and shifting eyes, you grasped his dirty ragged shirt. “I don’t know… gods, Kid I don’t know if the child is…”

“It’s mine.” He roared. A primal growl escaping his lips as he swallowed a hard lump in his throat. “I know it’s mine. I know it, lass.”

You nodded at him, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks once more. “It’s yours.” Kid dipped his head as he took your lips into his and you couldn’t bear the thought that these moments were the last you would spend with your other half. “Kid, beg for clemency. Please, Kid. Beg for your life. Say you’ll repent for your sins. Admit you were wrong and ask for mercy. For me, for the child, for us! Please, Kid, please!”

He shook his head softly, seemingly out of strength to contradict you, and you continued. “Please! They hated the laird, they’ll forgive you if you plead enough! Even if you stay in jail for the rest of your life, please, love! Please!”

The words kept catching in your throat. Desperate, raw, filled with sorrow and grief. You didn’t know what else to do.

He simply kissed your forehead and sighed. “Lass, a warrior doesn’t beg. A warrior has his pride. I will not beg.” He seemed resigned to his fate now, you knew there was nothing else you could say that would swindle his will. He was a warrior through and through and you knew he would never live in shame. Even if it meant he had to be away from you.

“Please…” You begged one last time.

“Love, ya’ll stay away tomorrow. I don’t want ya at the beheading. I don’t want ya to remember me like that. Ya’ll stay home, feed, take care of our child. Raise him to be a strong, powerful warrior like his father. Stay away.” 

You shook your head as another fresh wave of sobs made your shoulder heave. “Say you’ll beg, Kid, please, for us…”

“Stay home, forgive me. Make me these promises, lass, so I can go in peace.” This unfamiliar softness in his voice only broke you more. You needed to forgive him so he could rest in the afterlife. You knew that. But you also knew that forgiving him meant you had to accept the fact that you would never see him again.

That he was lost forever.

And that was a terrifying thought.

Instead you pressed your lips against his, deepening the kiss, drawing him close, clawing at his body in desperation and grasping every bit of him, trying to imprint his mark upon yourself so you could forever remember the shape of his body against yours.

After an eternity you whispered: “Aye, Kid. I forgive you. I love you forever.”

“And always.” He finished in a mournful tone.

-*-

Quincy stayed with you. Killer wanted to be at your side, to help you through the pain, but you needed Kill to be there for Kid. You were still hoping he would beg for mercy. Deep down you knew he never would, but there was a very slight tingle of hope in the pit of your stomach and you almost didn’t dare give it any attention.

Your nausea was overwhelming and you were bedridden, barely eating and with no will to even open your eyes. 

Noon was the time of the execution. Ten minutes to go.

“He’ll beg. He has to beg.” You whispered to the wind, Quincy was holding your hand, feeding you tea from time to time, her face heavy with the loss. 

Five minutes…

“Quincy… he can’t leave me! He can’t!” The sobs and hiccups pulled more bile from your stomach, your limbs trembling relentlessly as your head throbbed and ached. 

Noon.

The bells didn’t ring and you hoped. Your breath hitched in your throat. They only rang the bells when the execution was over. The bells were silent.

The bells were silent.

Shallow breaths left your parted lips, your tears frozen in your eyelids as your hand crushed Quincy’s, who stood by you without making a sound. 

Then the relentless toll of the bells started. Each toll carved away a piece of your heart. Each chime brought a wave of agony up your chest. Each clang resounded deep in your soul, bringing flashes of the brief time you spent with Kid: his smiles, his frowns, his growls, his eyes… the light in his bright orange eyes which you would see no more.

The pain was unbearable.

With each heave you made, gasping for air that seemed to never reach your lungs, your heart broke another piece. With each wail that left your lips, a part of your soul left with it. Your heart had parted from this world.

And now you were left empty.

Forever.

-*-

“Push! Push, lass! A little harder, come on!” House instructed, her hands deep in your thighs, helping the baby be born.

You were spent. The last eight hours had been laborious, painful and filled with memories. You were physically drained and emotionally exhausted. 

“I can’t!” You whined, a fresh bout of tears leaving your eyes as you cursed and tried to push.

“Ya can! Ya know why?” House looked up from your thighs, a wicked smile spread upon her lips as she lifted her bloodied hands and clapped, droplets of blood flying around her. “I see a redhead!”

And with a hearty laugh you gave a final push, your strength renewed, your love rekindled.

“It’s a boy!” House exclaimed as the sweet sound of cries filled your ears.

-*-

The stone marker was very simple. Heat had carved a red flame upon the stone with Kid’s name on it. Every month you visited it, leaving a wreath of wildflowers on top of it. White heather and clovers, primroses and daisies, meadowsweet, and ropes of ivy to symbolise fidelity and eternity. 

An exact copy of the headdress you wore on the day of your wedding. You didn’t take any other man, though you didn’t make that promise to Kid, you couldn’t find enough strength in you to give yourself to another person. 

And Kid would be waiting for you in the afterlife. You were sure of it.

Your child was already one year old. A fiery redheaded boy, the spitting image of his fierce father. Every night you stared at him for the longest of times, seeing so much of Kid on your son, wishing your husband were by your side to share the joy.

He would have loved to carry the little one on his shoulders, to make him giggle, to spin him in the air… he would’ve been proud to train him in the ways of the warrior, to follow Kid’s footsteps.

He would’ve been proud.

“Your father was very brave. He gave his life to defend our honour. He’s watching us!” The tears were still a constant, but rarer now. The ache in your heart somewhat subsided, but was still there. Throbbing from time to time. A painful remembrance of what could have been.

With a sigh you placed the wreath on top of the stone and uttered the same words you uttered every time: “It’s you and me, Kid.”

Forever and always.

The End

[grimm-the-tiger]

I made this post a little while ago listing some facts about shipwrecks that probably only I find interesting, so now I’m back to talk about some of them. Specifically, the Olympic. The Olympic was the namesake of the Olympic-class liners, whose most notable member was the Titanic. Out of the three Olympic-class ships - Titanic, Olympic, and Britannic - only one of them was actually unsinkable, and that was the Olympic. 

Over the more than 20 years of its existence, the Olympic was never once in real danger. The Olympic was the danger. On its fifth voyage in September 1911, Olympic was running parallel to the HMS Hawke, a British warship designed specifically for ramming things. Olympic suddenly turned to starboard (right side of the ship if you were facing towards its front), catching Hawke’s commanding officer off-guard; he wasn’t able to avoid the collision and ended up ramming the other ship. Olympic was left with a substantial hole beneath the water line (although flooding was for the most part averted due to its bulkheads actually working properly, *cough* Titanic *cough*) and a slightly less substantial hole above it. Hawke, meanwhile, had its entire bow caved in. Olympic made it back to port just fine under her own power, while Hawke almost capsized. Somehow, no one was seriously hurt or killed. 

Three fun facts about this situation: Violet Jessop, a woman famous for surviving the sinkings of both of the Olympic’s sister ships, was onboard the Olympic when this happened. This incident also reinforced the idea that the Olympic-class was unsinkable. The famous postponement of the Titanic’s maiden voyage also occurred because of this incident; a propeller shaft was damaged in the collision, they needed a new one ASAP, and, well, the Titanic was right there... 

Four years later, WWI broke out. The Olympic was requisitioned as a troop ship, given 6-inch naval guns, and sent on its way. In 1918, while travelling to France with a literal boatload of American soldiers, Olympic spotted U-103, a German U-boat chilling on the surface of the ocean. Olympic opened fire on U-103, which immediately crash dived to keep from dying, then turned to ram the U-boat. Olympic hit U-103′s conning tower and tore open the hull with its propellers. U-103′s crew decided “fuck this” and abandoned ship; Olympic didn’t bother to stop to pick them up, so a nearby American warship did instead. It was later found that U-103 was preparing to torpedo Olympic when they’d been spotted, but they couldn’t flood the torpedo tubes in time. Olympic remains the only merchant vessel in WWI recorded to have sunk an enemy vessel (which would become a more common occurrence during WWII, to the extent that the Nazis apparently tried and hanged at least one captured British merchant captain for ramming one of their U-boats. The Nazis were ones to talk, considering they rehired the man who sank the Carpathia and was notorious for war crimes that included things like “drowning surrendered enemy crews by forcing them to strip and stand on the roof of his submarine, then diving the submarine” and “attacking designated hospital ships that made it very obvious they were hospital ships”). 

Following WWI, while Olympic was being refit for civilian service, a sizeable dent was discovered below the waterline. It was later concluded to have been caused by a faulty torpedo, most likely fired by U-53 while the Olympic was travelling through the English Channel. 

Olympic collided with another, smaller ship, Fort St. George, in New York Harbor on March 22, 1924. There’s not much information on how badly Olympic fucked Fort St. George up, just that Olympic apparently fucked around a little too much and found out, because the collision broke its sternpost (support post in the back of the ship; think of it like a central pillar in a structure), forcing the entire stern frame to be replaced. 

On November 18, 1929, Olympic was cruising not far from the Titanic’s wreck site when the whole thing began shaking for two minutes. This was later found to have been caused by a 7.2 magnitude earthquake off the coast of Newfoundland. 

The Olympic’s last hurrah (and casualty) was on May 15, 1934, when it collided with the lightship LV-117. Olympic had known the lightship was in the area, but didn’t know where exactly it was until they were right on top of it. Olympic’s captain immediately ordered a hard turn and the engines slowed, so Olympic wasn’t moving particularly fast when it did hit LV-117 (about 3 and a half miles per hour), but Olympic was fucking huge, and the people onboard barely noticed when they practically crushed the lightship under them. Only four of the eleven crew aboard LV-117 survived; four went down with the ship and three died in Olympic’s hospital (yes, these things had hospitals; I told you there were fucking huge). 

Olympic was fully scrapped in 1937, forever going down in history as both the only Olympic-class ship that was actually unsinkable and the one with the longest reign of terror. Good God, man. I understand sinking the U-boat, but you didn’t need to bring like four other ships down with you. 

[ryuichirou]

EVEN MORE dark hcs (part 1)

Anonymous asked:

Soooo, do you have any dark headcanons about Rook, Azul and Trey, three of the resident freaks?

Another long overdue post! Sorry for the wait, Anon. For the most part I just got a bit overwhelmed because we have a bunch of dark-themed posts about everyone mentioned here, plus a lot of hcs sprinkled around everywhere, and I really wanted to compile everything neatly… and then kept postponing it lol but today is the day! Well. One of the days. There is another pretty old ask about dark hcs, and I wanted to post both of them today, but I got a sudden headache and gave up… that other Anon will have to wait a little longer, I am sorry.

Thank you for enjoying my darker themed posts. As I say every time, I really enjoy writing them, so I hope you have fun with this one as well. Even though I don’t have much new to say about the majority of these boys, and the post ended up being mostly about Trey (+Riddle). If you want me to talk about another ship of ours that I didn’t mention, please let me know.

Azul has a bunch of dark themed posts about him, for example this one about Azul/Jamil and this one with Azul/Idia, plus pretty much anything in our AzuIde Marriage AU is filled with dark!Azul. We also don’t really have any other big ships with Azul, but I can’t keep you hungry, so here is one bonus one!

A lot of these maniacs would lose interest in someone once they completely boil and break their minds to the point of brainless obedience and doll-like presence, but Azul isn’t one of these people. The more control he has over someone, the better: he gets aroused when someone who used to be bratty and dangerous is now meek and terribly scared of disobeying him. As long as that bratty self is somewhere in those eyes, deeply hidden and trembling with fear, Azul is extremely satisfied.

Rook has a list of yandere!hcs about himself in general, a Rook/Vil list AND a Rook/Idia list! But once again, it’d be a shame to just leave it at that, so here is one bonus one.

Rook would absolutely drink blood of his loved one. And tears as well. Maybe some other bodily liquids. He wouldn’t find anything gross, as long as it’s related to his lover’s body… but mostly he’d have this habit with blood: is he stupid or is he playing vampire? Oh no, it’s much worse somehow, this is just him expressing his desire to own his lover completely.

We also talked about Trey about a couple of times! In this dark hc post there are some hcs about Trey/Idia and Trey/Vil, and since I don’t have a lot to add to these for now, let’s talk about Trey/Riddle, which is pretty much our main ship with Trey. Sorry if I repeat myself!

Trey has been obsessed with Riddle ever since he was little. He was kind of stalking him even before they officially met. Che’nya was the one who took the initiative to actually talk to Riddle for the first time, but he did it because Trey kept sneaking in and watching Riddle through the window like a little creep. He was incredibly sneaky about it, too… It looked like an innocent crush at first, but there was something sinister about Trey’s interest even back then.

Which only got worse overtime. He almost got over it during the time they were separated, but when they met again in NRC, Trey very quickly became obsessed again. His first year at NRC was pretty chill, but the second year when Riddle was a freshman? Something just switched again, and Trey couldn’t think of anything or anyone other than Riddle anymore. Sometimes even he himself gets scared of these feelings – is he really just that creepy of a person? A lot of times he holds back because of that. He knows it doesn’t feel the same as some kind of a crush or friendly affection.

Trey is the type to affect Riddle’s relationships with others from the shadow. You’d never guess how much he sabotages people when he feels like Riddle starts liking them. This is why he is so concerned with Riddle getting closer to Floyd – Floyd isn’t as easily influenced and does whatever he wants, and Riddle pays too much attention to him. Trey is terribly jealous, and since he can’t do anything about it, it makes his blood boil deep inside behind his neutral “normal guy” face. That façade almost cracked one time when he got so angry that he threw a teapot at the wall, but then he realised that there are some freshmen in a room with him who witnessed it. He chuckled and said that he dropped it on accident…

Sorry, it’s the one about teeth again: Trey is a collector. No, he doesn’t steal Riddle’s teeth, but… He did drug him one time to make a mold of his teeth marks while he’s passed out. He washed Riddle’s mouth and brushed teeth afterwards of course (that was also a huge joy). He really likes Riddle’s teeth, that little piece of plaster is his treasure.

(Mentioned it in somno hc list in a way but) Yes, Trey does drug Riddle sometimes. He is so deeply in his own head that somehow it made more sense to him than confessing his feelings to Riddle directly: he is so anxious of hurting Riddle or scaring him away that he would rather just make him fall asleep randomly (or take the potion before going to sleep just so he sleeps better and doesn’t wake up easily) and do his thing without Riddle knowing instead.

It was rather innocent at first: he was just too charmed with Riddle’s innocent sleeping face when he saw him dozing off in an armchair because of exhaustion… His long eyelashes, round cheeks, pouty lips and quiet sleepy sounds made Trey really want to touch his face, play with his hair and kiss him, and this is exactly what he did. Riddle woke up almost instantly, but didn’t notice what was going on, but… long story short, after just a week Riddle was sleeping while sitting on Trey’s lap while Trey was touching him everywhere.

He did try out his sleepy potions on several people other than Riddle, just so when he makes Riddle take it before going to sleep, he can be sure that Riddle isn’t going to wake up while Trey is raping him. Did Trey rape those people as well? Well, some of them…

At some point Trey is going to realise that he is actually one lucky person who could make Riddle take any kind of potion without him knowing: not only Riddle eats his baked goods every time and trusts him the most out of everyone, Trey’s unique magic makes it super easy to hide the weird taste of any potion. So Trey won’t be using it just to make Riddle fall asleep. He’ll start experimenting with aphrodisiacs or maybe even something more addictive and dangerous, just so Riddle doesn’t have a choice and keeps coming back for more…

[faatxma]

Meadow Garden III

Pairing: King George III x Reader

Synopsis : An unplanned guest is making an appearance.

Warnings: None

It felt like time froze, you could only hear his heartbeat and his name being shouted outside of the Observatory. You knew that everything happened for a reason, and that the Queen of England was only seconds away of finding her husband all over another woman might be the end for the both of you.

You came to your senses as he did it, you placed your hands on his chest to push him away and create space between, the two of you.

But George had other plans and tightened his arms closer around you.

'GEOR-' Queen Charlottes voice halted when she saw you two in a rather intimate position. You looked up to George to see his reaction but he was only looking at you. It felt like his mind was all clouded.

'George' you whispered harshly trying to get his attention which you finally got, so you took the chance and slipped out of his arms.

'Your Majesty' you said as your curtsied. She didn’t reply and you could feel the tension in the air.

It felt like you couldn’t breathe properly. Out of all places she chooses to come here. I mean that’s her right, she’s his wife and the Queen of England.

'While I’m at Buckingham Palace all alone being changed like a doll, during our Honeymoon thinking you rather enjoy the company of stars, it seems like your reason to stay here in Kew was something perhaps someone else.’ She said gently placing her hands in front of her skirt.

George was walking towards her trying to explain 'Char-' he started but was interrupted, 'and here I thought you were in company of some whore which I’d have understood, really but what I see is something else ready to elaborate?'

‘Charlotte, this is the woman I’ve told you about.' He said giving her a gentle smile.

‘Oh, that’s her?' She screamed excitedly making her way to you. You were truly confused about her sudden change of mood.

Before you could even react he grabbed you hands excitedly. You looked at George trying to somewhat get an answer but all he did was laugh heartily.

‘It’s nice to meet you I’m Charlotte, George has told me a lot about you.' She said showing you her gorgeous smile.

'What?' You were truly confused and overwhelmed.

George noticed that immediately he came to your side walking you over to a bench. Charlotte followed behind sitting to the right off you. George knelt placing his hands on your knees try to make you relax.

'I’m truly sorry, I didn’t mean to come off as mean. I thought that he might be with someone else here, trying to mend to his heart differently. But George me when we met that there is someone he already loves, and I believe that’s you right?’ She asked.

Your breathe hitched, and you were totally confused.

'Yes' you said but it sounded more like a question. George giggled at your reaction he moved himself to sit to your left side. Placing his arms around your back, pulling you into his chest.

'But how-'

'I told Charlotte at our first encounter, that I couldn’t marry her. I mean she also didn’t want to marry me, I caught her trying to go over a wall’ George said.

'I have someone i truly care for who lives here in Britain. We only exchanged words through letters after he came to Germany, and to be closer to him I kind of accepted this arrangement.’ You were stunned about what you just heard from here.'

'Wait so you guys didn’t marry?' You asked.

'No, the wedding has been postponed until further notice but the public believes that we are.' He said frowning a little bit.

‘That’s why you kept making Reynolds come by?' You muttered tear eyed.

He nodded kissing your forehead gently.

'He was already accepting that you wouldn’t respond to any of his letters, but I had a feeling that you somehow would reach out to him. The way he was talking about you really made me see that, if you were meant for each other you would find your way back to each other.' Charlotte said placing her hands on your arm.

You smiled at her mouthing a small thank you.

'We need to figure something out for the two of you. But first I’ll let you guys enjoy some time alone.' She said getting up and giving me a small wink.

Before we could even say anything she walked out quickly.

'I would actually like some alone time' George whispered into your ear seductively. You stood up walking to the table with all the blueprints. You didn’t turn to him all you did was slowly unbuckle the buttons of the back of your dress.

'Would you please help me, my love' you said innocently looking over your shoulder trying not to smirk at the noticeable bulge in his pants. He didn’t waste any time, walking over to you quickly and pushing you closer to edge of the table.

'I’m ver good with buttons' he growled.

'How good?'

'Let me show you.'

Taglist : @loveanimals0000 @iveraly @ayasinterlude

@navs-bhat @omgsuperstarg @minaxcarter

@hueanhdang @xjessxex @motheroffae

@kpoploverxx-12 @remuslupinwifee

@taliakoster @lomlhs @jaydaaasworld

@alexizodd @ajordan2020 @helen06dreamer

@lollulrooofl

[killerpancakeburger]

Breaking point (2/2)

SUMMARY: Civilian!Reader, who works as Price's assistant, has a breakdown at work. Soap+Ghost help the best they can. Hurt/comfort. Can be read as platonic or romantic. Gender Neutral Reader.

PAIRINGS: Soap x GN!Reader

Ghost's version (1/2) Soap's part 2. Soap's part 3.

TAGS: Hurt/comfort. Military inaccuracies (I make shit up for the sake of the plot). Soap is tooth-rotting sweet.

WARNINGS: Mention of relative in the hospital, suicide ideation, depressive thoughts, swearing.

WORD COUNT: 4.3k

A/N: Very self-indulgent, Reader is going through it and so am I. 🙃Soap is Prince Fucking Charming (very cliché romance tropes). Yours truly suggest to listen to "Strong For Somebody Else" by Citizen Soldier to set the mood. (Song includes suicide ideation and depressive thoughts too, so listen at your own risk).

This bad good boy gave me a harder time than expected lol.

After ending the call, you put down your phone on your desk in a daze, hand shaking.

The news you’ve just been told cannot be real. Life could not possibly be that cruel. What did I do to deserve this? you wonder helplessly. It’s like every time you get back up, life knocks you down again, sending you tumbling on the cold, hard ground.

Clenching your fists, you stare into space, a thousand thoughts disorderly swirling inside your brain, all bursting with anguish, until a burning tear running down your cheek brings you back to the present. You’re at work, your boss is in the next room; a breakdown is a luxury you cannot afford right now. Better bite your tongue hard enough to draw blood than be caught sobbing. 

Inhaling a shaky breath, you take your head between your hands, shoving your fingers into your hair, trying to convince yourself to postpone your nervous collapse. Only one hour left, and you’ll be free to cry your eyes out at your flat. Or on the way home, even. It’s not like the other passengers ever paid you attention the other times you’ve cried on the bus.

But somehow your attempts have the opposite effect, and more tears roll down your face, staining the papers beneath it. As you furiously wipe your face with your sleeve, with a blend of frustration and despair, pissed at yourself, and wanting to get rid of the evidence of your fragile state as fast as possible, the unmistakable sound of your office’s door opening makes you look up.

Of freaking course of all bloody people that could have walked in on you, it had to be Soap fucking Mactavish. Only the most gorgeous man on base - according to you, that is.

You weren't proud of it, but you had a crush on him since you arrived, six months ago. His piercing cerulean eyes, rugged good looks and outgoing personality wouldn’t let you know peace. The mere sight of him was enough to bring a goofy smile to your face, and every conversation between the two of you left you blushing and elated.

You initially thought that this silly, juvenile infatuation would fade away soon enough. Ok, he was beautiful, and he had eyes to damn yourself for, so what? Surely with enough time and exposure, he'd feel mundane. But things didn’t go that way at all.

On top of looking stunning, he just had to be friendly. He made you feel welcome when you arrived. He made efforts to include you in conversations, asking questions to get to know you. He relieved you of the burden of small talk, appeasing your social anxiety, by happily keeping the conversation going on his own, never taking offense when you had nothing to say. He chose to spend some of his free time with you, escorting you back from the archives or dropping by your office.

He was even flirty at times. Flirty. With you.

You could have still disregarded all this; tell yourself he was like this with everyone, that it was just his personality; imagining things would only end up with you hurt in the end.

But then, during a meeting, you witnessed his sincere concern for civilian lives. His righteous anger against unjust orders, when you had fully expected a soldier to obey mindlessly.

This had been your undoing; the moment you knew you were a goner. A severe fondness for him had sunk its claws deep inside your chest and had no intent to let go. It didn’t mean you had any intention to declare your feelings though; you never entertained the thought that he could return them, therefore there was no need for any confession.

For him to be the one to have caught you in this state, it was downright humiliating. Especially since his good heart would make him feel obligated to care.

He was still wearing his leather, fingerless gloves, and some dirt lingered on the contour of his face, like he tossed his weapons and his flak jacket to the side right out of the heli bringing him back to base, and rushed here.

“Hiya hen, brought you the- Shite, what happened?”

His booming voice and cheerful tone fade away as his eyes widen with concern. He briefly freezes at the door in shock before closing the distance to your desk with great strides. You lower your eyes in shame, avoiding his gaze.

“Nothing. Nothing happened. Everything's fine.”

“No offense, bonnie, but yer not very good at lying.”

You bit your lip, forcing yourself to look at him. Staring at your own lap is only going to make you seem more suspicious.

You grit your teeth and lie some more, trying to sound carefree.

“It's nothing, really. I'm just being a crybaby.”

Crybaby.

Soap turns the word over in his mind, unconvinced.

He still remembers that one time when you showed up thirty minutes late to a meeting with the Task Force, panting, leaning on the threshold, the front of your clothes soaked in blood.

 “Sorry I’m late,” you started.

“‘Sorry’ isn’t going to cut it,” Price interrupted before laying eyes on you. “Bloody hell, what happened to you?”

You explained how Private what's-his-name bled out in the break room after carelessly reopening his stitches and you had to stop the hemorrhage with your bare hands and a bunch of paper towels while shouting yourself hoarse for help. Yet when Price ordered you to take the rest of the day off, you insisted on going on as usual, forcing their captain to make it clear that it wasn’t a mere suggestion.

You and him had a different definition of “crybaby”.

Clinging to what's familiar, you focus on the stack of papers under his arm.

“You have the latest reports? Give it here.”

You hold out your hand expectantly. Instead of giving them to you, he sets them down on the opposite side of your desk, out of your reach.

“Paperwork can wait.”

You blink in astonishment at him.

“No it cannot…?”

You roll your eyes at his behavior and get up to seize the reports, but he snatches them from you. You can feel your composure snap like a twig.

“Johnny, what the hell?!” you yell, throwing your hands in the air.

You could remember exactly the first time you called him Johnny, only because it had been such an embarrassment. You couldn’t get used to his alias; sure you had been warned beforehand that some of them were… original, but somehow "Soap" was the one that stood out as the most ridiculous. You briefly entertained the idea of using his first name, except that for you “John” already referred to Captain Price. Only once you tried to call him Mr Mactavish, and as a result Gaz and him guffawed so hard they almost fell off their chairs. Even Ghost let out a cough that was most definitely a concealed laugh. You were running out of options until you heard the lieutenant call him Johnny; you instantly liked it. It just… fitted him. 

From that moment on you used the nickname, but only in your mind. You didn’t have any of the liberties Ghost had and you wouldn’t take them, out of respect, and shyness. Or at least this had been the plan until you fumbled and called him that to his face. The ensuing silence felt deafening as you were realizing what you’ve just done, and you apologized immediately, mortified. 

He just laughed it off; said you could keep calling him that. True, he had appeared more surprised than irritated, but you didn’t want to take the risk of him simply being polite. This too, had been your plan, until he ruined it merily. 

Somehow he must have noticed your efforts to not slip up again because he teased you about it. 

“Not Johnny today? Did ah dae something wrong?”

You went back to “Johnny” quickly - anything to put an end to the mischievous glint in his eye and the rascally smirk on his lips aimed at you. Being the target of his undivided attention sent a pang in your chest and knots in your stomach. Those sensations weren't exactly unpleasant, but it led to an ominous feeling that this was too good to be true, and that at any second this vision would shatter to reveal the cruel reality; so you'd just grant him a timid smile to confirm he did amuse you, but then proceed to look away.

It's the first time you’re pronouncing “Johnny” with anger; real, raw annoyance, as well as animosity, instead of the fond frustration you usually display when he messes around.

To your utter disbelief, he smiles in response to your outburst. 

“There we go, talk tae me. Even if it’s just tae scream at me.”

The remark pacifies you instantly; you lower your arms, defeated.

“I'm not gonna… I don't want to scream at you.”

You sigh and sit back, setting down your elbows on your desk to take your head between your hands, overburdened.

“The hell you want me to tell you? That my mom's on the brink of death out of nowhere? That when she's gone I'll be all alone in this world?”

You swear, aggravated, as tears sting your eyes again, and this time you ignore if you'll be capable of holding back the flood.

Nevertheless you can still hear Soap curse under his breath, Scottish accent growing thicker, before moving to get on your side of the desk, to reach you, dispensing soft-spoken, soothing words along the way. You pivot to face him, your burning eyes and the sensation of dried tears on your face making you painfully aware that you must look as pathetic as you feel.

Your eyes widen in surprise when you see him kneeling at your feet. His hands reach for your face, slowly enough to give you time to back away if you wanted to.

“A'm sorry, ah didnae mean tae mak' ye cry, a'm a bloody eejit. …Can I?”

His fingers stopped a breath away from your tear-stained cheeks. 

At that exact moment you can’t quite believe what he's about to do, yet you nod your head in agreement - not trusting your voice to not break - all the same, the gaping void in your chest aching for any kind of contact he'd be willing to provide.

His warm fingers cup your cheeks as the pad of his thumbs gently, almost reverently, wipe the underside of your eyes.

“There we go,” he cajoles, meticulously drying any wet spot on your skin.

“A'm ‘ere whether ye want tae talk or not, aye? A'm not going anywhere.”

You stare at him in silence, thunderstruck by the scene unfolding in front of you. Never in your wildest dreams you would have expected to have this man at your feet. He sets his hands down on your knees, squeezing them softly, and is looking right at you, encouraging smile and tender gaze, reassurance radiating from his expression. The position allows you to greedily take in every little detail: the white line of the scar on his chin, the breathtaking shades of blue in his eyes, the gap in his left eyebrow.

As you lose yourself into the work of art that are his features, he keeps conversing.

“We should take yer mind aff things. We could play board games in tha rec room. Or ye could let aff some steam wi’ tha punching bag in tha training room! Ah could teach ye how tae shoot on tha shooting range-”

You open your eyes wide as his suggestions turn progressively more violent.

“I have a bus to catch, and that's overlooking the fact that I haven't done anything in my last hour of work today…”

“If anyone gives you trouble, just say ah forced you.”

You chuckle at the idea.

“You'd never compel me to do anything.”

You can’t repress a loving smile. Johnny just feels that safe to you.

He smirks mischievously at that.

“Na, but they'll believe ah dragged ye intae mah evil schemes.”

He punctuates his statement by a roguish wink that wrests a laughter from you.

“You should take my bed,” he declares suddenly, serious again.

As the silence between you two stretches and your smile is replaced by a mix of shock, confusion, and worry, he realizes how this may sound. Flustered, he starts rambling to defuse the situation.

“Wait, no- steamin’ jesus - Ah didnae mean it like that! I’d take the couch in the rec room, ‘f course. Ye shouldn't go through tonight alone.” 

“Oh my god, Johnny, I could never take your bed from you. You must already sleep on the floor so often for missions…” 

“Exactly, hen. This is nothing for me. The couch is a hotel compared to that.”

You open your mouth to argue more, but then he makes an expression that can only be described as sad puppy eyes, even going as far as slightly tilting his head to the side to perfect the impression. You gulp in response, stricken straight through the heart, and knowing pertinently that you could already hardly refuse him anything, so if he begins to gaze at you like that… 

“Pretty please?” 

Oh no. Not that line.

He's now excessively batting his eyelashes at you, which, while not exactly alluring, is both comical and endearing. Hell, who are you even kidding? You’re so smitten with this blue-eyed creature, is there any act from him you wouldn’t find endearing?

“Are you… pouting?” 

“Depends. Is it working?”

You sigh, aware it's a losing battle, and look away, a futile attempt to hide the ridiculously potent effect he has on you, or to at least shield yourself from his influence, if only momentarily.

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“Maybe ah just wantae hear ye say aye tae me.”

Your cheeks catch fire at the suggestiveness of the words. As if the regular rasp of his voice, that felt like an exquisite caress along your spine, wasn’t already making it incredibly difficult to keep your face at a reasonnable temperature.

“You're gonna get me fired, Johnny.”

“Over my dead body,” he retorted with surprising determination, solemnly pressing a hand over his heart.

You scoff indulgently. Coming from anyone else, the hastily taken oath would be preposterous, but Soap has always proved himself trustworthy.

“Let's go. Your knees must be sore,” you mumble, trying to sound casual.

“Wanna make a joke aboot mah stamina when kneeling but ah will keep it fur next time,” he slips as he stands up, way too smugly for your own good, so you pretend you didn’t hear anything. As if you needed any more incitement into picturing him on his knees in a different context. 

You get up quickly after, but he does not get out of your way. You rise a quizzical eyebrow, his close proximity triggering alarm bells inside your head. If he remains near enough for you to feel his body heat, you’re going to get dizzy.

He simply grins.

“Want a hug?”

You blink at the unexpected question. Yes, implores your touchstarved mind. YES, cries out your sensitive, enamored heart. 

No way, rebuffs your cautious brain. It will only hurt more knowing what you  can’t have.

He opens his muscled arms, smile genuine, almost blinding, like a tacit invitation, and all your reluctance seems to evaporate with that simple gesture. Before you can linger any more on the harmful consequences this lack of restraint will eventually cause, you throw yourself into his embrace. It feels like falling and flying all at once.

Your hands close on the back of his shirt, near his shoulder blades, and, pressing your face into his shoulder to make the world disappear for a moment, you cling to him like he could rescue you from the sinking ship that was your sick mind. One of his arms close around your waist while his free hand rubs your back, leaving trails of fire in its wake, but bringing you much-appreciated comfort nonetheless.

“You're too nice to me. I feel like I'm taking advantage of your kindness.”

He remains silent a drawn-out second, and you're terrified you just screwed everything up.

“Yer givin me too much credit, lass “ he finally says. “Ah don't go ‘round base comforting every person I find.”

His tone isn’t angry, per se, but it lacks its previous joviality.

Soap tilts his head back, biting his lips, thanking the universe that with your face laying against his chest, you can’t perceive his embarrassment.

He can’t tell you. Not yet. Not now.

He can’t tell you that he used to consider writing reports as the worst part of the job until you came along; until you awarded him a heartfelt, radiant smile when he gave you his; that he noticed how little you smiled outside of artificial ones you fabricate for work purposes; that when he manages to make you smile or laugh genuinely, it feels like a prize, that only he is privy to.

Months ago, he took the resolve to make you smile more; for a while now he started doing his reports more seriously, or even did the ones of Gaz and Ghost, just to have an excuse to see you, to behold the way your face lightens up when he brings you necessary paperwork before you even demand it.

And he certainly can’t tell you about that one time where he handed over his reports in advance, but you weren't there, so he left, heart heavy with disappointment, dragging his feet, until he heard your voice coming from the room he just left.

“What are those?” you questionned your coworker.

“Soap just dropped them.”

“But… I didn't even ask him to yet?”

Perplexity combines with glee in your voice.

“He's a good boy, isn’t he?” prompted your colleague.

You let out a fond, wistful sigh, before responding, half-joking.

“I know! Such a good boy for me.”

Getting to hear you beaming over his benevolent action was already a treat, but witnessing that compromising exchange? To be called a “good boy” by you short-circuited him. He swore - “Steamin jesus” -, ears burning, face on fire, covering it with one hand. He needed to leave badly. Seek refuge in his room, where he could be free to replay that tantalizing line on loop in his mind. “Such a good boy for me.”

Your heart beats a bit faster than usual as you obediently follow Soap through corridors you’ve never been in before. You trust him with all your heart, but that doesn't change the fact that what you’re doing is against the rules; and those rules aren't high school's, but the ones of a military base.

You flinch hard as a familiar voice screams in your direction.

“SERGEANT MACTAVISH!”

Oops, you think. That's Captain Price, your supervisor, and he sounds pissed. You never witnessed him calling Soap by his last name before, but that being said, you never saw him deal with a kidnapped assistant either.

You've been caught red-handed. 

Your mind begins to come up with plans to lessen the punishments that are without doubt about to descend upon you two, but Johnny grabbing your hand brings you back to reality. 

You lift your gaze to him. He doesn't seem worried at all, if anything… is that a spark of delight in his eye?

He only pronounces one word.

“Run.”

So you run, carried away half by adrenaline, and half by the sergeant dragging you. Thankfully Soap is aware that there's no way you can keep up with him and his training, so he comes to a halt a minute later.

Panting hard, you double over, hands clenching your knees for support, heart thumping in your chest, blood throbbing in your ears.

“Why… are we… running…!?” you manage to exhale. “It's only… gonna make… things worse…”

By your side, he's standing fresh as a daisy, barely ruffled by your flight. The sight would be infuriating if his eyes weren't glinting with amusement and he wasn’t offering you a dazzling smile.

“Because it's fun,” he affirms like it's evident.

Little by little, you catch your breath, throwing Johnny a look that's half in earnest, half in jest.

“More fun for you than for me.”

He doesn't get flustered by your moderate reprimand.

“Is it selfish o' me tae wantae spend more time wi' ye? Didnae want us tae git interrupted yet.”

The line feels like a punch to the chest, stealing the breath you just recovered and leaving you agape.

He takes your hand again with the natural of a well earned habit.

“C'm'on, ah have more than one trick up mah sleeve.”

You're unsure which of the views unfurling under your eyes is the most magnificent; the sunset in front of you that's painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, or the striking man by your side whose eyes could rival the most astounding sights.

Nibbling on the dinner Soap smuggled out of the cafeteria with too much ease for it to be his first time, you regularly sneak glances at him as he fills the silence with tales of his adventures - the parts that aren't top secret, at least. You two totally did not break onto the roof moments ago, no sir.

Goosebumps travel along your arms and any exposed skin as the night falls and the sun takes away the warmth with him. You furiously brush the outside of your arms for heat, and you're about to suggest finishing this inside, when a jacket lands on your shoulders.

It is still warm with his owner's bodyheat, deliciously so. You curl up and drag it closer, your face on fire. Realizing that Soap gave you his jacket without you even having to ask or complain about the cold… you’re conflicted between obsessing over this like a giggling schoolgirl, and feeling apologetic.

Once you more or less got your blushing under control, you turn to him, displaying a contrite expression.

“I don't want to take your jacket on top of your bed, Johnny.” you pout.

“A'm a bloody furnace. Wanna check?”

He asks, cheekily, even adding a wink for good measure. As if there was any more artifice needed to make you putty in his hands.

He presents you his bare arm for the taking, all golden skin, bulging muscles and a constellation of white scars.

You indulge him and lay a hand on his bicep, knowing he won't relent otherwise; that is definitly the only reason; it has absolutely nothing to do with your own desires.

Indeed, he's burning. As you envy and bask in the heat provided by his body, forgetting that your touch is lingering too long for someone who is just a coworker, he chooses that moment to flex shamelessly, showing off the impressive circumference of his muscle. You feel obligated to squeeze it in response, a way to finally meet him head-on instead of passively enduring his quips, and it feels like reinforced concrete under your fingers.

You fail to hold back your laughter at his facetious demeanor. 

“You're ridiculous.”

The comment holds no bite, a smile brimming with tenderness stretching your lips.

“I'll be the most ridiculous man on the planet if it makes you laugh.”

He's leaning back, hands propped on the ground behind him, head slightly tilted to gaze at you, and the earnestness on his face could almost make you believe his words.

Almost.

But instead a sharp pang pierces your chest, right between your lungs, at heart's level. The smile you return him in spite of yourself oscillates between content and heartbroken, before opting for the latter. 

Tomorrow you will ask him, maybe even plead; tomorrow you'll ask him to put an end to the flirting. You cannot bear it. 

But just tonight, you'll indulge it. You'll pretend to be normal, a well-adjusted human being, instead of a broken shell; you'll act like an adult for who flirting is a regular event and not the mental equivalent of a nuclear bomb.

You abruptly stand up, dusting yourself off, purposely ignoring the newfound lack of understanding on Soap's face and how his mouth opened for a question.

“It's getting late,” you state, not nearly as casually as you'd like. “I'm beat!”

You're running away and you know it; but you never claimed to be brave. Really, it is the best solution for everyone involved, or at least it's how it has always seemed to be your whole life.

He escorts you to his room - of course he does. Even if he already picked up his things earlier to crash on the couch, already showed the place to you.

As you awkwardly face him on the doorstep after saying your goodbyes and your thanks, unable to look away yet incapable of making eye contact, pain flares in your torso thinking of him, somehow intertwined with joy and gratefulness for his existence. Maybe your inner struggle shows on your face because next thing you know, he cups your cheek, forcing you to look up, but as the deranged idea that he's about to kiss you manifests in a remote corner of your mind, your brain swiftly shuts off as his lips make contact with your forehead.

The touch is light yet your entire being seems gathered on that point of contact.

“G'night, bonnie,” he half-whispers, as if to make sure his words exist only for you.

He grants you one last smile, small but so sweet you feel your heart tightens.

“Good night, Johnny,” you manage to articulate before sheltering in his bedroom. The room smells like him.

The moment the door shuts behind you, you rest against it, tilting your head back, letting out a deep sigh. Morbid curiosity pushes you to glance in the adjacent bathroom's mirror, if only to see what you look after this evening. A flustered mess? A sorrowful wreck?

Catching your reflection's eye makes you grimace as you realize an incriminating detail.

You forgot to give Soap his jacket back.

[aestheticpearl]

— 𝐁.𝐀.𝐒.

✧·˚ zaros and earis need to take out their frustrations somehow; even if they fuck they still hate each other, or do they?

warnings. gn!reader, pure smut, marking, hate fucking, manhandling, body worshiping, overstimulation, choking (not proofread)

“zaros you need to shut the fuck up or else we are going to get caught.” you say through gritted teeth as he moves his hips up to hit a spot inside you that makes you practically melt. you do your best to not give him the reaction he’s looking for but end up letting a whimper slip through your lips.

“i could care less who finds us at this point my love, i would give up the world to hear your moans.” zaros says to you, taking you by the chin and turning you to face him. “look at me while i ruin your insides.”

you can’t help the hard glare that you give him as you grab a fist full of his golden locks and pull on them harshly to expose his neck to you perfectly, giving yourself the opportunity to let your lips connect with the base of neck. zaros lets out a pathetic moan as you mark him, the idea of you leaving a mark on his body and just the two of you being the only ones who know of its existence under his garments nearly sends him over the edge.

“you must’ve had a rough day tonight, you never mark my skin unless you’re upset.”

“you’re so much more prettier when you don’t open your mouth to spew nonsense.”

“ah~ so you think i’m pretty?” a harsh yank on his hair has him shutting himself up with a loud groan and you move your hips for a deeper angle.

“zaros—” you can barely finish your sentence before you feel your legs start to tingle at the sensation that the deeper angle provides you. “shit you’re squeezing me so tight, you need to relax or i’m going to—”

you stop for a moment trying to postpone your high and his, but zaros is impatient as you feel his large hand slide up your thigh slowly. the small action has your hair on end due to your body’s sensitive.

“your body is the most enchanting thing on this planet of existence.” his hands stop on your hips, guiding them forward and moving again. “no one compares to you my love, everything about you is perfect.”

“enough with the sweet talk zaros,” you try and move your hips a bit faster to chase the dying high that you’re feeling. “i need to…”

“you need to what my earis?”

the use of your title sends shivers down your spine and unfortunately for you, zaros can feel the effect his words have on you.

you try again to move your hips but you feel his hands halt your movements.

“beg for it.”

“in your dreams maybe.” you scoff.

you feel him start to pull out of you and you fold at the action.

“fine! …please make me cum.”

“huhh? i couldn’t hear you~” he uses that teasing tone he’s always used when he knows what you’re asking for but pretends to be clueless.

“zaros!” you snap at him and he quickly reacts by flipping you over and moving you so you’re face down and ass up. you barely have time to process the action before he pushes himself back into you with ease, causing a loud moan to fall from your lips.

“you need to shut the fuck up or we are going to get caught.” zaros echos your words from earlier back to you as he pushes your face into the bed while he starts his movements back up. you’re practically screaming into the mattress as he hits every spot that makes your brain go all fuzzy.

you feel zaros arm slink under your arm and up your torso so his hand finds its home on your throat giving it a harsh squeeze that has you seeing stars and something finally snaps something in you and pushes you over the edge together, zaros unloading himself on your back.

still shaking from the orgasm, you muster what strength you have and take zaros arm and twist it to your advantage to get him underneath you, where he belongs.

“still wanting more? so greedy.”

you shut him up with a hand on his throat as you adjust yourself back onto him and he chokes out a moans. you hips move on your own as you ride him with shaky legs from your first orgasm and it does take long for your second one to approach.

“s-shit, still sensitive— gonna c-cum.”

you lean down to come face to face with him and smirk before kissing him harshly. zaros’ eyebrows furrow as he cums inside you and whimpers into your mouth. you pull away to drink in his fucked out expression, grinning at your hard work, he looks like a painting that could’ve been made by the most talented artist but you would never tell him that.

you climb off him and go to clean yourself and quickly dress to get back to whatever event you were missing from at this time.

“you look beautiful.” it’s a blissful whisper you’re not sure you’re meant to hear escape his lips, but you decide to brush it off anyway as you walk over to where he lays on the bed.

“you must make haste, they might realize both of us are missing and they will grow suspicious.” zaros takes your hand and rubs his thumb over your knuckles.

“you go first, it will look even more suspicious if we appear at the same time.” you stare at your interwoven hands before looking up to meet his emerald eyes. “you’re sure?” you don’t mean for it to come out so softly, but zaros nods.

you remove your hand from his and make your way to the door. “i hope tomorrow is awful if this is what happens when you have a bad day.” you open the door and leave.

the smut no one asked for lmao

.love always <3

.masterlist

[ts1m1kas]

Original Ask: i saw that you’re opening requests for f1 drivers.. can i request angst to fluff with seb vettel where him and reader are dating but he breaks up with the her to focus on the wdc (set in 2013) and she ends up rebounding with fernando which makes seb really jealous,, anyways after winning he publicly confesses his love for the reader or something, u can choose whether the reader gets back with seb or stays with fernando idm teehee ❤️❤️ love youu (anonymous)

Word Count: 1095 words

(author's note: another longer one !! i did think i was going to have to postpone it but i managed to get it finished for you all 🩷)

Sebastian always knew he wanted to be a World Champion. Ever since he was a little boy in his racing kart, he knew he wanted to be one of the best racing drivers the world had ever seen. He also knew that he would sacrifice anything to achieve his dreams, but he never thought it would actually get to that point.

It was mid-way through the 2013 Formula 1 season and Sebastian was one of the strongest contenders for the Championship. His girlfriend at the time, Y/N, couldn't be more proud of Sebastian, especially since she knew how hard he had worked to get to his current position.

However, after a meeting with his strategists, team leaders and various other important people, Sebastian's perspective of his relationship had been tainted and darkened. Somehow the meeting had managed to brainwash him into thinking Y/N was a distraction. An enemy. An obstacle; preventing his Championship dreams from coming true.

The next step in Sebastian's Championship chase was a heated argument with Y/N in his drivers room. Insults were hurled, every single one out of anger, not one of them holding any truth. And then came the final devastating line;

“I'm done. We're over,” Sebastian said. His gaze was cold as he stared at Y/N, eyes void of any emotion.

Her lip trembled as she nodded, her eyes shining with unshed tears. Y/N turned on her heel and headed towards the door. As her fingers grasped the handle, she hesitated.

“Good luck with the Championship. I hope it's worth it.”

With that, she opened the door and walked out.

Eventually the season came to a close. Sebastian Vettel was World Champion. Again. But something wasn't right. He should be happy, right? He had gotten what he wanted all along.

Wrong. All Sebastian felt while holding his trophy was guilt and regret. The pit in his stomach deepened even further when he saw Y/N in the crowd with a man's arm wrapped around her waist. His eyes moved to the face of the individual and he did a double take when he realised who it was.

Fernando Alonso.

Sebastian had been too caught up in training and strategizing to see that Y/N had moved on. He saw the adoration in her eyes as she looked at the man next to her. He knew that look all too well, because that's how she used to look at him.

Maybe they were just friends? Sebastian's brain was thinking of every possible explanation. He hadn't actually seen or heard any confirmation they were dating. Although he had been too caught up in his own life to even notice anything or anyone else.

Before he could realise, he was being forced into an interview on stage.

“Sebastian!” The interviewer began, “World Champion again, how does it feel?”

“Uh- yeah it feels great obviously, it's always been my dream to be up here, winning as many times as possible.”

“Do you have anything you'd like to say to the fans in front of you?”

“Well, thank you for all your continued support, it means the world to me,” He said smiling at the crowd, “But most of all, I want to say sorry to one person in particular. Y/N, I wish I could take back everything I said to you all those months ago. This victory feels hollow without you to celebrate it with.”

The interviewer looked stunned and so did the crowd.

Y/N's face dropped when she heard Sebastian's improvised speech. As she felt the weight of thousands of eyes on her, she began to move through the crowd. Pushing through bodies, she desperately tried to escape the masses of people. Fernando was hot on her heels, not wanting his girlfriend to be alone.

Sebastian saw her rush off through the crowd and he knew he had royally messed everything up.

"Y/N, wait! I'm sorry, just wait please-" Sebastian thrust the microphone he was holding into the interviewer's hand and scrambled off the stage. He shoved his way through the fans frantically, following the footsteps of his ex-girlfriend.

He eventually found her (and Fernando) outside the Ferrari garage. Y/N's face was pressed into Fernando's chest as she sobbed. Sebastian watched from afar, realising what he had actually done. He knew he needed to speak to Y/N, but he didn't know if she would want to speak to him.

Sebastian eventually mustered up the courage to walk over to the pair. Fernando spotted him first, his face twisting into one of disgust.

"What do you want Vettel? You have your Championship, come to ask for my girlfriend too?"

"No! I just- I wanted-"

"You were so bold a moment ago? Spit it out, don't you think you've done enough damage for one day?" Fernando spat.

"Look, I know what I did was wrong, and I want to apologise.”

Y/N moved away from her boyfriend's chest and looked up at the blonde man infront of her.

“I'll meet you in your drivers room Fernando, I'd like to hear this.”

The Spaniard nodded, pressed a kiss to Y/N's forehead and walked off.

An awkward silence fell over the pair.

"So, you and Fernando? When did that happen?"

"Why does that matter? We broke up months ago, Sebastian. I moved on, you clearly didn't."

"Look, I'm glad you're happy now. If I knew about you and Fernando I never would've made a scene, I promise. I just realised that all the Championships and celebrations have meant nothing without you.”

"Too little too late Sebastian. I wanted you to win as much as you wanted to win yourself. But you couldn't see that. You were blinded by your ambitions, and I couldn't compete with that.”

"I'm sorry.”

"I know you are.”

Y/N stared at Sebastian pitifully. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him gently. He was taken aback, but he accepted the embrace gratefully.

"You'll find someone else to celebrate with, you're Sebastian Vettel.”

"It still won't be the same without you.”

The pair finally broke out of the hug and tears glistened in Sebastian's eyes.

"Fernando's waiting for me, I should probably go. Goodbye Sebastian.”

"Goodbye Y/N. I hope you can forgive me someday.”

"I've always forgiven you Seb, before you even knew you were sorry."

With one last shared look, Y/N turned around and headed off to find Fernando, leaving Sebastian standing alone. He had achieved his dreams and more, but at the cost of his future.

[hard-core-super-star]

you can see it with the lights out [K.Bishop]

pairing: kate bishop x reader

summary: enduring a storm and a subsequent power outage with kate bishop by your side might not be the worst thing in the world.

warnings: none, just tooth-rotting fluff; storm + power outage = kate bishop being an adorable dork; very light mentions of anxiety and small insecurities

wordcount: 1.5k

a/n: i had so many other things to write but i really wanted to do some good old-fashioned fluff. i'm always so tempted to turn my kate fics into angst or hurt/comfort or smut so this was a nice change of pace. although you could argue this isn't just fluff but shhh. i just think golden retriever gf kate is the best kate <3 [and i would 100% cry if someone did something cute and dorky like this for me]

* * * * * * *

Storms and power outages have become synonymous with life in New York for you. Any time the sky fills with those dark clouds, you know to go stock up on candles and blankets since the power will most likely go out in your apartment. 

You’re not sure if it’s a safety precaution or if the power lines around your building always end up getting damaged, you just know the routine you’ve come to adopt over the years. 

A routine that’s never included Kate Bishop until now.

You’ve been dating the brunette archer for a few months and she’s somehow become the one constant in your life that you didn’t know you needed but have grown to adore.

Whether it’s randomly showing up at your apartment with a bag of takeout or staying on the phone with you until you fall asleep, Kate always does her best to be there for you and provide the support she knows you’re still too shy to ask for.

She thinks it’s cute that you still get tongue-tied around her despite how much of a dork she truly is when she’s with you. You, on the other hand, think she’s a jerk for pulling that damn smirk onto her face and making you flustered every chance she gets.

So maybe you’re a little head over heels in love with Kate and maybe she’s a little too proud of herself for that, despite the fact that neither of you have spoken your true feelings out loud yet, but the two of you make a perfect pair. A pair that’s only rivaled by power outages and your apartment building.

There had been a heavy rain warning for the past few days but it wasn’t until this morning that the sky filled up with borderline black clouds. Clouds that told you your power wouldn’t be on for much longer. 

You had accepted your fate, gone on a brisk walk to the nearest grocery store, and shot your girlfriend an apologetic text about having to postpone your picnic date. The brunette had left you on seen but you didn’t think anything of it since Kate’s attention span can sometimes be shorter than Lucky’s, which is saying something.

Most of the day flies by in a blur of reading and watching your comfort show while listening to the heavy rain falling against your windows. It’s not until you hear a knock on your front door that your normal routine is interrupted.

“Kate?” Your eyes widen as you open the door and come face to face with your rain-soaked girlfriend. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I hated that we had to cancel our date so I decided to bring the date to you!” She proudly holds up a takeout bag not-so-carefully stuffed inside a light brown picnic basket. “I wanted to cook something but you can imagine how well that went.”

There’s something about the way she’s looking at you with that sparkle in her eyes and a huge smile on her face that makes you tear up a little. There’s nothing incredibly extravagant about her actions but the feelings behind every one of her choices makes your heart flutter in your chest in a way you’ve never felt before.

Kate doesn’t need any words to tell you how much she truly adores you. And it’s something you never thought you would find, much less with someone like her.

“Hey, what’s wrong, babe?” She asks, her head slightly tilted to the side.

You can’t form a single sound but your girlfriend doesn’t need your help to know what to do. She steps forward in an instant, gently dropping the picnic basket on the ground before pulling you into her embrace and kicking the door closed behind her.

The fabric of her soft purple hoodie is completely soaked but you don’t mind one bit. You just wrap your arms around her waist and let the feeling of her body against yours drown out everything else.

Including the tiny voice in the back of your mind that reminds you your apartment is a complete mess that’s probably a few minutes away from being submerged in total darkness.

Kate might be a New Yorker through and through but she’s had a different life than you. One that’s been filled with the nicest things money can buy. Such as an apartment that can actually withstand a storm.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, unable to keep your thoughts to yourself while your head rests against her shoulder.

“Why are you apologizing?”

You shrug but Kate doesn’t accept silence as an answer. She doesn’t rush you, though, she just trails her fingers up and down your arm in an attempt to reassure you that she’s with you.

It’s unusual for her to actually be patient for once yet she puts all her focus on waiting for you to tell her about all the worries she knows linger in the depths of your mind. She’s gotten incredibly good at reading your nonverbal cues by now.

“I don’t know,” you finally say. “I just feel like you…deserve more than this.”

She can’t back a quiet chuckle, one that comforts you in ways you can’t describe. “More than a cozy night in with my gorgeous girlfriend?”

“You know what I mean,” you whisper, leaning back a little so you can look at her again.

“Mmm, nope. I really don’t.”

She doesn’t give you a chance to argue back even though she can practically hear the words gathering on your lips. Instead, she leans in to kiss you and successfully distracts your mind from all the small insecurities that linger inside.

The lights go out right when she pulls away from your lips.

The sound of your groan is swallowed up by Kate’s laugh. The excitement you hear is more than enough to change your attitude about the current situation even if you’re a little confused about her reaction.

“What’s got you so giddy?” You question the brunette.

She doesn’t answer you immediately but you can see the telltale signs of her coming up with a, probably ridiculous, idea. Her hands leave your body as she picks up the picnic basket once again, that smirk you’ve come to love adorning her face. “Can I interest you in a romantic candlelit dinner?”

You smile despite yourself. “Only if you promise to wash the dishes afterwards.”

“Way to ruin the mood, babe.”

All you can do is laugh while she pulls you toward the kitchen, both of you stumbling around like idiots due to the darkness that consumes the apartment.

It’s not until a few hours later when the two of you are cuddled up underneath your fluffiest blankets that she gathers the courage to ask you about your earlier reaction.

Your head rests comfortably on her chest, her fingers drawing random patterns on your side, as the question leaves her lips. “Baby? What got you so emotional when you saw me at the door? Did I do something?”

Her concern serves to soothe you and make you nervous at the same time. You debate coming up with a stupid response instead of telling her the truth and laying your feelings on the line. Ultimately, you decide to take the jump, somehow knowing Kate will be right there to catch you.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Katie,” you respond, loving the way she pulls you closer once the nickname leaves your lips. “You just always know what to do. How to make me feel better, how to make me feel…loved.”

You feel the way her breath catches at your words and you can already tell you’ll never grow tired of it. She’s silent for a long while but you don’t mind. Where there once was anxiety and uncertainty, now there’s only safety and love.

She shifts around after a few seconds, placing your head on the pillow instead of her chest before she turns onto her side so you’re face-to-face. The tiniest of slivers of moonlight shines through your bedroom window and offers you enough light to see the expression of pure love that covers the archer’s face.

There are no words but her eyes say it all. Even in the silence and with the lights out, you can see it.

And you’re sure there’s no better feeling than this…until she finally speaks the words out loud.

“I do love you, y/n. A lot. Like almost as much as my bow, or Lucky, or-”

You lean in to kiss her before she can keep rambling. You feel her smile against your lips as her arm goes around your waist again, pulling you impossibly closer to her warm body.

“I’m going to ignore the fact that you just said you love your dog and your bow more than me,” you tease her. “I love you too, Katie.”

A content sigh leaves her as you lean your head against her chest once again, her chin resting on top of your head while she holds you in her protective embrace. “I love you more though.”

You just smile in response, letting her have her way for now, and allow your eyes to slip shut. The storm and the blackout are the last things on your mind while you rest in your girlfriend's arms.

[flyingwargle]

sakuatsu fanfic recommendations!

i am back with more fanfic recommendations. i still have 100 fanfics to read so this will definitely be updated in the future x3 but away we go!

the highest rating for these recs is m!

oneshots!

soft but what light by min_mintobe teen. 2.1k. sakusa pov. atsumu woos sakusa by quoting shakespeare. very cute and endearing <3

i'll see you in court by yamscooper teen. 2.4k words. sakusa pov. post-anesthesia sakusa doesn't remember his husband. it's funnier than it sounds, trust me.

clean™️ by kiyoomi by sifuhotman teen. 3.7k words. atsumu pov. sakusa gets sponsored by mr. clean and sends samples to atsumu. he reads too much into it. fluffy and hilarious, especially the ending <3

the lovers' rivalry by strawberrypound_cake gen. 3.9k words. bokuto pov. the only thing bokuto knows about atsumu's partner is that they've been together since high school. after seeing him freak out that sakusa kiyoomi is trying out for msby, bokuto concludes that they must hate each other still and fears for atsumu. i love outsider povs, and this one was done very well!

let's get physical by rosegoldwriting teen. 4.3k. atsumu pov. atsumu falls head over heels for sakusa, the student nurse at the student center. cue atsumu doing whatever he can to cross paths with him. we love a pining atsumu in this house

the sakusa kiyoomi drunkenness scale by yamscooper mature. 4.3k. atsumu pov. atsumu discovers what six-drink kiyoomi is like. cute, hilarious, and the second part absolutely killed me (in a good way). we love drunk sakusa in this house (please drink responsibly)

raincheck? by escapist_090807 teen. 5.4k. atsumu pov. 3 times atsumu and sakusa postpone their first date, and 1 time they make it happen anyway. very fluffy and cute, especially when there's a weasel involved!

particularities by shizuumi151 teen. 5.7k words. atsumu pov. sakusa has sole claim of the apartment for deep cleaning days. roommates hinata, bokuto, and atsumu find him intense, except intense means something different for atsumu. absolutely hilarious, especially with osamu's part in the last half!

haha what if we kissed at the [undisclosed store name]-? by fried_squid teen. 6.9k words. atsumu pov. atsumu forgets his costco card and asks the first person he sees (i.e. sakusa) to help him out. i love the flirting through cash transfers, atsumu's wild goose chase to find out who sakusa's cousin is, and the pining! it's also very funny, go treat yourself to a laugh <3

sleeptalking by makemestagger teen. 6.6k words. sakusa pov. sakusa learns that atsumu talks in his sleep and uses this opportunity to see if atsumu reciprocates his feelings. fluffy and lighthearted!

on the back burner of love by aurite teen. 7.8k words. atsumu pov. sakusa leaves to play for a team in paris and atsumu pines. a narrative of two boys toeing the line of haha what if we're in a love but we won't tell the other until they're halfway across the world

the airport test by calicofern teen. 11.3k words. sakusa pov. how do you tell if you have serious feelings for someone? travel with them at the asscrack of dawn to assess if you'll do it again. i absolutely loved this, it's very much like sakusa to test himself (and affection) in this way x3 also with a sequel!

longfics!

under pressure by ghostystarr gen. 8.1k words. 2 chapters. sakusa pov. my first introduction to sakuatsu and damn is it a good one. sakusa learns how to flirt from bokuto and hinata. it goes as well as you'd expect. please read this.

(un-)deserving by sipsutus teen. 11.1k words. 2 chapters. atsumu pov. unlike most might think, atsumu cared and he can't believe that anyone would deserve him, until sakusa tells him he does <3 we love and care for atsumu in this house, no matter how painful it gets

the dos and don'ts of loving sakusa kiyoomi by liliapocalypse teen. 15k words. 2 chapters. atsumu pov. the jackals have a little game to try to make sakusa warm up to them and somehow, atsumu ends up with negative scores for four weeks. cue an intense investigation on how he can be the best teammate ever...and eventually gets the man, as well x3 very cute, highly recommend!

flowers bloom in our masks by unicornflowers gen. 24.k words. 3 chapters. sakusa pov. a beautiful exploration of sakusa's mysophobia in a developing relationship with atsumu. it has a happy ending, don't worry <3

point of view by lonelydoctors teen. 27.9k words. 3 chapters. atsumu pov. atsumu grows up thinking he's too much to love and sakusa shows him otherwise. deals with heavy themes, please heed the tags before reading <3

frankenstein's monster by starbeyy teen. 83.6k words. 10 chapters. atsumu pov. atsumu accidentally pisses off sakusa on the first day of practice and vows to avoid him, but this fails when they see each other for group therapy that same night. deals with themes related to ocd, proceed with caution <3 very detailed and personal, with comfort to balance the angst

easy to love by harubo teen. 145.5k words. 40 chapters. multi-pov. although this is mainly sakuatsu, i blame this fic for making me fall for sunaosa as well x3 canon divergence where sakusa is a food critic and stumbles upon onigiri miyas. the slowburn is so, so good, and the writing is so, so beautifully crafted and oozing with love. cannot recommend this enough, please love yourself and read this <3

your hands only by odd_bear mature. 200.4k words. 20 chapters. multi-pov. atsumu gets into a very dangerous relationship and those around him help free him. features multiple pairings, endgame sakuatsu.

[leclercskiesahead]

“If you woke up as your teammate one morning, what would be the first thing you would do as him?”

“I know what you would do, which is postpone the alarm. You are such a sleepy guy…”

…

His alarm rings and he blindly reaches for his phone out of habit, brain not even fully awake.

His hand doesn’t find the phone immediately as the ringtone begins to annoy him in his dream, and he grabs desperately to turn it off.

“Mate.”

He must have rolled to one side in his sleep. The bedstand feels further than he remembers, his hand smacking the softness of the sheets and pillows instead.

“Oi, cabron.”

Carlos sounds a bit strange in his dream. And dares to smack his hand before grabbing it.

Oh, they must have swapped sides during the night somehow. No wonder he can’t reach his phone. He must have been grabbing Carlos’ face.

Charles groans as he wrestles his hand from Carlos’ grip. It doesn’t take much of a fight since they are both barely awake, and as soon as it is free he throws his arm over his eyes.

His hairy arm.

Hadn’t he shaved recently? Or maybe it was his hair getting too long.

“Mate, what the fuck.”

Carlos’ voice - the speech is like Carlos’ but the voice doesn’t quite sound like his, not as deep and accent garbled with something else - is what makes Charles finally blink open his eyes.

What the fuck indeed.

Charles jerks up and barely catches himself with his arm - a very tan, very hairy arm - as he stares at his own body sitting up next to him.

They had not switched places during the night. Or they had. Kind of. Not really.

“Fuck,” Charles echoes, voice deeper than he’s ever been able to reach. He slowly feels himself down, the body that is so familiar to him yet unfamiliar from this perspective.

“Mate…” he mutters, and looks up again. He is — Carlos, in his body, is staring at him, at Charles, in Carlos’ body. Carlos’ body that Charles - as Carlos - had just ran his hands over. Oh. Charles realised how it looked.

Carlos - because even wearing Charles’ face and having Charles’ voice, he is still Carlos - holds his gaze. And somehow Carlos still manages to put the force of his deep dark stare behind Charles’ lighter eyes. Charles watches, entrapped, as Carlos’ - his - hand slowly trails down, past the loose blanket that falls aside, and carefully wraps around his cock.

Oh, is that how he looks when…

Carlos - as Charles - blinks and also turns to stare at the length in his fist. He pauses and frowns.

“If I wank now am I giving you or myself a wank?”

Leave it to Carlos to think about these things and make them both have a crisis.

Fortunately, Charles doesn’t think much. Especially not this early in the morning. His - Carlos’ - hands move before he knows it, grabbing his own and Carlos’ - or Carlos’ and his own - members.

“Now it doesn’t matter,” he says.

It never does when their bodies are pressed so close he loses all sense of where he ends and Carlos begins anyway.