#the Price and also the Shipping? that could fuck me....

[captain-mj]

I can see who your favorite character is, my love. This post ain't even about him.

Before I get started, just want to say that the characters are multi-dimensional and can therefore be seen in multiple ways. Anyway! To explain my points!!

Yes, GhostGaz is lust. Absolutely. Gaz is one of the few characters that show genuine desire and want for things throughout the series. He smokes, he chats about things casually and also gets excited in Recon by Fire when he has multiple targets that he can snipe. Ghost is inhuman, lone wolf, desiring something he denies himself. Gaz is the most human (Soap stans argue with the wall) of most of the characters, being in my opinion one of the most well fleshed out ones.

They have complimentary personalities and aspects that I believe not only would have them fucking nasty, but also have them drawing towards each other constantly, wanting to be in each other's orbits, touching, etc. Lust also isn't just sex, lust is wanting something tangible in a way that defies God. Something I think the two of them already do very often.

SoapGhost as Greed. NOW HERE ME OUT. Y'all got listen for this one. Do they not get greedy over each other? Alejandro literally says he couldn't imagine calling Ghost Simon and what happened?? Yeah, he was told only Johnny could do it.

More seriously, the two of them constantly try to take more. Soap spend an entire mission trying to get more info out of Ghost about himself for no discernable reason. Ghost teases him, but he also encourages it so they can continue talking, rather than forcibly changing the subject. Soap also wants things. He wants medals, he wants to know more, he wants and wants and Soap is one of the few people that Ghost does show a want to hang out with. He also asks him questions and talks casually with him and presumably sits with him on rides so they can have each other's attention.

PriceGhost as Pride. You see, what I started this conversation, my idea was that I feel Price and Ghost, together, would be more prideful than the other ships. I don't mean this as to say they themselves are prideful, though my wife's explanation of Ghost being a victim of self-glorifying and self-justification (I'm not sure I agree on self-devoting, though that may be because I don't believe Ghost actually talks about his issues that much, even if I use it for plot purposes).

To look deeper at it though, the two of them are some of the highest ranking (though not THE highest ranking) out of the ships. I think Ghost would have a hard time separating Price the Captain from Price the Boyfriend. He wouldn't want to look weak in front of the Captain of his force. For Price, I have similar arguments. It's why I never quite liked PriceGaz, cause I just don't see Price as being able to truly be himself around his inferiors. The two of them wouldn't be able to truly be themselves around each other until they got over their pride. For them, this is more in the fact that Pride is the folly of their relationship. Idk, I just have a lot of thoughts.

You covered AleGhost in more depth than I can but I would argue going after Valeria the way he did was done more in Wrath than Pride, though I understand that with the sins, they intrinsically affect each other and honestly these two (characters and the win itself) parallel each other so much most sins could be put here. But both of them are such angry people at times. I feel like this is one of the few relationships in the list where issues are brought up, rather than allowed to fester.

Ghost ships but they’re themed as the seven deadly sins (PriceGhost is pride)

[calm-with-anxiety]

If I see or hear people defending their votes for Trump with “well I didn’t really know her policies and plans for her presidency” I will burst into flames. We live in a time where almost every piece of information is in your hand, you could’ve Googled her plans, it was on her fucking website for weeks, it was 80 pages of policy and how they planned to pay for it. Like you chose to be an uneducated voter that got information from commercials and short form video.

The economy line is bullshit because his plans will make everything more expensive, tariffs are payed for by you, you think the multibillion dollar company will take on the extra cost to buy and ship goods by lowering the CEO salary, no, they will make the item more expensive because they never promised you a $200 tv, but they did promise stockholders a dividend of $10/share. His mass deportation policy will cause the economy to collapse because immigrants, legal or illegal, do the jobs that others look down on. You never see a line of white guys in overalls hoping to be hired for below minimum wage to pick fruit for hours in the sun, you don’t see young white men showing up to construction jobs that the builder has subcontracted so it’s cheaper to build. The bedrock of the U.S. economy is cheap labor and a majority of that is immigrants who are looking for jobs that don’t require knowing perfect English and have employers that look the other way when you don’t have documents because they know you will work for anything.

Don’t even get me started on healthcare, outside of women’s healthcare which will get worse, if he finally gets rid of the affordable care act, aka Obamacare, they will replace it with nothing. The man was president before and after John McCain put his thumb down they never tried to make a new policy that wasn’t throwing the whole program into the trash. Also the affordable care act is more than just low cost healthcare, it put in place pre-existing conditions, for those too young to remember, the insurance companies could deny you coverage all because you might get cancer one day because your mother had it, you would have to pay out of pocket for an inhaler because asthma was a pre-existing condition, even if you were diagnosed with it later in life. Don’t forget what the vaccine situation will be, especially if he puts RFK jr. anywhere near it, like there is actual fear that Polio will come back because guess what? Most people under the age of 40 are not vaccinated for it because it was considered eradicated due to the mass vaccination of children in the 50s and 60s. When you complain about feeling like shit after getting the flu shot or a Covid booster, that is the vaccine working in your body, your body is doing an internal workout so if and when you come in contact with those viruses you won’t be getting extremely sick or die because someone doesn’t know how to cover their cough.

I think this election was proof that you can have all the information and still know nothing because you chose to know nothing. People vote with their eyes, not their mind. Gas where I live has been under $3.00 for months, it’s been under $2.50 at the warehouse stores for weeks, but because an ad on tv said prices are rising people believed the tv over their own experience. People saw grocery prices increase and blamed the administration when in reality corporations took advantage of Covid shortages, raised prices, recorded historic profits, and didn’t start bring prices down until this summer after people realized what was happening to some extent and even then they didn’t return to pre-2020 prices because the profit still needed to be high, they looked at the $2 increase in a bag of chips over 4 years and blamed democrats and not Lays.

This is going to be a painful 4 years, for many people here and abroad, Ukraine will have to depend on Europe which is starting to lean conservative as well and the war in Gaza will take an extreme shift that will make the last year look like a paper cut in terms of humanitarian assistance and a possible end. It’s already getting on my nerves as people tweet “we keep fighting” and “we need to be strong so they can’t do all they plan to do like the first time”, it’s not going to be like the first time, the adults in the room he had with him, many who came out and supported Harris, are gone and now it will be yes men that he was told to put there by the extreme right like the supporters of project 2025 and billionaires. And for those saying “well maybe he will die in office”, you think JD Vance is better? He allegedly picked him because DT jr. suggested him and if you have ever seen jr. and his takes you would know Vance can be worse.

This is gonna hurt for many people that will now be seen as lower than second class citizens and you won’t even have lower prices to show for it as that seemed to be the reason you voted for him, enjoy your expensive goods as people lost rights.

[vonlipvig]

suzerain soundtrack on vinyl coming out is great, but can we take a moment to talk about him

they granted him one moment of peace! he's chilling with his music! as he should!

[natelia-aldelliz]

Soap & Gaz : =(

Ghost : What's going on with you two?

Gaz : Old people flirting =( it's like my divorced dad flirting with his new girlfriend in front of me all over again

Ghost : What happened?

Gaz : Well he and my mom got a divorce, which was for the best honestly, and then he got himself a girlfriend that was closer in age to me than him and -

Ghost : I don't give a shit about your parents Garrick, what happened right now.

Gaz : Oh =(

Soap : Nikolai was teaching us insults in russian, and Price told him he had a dirty mouth and Nik just smiled at him, y'know, like a smirk, and Price smiled back, ewwww

Ghost : Wait, you think Price flirting with his... friend is gross because they're old? You do know I'm not that much younger than Price, right?

Soap : Yeah, but you're not flirting with anyone, so it's okay =)

Ghost :

Gaz :

Soap : =) ?

Gaz : I can't believe you just said that. With your full chest too...

[kravchikfreak]

i bet you know how these two pairs are the same one ship

and i FUCKING HATE them both for that

shit's gross, i'm actually anwell

i'll rant on my stupid tags but this is important

[coridallasmultipass]

I am once again begging online shop payment processing companies to allow me to enter a separate name for shipping and separate name for billing!!

It's the same address, I'm just trans and have not legally changed my personal name, but I still prefer to receive mail as my preferred name! Like it's literally my professional name, I do business as my preferred name.

Annoying as fuck, and I don't want to chance my bank rejecting the payment (though I'm sure someone at my bank has put a note to allow it on my account by now, since I've contacted them a couple times before when I realized too late that the billing section didn't let me input another "address/name" section, and they said the payment was fine in those cases.)

Anyway, legal name changes should be free and non-advertised for everyone. Tbh, you should get a free name change every time you file your taxes on time as an incentive for good citizen behaviour. Once I am elected pres-

[schadenfreudich]

I felt like the outer fabric costing around 100€ was a bit expensive but then I looked how much a coat costs and a coat with a lot polyester and definitely not as much wool already costs over 100€, so actually I'm fine with that.

[marcsburnerphone]

And they were roommates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: that captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: some awkward moments but nothing crazy.

part 1 - Part two!!! - part 3 - part 4

—————-

You indeed did not see John price the next morning but what you did see was a handwritten note stuck to the fridge beneath a magnet.

“Good morning, as I mentioned my job is demanding. I’m not sure how long I'll be gone for but I can estimate at least a month. If you need me, my phone number is below along with my check for this month's rent and the next. - John price”

You reach for the envelope that is attached behind the note and pull it open and what the fuck. You knew he had to have money but in what world would someone pay this much rent for a house with a roommate? You immediately grab your own checkbook and write him for the amount that’s overpaid, making a mental note to make sure you give it to him.

————

Weeks pass slowly and life goes on as it did before. The only difference is you're no longer struggling to make ends meet. So to celebrate your success you order that 6 foot canvas you’d been wanting for ages and a new oil paint.

When you got the notification that it had arrived, thank god for two day shipping, you squealed and ran to grab it before the mailman even walked away. He offered to help you as he watched you give it a bear hug and waddle it through your door yelling out a meek ‘no Thankyou’. You dragged it down the hallway and into the sunroom resting it up against the wall. Ripping the clear plastic film off of new canvases comes in third place to the best things in life.

Sitting in the sun that evening you stroke deep blue oil paints that try their best to replicate ocean waters, and white specks that wish they could induce the same feelings stars do.

You’ve been at this same painting for 3 weeks, coming home and straight to it. Now that it’s finally done it sits sunbathing till it dries. You still visit it and admire its larger than life beauty.

John’s been gone for 1 month and 3 weeks now and in that time some problems have arisen, 1. The faucet in the kitchen leaks and below it the pipe also leaks and the only plumber that’s willing to drive out to your house and inspect it says he won’t be available for another week which means the water bill will sky rocketing till then. And 2. you have no idea where the huge painting will go.

You walk around wondering where to place it. You thought maybe the living room, or even in your room but after testing both those places it still didn’t look right. You can only think of one other place which is the hallway to John’s room. Of course that spot is perfect, maybe he wouldn’t notice since he only spent one night here. You grabbed the drill and got to work mounting it immediately. Once all was said and done you gave it a once over, smiled, snapped a picture of it to send to your sister and walked away.

———

John arrived back exactly at the two month mark early in the AM. He opened the house door as quietly as possible and removed his boots by the door to avoid the creaking wood of the floor and continued sluggishly hauling his bag to his room. Being the man he is, he notices everything, those watchful eyes of his never miss a detail so he does indeed notice and take a second to admire the newly found painting hung in front of his bedroom door before unlocking it to set his stuff down.

After a much needed and appreciated shower he reads the clock at 7AM thinking he can sleep for a little, that is of course until he hears a knock at the door. Making his way down the hall he peeps through the window and sees a handyman?

“Good morning sir, how can I help you?” He says opening the door.

“Good morning, your wife called for a leaking pipe, told her I’d come by sometime today.” He looks down the hall towards your room and confirms the fact that you're definitely still very well asleep.

“My wife? Oh yes my wife, that lady I could’ve sworn I told her to cancel this appointment we actually got it all sorted out.” He lies like it's second nature.

“I actually charge a late cancellation fee that must be paid upfront.” He inquires slightly annoyed.

“How much?” John replies feeling sorry for this man that drove out here and is now being sent away.

“100$ flat.” John shuts the door and quickly fetches his wallet from the pocket of his cargo pants and returns with two bills one for the inconvenience and sends the man on his way.

Sleep can wait.

—————

You wake up to the sound of clanking in the kitchen and as a woman that technically lives alone in the middle of the forest you're terrified.

Grabbing the bat beside your bed still fully dressed in the least threatening attire, you tiptoe to the source of the noise and breathe out the strongest sigh of relief ever known to man.

“Jesus Christ John you scared me, what’re you doing?” You loudly admit startling him in return.

“Fixing this pipe that you called an overpriced handyman for.” You stare at him subconsciously admiring the way he looks, slightly disheveled, face screwed in concentration and strong hands twisting the wrench in his hand and let’s not mention the rise of his shirt.

“You okay?” He says removing himself from under the sink leaning back on his knees to stare up at you.

“Yeah, yes I’m so sorry, um so where did the handy man go?” He stands with a grunt and leans his back against the counter.

“On his merry way.” He replies, turning around to turn the faucet on checking if it leaks, then off to see if it still drips and as he expects, it does neither.

“How much do I owe you for the late cancellation fee?” That man has handled your plumbing issues before and you’ve definitely canceled late more than once.

“Technically you didn’t cancel on him, I did so don’t worry.” He says picking his tools up off the ground placing them messily into the tool box.

“Well Thank You.” You say awkwardly.

“Of course.” He smiles making the dimples beneath his beard awfully noticeable.

“Oh and by the way your rent is only two thousand five hundred a month.” You say walking to the kitchen drawer beside him and pulling out a check that’s already filled out and handing it to him.

“Utilities included?” He asks, grabbing the check written out for three thousand and also taking in notice that same scent that clung to those sheets you made his bed with weeks ago as you sweep by.

“Yeah I don’t mind paying more cause I mean look around, this place has my style written all over it which makes it feel more like mine than yours.” He looks baffled at your reasoning.

“I actually like the decorations, not sure I’d change a thing about it.” You laugh at what has to be a lie.

“I doubt it.” You chuckle and slightly blush at his kindness.

“No I'm serious, I especially love that painting in the hallway, where’d you get it?” You seem surprised at the mention of it and even more flattered at the compliment.

“I actually painted it.” He gives you a surprised look.

“See you’re even hand painting the art, please I can afford much more than twenty five hundred.” You act like you're considering it for a moment.

“As much as I’d appreciate it, I'm already grateful for what you pay.” You say truthfully.

“Also, welcome home.” You quip before turning around walking back towards your room to get ready for the day

—————

John’s been home for nearly two weeks now and he’s slightly growing on you and you on him. You co-exist in harmony most times. That doesn’t mean the two of you still don’t clash from time to time.

“Good morning.” He says scrambling eggs in a pan as you walk into the kitchen reaching in the cabinet for a coffee mug.

“Morning to you too.” You say groggily, setting your feet flat on the ground and placing the cup on the counter, reaching for the pot to pour some coffee.

“If I can just- oh I’m so sorry.” He says accidentally bumping into you making the coffee spill on the counter.

“Oh no don’t worry about it, I can just clean it.” You say turning around quickly to go grab paper towels and end up accidentally running into his chest.

He grabs your shoulders to hold you in place and let your brain catch up with the speed of events.

“We will learn to both be in the kitchen together someday.” You affirm with a laugh that makes you feel alive.

“Hey the first week this happened almost everyday. If anything this is a huge improvement.” He jokingly abides.

“True.” You say as he turns around handing you the kitchen towel to clean it up. He watches you with amused eyes and a smile that still hasn’t left either of your faces and for a second something alights in John something that scares him so bad he doesn’t hear a thing you’re saying.

“John, I said did you sleep well?” You speak a bit louder, snapping him out of it.

“Yeah darling sorry I’m just going to take this to my office. I've got some work to cover.” He says hurriedly plating his food and scurrying off.

“Okay well I’ll be heading to work soon.” He doesn’t even let you finish before closing the door leaving you to stand there a little stumped.

“So I’ll assume he didn’t sleep well.” You say to yourself before pouring another cup and heading to your room to get changed.

——————

Comments and reposts are appreciated <3

@beebeechaos

@ttsbaby01

@arminarlertssword

@quakeroaksguy

@waves-against-a-cliff

@depressed-but-make-it-cute

[leaderwonim]

𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐘 — nine: bitter

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. lee heeseung x fem!reader, park sunghoon x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲. Y/N always knew that her high school was dominated by wealth and privilege. Upon having a one night stand with popular athlete Lee Heeseung, she uncovers that Heeseung's friend group controls not only social dynamics but also school policies and local affairs, revealing a hidden world of power and manipulation behind their so called perfectly polished exteriors

masterlist | previous | next

Heeseung graciously offered to buy you a dress for the gala, saying it was the least he could do since you agreed to accompany him in the first place.

He dropped it off at your house with flowers, a gesture you found yourself smiling too hard at that your cheeks practically hurt.

See you tonight, the small paper inside the flowers said, and you set it in a vase on your dinner table.

The dress he bought was a silky black dress, one that went all the way down to your feet. It was extravagant, and you almost dropped it when you looked at the price tag.

Six hundred fucking dollars.

The dress was shipped from New York in America, so you knew Heeseung wasn’t playing around when it came to Seojun’s gala.

By the time it hits 8pm, you could hear the familiar honk of Heeseung’s Mercedes. You finish your last touch up, pressing a sebum control powder on your face until your skin looked perfect in the mirror.

Then in a rush, you grab your heels, slipping into them and running out to Heeseung’s car.

He smiles when he sees you, leaning over to open the passenger side door.

“You look… pretty.” He says, eyes glancing up and down at your body.

“Thank you for the dress.” You say shyly, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by his stare.

“Seojun told me they already started but we’re really not missing out on anything.” He says reassuringly, adjusting his front rear mirror.

After he’s done, he reverses the car until he’s out your parking lot, speeding away into the night.

“Hee! Glad you made it man,” Seojun throws his arms around Heeseung’s shoulder, an annoying smirk plays on his face. “Aaaand Heeseung’s friend? You’re the one who did the physiology project with him right?”

You’re surprised he remembers you, so you only nod hesitantly.

“Well don’t be shy, tonight’s gonna be a blast.”

As soon as Seojun opens his gigantic doors, you’re greeted with all sorts of guests in expensive dresses and suits, some holding champagne glasses while others make themselves comfortable at the tiny tables Seojun has set all around his living room.

“Park Seojun, you never fail to impress me.” Heeseung says, patting the boy on the back. Seojun responds with a loud cackle, slapping Heeseung back jokingly.

“Make yourself comfortable.” Heeseung whispers in your ear. “I’m going to get us some drinks.”

You nod shyly, watching as Heeseung disappears into the kitchen which was on the other side of the house.

This was the perfect opportunity to sneak up Seojun’s stairs and go into his father’s study. Perhaps there—you could find proof of his manipulation.

You watch as everybody else in the gala is too engrossed in either the music or each other, quietly creeping up the stairs.

Seojun’s house had a long hallway, which felt cold and dark. Above each door was a name of which room belonged to who, and you could see the biggest room in the end of the hallway was Seojun’s father by the way it said PARK HYUNGWOOK’S STUDY.

It was big enough that two large tall wooden doors stood before it. You knew you had to open it quietly to not disrupt the rest of the guests—or even worse—Seojun himself.

You shuffle throughout the cabinets and drawers, trying to find whatever proof you could find yourself on. Your eyes widen when you see the receipts of the most recent transactions to Joseon Internationals, a company that often got into scandals for allegedly using their wealth to get top positions in politics.

Holy shit, Seojun’s dad donated half a million to Joseon Internationals in one week alone?

Your thoughts are quickly interrupted when you hear shuffling from outside the door. In a panic, you rush underneath the large desk, which was thankfully a dark brown color so it hid you perfectly in the dark.

“You showed up with her again?”

Wait a minute—you know that voice.

The doors to the study open, and you can briefly make out two shoes from a crack underneath the desk.

One of them was Heeseung’s shoes.

“I mean, what am I supposed to do here Hanni? You want me to wait around for you forever?”

The girl scoffs, arms crossed. “You’re real classy Heeseung. Does she know you bought the dress for me?”

You almost let out a gasp, knowing exactly what she was referring to.

The black silk dress Heeseung had supposedly bought for you.

“Why does it matter, Hanni? You make it clear every time that it’s not me you want, it’s Sunghoon. Then you get all mad when I’m with Y/N, and question why I’m bitter?”

Hanni scoffs again, foot tapping the floor impatiently. “Whatever, tell Seojun I am leaving.”

You could hear her quickly leave the room by the taps of her heels on the carpet floor of the study.

“Wait—at least let me drive you home.” Heeseung’s voice fades away as he follows her, and you swear your heart breaks all over once again.

You stand up, body still in shock of what you just heard in the room. You take a quick picture of the receipts in Seojun’s father’s study before leaving, tears already falling down your eyes.

“Whoa—Y/N?” The voice of Sunghoon only makes the tears come faster. “Are you okay?”

“Why do you care?” You mutter out, coming to wipe them. “Get out of my way, I’m going home.”

“Good point,” he says. “But I also know that a girl crying like you shouldn’t go home by herself. I’ll drive you.”

“Like I want to be in a car with you.” You mumble, silently grateful when Sunghoon bats the other way.

“You didn’t drink, did you?”

“What? No, of course not.” You quickly say, sniffling.

“Alright, let’s go then.”

Sunghoon helps you in the passenger seat of his car, and you could make out the figure of Danielle sleeping in the back.

“Don’t worry about Dani, I’m just driving her home too.” Sunghoon explains, grabbing a pillow from his trunk and putting Danielle’s head against it.

“I’ll drive you home first.” He says to you.

Although the light hum of the car in the quiet night should’ve comforted you, you only felt worse as the ride wore on.

Because no matter how much it seems like Heeseung actually wants you, his feeling for Hanni never ends, and it makes you end up feeling like shit over and over again.

Sunghoon pulls up to your parking lot, his eyes telling more than his mouth wants to say.

“Oh and Y/N,” he says quietly, clearing his throat.

You turn around, facing him completely.

“I know we may not be the best of friends,” he continues. “But if you need to talk about tonight, I’m here.”

You close the door, choosing not to say anything to Sunghoon.

You just needed to shower and get to bed. Maybe a good night sleep will make everything go away.

AUTHOR’s NOTE. it gets better soon.. i promise

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[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Quiet Confidence || One Night Stand!Gaz

Rating: E Words: 2.7K~ Pairing: ONS!Gaz x ONS!F!Reader CW: smut, cunnilungus, protected sex (implied), piv (implied), nudity. tags: you/your pronouns, afab!reader, one night stand, reader and kyle are both confident, kyle garrick is a munch, morning after talks. a/n: the gifs used do NOT reflect the reader's skin tone of physical appearance. / the original poster of the gifs below is @unstablecryptid but I could *not* get the gif search bar to fucking show me the gifs of elliot knight.

In all the units he's been in, be it the Duke of Lancaster's Regiment, or when he joined the SAS, or when he was doing resistance to interrogation training with the Marines, or, now, in the 141, one thing's for certain: Gaz is the worst person to have as a wingman.

Not because he doesn't know what he's doing. No, Kyle absolutely knows what he's doing. The issue is precisely that. He's a handsome lad with a playful demeanor and natural charisma. He fails at getting his mates a girl because the girl ends up wanting him.

And so no one asks for his help any more... and he stopped offering too.

But that doesn't mean that he stopped trying to get girls for himself.

Price, Ghost, Soap and Gaz sit around a table in the corner of the packed pub, chatting amidst themselves.

It's become somewhat of a routine, before they all ship back home: they get together at a bar or pub, huddle around a table and each of them pays for a round of drinks before they part ways.

It's, in a way, a moment to decompress, unwind, and clear their heads, while also allowing them to be amidst civilians for a moment and 'turn off' the soldier mentality before they go home to see family (or whatever Ghost does).

It's always the same routine. Ghost pays the first round. Stops at the bar while the lads locate a table (or at least a wall to lean on), then marches back with four pints balanced perfectly on stiff arms. He's clinical, methodical. In, out. Goes to the bar, comes back.

Soap gets the next one. Goes to the bar, swaggering past the other patrons, shooting coy looks and little smirks at the women (and men) that catch his eye. Leans against the bar and takes his sweet. fucking. time. Spends longer chatting up the other people waiting for drinks and even the bartender than actually ordering and waiting. Then, he swaggers back. Sometimes empty-handed, sometimes with a number/username or two on his phone.

Price gets the next one. Just like Simon, he doesn't meander. He goes up to the bar, places his order, pays, and leans on his forearms while he waits. If he sees a pretty woman, he might side up to her and exchange a couple words. It rarely goes anywhere. But he doesn't seem to do it for the same reason Johnny (and Kyle) do. Mostly just to pass the time.

Kyle doesn't even put in effort at this point. And he's not even bragging when he says that. More often than not, when he's at the pub with his team, he's not there to look for a bird to spend the night with, he's there to say farewell before they go on leave. And yet, there's something about Kyle that makes women flock to him.

He finds himself being approached as he leans on the bar, eyes fluttering around the room, taking in the bottle and glasses on display behind the bartender, the patrons, the TV showing a football game high on the wall... And without fail a pretty woman will side up to him and try to make a move, give him her number...

Kyle would blame it on the fact he has a 'pretty face' as one of his ex-girlfriends would say, or maybe his shower routine, the fact he actually makes an effort to look and smell good, because it makes him feel good... But as one of his one night stands in the past year made a point to point out to him, he, allegedly, exudes a 'quiet confidence' about him.

Regardless of the cause, Kyle always returns to the table with hands overflowing with drink/pint glasses and his phone holding a handful of new numbers or instagram/snapchat handles... ones he does not plan on contacting.

-

You're sitting across the pub from the 4 men in the corner booth. They're in regular clothes but, from the way they sit and act, you can tell they're soldiers from the base a few kilometers away.

Your eyes keep finding their way to the pretty, dark skinned bloke that sits on the edge, his left side turned toward you, his lips pursed as him and his friends discuss whatever it is that soldiers do when they come to a pub. Probably sports.

"You know if you keep staring at him like that, you'll probably burn a hole through him." Your friend quips beside you, causing you to scoff and roll your eyes.

"And what do you suggest I do instead? Just walk up to that Adonis and go 'Hey, handsome, wanna get out of here?' in front of his mates?" You retort with a cocked brow.

"Yeah? You've done worse than that." She tells you. You go quiet again, your gaze returning to the handsome lad.

He sits with his back against the leather back of the booth, shifting his weight around on his ass and sliding down the seat a bit, legs spread apart, one foot kicked up and off the cover of the table, more so in the way, to potentially trip someone.

Your friend is right, of course, you've done worse than go up to a pretty man and ask him to go home with you. In fact, you've done much more nerve-wracking and anxiety-inducing things... But that bloke is easily one of the calmest and most confident ones you've seen in a while, not to mention he's not alone...

Pondering for a moment, you decide to just go for it. You finish the rest of your drink first and get up, walking over to his table, your mind already conjuring the perfect string of words to say in order to get him to come home with you. Hell, you don't normally have any trouble charming lads either.

You stop in front of the table and all four sets of eyes turn to look at him, one of them behind a balaclava, directly across from the man you want to speak to. You had nearly missed that one in the shadows of the pub.

Looking directly into the eyes of your target for the night, you feel the words you had kind of come up with escape you, as well as your last working neuron, and you find yourself feeling a bit flustered under his scrutinizing gaze.

He has the prettiest brown eyes you've ever seen, which stare up at you like a baby cow, eyebrows knit, wide and inviting and warm...

Taking a deep breath, you simply reach your hand forward, palm facing up and you wait, eyes locked on the beautiful man sitting on the booth before you.

His eyes flutter down to your hand and then back up at your face, an eyebrow scaling up in intrigue and confusion, but he lays his left hand atop yours, his warm, calloused palm against your own. No wedding ring. Good enough.

You nod at him and turn away again, pulling him along as you begin to step away from his table. The lad's head immediately shakes, looking around at you, and at his mates, in confusion, but he has no choice but to follow you.

He stands and shoots his friends a confused but amused look, smirking a bit at your mere audacity. You can hear one of them make some comment behind your back as you drag the pretty boy away, but you don't catch it between his thick accent and the music and chatter inside the pub.

-

You made it from the bar to your elevator and to your door in near complete silence, no small talk other than to exchange names and ask about protection, no hesitation.

Getting lowered onto your bed, Kyle's lips were mashed against yours, his arms caging you in, his long, nimble fingers gripping onto the back of your head and nape.

Your legs spread to either side of his hip, your feet plant themselves on the bed, your knees squeezing lightly around his hip over the fabric of his black boxer briefs.

Kyle ruts his clothed bulge against your core, humming under his breath, the sounds he makes dying against your lips.

Your hands slide down from around the back of his neck over his pecs and down his abs, feeling how hard and defined he is. "Mmmm..." You purred as your nails gently slid down his dark skin.

"You like my muscles, hm?" He murmurs after breaking the kiss, diving in to kiss down your jaw and neck, then over your collarbone and onto the swell of your breasts in your bra.

"Maybe." You reply, which causes a rumble of a laugh to escape him, his hands pulling you up and off the mattress so he can undo the back clasp of the bra, before slipping the straps off your shoulders, and throwing the garment aside.

"Maybe, eh?" Kyle teases and leans up close, his large hands cupping the flesh of your breasts, squeezing them them together while his thumbs glide over your pert nipples, rubbing them in circles.

"Mmmm... Maybe." You agree with a chuckle of your own, a hum of appreciation falling through your lips from his touch, at the same time as you grind your clothed cunt against the bulge in his underwear.

The man above you smirks at you, letting you continue to grind yourself against him, while his head dips down to catch one of your nipples between his lips, giving it a slow lick and a greedy suck, his fingers still squeezing the flesh of your tits around them.

After a moment of giving them some attention, his mouth glides down your stomach and over the mound of your pelvis, toward your pussy, his body leaving the bed and kneeling on the floor in front of it, his face lining up between your thighs.

His fingers run over your slit, the man purring at the feeling of the soaked patch you wore into the fabric, before hooking a finger around the side of the gusset, pulling the fabric aside.

Kyle's face leans up close and he wastes no time attaching his plump lips to your wet cunny, his tongue seeking out and finding your clit after letting go of your underwear and spreading your folds with his fingers.

His nose buries itself on your mons and your legs twitch slightly as he gives your clit the attention it deserves, licking and sucking the sensitive bud, pulling it behind his teeth with greedy sucks, the obscenely wet sounds of his sucking filling the room and making you, somehow, whine more than the actual feeling itself.

"K-Kyle-" You whine as your hand finds his head, your legs trembling on either side of him, twitching against either side of his head and squeezing against his ears, like you're desperate to close them.

Kyle's big brown eyes look up at you with a spark of mischief and he grabs both your thighs with his large hands, forcing them open again and holding them against the mattress, leaving you splayed on the bed as his tongue laps furiously at your clitoris.

"I know... I know..." He coos at you as you whine and tremble, your hip bucking a bit as you both seek more of his pleasure and less of it, feeling your climax rearing its head over the horizon as Kyle sends you barreling toward it with just the feeling of his tongue.

Then, his fingers join in, two of them, carefully plunging inside your leaking hole, moving slowly and deeply, curling up to find your G-spot, his lips once more making the most obscene of sucking sounds as he eats you out like a man starved.

You whine and your head falls back, your body thrashing atop your bed covers as you climax, leaking your juices over his long digits and pushing his head away from you, your clitoris overstimulated and feeling raw.

You struggle to catch your breath, feeling hot and covered in sweat, the man kneeling at the foot of your bed looking at you with his pretty brown eyes and a smirk on his lips.

"Don't look at me like that!" You complain, feeling flushed, both from embarrassment and from the recent climax.

"Like what, sweet thing?" He asks you, raising his brows and lifting himself off the floor, crawling back atop you, and settling his hip between your parted legs.

"All cocky and smug-like." You retort, hearing him chuckle again.

"Not smug at all, poppet." He tells you in earnest before leaning down and kissing you slowly again. "Just happy I made you feel good. You used to blokes who don't make you cum, hm?" He asks you.

"No, they make me cum." You reply, and, truly, you're saying the truth. But this feels different either way.

"Good, then," Kyle adds and smirks, rolling your hip and legs to the side, his fingers hooking over the edge of the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your thighs. "'cause I plan on making you cum on my cock next."

-

The next morning, you wake up past 11 a.m., bleary-eyed.

You rub your eyes, yawn and stretch along the bed, your arm hitting a warm and hard body beside you.

"Morning to you too, poppet." Kyle's voice murmurs from beside you, causing you to turn to look at him.

You lock eyes with his ass, first and foremost, your eyes widening for just a second.

Kyle's lying on his stomach, his elbows propping him halfway up on the pillow as he scrolls through his feed on some social media.

"Hi..." You murmur and chuckle softly. "You know, most lads would've left by now, hm?" You quip.

The man next to you hums and chuckles before shrugging. "Most lads aren't me." He says simply.

Looking toward you, you can't help but smile a bit at the sight of his warm eyes, shaking your head in amusement at his (over)confidence.

"Did you sleep well?" He asks you.

"Mhm... Like a baby." You nod and stretch your arms again. "What about you?" You return.

"Slept well, yeah..." He retorts. "Don't know why I asked, there's no way you could not, after the way I tired you out?" He teases and winks at you.

Scoffing, you roll your eyes. "Oh shut it..." You murmur, arching your back and stretching your spine out.

You're acting nonchalant about it, but the delicious soreness between your thighs and the sticky warmth of the sweat you shed last night speaks volumes. He's 100% right.

"I ordered you food," He says before rolling toward you and reaching over your body to the bedside table, retrieving a water bottle, still cold, meaning he went to get it from the fridge for you.

"Thanks." You murmur once he hands it to you. You open it and curl your head up to sip some water. "I've never had a bloke order me food the morning after." You quip.

"Well, I'm not an animal... I ate you out last night, only fair I feed you in return, hm?" He quips, causing you to scoff again and groan at the stupid comment.

Cheeky fucker, and the worst part is he knows how bad that was, and is still smirking down at you all smugly...

A notification from his phone makes him yelp softly and he rolls away, rising from the bed. "Food's downstairs." He announces.

Your eyes are drawn to the way he looks as he collects his clothes from the floor of your bedroom, tugging them on over his body, his cock, especially, hanging low against his thigh before he fixes it inside his underwear and tucks it all into his jeans.

The memory of how he pounded into you with reckless abandon last night, the tip of his cock hammering past your gummy walls at a neck-breaking pace, hearing you cry out in delight every time it kissed your cervix, comes flowing back.

Kyle notices you eyeing him up just as he's putting on his boots and glances at you with the same smug smirk he's shot you so many times in the last 12 hours together.

Stopping at the door of the bedroom while turning his shirt right side out, ready to put it on, he winks at you. "Don't worry, I'll give you a round two after we eat."

[moody-alcoholic]

These Violent Delights

Chapter 8 - Everything Fades

Summary: Poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o alternate universe 10.2k words. Everyone is so emotional, 141 could use a break.

CW: MDNI +18 explicit content. a/b/o alternative universe, a/b/o dynamics, typical a/b/o universe tropes (heat, knotting, claiming, nesting), gaslighting, hurt/comfort, angst, panic attacks, brief mentions of needles, drawing blood, medical procedures, Sex, Oral (M receiving), ball sucking???, masturbation, cum eating/swallowing, use of medication, language, Fuck Graves I love making him the bad guy.

Previous - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy <3

Price had left Ghost in charge and given him a list of things to do. It was mainly a list of ‘what if’s’. This was new to both of them. Normally it wouldn’t be such a big deal. Price takes breaks all the time leaving Ghost to watch over things.

This time it’s different because he doesn’t have anyone to turn to if things go tits up. Luckily, there were no missions, no risk of them being shipped out somewhere. They couldn’t just have an easy time though. Of course Shepherd and Graves had to stick their noses in at the worst possible time. 

“We have to tell him right?” Gaz asks. Dr. Montgomery has put down her work, has all but forgotten that Shepherd has seized it all. She is listening closely to what Ghost is saying as he breaks the news to Gaz and Johnny. 

“How long is left with her heat?” Johnny asks, turning to the doctor.  “Could be 3 more days, could be 5. It all depends on what her body decides to do.” She shrugs.

“If we tell him, he’s going to want to do something about it. He can’t do that until her heat is finished,” Johnny says, looking at Dr. Montgomery for confirmation.

“Can't he just be with her at night? Then he has the day to figure something out,” Laswell says. 

“It’s not that simple, but she has been through heats alone before. I don’t know how dangerous it would be for either of them to pull them out mid heat,” Dr. Montgomery says looking between Simon and Laswell. 

“How can we be sure they’re even coming here in the first place?” Johnny asked. 

“It's safe to assume that’s why they're here,” Laswell says. 

“It’s also safe to assume Graves is bringing an army with him,” Gaz says huffing. The room goes silent. 

“It’s not like he can do anything. What’s he going to do, take her by force? Kidnap someone on government land? She’s still a person at the end of the day,” Johnny says, Ghost sees Dr. Montgomery smile at Johnny’s words. 

“What do you think LT? Your call,” Gaz says. Simon stands up from leaning on the table. He remembers what Price told him before her heat started. Not to interrupt them unless people were dying or the building was on fire. Shadow Company were not here yet, and there was no way to know if they would be here before the heat was done. Even General Shepherd said he would be back after the heat. 

“We don’t tell him. If we tell him he’s going to want to do something, even if he doesn’t it’s going to be on his mind. That's dangerous for both of them right?” Ghost asks Dr. Montgomery. 

“His stress could cause the omega to stress. It could prolong her heat, cause her to panic, or worse. Unless you want to take them out earlier the most we can do is keep an eye on her temperature. That will give us some idea of when she’ll be coming out,”  she explains. 

“It feels wrong. Surely he would understand?” Gaz says. 

“He will, but for now he’s got a job to do and unless Graves is knocking on our door we wait, understand?” Ghost says. Everyone nods. 

Ghost turns to Laswell “Let me know the second you hear anything, I want to know if he moves. We can’t have him sneaking up on us.” She nods, following out with Soap and Gaz. When they had all left he turns back to Dr. Montgomery. 

“You made the right choice,”  she says. He sighs.

“We’ll see.” 

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself Simon,” she says, sitting back down. 

“How dangerous would it be to interrupt her heat?” he asks. She can sense his unease, his scent is strong in the air. 

“It’s the first time she’s ever had a normal heat, I don’t know how it would affect her. It’s also John’s first heat,” she says.

“What’s the worst case scenario?” he asks, and she freezes for a moment. 

“I’m not sure. She could end up in distress. He could hurt himself or the omega by accident.” She shakes her head. “It’ll be fine though right, he won't be back till after her heat?” He digs his eyes into her. If they pull her out of heat it could put them both in danger. Christ , this whole thing is a mess. 

“It’ll be fine.” He replies.  

That's the 3rd time he’s lied to her tonight. 

It’s been 4 days since your heat started. Johnny and Kyle had slipped into the schedule of checking on you both every 12 hours just as Dr. Montgomery instructed. The routine is working like a well oiled machine at this point. The alarm goes off at 3am and 3pm. Kyle usually takes the afternoon shift which mean’s Johnny is the one who’s sleep gets interrupted.

It’s always the same though, by 3am you and Price are usually asleep, which makes it hard for Johnny to do what he needs to. He wakes Price first, passing him a bottle of water and a protein bar. He blindly accepts gulping down the water like it’s the first time he’s drunk today. 

Then he wakes you, slowly trying his best not to startle you. Getting food into you is harder, you whine as soon as you’re awake, Johnny can’t help but feel bad as you call out for John who wraps his arms round you. Johnny presses the bottle of water up to your lips forcing you to drink. You take little sips, and sometimes you open your eyes, but Johnny knows you’re not really there. Pupils blown out and glazed over it’s like you’re looking through him, hazy in your heat as you do your job of taking your alpha’s knot. It must be exhausting.

“Anything new with Shepherd?” John asks. He’s more aware today, or at least more aware than yesterday.

“No, he keeps asking if you’re finished yet. Simon’s been keeping him away,” Johnny says, breaking off a piece of protein bar and pressing it against your lips. 

“How is Simon?” He asks. 

“Fine, been keeping his distance.” Johnny breaks off more of the bar for you. 

“How are you doing?” Johnny asks, looking over at John. 

“Fine, tired,” he says. Johnny tries to get you to take some more bites of food but you just moan, shuffling up against John. Dr. Montgomery said it would be okay if you didn’t eat at least for the first few days. But it's been 4 days now. If the protein bars don't work they’ll have to try other methods. John moans as you rock your hips against him. Johnny takes the empty water bottle out his hand before he drops it on your head. 

“Easy, easy,” John says, pressing his lips against your neck. You’re still whining as his scent fills the air. Mixed with yours, it makes Johnny’s cock twitch in his pants. Honey, that’s what you smell like when you’re in heat. It’s so thick in the air Johnny swears he can taste it. His eyes wander to the covered part of the bed where your hips are rocking against him. 

“Do you want to see?” Price asks. Johnny thinks for a second. He does, he’s curious but it also feels like some kind of invasion of your privacy. He nods letting your scent fill his nose. John pulls the duvet back, Johnny can see where you’re connected, your pussy stretched around John's cock. Shiny with a mix of your slick and John's cum.

“How does it feel?” Johnny asks. 

“Hard to explain, it’s so sensitive and she’s so needy—” he takes a sharp breath in, Johnny watches as you move your hips up against John, moaning as John's hand presses on your abdomen. He lets out a groan then you go silent. Johnny doesn’t know what to say. John pulls the duvet back over you both. 

“I’ll get Gaz to try some porridge for her later,” Johnny says, picking up the wrappers off the floor. John just hums laying back down next to you. 

Johnny watches Kyle come out of the bedroom. It’s been almost 5 days now, it could be over soon, or it could go on for another 3 days. Kyle spoons some of the porridge into his mouth.

“Did she eat any?” Johnny asks as he goes into the kitchen. 

“A little, Price ate most of it.” He puts the bowl in the sink then comes over to the sofa, sitting next to Johnny. 

“What about her temperature?” 

“Still high 38.” He sighs. “How’s things been with Simon?” 

“Never seen him so desperate,” Johnny says shifting on the sofa, he was getting sore, his legs bruised from Simon being so rough. 

“How have you been doing with this?” Johnny asks. 

“You mean the constant smell of sex and lack of it?” Gaz asks. Johnny looks over at him, there’s a twinkle in his eyes. 

“You want to go take care of Simon?” Johnny teases. Kyle turns to look at him. Johnny sighs scooting next to him. He lets the smell of honey fill his nose as he presses his face into Kyle's neck breathing him in. His scent is strong, mixed with the smell of honey in the air. It has Johnny craving Kyle’s touch. He runs his hand under his shirt and takes his time letting his fingers trace each muscle and scar. 

“What about Si?” Kyle asks, leaning back on the sofa. 

“He’ll wait,” Johnny hums into Kyle's ear, nipping at his lobe. Johnny’s hand slips down to Kyle's pants, running his hand over his already hardened cock. 

“Jesus Tav, are you sure it’s not you who’s desperate,” Kyle breathes the smell of vanilla going to his head. Johnny pulls away from Kyle's neck. 

“I don’t get desperate,” he whispers. Shivers run down Kyle's spine as Johnny unbuckles Kyle's belt and trousers letting his cock spring out. He licks his lips as he presses over the tip soaking his thumb with the bead of precum. Kyle twitches as Johnny thrusts his hand down. Kyle runs his hand through Johnny’s hair who hums, he likes the feel of Kyle’s hand massaging his scalp.

He presses his lips against Kyle's swollen tip, taking his time to coat it in his saliva before locking his lips and thrusting his mouth down. Kyle moans, tipping his head back as Johnny repositions himself on the sofa squeezing the base of Kyle’s cock. Kyle moans as Johnny takes him all the way, letting his tongue circle the head with each thrust.

“You need to relax,” Kyle says. Johnny takes his mouth off him, replacing it with his hand. 

“I need to relax? You’re the one all pent up,” Johnny says moving off the sofa as Kyle spreads his legs leaving room for him to slip between them. His thumb continues to press into the underside of his shaft. 

“How did you get the nicest cock of us all?” Johnny tuts shaking his head. 

“Jealous?” Kyle breathes as Johnny speeds up with his strokes, keeping a firm grip on the base. He smiles in response.

“Pretty balls too,” Johnny coos. He licks his lips, wetting them before dragging his tongue across his balls. Kyle moans at the new sensation while Johnny takes one in his mouth sucking on it. Johnny continues to thrust his hand up and down his length, taking his time warming Kyle's balls in his mouth, feeling him twitch in his hand. Now he’s feeling greedy again. Maybe Kyle was right and he was desperate. It had been a while since Kyle and Johnny had been together. They very rarely get down time together. 

Johnny moves his lips back up to Kyle's cock, his own twitching uncomfortably in his pants. He uses his free hand to unbuckle his belt letting his jeans slip down reaching in and pulling himself out. The thought of fucking his hand while he makes Kyle cum has his mouth watering. Kyle’s head is tipped back on the sofa, blissed out, the smell of vanilla is heavy in the air as Johnny thrusts his mouth down trying to match his speed with both his mouth and hand. 

Kyle's moans are filling the air now and the faster Johnny gets the sweeter they are. Johnny can barely concentrate, giving in to the scents swirling around making his body tingle. His own cock throbs in his hand. His fingers are getting drenched in his precum, his mouth filling with saliva as the blowjob turns into a sloppy mess. Too much tongue not enough friction, Kyle doesn’t seem to mind though, bucking his hips to hit the back of Johnny's throat. 

He’s not going to last much longer and he can feel Kyle is close too, his hips slowing down as he chases the peak. Johnny doesn’t stop even when he cums his release dripping down his hand.  It just makes him work faster so Kyle can get his own orgasm. He works him faster, Kyle's moans make his spent cock twitch in his post-orgasm haze.

A few seconds later Kyle is cumming too, and Johnny pushes his mouth down to the hilt feeling his seed slide down his throat. Kyle grips Johnny’s hair pulling him up as Johnny rides him through the orgasm. The scent of leather is strong in the air now, as Johnny sits back wiping his mouth with the back of his free hand. 

Johnny stands up, his leaking cock still in his hand. Kyle sees it, reaching out for Johnny’s waist, pulling him into his mouth. Johnny moans as Kyle licks him clean. It has Johnny getting hard again and he has to pull away from Kyle’s mouth.

“What? Don’t want to go for round two?” Kyle asks, a glint in his eye as a cheeky smile forms on his lips. 

“You couldn’t handle round two,” Johnny says, pushing his shoulder making him lay back on the sofa. Kyle scoffs as Johnny tucks himself back in his pants. 

“So you're going to go meet Si?” Kyle asks. 

“Nah, I’ll let him sweat. I could use a nap anyway. You can hold down the fort right?” Johnny asks, watching Kyle clean himself up. He nods. Johnny winks at him then heads to his room. As he passes John’s room he can smell you and hear the moans start up again. He takes a deep breath in letting the smell of honey and leather fill his nose. The heavy smell of sex filling the building. Maybe Simon was lucky staying away, even Johnny could use some fresh air. 

A sharp knock on the door wakes Ghost from his sleep. He swings his legs out of the bed reaching over to his mask on the bedside table pulling it on. The knock happens again.  

“Yes, yes I’m coming,” he calls, pulling his trousers on. He opens the door to see Laswell standing there, looking like she dressed just as quickly as he had.   

“They’re here, Graves and Shepherd. They want to see Price and the omega.” 

“Get Soap and Gaz, I’ll meet you at the lab,” he says. She nods leaving. Ghost quickly dresses rushing over to the lab. It’s late, almost 10pm. When he walks through the door he sees Dr. Montgomery with her head over a desk. She snaps up looking over at him walking in the room. 

“Hey hey, you can’t go in there!” He hears Soap calling. He looks over at the barracks seeing Gaz and Laswell come out of the building. He leaves the lab heading over to Shepherd and Graves who are walking over to the barracks. They stop when they see him walk round to them. 

“Lieutenant Riley, I was expecting to see Captain Price,” Shepherd says.

“He’s busy,” Ghost says, crossing his arms. Dr. Montgomery rushes over to stand next to Johnny. Ghost looks over at Gaz and Soap. He can smell their worry in the air, but he focuses on trying to control his scent this close to the building. If he projects it you will definitely be able to smell it.

“We would like to have a word with Captain Price,” Shepherd says, Graves crosses his arms. Where are the rest of his army? Did he come alone? Ghost looks around,  but he can’t see anyone or anything out of the ordinary. 

“You’ll have to wait, he’s busy,” Ghost says again. If they try to force their way in, he’s going to stop them. He glances over at Soap who looks at him, his eyes digging into him for a second. There is no way anyone is getting in the building. 

“We can talk tomorrow. You've had a long drive. Why don’t you get some rest, I can show you to the commander's quarters.”  Laswell offers walking up to Shephard. 

“I really would like to get this sorted tonight so we can start tomorrow fresh,” Shepherd insists.

“It’s really not a good time General, the omega is in heat and John is with her,” Dr. Montgomery speaks up. 

“I’m sure he can take 5 minutes of his time to speak with us,” he replies. Graves chuckles, bringing his hand up to try and hide it, coughing.

“He really can't. Whatever you need is not that important,” she snaps back at him. Ghost shifts his weight. He needs to keep control of the situation. 

“You can talk to me if it is so important. You’ll have to wait to speak with Price though,” Ghost says. It’s almost like they’re waiting for something. For him to let his guard down? The right time to make a rush for the building? Shepherd looks at him, like he’s trying to study his face, the tension is palpable in the air. Ghost watches as Graves takes a step forward.

“What the bloody hell is going on?” Price’s voice calls behind Ghost. Everyone turns to see him slowly walking down the steps out the barracks. Ghost can immediately see he’s unsteady on his feet. Gaz walks up next to him.

“You should be in bed sir,” he says quietly trying to help Price who just waves him away. Ghost looks over at Dr. Montgomanry who looks the most worried, her eyes not leaving Price, like she’s ready for him to keel over at any moment. 

“Couldn’t get a decent rest if I tried with all this racket going on,” he says, walking up to stand next to Ghost. He can smell how strong Price’s alpha is in the air. He can smell you too, the lingering scent of honey and strawberries. He tries his best to ignore it, focusing on the matter at hand. 

“Good to see you Captain, thought we would be waiting another few days,” Shepherd said. 

“Well, this seems more important,” Price says through gritted teeth. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard the news, Commander Graves and Shadow Company will be taking over responsibility of the base,” Shepherd says. “Of course I will stay here, to make sure you both get along and oversee the research for the cure.”

“I’m sure we’ll get along just fine,” Graves says, stepping up to Shepherd. Ghost hears Price sigh. 

“What do you want, General? I would like to get back to bed,” Price asks. 

“We were just wondering if we could check on the omega. Professor Hale was very insistent, especially because she’s in heat,” Shepherd says. The hairs stand up on the back of Ghost’s neck. Now his alpha is strong in the air. There is no way he’s letting them get anywhere close. 

“The reason she is in heat is the reason you can’t see her. It could be dangerous, you could put her life at risk.” Dr. Montgomery steps up. 

“Professor Hale said you might try to stop us.” 

“Then you won’t mind relaying to him that you killed his only omega,” she says. It makes Ghost swallow hard. He looks over at her. Her body has taken another step towards them.

“How long is left?” Shepherd asks. 

“A few days,” she says. 

“You have until Monday, then we will see her regardless of her state.” Ghost looks at Price, he can see the quiver in Price’s face as he tries to keep it together.

“We’ll see you Monday,” Johnny says, going to stand next to Dr. Montgomery. Ghost digs his eyes into Graves and Shepherd as they weigh up their options. 

“Monday morning, 8am. No excuses,” Shepherd says. He hears Dr. Montgomery let out a sigh of relief. They turn to walk away. It’s only when they make it to the entrance to the building when Ghost turns his attention back to Price.

“You really should be in bed,” he says. Price looks at him. He looks like he’s about to say something but instead sways and lands against Ghost. 

“Shit,” is all he manages to get out, using his chest to keep him from collapsing to the floor completely. Gaz and Soap are there in an instant with Laswell and the doctor following close behind. Gaz and Soap take an arm each propping him up as they half drag him back in the building. 

“Laswell go try and keep him away. Find out what he’s planning.” 

She nods and he heads into the barracks with Dr. Montgomery behind him. It's the first time Ghost has been in the building since your heat started. He can smell honey and vanilla in the air. It makes his head spin, his body is craving you, craving your touch. He almost takes a step towards Price’s room before Dr. Montgomary grabs his arm. He looks down at her, she looks up at him sympathetically.  

“What's happening?” He asks as he watches them disappear into Price’s room. 

“He pushed himself too quickly. He needs time to recover too.” 

“What about her?” 

“I would check but I think it’s best we both leave. When he comes around, he’s still going to see us as a threat,” she says. He sighs. Soap walks out of the room first. He watches in the doorway for a second before coming towards them. Dr. Montgomery lets go of his arm 

“He’s okay, go get some rest LT,” Soap says, putting his hand on Ghost’s shoulder. 

“Whose job is it to check on them next?” Ghost asks.

“Me,”  Soap says.  

“You and Gaz will take it in shifts. No one is allowed in the building,” Ghost says. “As soon as she’s out of heat, let me know.” 

“You want us on guard duty?” Johnny asks. 

“Problem?” Simon asks. Johnny shakes his head. Simon nods and walks out the building. 

“Nothing’s going to happen right?” Dr. Montgomery asks following him.

“No, nothings going to happen. Not on my watch,” he says heading back to the main building. 

“You sound like Captain Price,” she says. He quickly turns to look at her and the smile on her face. 

“Get some rest, it’s going to be a busy few days,” he says as she stops at the door to the lab. He doesn’t look back as he continues walking. He hears the door to the lab open. He likes Dr. Montgomery but he can’t let himself get too close. It’s just a job at the end of the day. 

You feel empty, sore, and sad. John still has his arms wrapped around you while you’ve been crying into his chest. It happened quickly, one moment he was there the next he was being dragged back into the room semi-conscious. It broke your heart, especially because as soon as he saw you upset he wouldn’t tell you what was wrong. The opening of the room door makes you jump and John pulls you tighter into his arms. 

You smell beta in the air, turning your head to see Dr. Piper in the doorway. John loosens his grip on you as he sees her. She walks into the room slowly putting her bag down on the floor. John turns you in his arms so you’re face to face with her supporting your back. He called for her the moment you came around crying in his arms. You tried to tell him it was normal but when you started to shake he insisted you get checked out. 

“Hey, hun how are you feeling?” she asks, pressing the back of her hand against your forehead. You don’t know what to say. Your lip starts to quiver as more tears come. “I know, I know,” she coos wiping her thermometer across your head. 

“Is this normal?” John asks, pressing against you, sitting up in the bed.

“She’s coming out of heat quicker than normal but nothing she’s not used to. She’ll still be pretty out of it for the next 24-48 hours.” Dr. Piper pulls out a blood pressure cuff, ignoring your whines as she wraps it round your arm.

“How do you feel?” she asks looking up at John. He sighs.

“Fine,” he lies. She raises an eyebrow at him. 

“Well, I would recommend painkillers and ice packs, and to take it easy for the next few days. Trust me you’ll need the rest,” she says, taking the cuff off her. 

“Don’t exactly have time for that,” he sighs. You look at Dr. Piper. What does he mean? What happened? She looks at you sympathetically as she brushes hair out of your face. 

“You should get some sleep. Johnny or Kyle will come and check on you both. You’re not out of the woods quite yet.” You watch as she stands to leave John pressing his face into your neck. 

Piper smiles watching your eyes gloss over as John’s scent fills the air. She stands as he pulls you into his embrace. She leaves, going out to Johnny and Kyle waiting in the common room. 

“They’re fine. She’s coming out of her heat but they’re still going to be pretty out of it for the next few days. Her temperature is coming down, let me know if it spikes,” she sighs.

“Anything we need to do?” Johnny asks. She shakes her head. 

“Keep an eye on her temperature. If she starts feeling dizzy, nauseous, or she’s in pain, call me,” she says heading for the door. 

“Thanks doc,” Johnny calls as she leaves heading over to the lab. 

She walks in seeing Simon waiting in the dark.

“You should go get some rest Simon. You’re going to need it.” She puts her medical bag back in her office, closing the door behind her. 

“How is she?” 

“Coming off her heat. John getting out of bed seems to have triggered it ending sooner. I guess that’s good for us with Shepherd here now,” she says. He hums. “I take it you don’t get along?” 

“Not exactly. Graves is an annoying piece of shit who sticks his nose in everyone's business. Shepherd, well, he’s our boss.” 

“You have a problem with authority but you joined the army. Interesting,” she says.

“I don’t have a problem with authority, just them. They’re not to be trusted,” he says. 

“Not really a good sign if you don’t trust your boss,” she chuckles. He raises an eyebrow. 

“You don’t trust yours,” he says. She smiles, nodding. 

“I’m going to get some rest, you should do the same,” she says passing him. She makes it to the other end of the lab turning back to look one more time. He’s already gone. He’s so silent she didn’t even hear the door open or close. She smiles, turning off the light and heads out. 

Your head feels stuffed with cotton, and your senses feel numbed. Dr. Piper started you on muscle relaxers and painkillers. You knew you were going to be sore and emotional for the next few days. John had slept for a full 24 hours before he finally got out of bed. You were curled up on the sofa with a hot water bottle. You were still cold and shaky, falling asleep on the sofa for hours at a time. Normal things to go through after a heat. At least this time you can actually relax, not being poked and prodded.

Johnny had come back a few minutes ago, flopping down on the sofa as you leaned up against him. You weren't sure if it was just because you were coming out of your heat or something else but they had been acting weird around you. John had been gone from the moment he felt he could walk again. You’d see him downing pills before going off somewhere with Kate or Simon. It was nice to have Simon back again. You felt bad that he’d had to leave the barracks while you were in heat. 

“Do you feel different?” Johnny asks finally. “Now that you’ve been claimed.” 

You turn your head to look at him and hairs stand up on the back of your neck. 

“I don’t think so, I feel the same,” you say. You’re not disappointed. Maybe it will feel different when you’re really done with your heat and you don’t have drugs running through your system numbing you out. You need to see Dr. Miller, but you’ve barely been able to make it to the sofa without being in pain. Johnny’s hand rests on your side rubbing your arm as you try to ignore the pain stirring inside you. It was almost time for you to take pills again. You want to wait as long as possible so you don’t have to move. 

This heat did feel different. You don’t remember much, and that’s normal. Things will become clearer over the next few days. You remember John claiming you, and you remember him being gentle even when he was in his deepest rut it wasn’t overwhelming. You wish you could remember more, and maybe you will at some point.

You hadn't had time to talk to John about how things went and how this will change things, or if he was feeling any different. You’re starting to doze off again in your own world when the door to the building is flung open and people pile in. You sit up, Johnny gets up off the sofa. You don’t recognise any of them. They look like soldiers, only all dressed in black. You immediately want John, but he’s not with them.

“What do you think you’re doing Graves!?” Johnny snaps getting up in front of the one he called Graves. The man looks over at you. You can smell Johnny’s anger in the air and it makes you worried. 

“We’re here to search the place for contraband,” Graves says. Contraband?

“What? Does Price know about this?” Johnny asks.

“Price is a busy man. He’s in a meeting with General Shepherd right now.” You don’t like this Graves person, and you can tell by Johnny’s body language they’re not friends either. Johnny looks back at you. You've forgotten about the pain, you’re just too worried about them going through your private space. You watch as Graves orders people around while Johnny protests.

The door opens again and this time Kyle steps in. You feel tears running down your cheeks as you watch Kyle cross over to Johnny protesting with him. You watch as the other men in the entourage make their way down the corridor opening rooms. 

You stand up clutching the blanket. You feel sick watching them break into the rooms. You don’t even realize Kyle has left until Johnny shouts at Graves again pulling your attention back to him. You’re worried something bad is going to happen. You haven’t heard Johnny so angry before. You walk up to him gripping his sleeve but your eyes are locked on your open door. They’re in your space, looking for something you don’t have. 

“It’s okay lass, Graves will put everything back,” Johnny says, resting his hand on yours. You look up to see him, your cheeks swollen with tears. Then you see them throwing pillows out your room door. That's your nest, they’re destroying your nest. 

You don’t have time to think before you’re sprinting down the hallway to the man holding a pillow in his hands. You’re seeing red. They’ve destroyed your nest, your safespace. A place that is supposed to be yours. It feels like they’ve ripped your heart out. You pull the pillow out his hands, almost fighting with him as he protests. You look into your room seeing the place a mess. Things go fuzzy as you walk in falling to your knees. You hear Johnny come behind you, his hand resting on your back as you grip the pillow you'd pulled out the man's hands.

You feel like you’re back in the bunker, your vision going blurry as you sob into the pillow, clutching it as tight to your chest as you can. The Professor would let you build nests just to destroy them. It’s happening again. You thought you were safe here, you thought you could have a nest that would be yours and only yours. Now it's gone, and it feels like you can’t breathe, your breath catching in your throat as you collapse to the floor pulling your legs up to your chest. 

You’re never going to be safe again. 

“What the fuck did you think you were doing?” It’s the first voice you hear as you come too. You’re still curled up on the floor. You can’t tell who’s shouting. There’s a ringing in your ears as you look at your destroyed nest. Someone is by you though, shaking your shoulder with warm hands.

“Hey, it’s okay.” You hear Johnny. It’s his hands on your back, and there’s a pillow under your head. You feel a lump form in your stomach, pain radiates through your body. You sob into the pillow. You don’t know what else to do. 

“Hey, c’mon lass, take a big breath.” Johnny moves around so you can see him kneeled on the floor. You can’t look at him, it just makes you too upset. You hear more voices now, and you can smell alpha in the air. 

“What happened?” It’s Dr. Piper's voice. She kneels down behind you. Her cold hand rests on your shoulder. 

“They destroyed her nest,” Johnny explains. You hear her sigh. The sobs come back. You can’t breathe, it feels like someone is sitting on your chest. 

“Honey, you need to relax, take deep breaths,” you hear her say. You can't, it hurts too much. Panic comes over you. You’re never going to be safe again. 

“In and out, come on.” You feel her starting to rub your back. You hear more shouting, people moving around. Each raised voice makes you jump, and you start to shiver, more tears running down your face. 

“What happened?” It’s John’s voice, his scent fills your nose. You stop sobbing, letting yourself take a deep breath in. 

“That’s it, good girl,” Dr. Piper says. You look up at Johnny whose fingers come to brush hair out your face. 

“Sit with her,” you hear Dr. Piper say as her hand leaves your back. You feel John come to kneel down behind you. He tucks his hands under you pulling you up to his chest like you weigh nothing. You don’t let go of the pillow as you shiver feeling him kiss your head holding you in his arms. Johnny gets up pulling the duvet off your bed and dropping it over you. 

“Go keep Ghost from ripping Graves apart,” John says. Johnny smiles at you as he leaves the room. You hear Dr. Piper leave too, closing the door behind you. John takes a deep breath in squeezing you tight to his chest as you lean up against him quiet sobs leaving your throat. 

“They destroyed your nest?” he asks. You nod, gripping the pillow. 

“It’s never going to be safe again,” you say. Your throat is raw from all the sobbing. 

“Yes it is. We’ll make it safe here. Graves should have never been in here.” You can hear the anger rising in his voice. He swallows it away as you breathe in his scent. You’ve calmed now, now that your alpha is here, holding you in his arms. You close your eyes, loosening the grip on your pillow. Now you can feel it, the bond you have with him. It’s like the one you have with Dr. Piper just turned up to the max. 

“Will you build it again? Your nest?” he asks. 

“I don’t know,” you say. You don’t know if you can. You need to feel safe again, and you don’t feel safe anymore. You sit there in silence for a few more minutes letting John’s scent relax you. You wait until you can’t ignore the pain traveling through you anymore. You need to move, to take your pills. John seems to sense how uncomfortable you are, trying to shift his body for you. 

“How about a nice cup of tea and you can relax on the sofa?” You nod, taking the excuse to get up. He kisses your neck one more time before helping you to your feet. Your legs feel like jelly as pain pulses through your body. You whine, dropping the pillow as you double over in pain. His hands are on you in an instant. 

“I’m okay,” you say through gritted teeth. 

“Yeah, yeah, c’mon,” he says, opening the door and helping you out. Dr. Piper sticks her head around the corner watching as you walk down the hall. She presses her cold hands on your face as she looks at you. 

“Let’s get you that pain relief. You got yourself all worked up, almost distressed. It’s a good job Johnny was there. He was able to get you to come round before I got here,” she says, taking you out of John’s arms and over to the sofa. 

“What exactly is distressing?” John asks. You lean back on the sofa pulling the blanket over you. 

“Distressing can happen to omegas, it’s last resort defense mechanism. Her body shuts down to protect itself from whatever threat is around. It can be dangerous because it’s hard to come out of a distressed state.” Dr. Piper comes over handing you a glass of water and some pills. You take them all watching as John crosses his arms. 

“Her nest being destroyed is something that would cause that?” You sip the water slowly, thinking about your ruined nest makes you sad. You’ve cried enough over the last few days. You’re sick of crying. 

“Not necessarily, but that coupled with strangers being in her space as well as coming down off her heat is a recipe for disaster.” The pills taste bitter in your mouth, but in a few minutes you’ll be relaxed and lulled by them. Dr. Piper sits with you, taking the water out of your hands as you lay down. 

“Can you stay with her until Kyle or Johnny get here?” John asks. Dr. Piper nods. You watch him leave hearing the door close. Dr. Piper rubs your leg, you close your eyes feeling sleepy. Your nest has been destroyed. You're never going to feel safe here again. 

Price finds Simon and Johnny pacing outside the conference room. 

“We got kicked out,” Johnny says, throwing his arms up. 

“Where’s Kyle?” he asks. 

“Inside, we’ve been taken in one by one,” Simon says, pacing the hall. John sighs, he shakes his head going into the room. 

“Captain Price!” General Shepherd shouts standing up as he enters the room. Kyle looks around in the chair. 

“Sergeant Garrick, go back to the barracks.” Kyle moves to stand up.

“Sergeant Garrick, stay where you are,” Shepherd says. John crosses his arms. 

“Captain, you can wait outside.” John ignores him walking around Kyle up to the General. “This doesn’t have to get messy, Captain.” 

“Is that a threat?” John asks, standing his ground. Shepherd sighs sitting back down in the chair waving Kyle away. John turns to look at everyone leaving the room. Simon’s eyes stay on him for a second dropping his head slightly. 

‘Want me to stay?’ 

John shakes his head. He turns back to Shepherd as the door closes. 

“Sit down, John,” Shepherd says, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“I’m good.” 

“John we’re trying to work–” 

“Our goals are not the same.” 

“Did you forget who you work for, Captain? You have a job to do here,” Shepherd says, leaning back in the chair. 

“We were waiting for a cure. You stopped that.” 

“We’re following orders.” 

“We want a cure, and you stopped Dr. Montgomery from working on it.” 

“Because it’s not our priority--” 

“I don’t need the speech again. I don’t need the bullshit!” John snaps. 

“Calm down John, you’re only still here because of me. The CIA wanted anyone other than 141 on this case.” 

“Don’t act like you did this for us.” John shakes his head, turning around. 

“We can make this work, it doesn’t have to get messy,” Shepherd says again. John sighs. 

“No Professor, you leave the omega alone, and you let Dr. Montgomery continue her work on the cure,” John says, turning back around to look at Shepherd. 

He sighs, shaking his head. “Or what?” 

“We walk and we take the omega with us.” 

“Captain, you’re emotional. Stop now before you say something you regret. You’re not going to kidnap the omega.” 

“Who said anything about kidnapping?”

Shepherd gets up off the chair. “John, things can get very difficult for you very quickly. You should be careful.”

John shakes his head. 

“No Professor, leave the omega alone, let the doctor work on a cure,” John says and heads to the door. 

“Captain.” Shepherd calls. “You’re too emotionally invested in this. You’re making it dangerous for everyone including the omega.”

 John freezes his hand on the door handle. 

“If you or Graves lay a finger on her I’ll break your fucking hands. Keep your dog on a leash,” John says, opening the door and leaving the room before Shepherd could get a word in. John looks up at Simon waiting outside the room. Of course he is. 

“How did that go?” Simon asks, uncrossing his arms and walking with John. 

“Where are Soap and Gaz?” 

“Back at the barracks.” 

“Does Soap still have that house in the highlands?” 

“Yeah, think so. Rents it out when he’s not using it,” Simon says, confused. “Why? Thinking about a trip to the highlands?”

“Yeah, I heard the weather is nice there,” John says, pushing through the double doors out into the fresh air.

“They’re coming after her aren’t they?” Simon asks. John doesn’t say anything for a second. 

“Yeah, yeah they are.” 

You wake in your bed. You remember dozing off on the sofa between Kyle and Johnny. You turn over looking at your nest. It was still trashed and it made a pit form in your stomach. You need to move though and get out of bed. You need to see Dr. Miller, it’s been 3 days since your heat ended.

You should be getting better now but everything still feels so sore. You sit up pulling clothes out and getting dressed. You swallow down painkillers but skip the muscle relaxants since they make you sleepy and you want to keep a clear head. You leave your room, you can see the sun just starting to rise now, and the sky is filled with colors of pink and the grass is heavy with dew. 

You don’t know why you’re being sneaky as you leave the building before anyone is awake, walking across to the lab. The place is empty. Even Dr. Piper has been getting a decent amount of sleep, not having to get up at the crack of dawn. You walk over to Dr. Miller as he’s flicking through some papers. 

“Hey stranger! How was the heat?” he asks, opening his arms to you, but you keep your distance. 

“Good, I think, I still don’t remember much.” You rub the back of your neck smiling. You like being around Dr. Miller. He understands you just like Dr. Piper does. 

“Come on, let's go to the medical room.” You smile at him following him into the room. You sit on the end of the bed as he prepares a tray of things. 

“I need to take some blood. How long did your heat last?” he asks, coming over as you roll your sleeve up. 

“6 days I think. It was good, John was nice, and he claimed me,” you say, watching him get ready to take your blood. 

“Can I see the mark?” he asks as he inserts the needle. You’re not sure. You haven’t shown anyone the mark. It’s on your neck, and you don’t want anyone to see it, but you trust him. He just wants to help. You nod. He smiles, finishing up taking the vials of blood. He turns around placing everything on the tray. You stand up off the bed as he throws his gloves in the trash. He stands in front of you, you feel nervous as you turn so your back is facing him. You let your hand move up to the back of your neck running over the mark before pushing your hair out the way. 

You squeeze your eyes closed as you wait for him to inspect the indents on your skin. You can smell alpha in the air, and smoke. John always smells of smoke, smoke and the ground after rain. You wait in silence as he finishes inspecting your neck and you can feel his breath on your skin. 

“Beautiful.,” he breathes. It makes you uncomfortable and you let your hair drop back down goosebumps rising on your skin. You turn back to look at him. His alpha is strong in the air as he smiles at you. 

“It looks good, nice and healed. Do you feel any different?” he asks. 

“I’m not sure. I’m still in alot of pain. I think I will feel better tomorrow.” 

“Well that’s normal. I would like to run some tests over the next few days. If you could come in tomorrow that would be perfect.” 

“What are you working on?” you ask. Now that your heat is over he can’t still be working on a hormone blocker. 

“Well Dr. Montgomery is working on a cure and has assigned me to work on a scent blocker. Something people can use to mask their scent with a chemical spray,” he explains. You nod. That would be useful. 

“Do you think she can find a cure?” you ask as you follow him out the room. 

“Dr. Montgomery is a very talented scientist. I know she will try her best,” he says as you follow him down the stairs. You watch him put the blood samples away as you head for the door. 

“See you tomorrow,” Dr. Miller calls. You nod, stepping back out into the cold morning air. The pink sky has faded now as heavy clouds move in. It’s going to rain again, but you like the rain. You like the smell of rain and the smell of the forest. You want to go for another walk in the forest with John or even alone. You don’t care. You just want to be in the forest. You make it back to the barracks hoping you don't run into anyone and you can get into bed without any worries. 

You’re not that lucky when you walk into the building you see Simon in the kitchen. He turns to look at you as you walk in. He’s not wearing the skull mask you’ve seen him in, not even the simple black ski-mask. He’s only wearing a black surgical mask pulled up over his nose and mouth. He has blonde hair. You’ve never seen his hair before. You’ve never seen the top of his head before. You’ve only ever seen his eyes, his deep brown, harsh eyes. Right now he looks kind, leaning over the counter as he waits for the kettle to boil. 

“Hey,” you say, stepping into the room. You want to walk towards him but also avoid him at the same time. 

“Been for a walk?” he asks. You feel a pit form in your stomach.

“Yeah, I like the morning dew,” you say smiling at him, passing him as you head back towards your room.

“I heard your nest was destroyed,” he says, stopping you in your tracks before you make it around the corner. You look at him, nodding. He reaches into his back pocket, you didn’t even know he had anything in his back pocket but now he’s thrusting it towards you. You take it out of his hand. It's a black ski-mask. You bring it up to your nose. It smells of him, the ground after rain and gunpowder. You learned what the smell was. That’s Simon's scent, the ground after rain and gunpowder. 

“When you build your nest again I want you to have something from me. I heard you were too scared to ask. I don’t want you to be scared of me.” You look up at him. 

“I’m not scared of you,” you say. You project your scent in the air for him. It’s all you can do to prove your sincerity. You can’t see him react to it, his mask covering most of his face. You smile at him. 

“Thank you,” you say, bringing the mask back up to your nose and turning back to your room. Your fingers run over the soft fabric of the mask. You walk into your room leaving the door open. You look at the broken nest on the floor then back over at your bed. Nothing feels right. You pull the bedding off your bed into the space where your nest used to be. You pick up the items. 

Dr. Piper's scarf, John’s hat, Johnny's shirt, Kyle’s scarf and now Simon’s mask. You arrange the pillows and blankets round the nest letting the scent of nature fill your nose coming through the open window. 

You work on it until you’re exhausted, till it feels good. You’re not sure how long you’re working on it but the last thing you remember is crawling up into your new nest and pulling your duvet over you. 

Piper walks out of her room, and seeing your room door ajar she can’t help pushing it open slightly until she sees you sleeping in a newly built nest. It makes her smile, letting out a sigh of relief at the scene. You’ve built a new nest which means you still feel safe here which is important. You need to feel safe. What happened with Phillip yesterday almost caused you to distress. You could be unconscious, hooked up to machines right now fighting to stay alive. You’re not though, you’re safe, you’re sleeping peacefully in your nest. 

“‘Mornin,” Johnny says, coming out of his room smiling at Piper as he rubs his eyes going into the bathroom. She walks into the common room seeing Simon and John already sitting at the table. 

“We have a meeting with General Shepherd and Commander Graves this morning,” John says as soon as he sees her walking over to the kettle. She sighs taking in the information. She doesn’t even like the tea. There’s coffee in the lab but no one should be there until later, especially since Shepherd put a stop to her work. 

“What’s the meeting about?” she asks, half paying attention as she pours herself a cup of tea, trying to enjoy the little caffeine she’s going to get this morning. 

“I gave Shepherd an ultimatum,” John says. She turns to look at him. Even Simon’s body language seems tense as he grips his mug. 

“What did you say?” she asks. 

“The Professor is not allowed on the base, they’re not allowed to go near the omega, and you’re allowed to continue your search for a cure,” he says looking at her for her reaction. 

“I will try to find a cure, I cannot promise anything,” she says as the kettle clicks. 

“I know, but we need you. The omega trusts you, we trust you. We need you on our side,” John says. Piper nods. 

“I will be on your side, as long as she’s safe. What happened yesterday was too close. She could have been pushed into distress. They need to understand how this world works. I don’t care who it comes from,” she says with a hint of hostility in her voice. 

“Yeah, whatever makes you feel better,” Simon says under his breath. John sighs, shooting him a glance. 

“Will you be there? We need you on our side. She needs you to advocate for her,” John asks. She nods, turning to her cup of tea. Johnny walks out into the bathroom changing the energy in the air.  

“I’ll be there,” she says.

It feels like she’s walking to her execution, following John and Simon into the same conference room as before. Now, demands had been laid out. John had set out his terms. She knows realistically the General could just override him, send them back to the UK, and continue the project here without them. She hopes, for everyone's sake, that is the last thing that will happen. The room is warm, there are only 3 people inside, Kate, Phillip and Shepherd.  General Shepherd waits until everyone is seated before standing up at the head of the table. 

“Here’s what's going to happen: The Professor will stay at his home in Seattle, however Dr. Montgomery has to share all her future research with him.” He looks around the room making sure people are listening. His eyes linger on her. She doesn’t say anything, her legs starts to bounce nervously under the table though. 

“Dr. Montgomery, you’ve been cleared to restart your research for a cure. You will however need to work with Professor Hale.” He says, she sighs. It’s better than him being on the base, she can live with it. 

“We can’t force the omega to go back to Professor Hale but he does want to have contact with her if she is willing. He also wants a tracker placed in her.” 

“No fucking way,” John says. Shepherd sighs. 

“You have to meet me halfway here John,” Shepherd says exasperated. 

“She’s a human being, not a dog,” Simon speaks up.  

“It’s just insurance for Professor Hale.” 

“It’s wrong,” Piper says, shaking her head. 

“What about an ankle monitor?” Kate suggests. 

“She’s not a criminal,” Piper says. John sighs, his eyes digging into the General.

“I can ask Hale, see what he says,” Shepherd says, going to jot something down on paper. 

“She’s not going anywhere,” John says. 

“Look, I’m trying to make it work here. I don’t need people to be happy, I need you to do your jobs,” Shepherd says. 

“Speaking of which,” Phillip Graves says standing up as Shepherd sits back down. He looks tired, he must have had a long few days. 

“Got a job for you boys.” He hands John a folder. He opens it and Piper tries to look over his shoulder to see. 

“Laswell will work with you, I'm sure it’s right up your alley. Been a while since you’ve been out in the field, you could use a good run,” Phillip says as he sits back down.

“Since when did you work for the DOD again?” John says, passing the folder to Simon. 

“Since they’re paying me to take care of this base.” 

“We don’t need you sitting around here when we could use you,” Shepherd says. John sighs, taking the folder out of Simon's hand and standing up. Simon and Piper follow him out of the room. There’s no ‘have a good day’ no ‘thank yous’ just silence as Shepherd and Phillip watch them leave. Piper closes the door behind her.

“Still thinking ‘bout that holiday?” Simon asks.

“Could use a change of scenery,” John responds. Piper looks at their backs confused. 

“Private jet would be nice,” Simon says. 

“I know a guy,” John replies. 

“When were you thinking then?” Simon asks.

“Don’t know, ‘pends on how quickly we can scramble,” John says. Are they talking in some kind of code? Piper thinks as she listens in. 

“12 hours, an hour if you’re desperate,” Simon says. 

“I’m not that desperate. You should talk to Soap and Gaz, see how they feel about a holiday.”  Simon nods going out the doors of the building while John stays behind. He turns to look at Piper. 

“C’mon let’s have a chat,” he says, gesturing her out the door. They walk in silence all the way until they’re out of the base and in the woods.

“I bring her here, you know. She likes the forest,” he says eventually. Piper nods. 

“She likes being outside, she spent so much of her life locked up,” she says. 

“Sergeant MacTavish has a house in Scotland. It’s rural, by a loch away from prying eyes. That’s where we would go if we needed to flee,” he says. A pit forms in Piper's stomach. 

“Why would you need to flee?” she asks, keeping her voice steady and her nerves tucked away. 

“We might need to flee if Professor Hale was to try anything.” 

“Do you think he will?” 

“Don’t know, but I don’t trust Shadow Company or General Shepherd. They’ve lied to us in the past and I wouldn’t be surprised if they would do it again.” He sighs. 

“So what? You want to run away, become fugitives? I’m pretty sure as soldiers you’d be deserting.” She looks up at John, his eyes seem darker all of a sudden. He doesn’t say anything and they continue walking.  “Okay so what would happen?” she asks after a few seconds. 

“If any of my team come to you and tell you we’re going on holiday you need to be ready to leave within the hour,” he says. She nods. 

“Your job will be to stick with the omega, and I mean stick with her. If we get separated, we’ll find you. But you need to keep her safe.” Piper's heart was pounding in her chest now, the nerves slipping through her facade. 

“You would do a better job protecting her,” she says. 

“No, not if things get hairy. Things can change in an instant. You need to listen and keep her safe if we can't. She needs someone she can trust to stay with her,” he explains, it makes her more nervous. 

“Do you think we’re in danger?” she asks him straight. 

“No, if I thought that we would have been gone by now. We just have to prepare for any eventuality,” he says, stopping and looking up at the trees. 

“I’ve never been to Scotland,” she says. 

“Hopefully you never will. At least not with us,” John says, turning back to head down the path. She follows him. 

“I don’t know if Johnny will be happy you said that.” She smiles trying to lighten the mood. 

“No I don’t think he would,” John chuckles. The rest of the walk goes in silence, Piper's mind running over different scenarios. If John was right then they would have to flee. The Professor was a threat, and maybe John didn’t want to admit it but Piper knew it. He wants his omega back. Only she’s not his omega anymore, she’s John’s omega, which puts his life in danger too. She stops him before they walk into the barracks pulling his arm before he opens the door.

“Professor Hale always had a plan for what would happen if the omega was claimed by someone else. I hope you know, you have a massive target on your back now.” John smiles which confuses Piper. 

“Don’t worry, I’m used to having a target on my back. You worry about finding that cure, we'll deal with the rest.” He opens the door walking into the building. Piper turns away, she should get back to work, the quicker they find the cure the quicker you’ll be safe. Or maybe the quicker she finds a cure the more disposable she is. She looks through the window of the door. She can see you resting against Kyle as John talks to Johnny in the kitchen. 

“Price told you about the holiday destination?” Simon asks from behind her, making her jump off the steps. She turns to look at him.  

“We call it a vacation over here,” she says walking up to him. She thinks she can see him smile. After so long of looking only in his eyes she thinks she can tell when he’s smiling. 

“Well, I wouldn’t call Scotland a holiday destination,” he says. 

“Anywhere other than here feels like a vacation.” She sighs, smiling at him. There’s a silence in the air as the sun is setting. There’s a light breeze making Piper shiver, bringing her hands up to warm her arms.

“Need any help?” he asks. She looks at him confused. 

“In the lab?” 

“Yeah, with the tests or whatever.” 

She nods, smiling at him. She walks past him towards the lab. 

“I can always use a hand.” 

Next Dividers by Plum98 & gild-ui Beta reader and editor - rememberwren

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Surprise | Soap x Reader

Summary: After a mission that they barely survived, Ghost leads the team to a safe place to stay, his half-sister’s apartment.

Word Count: ~ 1.6k

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, missiles, etc

A/N: first time writing for cod…hope you enjoy, lmk what to do for part 2!! (also here is what I had in mind for the apartment layout, if you’re like me and can’t picture buildings in your head)

Requests are open!

Masterlist | Next

Their mission had gone to complete shit.

It had started relatively simple compared to the other missions they’d been doing, with Russians, cartels, Mexican forces, and whatnot. They’d been shipped out to America, a suspected terrorist group that had been working for General Barkov when he’d been killed.

A group that had now gone rogue, and rumor was that they were headed to Britain, holding a missile for transport that had been stolen from a covert American base. The Americans weren’t taking it too well, but that was to be expected.

“We don’t have enough information to know who they are, you just need to get that missile transported, and get out of there.” Laswell had told them.

“Sounds easy compared to what we do every mornin’, right Lt?” Soap had said with a grin, nudging him with an elbow slightly, and he had only given a grunt in response, still processing information.

“Easy” his arse.

Sent to one of the states at first, they’d tracked down this supposed terrorist group, apparently it being a lot larger than they originally expected. A lot larger.

It was only because of the intel Gaz had gotten his hands on that they’d been able to locate the missile while it moved, it being located in a broken-down warehouse near Galveston, Texas. Right near the Gulf of Mexico, if they were planning on taking it to sea to travel with it.

And when they’d stormed the warehouse?

A total mess. Unorganized and sloppy.

Soap had blown the door, and they’d planted charges around to detonate for the men guarding the missile but had underestimated just how many there would be. It was crawling with them, more confirmation that they’d been informed somehow beforehand of Task Force 141.

Men in vents, ceiling panels, underneath desks, and hiding behind cabinets, doors, anything.

The missile had only been taken out because of air support, the same air support that had nearly been shot down and taken out, when a heli had finally come in to reprieve them while snatching that missile up and getting the hell out of there.

That didn’t solve the problem of the men everywhere, though. The charges that had been meant to blow some to pieces had been botched, and with all the gunfire, they would attract unwanted attention. Police were already investigating, conveniently turning a blind eye to Price and the rest of his force. It wasn’t a coincidence. Not when Shepherd had a history of paying people off to keep them quiet.

But that wasn’t their problem, right now, Ghost was trying to devise a way to get them the hell out of America, or at least out of goddamn Texas. Of all the places to be stuck in.

“Laswell, where the hell is our exfil?”

He radioed over, crouched down on the roof of a building, taking out whoever he could from it. Many of the men in the terrorist group weren’t a bad shot either, so he decided to keep his head relatively low.

“Negative, Ghost.” Price’s voice responded.

“The hell does that mean?”

“We aren’t leaving. Too many men still here, Kate wants us keeping eyes on ‘em.”

“Bloody fucking hell..”

They had decided to regroup at an old church down the road, Soap was a little banged up, with more than a few cuts and bruises, and Gaz dealing with a minor head injury he’d gotten when someone had tried to smash his skull in with a gun, and Price donning a decent sized cut to the arm.

“This is a covert mission. We can’t stay at a hotel or anything of the like, so where are we going?” Gaz asked, and Price paused for a moment, looking a bit unsure, which made sense considering this had been a get-in-get-out mission before it had changed. Before he could open his mouth to speak, Ghost spoke.

“I know someone, but they’re a long ways away.”

~ 3:48 A.M.~

A knock that was more like a banging on your door woke you up from your light sleep as you quietly sat up in your bed, standing and tiptoeing over to the front door of your spacey apartment.

It was large, for the price. But considering you were working for the landlord at a local restaurant, as he was the general manager there as well, it made sense.

The apartment held two spare bedrooms, and a nice living room connected to a kitchen with a table in it you liked using. Two bathrooms, one in the hallway where your room was in, another connected to a guest bedroom. A little balcony, which came in handy when one of your friends wanted a smoke break when over at your place.

Palming the closed hunting knife still connected to your pants and hanging loosely, you figured you were safe enough to answer the door, and looking through the peephole, you saw four men.

Military, and the one in the Ghost mask…

Opening the door, your face now annoyed, you stared him dead in the eye. Didn’t even glance at the others.

“We need a place to stay. A month or two at most.”

His low and rough voice, donning a British accent, said. It was louder than you remembered him being, but then again, he wasn’t the scared little Simon that you’d known anymore, scared of the abusive father you’d both shared. He wasn’t the Simon who mumbled or spoke quietly anymore.

A silent conversation passed between you two at the door, a thick silence passing over the entire group. The other men stared. Your eyes narrowed, a nonverbal question.

Are you on a mission?

He didn’t move for a moment, no doubt thinking of the information he could share with you. Another reason for your eventual fallout, the fact that he wouldn’t ever share with you anything if what he did. It was always to keep you safe.

Eventually, he gave a tiny, near imperceptible nod. On a mission. Of course, he would come to you while on a mission, dragging you into it. It wasn’t like you were helpless against attackers, not at all, but they’d had some crazy shit happen to them over the years, and that was just from what you’d overheard.

With a resigned sigh, you looked over at the other men he’d brought.

A taller man, with a beard, and a bucket hat. He looked like he had authority. A man on the shorter end, with some scruff, a mohawk, and a poorly restrained cheeky smile. The last man was darker, an almost caramel brown, with short hair, cleanly shaven, and a hat on.

Military men, clearly, but if Simon was willing to trust them around you, then you didn’t count them much as a threat right now.

“Names.”

You said flatly, and the Mohawk-one’s brows raised before replying.

“You can call me Soap-“

“I mean your name, not your shitty military nickname.”

You interrupted bluntly, clearly not in the best mood after being woken at 3 AM because of Simon Riley. “Soap” raised his hands in a mock gesture of innocence.

“Easy, lass. It’s Johnny, if you must know.”

Scottish, then. You could tell by the accent. The taller one spoke.

“John Price.”

The prettiest of the group spoke with a little smile that could’ve fooled you for not being faked.

“Kyle.”

Giving them all one last flat, surveying look, you jerked your head into the apartment, walking in.

“Two guest bedrooms down that way, bathrooms down the hall, there’s a balcony if you want a second exit. Don’t break anything.”

You said simply, and they walked in, looking tired as hell and covered in bandages. However, you weren’t going to let this go. Not right now.

You grabbed Simon by the arm, and he stiffened, stopping.

“You and I are going to have a little talk, Simon.” You said, dragging him into your room, and shutting the door behind you as he sighed, pulling his mask off. Blond hair and lashes came into view, as well as baby blue eyes.

“What the fuck were you thinking, bringing-“

You began, pissed as hell. He hadn’t contacted you in years, not since his mom had died, and with your shared father already dead, you’d been shoved into foster care.

“We’re all injured. We can’t stay anywhere we can be easily found. This area isn’t as well registered, and we’ll be gone in a month.” He spoke simply as if it wasn’t anything to get upset or emotional about.

You took a breath and breathed it out. Stay calm.

“I’m not talking about the mission, Simon.”

He seemed unused to being called his real name. At least, by the stiffening of his shoulders, you guessed so.

“There’s nothing else to talk about.”

He said gruffly, turning to open the door and leave. You stepped in his way, and he stared down at you, unamused. You were barely 5’6, and he was 6’2, so it was quite the height difference.

“You can’t run from your problems forever, Simon.”

You said, hands on your hips, and he simply picked you up, placing you beside him as he opened the door and walked out. Always running from his problems.

It was surprisingly unsurprising.

~ 4:07 A.M.~

“You want to explain who the hell that is, Simon?”

Price asked gruffly from where they were all gathered in one of the guest rooms. Simon paused his quiet pacing for a moment to reply.

“My half-sister.” He answered, and a silence fell over at that. The only sibling they knew he had was Tommy, and Tommy was long dead at that. A few seconds passed, before Soap, in the bathroom connected to this particular guest room, combing his Mohawk and going through his haircare routine, spoke up.

“She’s a real bonnie lass.” Johnny said with a grin, and Simon sighed.

“English, MacTavish.”

“She’s hot as fuck, sir.” The Scotsman said, and there was a small, disappointed sigh from Gaz, who already knew he’d have to patch up Soap from Ghost, who was fuming silently.

[jojolightningfingers]

not done yapping about ace actually do you know there's people out there who think that ace was shanghai'd into joining the whitebeard pirates? that's insane to me. chapter 552, go read it again right now. it could not possibly be less of one if it TRIED.

like. ace is the aggressor in that situation. indisputably. whitebeard was minding his own business and all of a sudden along comes this young punk who makes it incredibly clear that he's here to take whitebeard's head. who then spurns the unwarranted hospitality they show him when he passes out after five days of fighting jinbei to a standstill. they treat his wounds and he still tries to kill their captain. the simple fact that ace wasn't strung up and quartered as an example is FAR more leniency than he could have expected in that situation, especially considering that whitebeard is known to be a person who adheres to a strict code of honor: sure they might all know that ace just flat isn't strong enough to kill whitebeard, but it's the principle of the thing.

but no! they let him stay aboard and recover. they do no harm to ace's crew or ship in the interim, aside from the incident pertaining to the spade pirates trying to get THEIR captain back in which the whitebeard pirates AGAIN are NOT the aggressors. none of them were killed. no manhunt was ordered on them. they ALSO are allowed to stay aboard. they let ace make attempt after attempt on whitebeard's life for seemingly weeks, possibly even months. and to top it all off, after who knows how long of that shenanigans occurring DAILY, it is straight up said in plain text that ace is free to leave. he can take his ship and take his crew and leave, and come back and try again once he gets stronger. subtext: he can also leave and not come back, and nobody will pursue him.

he is ALSO free to choose to stay on the moby dick. but the price for doing that is a--frankly QUITE reasonable--'stop trying to kill our captain and join us'. like they ask the absolute bare fucking minimum of him and they leave the choice up to him. absolutely nowhere in the text is any sort of coercion or manipulation. it is an offer, not an ultimatum. and it's one that ace accepts. that's all. that's all that happens.

[buttercupblu]

God is Fair|The Lost

Devotional Love with Suguru x Reader|Three-Shot

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3

the deets: sweet reminiscences of a wandering youth in a winter before a spring. you and suguru are older now and on wildly different but similar paths, you just don't know it yet. w.c: 11.4k out of still dk yet pls send help tags: fem!reader, alcohol consumption (don't drink and drive, this is a FIC for a reason plsss and ty), slight coercion, party dr*g use, territorial tendencies, a lil bit of sadism, hair pulling, lip locking, a bit o' biting, fingering, orgasm denial, a hint of emotional manipulation/gaslighting if you have brain angel’s note: don't ask me why these keep getting longer, okay? exposition loves to grab me by the throat and throttle me, idk what to say— earworm 🐛: Nangs|Tame Impala

This fucking sucks.

Napkins. Straw. Sauce...ranch? No. Barbeque. Tea. Fuck, gotta make more tea.

You were exhausted. A bit sweaty. Reeking of fryer grease and beef.

"Welcome to Shake Shack!"

And employed.

You took what felt like your 1000th order of the day, trapped in a vicious cycle of dropping baskets of fries into the fryer, then rushing back to the register to enter what you'd memorized. Often barely avoiding a crash with your co-worker who manned the grill as you cut the tight corner just as the next customers pulled up to the window.

In a town surprisingly smaller than yours, there was a high price to pay for being short-staffed.

For you, that meant having the all-too-often privilege of being the drive-through cashier and fry station manager while working with just two other team members who were also drowning on this sinking ship.

Slipping the last fry in, you finished bagging the hefty order and took and breath.

Work and college were wringing you by the neck, but things could be worse, and you handed the customer their order with a smile.

"Have a great day!"

"My tea?"

Shit—forgot it just that fast.

After waiting all of 30 seconds (give or take) for you to brew and sweeten it to perfection, the customer sped off with it with a grumble. You sighed, leaning your back against the drive-thru window. Your front register co-worker slowly peeked around the corner, having heard the skidding tires. You only shook your head and shrugged. Patience is a virtue.

The air felt so lovely, you thought during break, rubbing your arms and plopping onto a bench outside. It was always so chilly in the restaurant because...shakes, but they should allow you wear a jacket at least.

You pulled up a chair for your feet and slumped back with an exhale. Not a second into your break and you brain was still racking with thoughts.

Not of work, but of next week's exam. And your labs, and your lazy ass lab partner, and your 10-page paper and just...school in general.

You weren't failing, far from it, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to walk the fine line between getting B's and getting by. The major you chose made sure of that—healthcare was no joke.

But neither were you.

Never once a quitter, you'd rather torture yourself with the woes of medicine than admit defeat. Proving yourself day after day as you pushed through the BS, big and small.

Like your chem teacher—you got a headache anytime you thought about him. Accent thicker than molasses that you can't quite place, the guy wore a permanent resting bitch face and never seemed to want to be there.

With so much attitude pent up inside such a small man who was hell-bent on unleashing it, it was a good day if he didn't go off on someone over something as simple as not understanding the words coming out of his mouth.

It had to be his favorite excuse to never explain anything during class when eventually everyone would give up and blankly stare him in the face.

You were sure he got off on being a shit teacher with a crutch called tenure. Ending every semester with a smile as he passed around teacher reviews, knowing your responses were worthless—just like your social life.

Freshman and sophomore year had been the best for late night and regrets in the morning, but junior year? Whopped your ass.

Time for games or friends was over. Textbooks and Shake Shack were your best friends.

You took off your visor that always hugged a little too tight around your voluminous hair, immediately feeling relief before looking at the logo that mocked you.

The money your dad set aside, plus what he'd been saving since you were a baby, was enough to cover most of your expenses, but not all.You had to buy a car, textbooks, and other unexpected but totally avoidable costs that couldn't be covered for...reasons.

But it was fine.

Everything was fine.

School was...doable, and work was preparing you for independence and trust, Miss Independent was in her bag. It wasn't all bad, you thought, fiddling with the neon star on your lanyard. The cool metal nestled between your fingers was a constant reminder of when things were a little easier—you smirked—and the most unforgettable night of sophomore year.

Parties weren't foreign to you during undergrad—scratch that—you weren't foreign to parties who knew your name by heart. But most of them leading up to that night were always mildly disappointing.

Hollywood had painted a very vivid picture of college life, but for you and your roomie, the beginning of undergrad had been painfully black and white.

It wasn't that neither of you, especially Yuki, didn't try. Sometimes, you'd even end up somewhere sketch, following behind Yuki who was always chasing a thrill.

No, it was because there were really only two options for a quote-on-quote "good night": a sweaty, over-packed, testosterone-filled Frat sausage party with shit music and even shittier guys or an on-campus, alcohol-free, school-organized event with crowds of less than 20 that always ended before midnight.

Anywhere else actually worth a damn was 21 and up and off-limits to underaged 19-year-olds like the two of you. To you, they weren't even worth bringing up, but Yuki liked a challenge. A third option was always on the table. And one night, she swore she knew how to get your entire group on the scene and into a rave. All it took was a little finesse and a little dress. And bearing the cold of the December weather in tight skirts and fishnet shirts.

"Yuki, I swear to God," your words vibrated with each shiver, "If we don't get in—"

"You worry too much." She looked over the long line of heads in front of your group.

All week, she'd been going on and on about how "This weekend was going to kiss ass!", with the most boastful look on her face. She was only one year ahead of you but swore the connects she made her freshman year would come in clutch and be there that night. But after everything that happened in high school, you were such a worry wart now.

Always wanting to be sure everything went according to plan and worked out as it should. Especially once you calmed down after losing your shit and running around like a complete lunatic freshman year of college. But by the end of that year, things felt...off. Now you wanted to take sophomore year easy. But Yuki wasn't having it.

Once goosebumps began to creep up your skin as you took wobbled steps towards the front of the line, it was do or die.

Music bumped into your ears, battling your beating heart as you passed the crowd of annoyed faces who'd been waiting for God knows how long to get in. Yuki took long, runway-model strides. Eating up the lethal looks you and your group were getting for being so bold until she stood face to face with security.

His gaze traveled across Yuki's snug black leather shorts and matching thigh-high boots as she rested her hand on her hips, making him smirk.

"Hey, we're on the list," she said cooly, chin high as she ran a hand through her long blonde tresses. "Under Rico."

His smirk disappeared. "Who?"

"*scoff* Rico. Big Rico." She said like it was obvious.

"I don't know that name."

Oh no. Eyes wide, you shifted, hovering just under Yuki's shadow as you clung to her arms for warmth.

You were freezing, nearly nude, feet screaming from only a short walk, and now at risk of being embarrassed in front of a line of irritated individuals who'd probably been praying on your downfall the second you all beelined to the front.

The threat of being turned away burned hot in your cheeks. But Yuki kept her cool. "We should be under Rico." She gave him her name and the rest of the group's, but security quickly scrolled through his tablet and shook his head.

"Oh wait," he stopped at the bottom, "Yeah, Rico. Right here."

Yes!

"He's already gone in, but uh, he didn't mention any extras."

Fuck!

You told Yuki that you guys would be late while she was taking her sweet time getting ready.

Then security gave your group a slow lookover, but not in a 'I'm falling for your slutty outfits and checking you out' kind of way Yuki was hoping for. "You guys got IDs?"

Your heart dropped to your ass. You gaped like a fish.

fuckfuckfuck. You knew you were screwed anything you saw even a smidge of panic on Yuki's usually fearless face.

The situation she swore she had a surefire way to avoid blew right through her and the rips on the sides of the t-shirt she purposely wore to seduce her way out of trouble.

Curse words filled your head, ready to fire them off at Yuki the moment you got back to her car.

She had to think fast.

"Yeah, we um—"

"They're with us."

Your heads snapped toward the voice in unison and you had to crane your neck around Yuki's towering stature to find it, but find it you did—belonging to a Mr. Tall, Blonde, and Handsome—standing right off the entrance to the rave with a drink in hand and eyes firmly locked on you.

"'Bout time you got here, Yuki. Friends." He nodded your way.

You? Us?

For a second, you knew he had to be mistaken but resisted the urge to look around for whoever he must have been talking to. But his gaze didn't waver.

You exhaled, blushing. Relieved but wondering why this appetizing stranger was coming to your rescue.

"You're with Rico?" security butted in.

"Yeah, yeah." And the stranger waved his wristband in air, a small neon star dangling from it for everyone to see. "Now, let these ladies in. They're freezing." And he winked at you.

Yuki wasted no time brushing past the still-skeptical bouncer, greeting your savior with open arms. "Sorry we're late, dude!" Playing up the act as if she'd done it a million times before, and the rest of your group quickly snagged their VIP wristbands before funneling into the booming venue.

It didn't click that you were getting in scot-free until the stranger looked back at you, waiting and holding the door open with a nod. "Coming?"

Your feet couldn't carry you fast enough, rushing forward as he took the last wristband, and secured it snugly around your wrist before flicking the neon star, looking down on you. "Perfect," he smirked. And for the sake of your steadily increasing heartbeat, you could only nod and avoid looking him in the eye.

Damn, what luck. And you slipped inside.

You had an idea of what crossing the threshold into the rave would be like, but your imagination fell unbelievably short.

Instant sensory overload—pulsing beats thumped through your chest, vibrating through the floor and into your bones. Vibrant strobe lights sliced through the dense fog of smoke machines, mixing with the heady air thick with the scent of sweat, perfume, and a faint aroma of smoke.

Every corner seemed alive, packed with swirling seas of bodies moving in sync with the relentless EDM rhythm and snatching so much of your attention that you almost forgot your manners.

"Thanks! Thank you!" you tried to shout, feeling yourself slowly defrost in the humid, rave air. "And Rico."

Stretching your arms out, you admired how the fluorescent purple lights made your shirt, neon nails, and cute new star accessory glow in the hazy darkness. They subtly reflected on the stranger's muscle tee you didn't realize was so close to you. Becoming aware of his gaze at the same time he caught yours.

His drifted over your fishnet shirt, white, tight, and highlighting your already glistening skin adorn with oils and powders—yours drew to his silver eyebrow piercing then to the colorful ink cascading from behind his ears, down his neck, and disappearing into his shirt.

He looked like an undergrad student but would've had to start on a piece like that years ago to finish something so intricate that also flowed onto his arms.

Would his chest be tattooed, too? Now you were staring at it.

Blushing, you looked away, realizing you were actually chest level with a man who practically towered over you.

"Who's Rico?"

Your brows furrowed at the same time a glimmer of light caught a sneaky piece of jewelry, snug on the corner of his bottom lip. Smugly smiling, he held out his hand, urging you to take it.

What the fu—

For the second time that night, you were speechless.

Confusion flickered across your face as you hesitated, studying his confident vibe and easy smile that invited you to continue to trust him.

That calm and collected aura that had finessed your way into a forbidden space when you were ready to throw in the towel and give Yuki the old "I told you so."

Something about him was tempting—maybe the air of mystery draping over him that made you both curious and cautious.

Amidst the chaotic surroundings and nerves settling down after winging your luck, his so-sure presence demanded your attention. But it also made you wonder what he was doing it all for.

Regardless, it wasn't the time to get all psychological. Yuki and the others were already far ahead, soon to be lost in the crowd if you didn't catch up.

He bit his lip, watching your reservations gradually melt away as you nervously took his hand and returned his smile—welcoming yourself aboard the first ride of the night.

He easily parted the sea of people as you followed behind, almost immediately finding your group thanks to your roommate. Always easy to find, she unironically stands out in a crowd—tall, loud, and bursting with energy like everyone else lived in her background.

After socking her in the arm hard enough to bring her down a little for leaving you behind, your unofficial guide for the night suggested you all hit the bar for a round of shots, his treat.

Yuki held her hand to her chest with a smile, immediately forgetting the dull pain in her arm. Leaning in close to you, she whispered, "Okay, Mr. Moneybags." And he soon returned with an amount of alcohol that could rival a Frat Party.

Picking a shot up from the tray, he toasted, "To a great night."

"A kick-ass night!" Yuki added, and you rolled your eyes but clinked shots.

The neon green liquid that looked like coolant and battery acid had a baby flooded your system, making you wince with each swallow. Fruity, sour, and stronger than anything you'd had before. It set your insides of fire, and you tried your best not to show it, but Mr. Calm, Cool, and Collected thought it was cute.

"I'm not a kid," you commented when he suggested you slow down on the shots you were clearly struggling with. Damn Yuki and her 'see a shot, take a shot' rule. She'd always start with two and made sure everyone kept up with each other. "You don't have to baby me."

But how couldn't he with a pout that cute sitting on your face flushed from the eccentric liquor?

"Why'd you help us anyway?" you asked, leaning on the table your group surrounded.

He mimicked your actions, sharp brown eyes glinting as he explained that he was simply a Good Samaritan who happened to be in the right place at the right time to help some girls in need. "Some really cute ones," he said into your ear.

Your cheeks warmed—and not just from the alcohol—as he drew back just close enough to barely graze your ear with his soft lips.

He was flirting.

And you were a terrible flirt—always residing in the back seat, never driving the car. Letting things happen to you instead of engaging. An approach that almost always ended in disappointment.

But there he was, this sinfully attractive man, openly vying for your attention—and shamelessly unafraid to say it. Clearly already into you, evident by his increasingly intimate actions, and assumed you were too because you were still in his face and hadn't run off just yet.

So you wouldn't need to do much more, right? Just do what you've seen in the movies.

Pretending to be unfazed, you brushed off his compliment with a smile, tucking a braid behind your ear. "So...knight in shining armor, you got a name?"

He chuckled and straightened his stance, suddenly making you feel even smaller than before.

"Naoya," he smirked.

You raised your next shot, bright and pink like your shiny lipgloss. "To Naoya," you toasted, quickly downing it with a sly smile that said you were far from innocent. But the OPs couldn't stand to see you be great, sending a dribble to free-dive down the corner of your mouth.

Cupping your chin before you could react, Naoya swiped his thumb across your skin and nonchalantly placed it in his mouth.

"Sweet."

And good fucking God, you didn't know if he was talking about the drink or you. Watching him subtly roll his thumb between his lips made you exhale regardless. Just like—

Thankfully, Yuki came to your rescue, pulling you into the lively crowd before you could probably do or say something stupid.

Unrestrained laughter echoed from your circle, dancing to the pulsating beats.

Yuki, always the life of the party, twirled and pulled everyone into her orbit—your group and strangers alike—while Naoya stuck close. Every few minutes or so he'd mingled with the group he came with, letting them put a dent in most of the shots he bought, but he had a different interest in mind. Stealing flirty peeks at you as you bounced to the techno beat, effortlessly drawing your attention back to him, even in a sea of lingering gazes.

Each time your eyes met, a thrill shot through you that was both exciting and slightly unnerving.

The magnetism between you was undeniable, but another part of you wondered if you were getting too much into your head. Whether it was simply lust making him devour you with his eyes or if it was really just you. There was always the chance he could be just like all the others. And a waste of your time.

But you could only ping-pong your thoughts for so long, and in the end, the thrill of what-ifs, alcohol, and a hint of rebuked behavior outweighed your apprehension until it wasn't enough to matter.

Silly, even.

His attention was simply more intoxicating than the alcohol coursing through your veins.

Just the thought of being the focus of someone so undeniably captivating was enough to entice you to stay within his sight, kick caution to the curb, and give him a show.

Hungry glances swarmed your way, but Naoya just stood back and took you in.

Flashes of your supple cheeks under your reflective skirt, your hair brushing the nape of your neck in those high, perfectly grippable pigtails. Fleeting thoughts of how they'd look in his hands.

A sway here, a caress of your body there, and it was easy to lock him in. Making him give less than a fuck about the "competition" or how they nearly broke their necks to get a glimpse of you.

Because as he watched your fingers lazily glide up your velvety thighs, over your chest, and up your tender neck without a second of broken eye contact between you, he knew this meal was just for him.

And so the night went. Playing the Yandere game. Occasionally being stolen by Yuki or one of the girls to build up a sweat and tease the crowd with bumps and grinds and lingering hands on each other's waists. Syncing with one another. All of you lost in the moment and savoring the night that was far from over.

Until you blinked and a few hours had passed, drenched clothes clung to every body, the once-exuberant crowd thinned out, and the blinking venue lights signaled that the night's event was drawing to a close.

Yuki's face couldn't have been more distraught as she smoothed her sweaty hair back to showcase her pouting face. "What the fuck, dude, it feels like we just got here??"

You opened your mouth, ready to scold her and remind her that, once again, this was entirely her fault for being slower than a DMV line while getting ready, but decided it wasn't worth your breath.

However, Yuki's infectious energy was raging at its peak with no signs of fading, and made sure everyone knew. But what could you do?

Choke your anxiety down and try your luck again with another club, or God forbid, crawl back to frat parties?

Staying in the dorms and bingeing Rom-Coms and junk food would be more entertaining.

Still, Yuki made her problem everyone else's—whining and groaning. Loudly protesting that the fun was just getting started and going on as if her soul was being crushed. Theater was robbed the day she majored in Sociology.

So dramatic. And it should've been easy to say you were fine with calling it a night and returning to your much warmer bed.

But that would've been a lie.

Just a teeny tiny itty bitty one. But big enough to matter.

And you internally rolled your eyes so hard you could almost see stars.

Because Naoya was the reason why.

God, you hated yourself.

The promise of something more was enough to blow hearts into your eyes as it snuck in and wrapped you in its clutches. Trapping you in one of the most intense instances of sexual chemistry you'd felt in a while—budding, simmering, and patiently waiting to spill over.

It was mildly irritating, your mind filling with thoughts of where things could go with this guy you barely knew. That little pinch of hope for a chance of something happening—even after playing hard to get all night.

You wondered if you'd ever see him again.

Ah well. That's nightlife for you.

It was fun while it lasted, but Yuki's voice brought you back to reality, growing increasingly more annoying as your hearing started to return to normal.

Seconds away from you throttling her and telling her to grip, Naoya made his presence known again, having overheard Yuki's pleas to extend the night.

"I know a spot."

Surprise failed you because, of course he did.

Mr. "I know, Rico." It was kinda weird Yuki hadn't asked about Rico the second you all stepped inside but with the crowd as thick as it was earlier, finding him would've been nearly impossible anyway.

But this was too perfect—the savior suddenly swooping in twice in one night with open arms and no hint of wanting more. Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe your super quiet, nearly non-existent hopes and prayers for a main character moment had been answered.

But you weren't young enough to be that much of an idiot.

Still, was it a bit silly to be so sketch? Second-guessing this "Good Samaritan"? This casual guy tucking his thumbs in his pockets and holding a self-assured, but trusting smile whom you didn't know from a can of paint?

The back and forth was exhausting.

As if reading your thoughts, his head slightly tilted, signaling the words you wouldn't say.

Could you? Would you?

The unspoken questions hung in the air like Yuki clung to your shoulders, practically begging you to live a little.

Either the night ended there or could evolve into something new.

You just had to use your words.

But a sigh was enough to make Yuki squeal, answer in hand before you could speak.

"Let's gooo," and she beelined out of the rave just as they were shutting down the bar and switching on the lights.

Goosebumps made an abrupt comeback. The transition from humid rave heat to brisk winter air instantly sobered your group, seeping into your pores and drying your sweat.

After making sure Yuki was good to drive, you practically ran to her car. Coincidently sitting just a row over from Naoya's.

Yuki gawked at the sleek, red sports car. "Well, color me impressed." Its blinding headlights flickered as Naoya unlocked it.

You hadn't known someone with a car that nice since the Geto's.

"Follow me to the next spot?" he laughed, leaning on the car's roof.

If there weren't so many of you, he'd tell all of you to hop in and make yourselves comfortable, but he also knew your guards would be up—as they should.

His head tipped at Yuki, but he kept his eyes on you. "Keep her safe, ya?" And ducked into the car.

Your face didn't feel so cold after that.

"Girl."

You squinted in disbelief.

"Is this a junkyard?"

In the middle of old car parts and rusting scraps of metal, a steel warehouse glimmered in the moonlight, confirming that it was. Strobe lights shot out, lighting the bubble of space in the darkness as it came into view.

And just when you thought there had to be some mistake, some wrong turn taken at some point down the long, dark gravel road through the trees, Naoya's car cruised through the chain-link fence, finally stopping in the dirt path after the 30-minute drive outside the city limits.

This was unreal.

Alt Rock—Phoenix?—vibrated through Yuki's car, barely contained by the warehouse walls as it blasted into the open air.

"What the..." You lost your words for the third damn time that night.

The hell is this? Who is this guy???

Asking questions had been the least of Yuki's concerns earlier. Or during the lengthy drive there as you repeatedly asked her if she knew where you guys were. She was just happy to have her prayers to keep the night going and finish burning energy answered—damn how—and repeatedly said you guys would be fine.

But a warehouse?? A damn warehouse???

An after-hours club, house party, hell, even a dive bar came to mind when Naoya said he knew a spot.

What a spot to know and you noticed the numerous cars scattered throughout the dirt yard as you looked around.

Black leather skirts and oversized jackets littered the crowd. Ripped stockings and Demonia's hugged nearly every leg.

This was a scene you weren't familiar with, not that you discriminated, but other than Yuki, the rest of you would be glaringly sticking out like a sore thumb. Neon colors clearly weren't the move here, and you all looked like walking glow sticks in a sea of scene kids and black lipstick—sure to be noticed the second you stepped out of the car.

You knew you should've trusted your gut.

"At least the music's good," Yuki said as if reading your thoughts. Her head bobbed to the seductive beat. “🎶He’s just tryna be cooool.🎶”

You could strangle her.

"C'mon, lighten up," she said, unfazed by your distressed face. "Think of it as an adventure." She turned to the back seat. "Right girls?"

Shoko had stopped caring long ago, and Utahime, still buzzing from the rave, was down for whatever.

Freshman year you probably would've shaken you by your shoulders and called you a pussy by now.

But why were you acting brand new? You knew what this was. Been knew from the moment you agreed to go out with Yuki this weekend that something as crazy as this happening had always been on the table.

She was always so daring, so spontaneous and unpredictable. Always relaxed and in control no matter the situation—all of what drew you into her in the first place. The perfect roommate.

She reminded you of what you used to be—what you were trying to get back to. Even if it meant repeatedly pressing all of your buttons.

You pinched your brows together, secretly regretting the day you born.

"Fine."

"Fuck yeah!" And not a second later, her car whipped into a makeshift parking spot so fast you almost got whiplash.

Just ahead, Naoya hopped out of his car, cooly walking up. "Ha, you made it," he joked, but your resting bitch said nothing was funny.

"Okay, okay, look, I know what this looks like," he began, apologizing for not giving you guys a heads-up. But trust me."

A breeze danced across his face, tousling his bangs and showing off the subtle glint in his pretty brown eyes. And as if on cue, his lips curled into the signature smile you knew was coming, once again offering his hand.

"Will you?"

...Godfkindammit.

What the hell is happening here?

Those butterflies just would not give you a break. And neither would Yuki if you turned him down, especially after coming this far already.

You cursed under your breath and took his hand, hoping the flutters would go away, but only passed them on to him.

His lip ring flashed as he smiled, his fingers lacing with yours.

"Super sweet."

And welcomed you into his territory.

Throughout your life, you've learned that looks can be deceiving. And if you had forgotten, example A stood front and center in that moment.

On first glance, it may have looked like a glaring OSHA violation, but what the warehouse lacked on the outside, it made up for with a jaw-dropping inside.

Head falling back, you marveled at the intricate web of large steel beams weaving throughout the vaulted ceiling. Dancing light bounced off the metal, one-up the rave and casting colorful shadows on the floor, walls, and everyone inside.

Drum-heavy bass and gritty guitar riffs ripped through the speakers, welcoming you. Pulling you into an underground world that was very welcoming to Naoya too.

A hot commodity, nearly every face you saw couldn't help but smile and greet him on the walk-in. Unable to resist his charm. Pandering for even a hint of attention even though his hand remained fixed on you, pulling you through the crowd and bringing a blush to your face. It was clear you were his guest.

Oak and orange blossom clashed with the sharp tang of industrial machinery, heavily perfuming the air thanks to the dense, edgy crowd, but at least it wasn't as packed as the rave. Quite the opposite actually—the space here was wide open, yet surprisingly insulated against the cold. It'd be hard to get lost, but you still told Yuki not to run off because you knew what was coming next.

"Shot o'clock!"

Surprising.

And this time, they were on her.

"A toast, to Naoya." The glass glistened in the lights as she held it high. "And this totally cool spot."

She linked arms with Shoko and Utahime and they tossed their shots back together. Leaving you out—no doubt on purpose.

Naturally, Naoya looked to you, completely oblivious to the ritual but willing to play along if you were.

You steeled your nerves, deciding to get the girls back for that later, and snaked your arm around his muscled one. Snug. Close. No big deal. People totally don't do super intimate things like this at weddings or anything.

Looking him in the eye, you grinned. "To you again." And downed the shot in sync, feeling the cool liquid slide down your throat. Spreading a fuzzy feeling through your body all over again and helping you settle into the reality of the night.

This environment was different.

There was an air of exclusivity in the space—his vibe—this place meant for the in-crowd—something to be a part of that he had access to and personally invited you into.

Like remnants of high school. Drawing you in like a magnet.

And this time, you stuck close to Naoya. Baiting his attention again.

His lingering gaze drew curious glances from your friends that you were quick to brush off, but even you couldn't ignore the nuzzle heat from the way his eyes bore into your swaying frame.

As if you weren't already fully aware, your favorite two-toned brunette, Utahime, kept raising eyebrows at you and tipping her head his way real "smooth-like". Totally not right in front of him where it was super noticeable and embarrassingly obvious.

When she got fed up with your shy act, she lovingly wrapped her arms around your neck, making you both sync to the beat. With a slightly tipsy smile on her face, she said just loud enough for you to hear, "Go get that dick." And quickly twirled you around until you posted right in front of Naoya.

A ditzy look plastered on your face as you froze. Slowly meeting his eyes with a flushed look of embarrassment that pulled a smile out of him. You looked so cute trying to hold yourself together and seem unbothered. But if it weren't for the alcohol swimming through your system, you might've bailed.

Yet, liquid courage ran through you, hell-bent on making you step into your bad bitch shoes because confidence lived in your blood.

If there was any chance of finding out if this was real or not, it was now never.

Eyes locked—his having never stopped eyefucking you—you both smirked. With a tip of your hand and slightly wobbly knees, you invited the man who made you ache between your thighs to dance.

With a small laugh, he gently bit his lip, finding you cute enough to plant a kiss on your wrist then pull you close. "About time," he said, fingers digging into your waist.

What a pretty face you made when you were surprised. But you surprised him right back when you twirled around, your ass grazing his front as you closed the gap between you.

If he was going to beg for your attention, he had to prove he could handle it, and gradually, you relaxed enough to dance—curves winding in beat with the flowy rhythm—enticing him to take the bait and dance his hands along your waist. Syncing rhythm, closeness, and heat to slowly rebuild a sweat.

Your head, light as a feather, fell back against his chest, exposing your shimmery neck. Sugary sweet scents you doused yourself in earlier drew him into your sweet spot, stifling your breath as his grazed your skin, erasing your final remnants of hesitation.

The instinct to draw your hands to his hair reminded you that the freedom to let go was a drug. A heady, intoxicating sensation that mingled with the pleasure of his hands slipping along your thighs and climbing up your sides like ecstasy until you opened your hazy eyes and stared it in the face. Pale blue, tiny, and snug between his peace fingers.

Gasping, you swiftly faced a grinning Naoya.

"What is—"

"X", he replied so casually, as if he hadn't just practically shoved a drug in your face without warning.

What the hell was with this guy???

The anxiety you worked to snuff out all night quickly clawed its way out.

From the moment you met Naoya, he'd been a walking enigma who kept going for broke.

The borderline reckless and carefree attitude could even one-up Yuki's, and freshman you definitely couldn't hold a candle. At least the unhinged version of you knew better than to throw caution to the wind and go around looking for randos who happen to do dRUGS???

What if you were like an undercover cop or something, you thought, crossing your glitter-covered arms.

Was his brain constantly on go—never taking a second to think before acting—or was he so confident in himself that he didn't care if others judged him?

It kinda sounded familiar...and was awfully cringe to think about.

But fuck that, how often did he do this?? Go around seducing girls, saving the day, then dragging them to nowhere to—

"An adventure."

What?

Aw, fuck.

God, fuck, there she goes again.

Feet away, yet in your ear, in case you thought you could ever escape her.

Yuki's annoyingly convincing voice echoed through your head like peer pressure on steroids, telling you to chill the fuck out and stop overthinking. Asking you in the most mocking tone your brain could conjure up, "What are you so afraid of?"

Sure, you were a virgin to the world of party drugs...but you couldn't say you'd never been curious.

Degrassi, Skins, and shows alike all set the bar for what college life was supposed to look like long ago, and drugs almost always had a seat at the table—glimmering and glamorized all over television. Surrounded by fun and pretty people.

But you knew fuck all about ecstasy outside of what high school Health Ed class said it would feel like: energy and euphoria— compressed into a colorful little pill.

It wasn't...the best argument against it.

Still, you were a little virgin baby. Aside from alcohol, you'd only flirted with Mary Jane, and that was only a couple of times at a few frat parties freshman year. You didn't exactly have a bucket list for drugs.

But there it was, an opportunity presenting itself.

And as skeptical as you were about Naoya—the mystery, the conveniences, the 'too good to be true' personality that kept poking you in the gut—those same yellow flag, along with his cunning, almost taunting demeanor, dared you to step up to the plate.

Even now, his confident gaze swallowed your doe eyes with a look you couldn't turn away from—thumb gently pressing into your waist with a silent reassurance. In a 'you don't have to do it' kind of way that seemed to take all the weight off.

Still, he tipped his head, gave you a firm squeeze and a grin, and said, "Take it with me—if you want." And sat the split pill, SKY written on it in tiny letters, right on the edge of his pink tongue.

You thought about home. And then you thought about the thrill you'd been searching for all your life. God...

If this went wrong, at least the girls were nearby to kick his teeth in.

You swallowed hard.

There was only one way to say yes, and it rushed out of your mouth before Yuki's voice could taunt you again.

"An adventure," you breathed, quickly diving in before anyone could see—wrapping your tongue around his and tasting bitterness on yours. Ignoring your racing heart from the sheer audacity to be so bold.

His lip lingered on yours until he was sure you swallowed the metallic pill, a small string of slick glistening as he pulled away.

"An adventure," he repeated before flashing his trademark smile and pulling your arms around his neck.

It finally hit you what Naoya reminded you of. Something you used to look for on purpose. Something that required a bit of work and a firm resolve.

Effort.

A challenge.

And it was time to play catch up.

Minutes felt like hours waiting for something, anything, to happen, but Naoya's secure grasp held you and your attention as you danced. Firm. Warm. Melting.

Melting?

Indeed melting—fingers dipping into the divots of your hips as if they could sink through like butter—coaxing your head to lazily float back under the wavy touch. Wavering a moment and brushing Naoya's fingertips with the ends of your waist-length pigtails that were growing increasingly easier to grab.

Pretty steel beams. Were they always this mesmerizing? Or close? Like they would sink to your level just so you could grab on. Or maybe you'd always been 20 feet tall and never knew?

Naoya snickered, holding the weight you practically threw into his arms. Admiring the strobes of light bathing your softly rising and falling chest as you fell into a trance—your body turning to jelly before you even realized it was happening.

But the awareness of your suddenly heavy eyelids and increasingly ridiculous thoughts of the ceiling slapped you down to earth, sending you into a mini panic. Head, heavier than ever, pulling forward until your fluttering eyes met Naoya's blown-out gaze. Staring. Drinking in every subtle change in your warm, flushed face.

A satisfied smirk played on his lips, watching your mouth part and breaths slow. Dying to close the imaginary and real gap that opened and shut between you all night until he once again flushed his skin against yours. And this time, a switch flipped; it wasn't just his proximity making your chest buzz. You swore you were sharing vibrations.

Warmth grew in your core at his touch. The oh-so-unbelievably soft yet coarse yet caressible feel of his skin pulsing against yours. Flooding your veins, spreading from your tongue to the tips of your fingers.

You were tingling.

And couldn't stop tingling.

And knew you couldn't stop tingling no matter how hard you tried, and for some reason, the euphoric thought made you break out into an uncontrollable grin.

"There she is." Naoya lifted your chin, vibrant colors blurring together on his face like a kaleidoscope.

All you wanted to do was stare at him, the array of colors on the cement floor, and the dizzying visual rhythm beating with the music. Like Nang was literally seeping into your bones, begging you to float and finally touch those steel beams.

God, you'd never been so happy you made a decision. That you chose to be here—that he chose you—that you trusted Yuki, the girls, and yourself enough to get out of your rut and end up here. In the arms of a guy you wanted nothing more than to finally give in and slob down from head to toe for being so hot and intoxicating and slyly nibbling on his lip ring every single time you locked eyes.

"Here I am," you said, teasing a grin you hoped was as good as his. Feeling alive, truly alive for the first time that year—completely immersed in the chaotic blend of lights, sounds, and bodily surrealism. Bliss peeled away your breath as his feverish hands danced along your body in a way that was too much and never enough.

Dainty fingers found your outstretched neck, pleasure etching on your face as you caressed the sensitive areas begging to be touched. Fingertips, music, ego, and air binding like sex in a sinful combo—evident by the full display of the undercuff of your ass, eliciting stifled moans from Naoya as your hips swirled into him.

That state of you was telling, and he hoped he didn't give you too much, but your ass looked so goddamn perfect, molding around the growing ache in his already tight jeans. Like you were trying to pull something out of him, but he only laughed to himself because he was sure you'd actually melt into a puddle if he sank his hands into your plush cheeks.

You looked amazing—you felt amazing—everything was amazing—and should always feel like this, you thought.

This high, this joy, this love—it was universal.

Easy.

So very easy to give and take—and deserving,

Everyone deserved love in some away.

And suddenly you were an ecstasy evangelist, slipping from Naoya's arms into the pulsating crowd.

Naturally gravitating to a drunken Utahime, her swaying form coming into focus with bright and infectious laughter amidst the haze. So happy. So carefree. You just had to have some, reaching out to grab her hand and pull her close.

"Isn't this—your breath felt so light, "—just the best?" You shouted over the music, your voice a mix of exhilaration and disbelief.

You laughed, the sound almost lost amongst the beats, as you tugged Utahime closer. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity and amusement, but her attention drew to the sheer ecstasy etched onto your face.

"Seriously," you said, pressing her hand to your chest, "This is everything."

Utahime's smile was warm, but her brows slightly furrowed. "You've, uh, finally come around, ya?"

She hadn't seen this side of you since you'd met. A state that was a little beyond tipsy, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

Shoko sidled up—the least drunk in the group—casually draping her arm over the girl you knew she'd been secretly dating since the beginning of the semester. Cigarette tucked behind her ear like she was going out to smoke soon, but holding a knowing grin. Her gaze swept over you, lingering for just a moment too long before she said, "Someone's certainly having a good time."

Correction, you were having a fantastic time. Everyone should be, you thought, so glad to have all of your girls with you before realizing that someone was missing. And like you knew she would, Yuki had run off. Probably huddled up by a wall, towering over some poor guy or girl by now.

But Shoko's tone flew right over your head—the heat of the crowd catching you in its web. Your body hadn't stopped moving since you came into the circle—a complete slave to the contagious energy and music. Leaving your swaying hips all vulnerable, freely out in the open and unattended to.

Such a shame, some guy thought, someone should take care of that.

It wasn't until you felt a pair of hands glue to your waist and heat against your back that you stopped mid-motion. Rough, almost aggressive, and hasty gropes squeezing your hips but losing you in the manic energy. And as if it were a natural extension of the night's chaos, the sensation rolled your body into the unfamiliar touch in a way that felt out of your control.

And pissed Naoya off.

He'd been watching the entire show from where you left him, allowing you to go off to be with your girls, not a slut for anyone else.

He tsked, his usually smooth demeanor cracking as he glared. Watching you casually give away what was his to some random guy. As if he meant nothing. As if you didn't owe him.

And the sight of the guy's face—smug and sleazy as if he'd hit the jackpot—and his grubby hands inching closer to the grand prize between your thighs, sent Naoya right over the edge.

He moved swiftly through the crowd, eyes locked on you, pulling you away so quickly you missed the way his jaw clenched. Grip firm but controlled as he wove pasted a stunned Shoko and Utahime, through the space, and out into the cool night air.

The warehouse loomed above, its graffiti-splattered walls bathed in the glow of the quarter moon. Fingers gliding over the dusty lines, you traced the art, trailing Naoya who pulled you behind him until he reached the back.

He took a deep breath, trying to mask his unexpected jealousy, but the way you were being so ditzy and cute and oblivious to the world only added fuel to the fire.

You didn't mean to, his reaction was just so funny, especially when he looked so flustered trying to hide his lingering scowl with a slick grin that, for the first time that night, didn't reach his eyes.

And you wouldn't stop fucking laughing, even as he kept walking towards you until your back hit the warehouse wall.

But that smile was deceiving.

His hand shot out, grabbing a hold of your face, fingers digging into your cheeks and tilting your chin so he could look into your glazed-over eyes.

"Such a pretty girl," he murmured. your lips feeling like putty as he teased with his thumb,

Though his words seemed sweet, a twinge of unease sparked in your chest watching his eyes turn dark, sadistic. Hungry. The playful facade shattering, earning your undivided attention and bringing your giggles to a halt when you realized he wasn't fucking around.

Your eyes widened. Whatever you'd been teasing all night had finally awoken and stood at your door. Ready to devour your faltering heart as slow, heavy breaths escaped your glossed lips.

He had to taste them.

And did, lips crashing onto yours, teeth and tongue dominating your mouth until you moaned into his.

Your arm wrapped around his neck, searching for leverage against the furious energy, before feeling it pin to the wall. His other hand slipped from your face, ghosting from your jaw to your neck—squeezing lightly, almost growling, and stealing your breath.

He pulled away, his eyes following his finger tracing the maze of net resting over your chest. Taking your glinting belly ring—the perfect match to his lip ring—between his thumb and forefinger, eliciting a slight groan from you when he tugged.

He smirked—the face you made when you winced was even prettier than your surprise face. He wondered what other ones he could get out of you.

And just when you thought the torture was over, his fingers slid around your back, finally twisting into one of your pigtails with a pull.

Your head snapped back and his lips attached to your neck, breath hot against your skin as he inhaled your intoxicating scent—biting, sucking, trying to mark you. Mind flashing to the guy he should've punched for even looking at you.

You gasped, being forced to use your free arm to hold onto him when his leg swept between your thighs, propping you up on his knee.

He groaned into your neck—your panties were absolutely ruined—damping his skin with so much stringy slick, he struggled to keep himself from rutting into you.

But your hips wouldn't stop moving even if you tried. Grinding into the friction that felt like fire every time your clit bumped into a rip in his jeans. So disgusting lewd, but you were growing so warm with each pulsing thump. Unashamedly needing more. And painting his skin with juicy kisses.

Damn, he thought, smirking against your skin at your whimpers. Wondering if you'd start panting like a dog in heat as your fucks to give flew out the window. Mind only fixed on the lip-biting flick of your feverish clit that made your walls clench around nothing.

But he wouldn't let you cum that easily. At least not like that. No, he needed to do it himself.

He pinned you still, grip tight on your waist and lips finding yours when you whined from the lost of sensation. Sneaking a hand under your skirt and making you moan into his mouth when he grabbed your ass. Finally feeling your soft and warm and plush curves melt into his fingers.

"I want you," he said between kisses.

Your mews as your pressed into his touch told him you wanted him too, but he needed to hear you say it.

Fingers crawling under your things, he drew slow, long hot lines across your skin until they reached your parted valley. Your breath hitched, knowing where he was heading, but you spread wider, hoping he would hurry and get there faster. Inching closer and closer to your sweet heat with a slow breath, he brought you nearer and nearer to a rapture you seldomly experienced when he suddenly stopped at the precipice.

"Say it."

Your brows furrowed.

"Tell me what you want."

You spit out the only thing you knew. "I want you." And your mouth fell open feeling a warm pad on your clit. His thumb just resting there, feeling you throb through your thin g-string. Waiting to see if you'd be so bold as to hump him again. Whining and writhing instead, you fell prey to the touch that was light to most but dizzying in the world of E.

"You want me to what?"

Your cheeks warmed. God, was he gonna drag it out of you if you didn't say it?

Once more, you latched your mouth onto his to avoid saying so, only to accidentally bite the inside of his bottom lip when two fingers roughly pushed inside you.

"Fuck, you're so tight." And warm and soaked.

He didn't even care that you almost bit a hole into him, only focused on stuffing you full until resistance finally gave way and swallowed his fingers.

Your stomach tightened, legs drawing together only to be blocked by his knee as his fingers swam deeper than the nails you dug into his back until he bottomed out.

Fire grew in your hand, his grip sliding from your arm to pin your wrist. You started to squirm. It was too much at once.

And made Naoya's dick stand on ten watching your body resist but betray itself by continuing to make his fingers glisten in the moonlight.

You poor things who couldn't make up your mind, Naoya thought. Teasing him all night only to run from his fingers.

If you were squeezing that tight around two little digits, he wondered how you'd feel on his dick. How long it would take for your eyes to roll into the back of your head.

How quickly he could pull an orgasm out of you.

He let your arm fall, his slipping under to palm your ass and pull you closer. Tightening around your waist so you couldn't escape his fingers brutally pumping into you.

"ff-fUCK!" A gasp ripped from your chest, your eyes screwing shut at the blazing sin that just rippled through your body.

What was thAT???

A funny button in you was assaulted over and over and over again, forcing your walls to clench on command and send fiery tingles straight to your clit.

Desperate hands scrambled to find purchase around his neck, holding on for dear life. You felt yourself go tense at the relentless rhythm, but even moreso at the unfamiliar face shooting through your core. Slender fingers rutting in and pumping out—running juices down his wrist.

The squelching sounds penetrated your ears, mouth falling open as drool began to dribble down. You felt your brain fizzling out, eyes going cross—he was hitting that same spot over and over and over again. Dragging the breath from your lungs with every dip. And the few whines you failed to suppress that did slip out, couldn't compete with his merciless strokes. Purposefully working an angle that sent swarms of vibrations to your curling toes.

An unfamiliar warmth began to pool in your walls, making his dick twitch feeling your little pulses start to clench around his fingers. You were so close so fast, but then he slowed.

"Now tell me what you want."

You could die.

Literally die from the embarrassment, the desperation, the filthy way you were still trying to steal back even a smidge of that foreign but addicting touch by attempting to wiggle your hips you knew he wouldn't allow out of place—if you weren't hoping to die on his fingers first.

But a desperate pout formed, knowing he wouldn't give it to you without you folding.

And your pathetic pussy begged you to bend.

"I-I wan..." He grabbed your chin when your lips pursed closed, slotting his thumb between them to open them again.

No more hiding, no more silence, no more games.

His other thumb pressed right on your clit, fingers curling and stilling right against that magic button that blew fireworks into your rolling eyes. He was gonna make you talk.

And with a shaky breath, defeated and damn near pleading, you begged. "Please...make me c-cum." Looking at him like you were feeble and yearning. Like his demand was all that mattered. "Please."

There it was.

The submission he'd been waiting for all night.

Flushed cheeks and helpless doe eyes. Puffy lips slowly closing around his thumb and planting desperate kisses.

Neediness staring him in the face.

No longer caring that he literally had you wrapped around his finger.

He smirked, fighting the urge to cum just from sight. Right where he wanted you. Less was said.

You gaped when his knee moved, swiftly falling a few inches before he lifted your thigh—pressing it against the wall to spread you wide.

Sounds of your vinyl skirt stretching ripped through the air, and you should've been worrying about the possibility of it tearing if it weren't for fingers stealing your focus again. He hummed feeling easily slip back in, middle and ring fingers this time to hook perfectly inside and blow your g-spot to absolute smithereens.

Crying out, you almost drew blood from your lip as your body went rigid, clinging to him. The sensation you were just ready to sell your soul for relentlessly spamming on 1000.

If it was borderline too much before, with this new angle that lended him direct access, it was torturously too much now. But he could care less if you clawed his back to death as you tried to run to and run from the mouth-watering intensity.

Your pussy sounded so good for him, making him moan and grind his dick into your thigh like it was an extension of his fingers. Leaving hot kisses on your neck as his thumb drew dizzying circles on your clit. Making your toes flex and shaky foot slowly rise up off the ground. Obliterating what was left of free thought as your breath hitched.

He took in your rapturous face, feeling a rush of power and control surge through his veins. The authority he had over your body as he wrestled moans out of you filled him with an intoxicating sense of dominance.

Every gasp, every tremble, only fueled his intention to give you exactly what you didn't know you needed all night. To completely unravel under his command.

The fiery pool returned with a brain-altering vengeance and your pulses grew stronger and closer until he was absolutely positive you were seconds away from tasting heaven. And looking dead on into your blurry eyes, he finally gave you permission.

"Cum."

And the tight coil ruthlessly snapped. Walls surrendering to the all-consuming touch that sent your eyes rolling as your pussy harshly clenched on his fingers. Body arching into the fervid touch before you stopped breathing and your colorful vision went white.

Pornographic moans finally broke from you, loud and lewd and desperate enough you were sure you could draw a crowd.

And what a sight it was for Shoko to witness the very moment you tumbled into rapture, cigarette she stepped outside to smoke almost slipping from her lips.

The only witness of you climbing aboard the ecstasy train didn't think it would have led you this far, but the pledge you made earlier that year to swear off your freshman-year antics—sex and relationships included—was clearly long forgotten. Utahime didn't believe you, often provoked you even, and Shoko, not knowing you as well, just took our word for it.

But there you were, living out your wildest Skins dream. Holding hands with the Little Death with a side of alcohol and ecstasy. Cries falling on deaf ears and he continued to fuck you through your blinding orgasm.

Main character energy, she thought as she lit her cigarette, turning to leave before she was noticed. Taking note to maybe try that with Utahime one day.

Minutes later, you returned on the scene with Bambi legs, finding Shoko leaning against the entrance door. She stayed up front to make sure you made it back in safely and ignored the slick running down your legs you couldn't clean up until you got to the restroom. Naoya gave her a knowing win as he trailed behind you, but she got a weird feeling.

She was all for you finally having a bit of fun, but there was something specifically about Naoya that didn't sit right with her.

Maybe it was the way he carried himself, too cocky and self-assured. Or maybe it was his sly smirk that seemed to hint at something slightly predatory, looking at you in a way that felt less like affection or even lust and more like possession.

But maybe she was just thinking too hard and this was just a simple hookup you needed to shake off your shackles, put yourself back out there and never see the guy again.

That's what college life was. Hookup, discard, and repeat. Just another wild night to bank in your core memory.

And the night had certainly been beyond magic, and definitely home to one of the most intense orgasms you'd ever had, and when you thought back on it, that was one of the few times someone else managed to get you off...ever. But when you really took a moment to think about it, especially knowing what you know now, the more you chalked it up to probably being because of the drugs.

In actually, the frantically hot and spontaneous encounter that had you talking to God (very...interesting conversation) probably wouldn't have been that great if you were in your right mind, but your intoxicated hormones in the heat of the moment didn't care because it was a hell of a lot better than what you were used to.

Before that night, having big the 'O' during sex was like a myth to you.

Satisfaction either always narrowly escaped your grasp or was never on the table from the beginning, and for a while, you thought it was normal to always be left hot, bothered, and wanting more, ever since you first learned to do the horizontal dance.

Your own satisfaction was never a priority, never thought of or talked about, not even to yourself. With every partner, you made sure they were well taken care of, that they met sweet relief with heavy breaths and a smile on their sweaty faces every time. While your desires laid brushed aside, unspoken and unexplored.

But that night with Naoya was different—he was the first to turn the focus on you, the first time someone had taken care of you, even if it was grasping at straws.

He pined for your attention. He gave you effort. A night full of impulsivity, unpredictability, mystery, and challenge—all wrapped up in a flaming hot bow.

Everything you thought you lost, everything you thought you needed in a boyfriend.

Having one of those was a staple in high school that you missed out on because of your hectic and busy schedule on the road. So when you got to college, you sure knew how to pick them. Freshman year was a joke.

You went through one relationship and one 'situationship' before throwing in the towel in favor of hookups. At least those were less painful and had a clear deadline for when they would end.

No surprises, no heartaches, no one to blame. Just a mutual parting

But Naoya was something you simply could not walk away from, and by the way he stuck to you like glue for weeks, randomly popping up at your campus and whisking you away into his world for hours on end until you made him your boyfriend, neither could he.

Everything about being with Naoya was perfect.

His eagerness to chauffer his passenger princess around in his real-life Hot Wheel, taking you to the coolest spots, just like that night, and introducing you to all kinds of mesmerizing people. Always ending the night with feverish, snaking hot that groped your willing body into submission and made you feel more special than anyone else he could ever know.

His.

The ideal boyfriend: attentive and charismatic. A constant thrill.

A bit too much of a thrill.

Slowly, but surely merging into a slightly loose canon as unexpected droplets of a storm began to form. His charm and attention and lust and want and need for you were still there, but so were the cracks that gradually began to chip and show.

For one, Naoya wasn't in school, which was fine; instead, he called himself an entrepreneur. Though, exactly what he did was always a bit of a mystery.

His days were filled with handling sketchy 'business deals' and half-baked schemes that, over time, almost always failed and ended with him turning to you to help bail him out.

Your brains, your beauty, your sweet charm.

Whatever he could use to settle a deal and handle business.

It was what girlfriends did, you thought. Supporting your man was something you never second-guess, never even questioned as you knew he would have your back as much as you had his.

Until he didn't.

Having a habit of making big promises and diving headfirst into opportunities that almost always seemed too good to be true, that fearless confidence you fell in love with, once landed him in an embarrassing mess.

Weeks spent bragging about a "surefire" investment with one of his partners to not only end up in the red but also behind bars. And on the phone sounding like a kicked puppy. Asking you to bail him out.

It was the first time either of you had been thrust into such a serious situation, even if it was just a small charge, but Naoya swore it wasn't a big deal. Admitting that he had made mistakes but promising his intentions were pure.

"I did it for us," he said, voice lined with shame and apology, repeating that you deserved better but that he was trying—really trying—to give you everything you needed. So full of regret for even slightly jeopardizing what you two had built and you had never heard him so vulnerable and sorry as he promised it would never happen again.

Dragging your heart into the ground.

But as painful as it was to hear your boyfriend plead to save your relationship, nothing could have prepared you for the pain of swiping your card and watching the last of your savings disappear to keep it going.

Making up your mind that this was just another storm to weather amidst the whirlwind of hurricanes that was Naoya because he had been so good to you. Surely you could look over his idiotic mistake and help him out this one time. He only did it for you after all. 

To you, he had his quirks. To everyone else, he was shit.

But being there for him kind of reminded you of why you chose healthcare.

Your pocket vibrated, making you let go of your souvenir and memories of that night as you fished out your phone before sighing.

Speak of the Devil, you'd just thought him up.

"Hi, baby."

"Hey babe, how's my Doll?"

You relaxed on the bench, blushing. He sounded like he was in a good mood—always did when he used the little nickname he gave you that made you feel so small and safe.

Stress slowly left your body as you vented about work and how you were not looking forward to getting off only to clock right back in to study for your upcoming exam when you returned to your dorm.

"Aw, baby." You thought you could hear him pout through the phone. "How 'bout we blow off some steam when you're done? A little reward?"

You raised a brow. "Whatcha got in mind?" Hoping it wasn't the usual invitation to just 'solve your problems' with sex or some wild night on the town.

"One of the guys found his Nintendo 64, and I thought we could borrow it and play some games, ya?"

"Oooo," you sat up. "What games?" You hadn't had time to plop down in front of a TV to watch a show, let alone play a game in years.

"Uhh, mostly action, RPG and fantasy. Some kid games like Mario Kart and Lego Racers, but I was thinking we could 1V1 in J-League."

And suddenly, you were back in a familiar living room you hadn't seen in years.

Plush, brown carpet soft beneath your thighs, you sat cross-legged, Wii controller cool in your hands. Room dim, the glow of the TV casts flickering lights across your eyes as sounds of fast-paced music fill your ears.

Suguru nudges your shoulder, "C'mon keep up." And smiles.

And you gently smile back, feeling pulled into the waves of nostalgia. The memory and others alike always so soft, so easy. So comforting to fall into the world of one of the last times you two had fun together, before he made high school hell.

Now you were sure he was off somewhere traveling the world and living his best life.

Your life.

What it was supposed to be.

The walls were back up to shield you from the bittersweet ache.

Naoya was right. Mario Kart was for kids.

"You still there?"

"Ya, babe." You sighed to yourself, reminding yourself that those who needed to be in your life we're here now, not in the past. "I would love to. You're best." You smiled.

He laughs. "In bed, too."

..debatable.

extended angel's note: i hope you guys didn't mind the little "diversion" this story had to take (i am not in control) BUT i promise it all serves a purpose. your basket should be good and full with enough little easter eggs now to finally close out the story in part 3 where it all comes together to absolutely blow your angsty socks (and panties) off. it'll all be worth the wait (is highkey the morale of the story 🤠) thank you for rocking with me

p.s. sorry for the Naoya jumpscare but how are we all feeling about your lovely boyfriend 🤩💗

tag list: @7thsthings @elliesndg @jirishnesensei @blkkizzat

[mieldreams]

Payal

Summary: Anakin Skywalker is the roommate of your best friend's crush. That's all. Well, he's also a pain in the ass. But could one dance and a lucky pair of payal change things?

pairing: Anakin Skywalker x desi!reader (or just reader who's familiar/involved with that culture, no physical descriptions involved)

Warnings: None, except for 'i haven't proofread a single fucking thing' :) sorry for the mistakes in advance.

A/n: wrote something on a whim again (this is the first ever time I've written a proper fanfic tho *_*). Happy navratri y'all

Edit: Here's some payal playbacks aka any moodboard/refs if you want to know (songs, outfits, word meanings etc.)

It was Navratri, the festival in honour of the Goddess Durga. Nine nights of colours, prayers, and a whole lot of dancing. Oh, and the sweets! You couldn't wait to just rot your teeth on those festive delicacies.

It was the 5th night of festivities and today's celebrations were mainly the daily prayer and the dandiya dance. The special event for today however, was the ladies' dance competition. Your best friend had practically dragged your ass to get your name registered along with hers and your other friend Pari's, a half-assed promise of treating you to your favourite food at that fancy restaurant on the other side of the city to bribe you into the elaborate bollywood-esque romance scheme to seduce her crush. "There's no seducing!" she whisper-shouted, standing at the booth where you had to give your name, her cheeks immediately heating up at your insinuation. "I just want him to... see me, you know?" and you couldn't help but mentally scoff at that, why was she so blind? "Plus the price is money," she added, smirking as she picked up the pen to write down the names.

"Well shit, you should've said that first girl, I'm always looking to make me some moolah" your smirk matching hers even though your brain was already exhausted just *thinking* about the hours of practice she was gonna make you do to make sure everything was perfect to the T. That was over a week back, and after hours of choreographing and practising and picking out the costumes, the day was here, and despite all the whining you had done during practice, you couldn't deny that you actually hoped that her plan worked. Was it because you were tired of your oblivious best friend and her equally oblivious man playing dog and the bone with their feelings? Nooo, you could never be tired of your darling best friend's endless rants about how 'handsome he looked at the cafeteria today, in his lucky white cashmere sweater his ex-grandma gifted him in 2019' (how did she know that?) or how 'it's so sad his little sister's goldfish died because it jumped into the pot of boiling water for tea, and they've invited us to its funeral' (what?). And it most definitely wasn't because you were starting to get sick of having to watch them make those nauseating googly eyes at each other every time you hung out, for the past year. (though you wondered if it would only get worse when they finally got together.)

That's right, when, because if those two failed to get their ship sailing after tonight, you were 100% planning on just walking up to each of them, asking them what time they're free for dinner and setting them up on a date yourself. Your mental planning however, was disrupted by the creaking of the metal gate to the lawn space that had been rented for the festival. You turned around, a smile immediately pulling on your lips at the sight of the said man you were downright ready to shake like a maraca till your best friend got her deserved confession (though you expected the same on her end as well, of course). Though the smile immediately fell as well at the sight of another man walking in right behind him. Anakin. What the hell was he doing here? And truly, the scowl that pulled on your face was hardly your fault when his eyes met yours and his lips immediately turned up into that infuriating smirk as the two of them headed towards you. But before you yourself could march up to him and demand why he was here, your best friend ran up to you, gripping your arm to stop herself from crashing into you (you supposed the accidental intervention was for the better, since asking him such a thing might only give him more reason to mock you, it was obvious he was here with Krish, your best friend's crush who was also very unfortunately college roommates with Anakin, seriously how did someone as sweet as that guy get stuck with a moron like him?).

"C'mon it's time for the competition to start, ours is literally the second performance!" She started to drag you by the arm only to stop immediately at the sight of Krish causing you to crash into her. "Are we sure you can dance in the competition when you can hardly manage to walk without stumbling?" his voice immediately caused you to raise your head, glaring daggers as you squared up to throw your own taunt about how he just had to be oh so special and wear black even though tonight's theme was white. Unfortunately, you were beaten by Krish as he elbowed Anakin harshly in the rib, making you snicker at his grunt of pain, before walking even closer towards your best friend. "Aamani... hi," Krish breathed out, shifting his weight from one foot to another. And though you wanted to roll your eyes at how his eyes seemed to literally twinkle as he looked at your best friend, or how he always took time to call her by her full name despite all her friends calling her Manu, like he just had to say it every time to even begin to appreciate her entire being that he was so clearly besotted with, you couldn't help the small smirk that tugged on your lips as you gently pried your arm out of her death grip. (when the hell did she get so strong?) ‘Let's leave them to it, then.’ You thought to yourself.

And with that you walked away towards the small stage, knowing they'd most likely not see or hear anything besides the other person for at least the next half hour. "They're not gonna leave each other's side for the rest of the night, are they?" Ugh, Anakin. How had you forgotten? and now he was following you, great. "Well, they wouldn't normally, but we do have to perform our dance and we're up second, which means the lovebirds will have to sacrifice at least half an hour for final practice and the performance." Hold on, why were you entertaining him? You stopped suddenly and turned to him with a scowl, "and I'll have you know I can dance very well and I-" "Is that why you're wearing red? for the dance? I thought the theme was white today," the audacity this man had to interrupt you. "Oh did you? Is that why you instead wore black?" you popped a hip with a closed fist resting on your hipbone, raising a jeering eyebrow at him, his eyes immediately drawn to the movement and indirectly your exposed midriff and then the shiny white stud in your belly button. He gulped before quickly averting his eyes to the stage behind you. "I think they announced that they're gonna be starting the competition soon," he replied instead.

Oh shit.

"Good luck" was all he said before walking away towards the audience gathering up for the performances. Oh shit, you really had to find your best friend fast.

───────── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ⁛ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──────────

Half an hour later with your costumes readjusted and makeup re-touched you were ready to get on stage. You weren't worried about messing up as much as you were about not keeping the same amount of energy for the next half an hour. That's right, your original plans of going mostly unnoticed as your best friend's supporting dancer for a mere 4-5 minutes went down the drain the minute she blabbered about you being a dancer as a kid to the aunty from down the block who was arranging her own group dance performance and immediately downright ordered you to join her group as well. At the time you didn't mind much but now, now you were wondering if you could pretend to sprain your ankle after your first performance to avoid the other one. I mean a whole half an hour of continuous dancing? and worse, the traitor that was your best friend wasn't in the second one and so you'd been entirely alone with a bunch of strangers during the first few practice sessions. (you knew it wasn't her fault the lady didn't ask her to join but you were sure she might have accommodated another person considering it was a big dance number) So here you were now, about 30 seconds away from getting on stage, sending a quick prayer that you don't throw up at any point considering they were pretty much back-to-back dances. As soon as you heard your group being announced the three of you walked onto the stage to get in your positions. You used the brief gap before the music started to scan the huge crowd, immediately spotting Krish almost at the very front of the audience, closest to where Manu was standing, but Anakin wasn't beside him like you expected. Your eyes continuing their scan to find him in the crowd before you even realised what you were doing. Wait, why the hell am I looking for him? I need to focus on the count before the music starts.

And as soon as the music started your body naturally moved to the rhythm and beat, a light laughter bubbling in your chest as you felt the stress melt away with each step. You had forgotten just how fun being on stage actually was, and with the atmosphere of such joy and celebration it was that much livelier. Before you know it, the performance was over, Krish walking quickly to the side of the stage as you got off, still high on the adrenaline and euphoria of performing after so long, and everything had gone smoothly too. It was hard to keep the smile off your face, even more so when you saw Manu and Krish talk animatedly at the bottom of the stairs to the stage, her head thrown back, laughing at something he said and then nodding enthusiastically with a toothy grin. Her expression changing to that of shock for a brief second as Krish immediately picks her up to twirl her around, her laughter dancing in the cold night air once again. It was only your obnoxiously loud teasing whistle that broke their bubble, though only temporarily. You had to go back on stage in five minutes and you wanted to make sure that Manu had company since you wouldn't be by her side for at least the next half an hour. Though realistically you knew it was her who wouldn't be by your side for the rest of the night. Ah, young love... or whatever.

"So now that the two of you have finally been cured of your obliviosis, have fun kiddos," you smirked, "and make sure to be safe." You winked at the pair, earning you a half-hearted angry call of your name from Manu as Krish let out an awkward nervous chuckle, burying his face into her shoulder. Aww, you had embarrassed them. "What? I'm just saying, have her back by 11." you gave a pointed look at him to which he immediately straightened up, enthusiastically nodding to your words while Manu continued to glare at you. "Back by 11? What am I in middle school?" "If you were in middle school I'd want you home by 9 Miss, just what the hell sorta parents did you have?" You looked down at your watch realising your 5-minute break was nearing its end. "Okay lovebirds, I gotta go, but seriously have her home safe if you guys decide to leave the ground," you said pointing a finger at Krish, "and you,"your finger pointing at Manu now, "don't forget to text me when you're leaving and when you get back home, alright?" She left his arms to quickly walk up the stairs to the top where you stood, pulling you into a bear hug as she rocked you side to side without even giving you a chance to hug her back as she held your arms at your sides, "I'll text you." She freed you from the hug to squeeze your palms in hers, "I had a lot of fun with the dance, thank you. And good luck with your next dance, sorry I won't be there to watch it, I mean we could stay till it gets over. we'll have the rest of the night anyway. Hey Krish, maybe we should stay for–"

But you immediately cut her off, "absolutely not, you've been looking forward to this day for almost a whole month now." You shook your head as you saw her open her mouth to argue, "plus I know you have that scarf you knitted for him in your bag." you smirked as her eyes went wide with surprise, not having expected you to know that. "Pulling that lovely 'oh it's a cold night, isn't it? Here, I just so happen to have this beautiful scarf that I definitely didn't knit just for you, here, let me wrap it around your beautiful neck. Oh no, you don't have to give it back to me at the end of the night, I have a matching one at home that I totally didn't plan as a couple’s thing, no seriously you can keep it' on him? There couldn't be a better opportunity." You laughed as her ears became bright red, "I hate you and your Nancy Drew observation skills." she mumbled out of puffed cheeks before immediately pulling you into another hug. "I love you. Good luck." "Thanks, I love you." In the end, you were about 2 minutes late to your dance and the aunty's scary face as she hurriedly signalled you to get into your position made you cringe on the inside, but oh well whatever, there were so many people you doubted that anyone had noticed there was supposed to be another dancer. You were here now anyway. You were halfway through the dance, your back turned to the audience when you felt a sharp gaze on you. Weird, there were about 100 people watching you, why did you feel this one particular stare stand out? It was only when you completed the circle to turn to face the audience again that you immediately connect gazes with the sharp eyes you had felt on you. Anakin. He was standing at the very back, close to the water coolers and refreshment tables, leaning on one of the empty tables with his arms crossed. His gaze never leaving yours. For a second your thoughts drifted and you were annoyed at how good he looked in the black shimmery kurta, though the top 3 buttons being left unbuttoned was so unnecessarily extra. The sleeves folded over his forearms that stretched the fabric, his collarbones standing out from the open collar. Such a slut. But damn did he look fine. Wait, what the hell? Focus, focus, focus. You couldn't lose count mid-step. And tripping right now would mess up everyone's steps since it was a circular movement. Why the hell would you trip over him anyway? Ugh. And so you focused back on your steps, continuing to feel that strange unwavering gaze on you for the rest of your dance.

Half an hour later, you were entirely done with the dance competition. Your feet hurt, your stomach was grumbling every few seconds and you were sure you'd be getting a headache from being so close to the speakers for so long. Thankfully, the emcee had announced a short break for refreshments and such, before the rest of the dances and then the final event to end the night — the dandiya dance. Were you positively exhausted and maybe even getting real tired of all the dancing and loud music? Most definitely. But Manu had texted you saying they'd be back for the final dandiya dance and you were really hoping to get to dance at least once with her, you know, outside the competition, just for funsies sort of stuff. So your irritation? Nothing some tasty snacks and maybe a cold drink couldn't solve. That was until an unfortunately familiar face came into your view as he plopped into the seat right next to yours at the circular table. Not the two other tables that were entirely empty (wasn't he supposed to be some emo loner who preferred to sulk in a corner?) or even the chair on the other side of the table (though you wondered if having him directly in your line of sight would make it worse). But no, he just had to sit right next to you with his stupid pretty eyes purposefully not meeting yours and his annoying plump lips innocently wrapping around the spoon with a piece of gulab jamun on it. He didn't even like sweets.

"Um— what the hell?" "What?" he looked at you with doe eyes rounded in innocence, and your eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Nothing, never mind," you were too tired and too hungry to start anything right now and what would you even ask, 'Why the hell are you sitting next to me?' 'didn't know there was some rule telling me where I can sit' is what he'd say, maybe roll his eyes at you, the usual stuff. So you continued eating your puff pastry in silence. Until you just had to ask, "I thought you didn't like sweets?" You tried to make your voice sound as non-judgemental as possible, you were only curious after all. "And who told you that?" he raised an eyebrow at you. Truthfully, nobody. But you had noticed the way he always avoided the dessert table at parties and functions, the way he only drank his coffee black; not even your best friend's infamous black forest cake that she had made for Krish's birthday a few months back had tempted him to even grab a Yolanda-approved bite. Yolanda would certainly be proud. Obviously, this had nothing to do with you observing him particularly, you just observed a lot of things around you, and he just very unfortunately happened to be around you a lot, being Krish's roommate and 'brotha from anotha motha' or whatever they said. And yet, here he was eating a freaking gulab jamun that was absolutely dripping with the sugary-est syrup. Did he hit his head on the way or something?

"Did you hit-" "I ran into Krish and Aamani, she told me to give this to you," he interrupted you yet again, turning to face you and pulling out a long silver chain-like thing, which upon a closer look you realised with an elated gasp, was the missing half of your lucky pair of payal, the one you'd been looking for everywhere earlier that evening. "I thought these came in pairs," it was a question from the tone with which he said it, but his eyes remained fixated on the jewellery in his hands, thumb running over the delicate silver with a gentleness you didn't know he possessed. You lifted the hem of your skirt a little, head tilting down to point at your left ankle, "they do. I just couldn't find the other one." You shook your head, going back to taking a sip of your drink, "I like the sound they make when you dance, it's fun, so I thought ek hai toh ek hi sahi," catching his questioning gaze you translated, "if there's only one then so be it, I hardly ever get to wear these anyway." You shrugged, "Manu must've found it later and forgotten to give it to me earlier. I think their dating honeymoon phase is gonna be worse than their not-dating honeymoon phase" You rolled your eyes affectionately, expecting him to make a teasing remark too or at least give you that amused smirk. Instead you saw him give an almost imperceptible yet decisive nod, quickly sliding off his chair to kneel in front of you. "What are you-" He gently lifted your right foot onto his folded knee, his nimble fingers making quick work of the clasp on your anklet. Your stomach fluttered as you felt the warmth of his hands on your cold bare ankle, and you were sure if you still had that sip of cold drink in your mouth, your lungs would be burning from snorting it down the wrong pipe, and definitely not because he might've stolen your breath. His fingers skimmed in a barely there touch down your foot. Till now, his gaze had been entirely focused on clasping the jewellery but now that he was done he lifted his head, looking directly into your eyes from his still kneeling position, your faces a few inches apart. This time you could feel your heart burn. Dang, maybe you should cut down on the greasy food and drinks. His gaze briefly shifted to your lips, but then he quickly got up, dusting off his pants, picking up his empty gulab jamun cup, throwing a quick, "I'mgonnagothrowthis" over his shoulder and then he was gone. He quickly disappeared into the crowds while you still sat there, entirely motionless. Your mind blank except for the phantom feeling from his feather touch on your skin.

It was finally time for the last round of dancing. You had run into Manu and Krish while carrying your trash to the bin, the emptiness of your thoughts completely overthrown by the excited shout of your name. You were surprised they had spotted you first, considering all the doped-up lovey smiles and heart-eyes you noticed when they walked to you. The brief hand squeeze and wide-eyed glance from her let you know you were in for an entire night of dramatic recalling of every detail of their evening and you could only shake your head with a fond smirk. As you all walked back towards the dance area, Manu spoke up, "Oh, did you get the payal I'd given Anakin to give to you?" she looked down at your feet though they were covered with your skirt. You supposed she heard them jingle, the sound louder and more noticeable now that you were wearing both of them. But her question brought back that unwanted memory from earlier in the evening instead, and you fought real hard to keep your face from heating up, inhaling a deep breath as inconspicuously as possible, "uh– yeah, he um.. he did." you nodded your head a little too aggressively, "I mean I got it, yeah." Lightly lifting your skirt to show your pair of anklets safely secured, by the most gentle hands you'd ever felt. This time you felt your ears undeniably heat up. 'What the hell? Why were you so fixated on that one thing? It was nothing. It's not like he was sliding a wedding ring on you or something.' Though for some reason, that thought only made your breath stutter as you felt the lava-like blood now rushing to your cheeks. Ugh, get a grip, get. a. grip. And since you were too busy trying to appear totally normal and shoot the butterflies in your stomach dead, you missed the mischievous look that Manu shot Krish as she gave a quick squeeze to his hand in hers. "Should we really have been spying on them like that? And worse, taking photos of them without them knowing?" and though his question was whispered through a sigh he squeezed her hand right back.

"Oh, hush. 10 years from now when they have cute little munchkins running around, I'll have proof to show that *I* was the one that set their ship sailing." she answered with a smirk. "You've thought about their kids? 10 years from now??" he raised his brows with an incredulous laugh. "Of course. I think about everything." Even the things that you were too practical to consider. Your words, not hers. 'Blind' is what she would call it. You may have the observation skills rivalling that of the most infamous detectives, but she had The Vision. And she knew in her guts that you two were just meant to end up together. "Oh yeah? Then what have you thought about our 10 years? We got 'cute little munchkins' in our cards too?" he tossed an arm around her shoulders, snuggling her close to him to teasingly tickle at her exposed waist. "Mmm, for now our cards hold a very very important mission." She answered and he sighed again, knowing exactly where this was heading. "Let me guess, mission 'get your best friend and my best friend together for the last dance to recreate another Bollywood-style romantic scene?" he raised a brow, coming to a stop as they reached the edge of the canopy of lights and fabrics. "It's only been a few hours and you've already gained the boyfriend-telepathy skills. Impressive." She wiggled her brows at him while turning around in his arms, "I need you to find Anakin and somehow get him to agree to dance." Sensing his hesitation she quickly continued, "I know it won't be easy, but you'll manage. Once we get them both here we need to make sure they're on opposite sides of the circle so that when the final song comes they'll be paired together" she finished. "You really have thought this through, huh? I can't guarantee that he'll agree to dance, I mean it's Anakin we're talking about," noticing her pleading pout he rolled his eyes in fond exasperation, "but I'll try."

With that, he left and she walked to where you were standing, finishing up talking to some old lady, no doubt held hostage to some good ol’ ‘I knew you since you were thisss little’ talk for the past few minutes that the two had spent whispering their plan, but she quickly patted your cheek and left. "So, tonight's the exclusive dandiya night," she wiggled her brows like it was supposed to mean something, it was. You laughed, not understanding her implication. "What about it?" She rolled her eyes good-naturedly, "it's dandiya dumbass. As in, you know, pairs dancing," she continued when she realised your light bulb was still dim. "Oh," you hadn't thought about that, too caught up in the dance competition to care about the other stuff. "Yeah, ‘oh.’ So, who you gonna choose?" "Um...you?" though it came out unsure. "I appreciate the sentiment babe, I really do. I would choose you too–" You raised a brow at that, "but?" "But'" she made a show of dragging out the word then throwing her arms out to her sides, "look at the crowd around you, there's so many kids our age, there's quite a few guys our age too." And finally you caught onto her line of thoughts, narrowing your eyes you shook your head. "Absolutely not. We are not doing this tonight, well I mean you're settled, so I'm not doing this tonight." But the fates seemed to be on her side that night, as she noticed Krish and Anakin talking a few paces away towards the outskirts of the canopy while you both stood at the centre, you hadn't noticed them yet but she could see Anakin shaking his head in a firm no as well. Gosh why were the both of you so difficult? But she also noticed another opportunity walk towards you, and a hopeful scenario played out in her head, courtesy of The Vision. And so she immediately got to work.

"Hey AJ!" she called out to the guy just about to walk by you a few steps away, "didn't you mention that you don't have a partner for tonight's dandiya?" Your eyes widened and you subtly tried to pinch her to stop her from saying the next words but it was too late, "My best friend here also doesn't have a partner, would you mind pairing up with her if you haven't already found someone else?" In speaking to the guy, both of you had turned to fully face him, so she couldn't see Anakin’s reaction anymore. She hoped he had heard what she had just asked this guy. He had. While the two had been devising their plan off to the side, you had been standing at the centre of the canopy taking time to clear your mind and cool yourself. Your gaze was immediately drawn to the gorgeous lights and colourful fabrics that hung above you, mesmerised by how pretty they looked standing out against the dark nighht sky beyond. And though you may never know, Anakin had spotted you right then, standing there in your pretty red ghagra, face tilted to look above you, and it had looked like one of the most gorgeous things he had ever seen, you had looked so pretty with all the lights gleaming in your eyes. And though he was too far to see it, he knew your gaze held that golden twinkle that shone every time you were genuinely happy, though he had hardly been on the receiving end of it. So he had always observed from afar, just as he was doing tonight. His thoughts had been interrupted by the movement of someone approaching him in his periphery. It turned out to be Krish, who clapped him on the back as a greeting and then asked him if he had eaten anything to which Anakin's mind flashed to the almost nauseating sweetness of the tooth-rotting dessert he'd had, immediately followed by the image of the delicate jewellery around your ankle and he quickly shut the door on that thought, instead answering with a single nod.

"Good, good 'cause you're gonna need some energy for a while." Anakin only raised an inquisitive eyebrow in response, while Krish thought of the best, most convincing way to... well, to convince him. "Y/N needs a partner..." "Okay…?" "For the dance, I mean. she needs a partner for the dandiya, she doesn't have one..." he trailed off again, should he just be straightforward with it? "It's you." "What?" Anakin's head snapped to look at him like he was insane. "It's you. You're going to dance with her." "What the fuck? No, I'm not?" it came out as a question because he was baffled as to how his own best friend could say something as dumb as that. Dancing? him? That's fucking funny. "Yes, you are. She needs a partner. You need a partner. The solution is obvious." "Like hell it is. I don't need a partner, 'cause I'm not fucking dancing." He shook his head decisively. "You want to though. You know you want to dance with her." Krish said with a pointed look. "And just what the hell made you think that?" "I'm your best friend, Ani. Do you think I'm blind or—" "Hey AJ!" Aamani's voice had carried over to the two of them, halting their conversation as their attention was now on the two of you, though your backs were turned to them. Aamani's voice was somehow loud enough that they got the gist of it, she had asked this AJ to be your partner, and from the way he walked over to the two of you, your best friend introducing you to each other, him shaking your hand and the dazzling smile you gave him in return, Anakin felt an irrational sorts of a burning pit in his stomach. "Well, looks like the deal's done. She's got her fucking partner." He pushed off the pillar he’d been leaning on, walking away. "Wait! Dude! Where you go—" "Out." and with that he quickly walked towards the back exit of the ground, walking through the gates and out into the cold night. But he had been wrong. AJ hadn't yet agreed to dance with you, or rather Aamani hadn't given him the chance to, stalling him by telling you that he was studying the same thing as you, though he went to a different university. She had been buying time, hoping that any second now, Anakin and his impulsiveness would come barging and say that you've already got a partner. But time was running short as the conversation between the two of you came back to the topic of tonight's dance. "So, you don't have a partner for the dandiya either?" she heard him ask. Where the hell was Anakin? But her movie-like vision for his entrance onto the scene immediately shattered when she turned to see what was holding him, only to see Anakin nowhere in sight and her boyfriend standing alone with a small frown on his face. Catching his eyes she sent him a questioning look, to which he only shook his head dejectedly. And she knew her plan had failed. For her, at least. Because when she turned back around, she saw you agreeing with AJ to meet up under the canopy before the start of the dance before he excused himself, mentioning something about helping move the chairs or whatever. You too said something about meeting up with one of your older hometown friends you'd run into right before the dance competition. You'd promised to come find her when you were free to catch up on things. And so you left as well.

But at that point, Manu could only think about how wrong this was. She knew it was her who had asked AJ to dance with her best friend, so she couldn't blame him. But Anakin – Anakin she could blame. And she could also just about drag his ass back here to ask him what the hell was he doing? With the way the whole payal scene had gone, and knowing Anakin's possessive nature, she was almost 100% sure he'd metaphorically sweep you off your feet (before literally sweeping you off your feet during the dance). So why the hell was her best friend going to be dancing with a guy she was (frustratingly) getting along with instead?

Krish had walked his way back to stand behind her, but not even his warmth and the comforting palm he ran up and down her bare arm could stop the disappointed frown pulling on her lips. She turned to her boyfriend with a concerned expression, "Did I just accidentally push my best friend towards the wrong guy, with the right guy storming off to who knows where?"

Part 2: Jhumka

a/n: so.... there's 4 more nights left... do you think they'll ever get their dance? 👀

A/n: Thank you all so much if you spent your time on this trash wreckage fuelled by finals stress and unfulfilled dreams </3

Would love to hear feedback on this one! Don't hesitate to send me any ques or just anything that comes to mind relating to our dearest love-haters and the overzealous matchmakers ;)