#this is the squad dynamic YOU GET IT
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âïžđ¶ Come on, itâs lovely weather for a sleigh ride together with you đ¶đ·
Merry Christmas!! Hope youâre having a lovely time :))
IâM GONNA CRYYYY ITS THEM!!!!! MY BABIES!!!!!! I canât believe you drew my blorbos and this is SO delightful and I love it so so much thank you đ„șđ„șđ„ș
Happy Christmas Wife!!! âïžâš
#Arwenâs expression is so funny hejdjjdg poor girl got roped into something Again#this is the squad dynamic YOU GET IT#I love the chaos in this image#Harvey abt to lose his hat ksjssh#Iâm so honoured your drew my guys and they look so adorable in your style aaaaaa#donât mind me Iâm just sitting here. getting teary eyed at how cute you drew them đ„ș babies#literally a highlight of my Xmas <3 hope youâre also having a great time all the way over there wife#sorry for not posting this sooner this is my. 3rd attempt#at getting tumblr to do it on the terrible wifi at my grandmaâs house đ wish me luck#anyway Iâll be looking at this for the rest of my life#mattie#faves tag <3#hilda ocs tag#mattieverse
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Given all the ribbing Echo was giving Tech about his plans and sharing information...
... I can only imagine that Tech was just WAITING for his chance to say the same to Echo:
#they were definitely insta-friends from the moment echo officially joined the squad#besties who also lowkey annoy the crap out of each other#tech never actually takes offense to anything#but you just know he will DEFINITELY get you back eventually#echo be wondering how tech is so smart and so idiotic at the same time#tech be like âno but seriously it's so obvious do i need to spell EVERYTHING out?!?â#my favorite batchers#dynamic duo#the bad batch#star wars the bad batch#tbb tech#tbb echo
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cindy + studcoms compilation
#cindy the skull#steban the student communist#disco elysium#their dynamic is so funny to me. like as much as she ribs at them you can tell she still has a soft spot for them#and that they like her as well. or well i would say steban certainly moreso#steban also does mention getting cindy in the room regardless of whether she was mentioned earlier which i thought was nice#side note have you seen the disco elysium tvtropes page#like i found that first screenshot while looking for all the times cindy said communist#bc on her section it says that she supports communism âin spite of herselfâ so i was looking to see if she ever really mentioned it#in that sort of light but from what i was able to find (and from what you can see in the screenshots) she doesnt#and then it says TWICE on dros' page (among many many other things)#that he supports pederasty bc the commune legalized it#when he was calling gay people pederasts as a slur. & he uses it as a slur multiple more times in that same#conversation outside of that line#and they misspell dobreva's name as deobreva every single time its written (including in the section title)#and they listed her cause of death as being by firing squad#even though her suicide with abadanaiz is like#one of the two or three things we actually know about her#anyway i did actually create a tvtropes account because of this i hope you know that#just realized i forgot to tag ulixes#oh well
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I wanna. Pick them up in my mouth and shake 'em around like a dog obliterating a squeaky toy
#you can tag anyone you feel this way about but I was thinking about Rook hunt in particular#tbh I feel like he'd picture the same - just with Vil and Neige#he wanta his oshis to be besties (he is just lime me fr) (just a liiiittle furyher frim reality)#(I view neigexVil as nore of a crackship until we get more Neige development/lore)#(our queen Vil doesn't deserve to be genuinely shipped with someone who's kinda 2D rn.#But I respect people who flesh out neige with headcanons - they write the dynamics realy well tbh)#(hopefully we get more RSA development at some point I think that'd be cool)#(plus I'd cry if TWST just. stopped. after the last NRC OB)#(I mean it'd make sense aince that's where the story is based and it'll probably end once Yuu finds a way home#- which feels close now thanks to Ortho)#(But at the same time I. have been following this since it first came out when I was about 16 - same age as the first year squad lol)#(and I feel like it'd feel weird if we stopped getting main story updates)#(Im rambling a LOT lol - probably because I'm tipsy haha)#(hope someone can relate to my lamenting of future woes though)#(Oh well - I should atop borrowing sorrow from the future and live joyfully with the now)#(I do miss my friends who've stopped being in the fandom though - and my friends who deactivated and idk how to contact now)#(sugarandmelody... zacrazyvalentine... I miss them. but we had fun#writing and stuff. and I suppose that's what matters in the end. that we had fun.)#at least - I hope they had fun too. and I kinda hope they think about me how I think of them sometimes.#have a nice day if you're reading this. I rambled in the tags a while and I understand that it's kinda long lol.#and probably riddled with typos#I'm tearing up for some reason haha. well it is what it is#I hope each and every one of my followers know how amazing they are - I hope y'all have a wonderful day - evening - or night#I wish I could hug people across the internet lol#I should stop posting on tumblr while drinky haha#tw drunk#tw drinking#i'll tag it just in case#don't wanna cause discomfort and stuff
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Fudging the Jojoâs Bizarre Adventure Timeline so that I can pretend Giorno and Okuyasu could have interacted as kids
#Jjba#I think it has potential is all#Haruno and his mom live with DIO for a little while and Okuyasuâs dad has to come to Egypt on a âbusiness tripâ and takes the kids#And then an eyes of heaven or some such scenario happens where the Morioh and passione squads are meeting#And okuyasuâs just âwait a sec-HARUNO???â#Them being like those one time friends you have as kids like the other kid you meet in the hotel pool or at the park or smthn#What a weird dynamic that could be#The fucking baggage#I donât think oku would hold the DIO stuff against Giorno but just like. That was a weird time in his life.#Meanwhile Okuyasu is a connection to Haruno that giorno Does Not Want but also ITS OKUYASU#THE BEST BOY#YOU CANT NOT LIKE HIM#And Also like I think Okuyasu would sorta get it yknow. Wanting to distance yourself from who you used to be#either in the same way of seeing his younger self as âweakâ or relating to wanting to be a better person after meeting Josuke#Also Also giorno đ€ okuyasu đ€ abusive parents#Itâs not something you wanna bond over but damn if they arenât bonded over it#Anyway after the initial reunion Giorno would both die and kill for Okuyasu and Okuyasuâs like âyeah new old friend :Dâ#Okuyasuâs inherent ability to befriend Italians#Exactly ONE PERSON on ao3 sees my vision#Goblinpatrol if ur out there I love you
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are people misinterpreting my favs or are they cardboard cutouts ive projected personalities onto
#this wasnt ticked off by anything in particular i just want to share my thoughts#this is about hellsing#because i literally cant think of a time that fanon has handled pip in a way ive enjoyed#it gives me whiplash because i always write him as this like#genuinely loving caring human who doesn't *quite* understand what's going on#but deeply cares about seras nonetheless and by extension cares about the people around her too (even if he doesnt express it)#like yeah he's gonna stay goofy and his commitment is to The Bit but he has a soul#also this is bc i hate when people make him mean to integra#like bro that's your boss#and also arent you supposed to be a polycule?? GET ALONG#slams them together like barbie dolls#their dynamic could be unmatched theyre both madly in love with the same woman if they squaded up they would be unstoppable#eugh. who cares. what's hellsing. im drawing grellerin anyway.#hellsing
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Started thinking about the Amanda Waller + Ben Turner relationship again.... fuck, I'm gonna need a minute
#I JUST- SHDIAUDJSHDSHEYEYRYRYRY guys. guys#i know none of you see my vision and thats okay. i will make you see my vision. i will force you to see my vision. i will-#like jesus fucking christ oh my god. its so interesting and gives me so many emotions and just!!!#i know im not making sense bc none of my moots are sui sq fans and also like half of the content fucking me up specifically here is in my#head because i cant stop thinking about my absolute power fix it au but like!!!!!!!#also the fact i have a fix it for a comic that isnt out yet is so funny to me. its literally fucking real though. god knows we need it#may my own content carry me through the dark times (extreme villain waller arc)#anyways this fucks me up so bad you dont even know. someday ill actually explain it#dc hire me to write a suicide squad ongoing PLEASE. i could do it so good it would be so fucking good dc PLEASE đđđđđđ#also like this isnt me shipping them btw. like 110% not that. just to clarify.#i wouldnt even call it a friendship bc like. theyre not friends really. he has the most equal dynamic with her i would say but it still isnt#equal. shes v much his boss even though they have an understanding and respect there#like she believes and trusts in him much more than anybody really even himself. like she sees the good man and the leader even when he#doesnt. but she isnt nice about it. and there is a lot of conflict between them when there needs to be#like as much as ben is âwallers manâ--the team leader she wanted from the beginning before rick flagg pushed his way in#ben i would say is still a very moral person even when lost and unsure of himself and his goodness (which is like one of his main things)#like i feel like while amanda can lean very into a âthe ends justify the meansâ mindset in her worse moments and do bad things to get#herself out of a corner ben has like a deep and meaningful understanding of how the choices of your methods and how you act can weigh on you#like even though he was brainwashed and whatnot (thats still the story right? i cant remember) he holds a lot of guilt and baggage over his#actions and i think is able to temper amanda's worse tendencies in terms of that by calling her out when he recognizes that behavior#idk. i just really think that amanda waller and the suicide squad as a whole has lost its way without a more moral authority presence there.#like someone who can call her out and keep them more on track. which i really thing ben is and could be#i just very much am interested in their dynamic and how that would look like as equals and how i think they could help each other.#which ofc is what my wip is about and revolves around#blah#sui sq
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Canon Akito and An dynamic: friend rivalry. Akito is slightly annoyed by An and An likes to lightly tease Akito. They make the VBS songs. Akito helps An with having a partner. Both don't mind when the other talks about their partner. Both very dumb. Sibling like relationship
Fanon Akito and An dynamic: An bullies Akito. kito either fights back or cries to Toya. That's it
#Prsk fandom stop messing up An and Akito's dynamic challenge#i kinda see this as them demonizing An bc she's a girl or very sapphic coded#I find the fandom doesn't give as much love to the female cast as it should#That is a rant for another time someone else can write because I'm not good at writing rants. It will get very messy and scattered#Anygays I love canon platonic AkiAn#âyou talk about Kohane a lotâ âwell you talk about Toya a lot so we're evenâ âfair.â#and they just continue to talk about their s/o#pjsk akito#akito shinonome#an shiraishi#an project sekai#an pjsk#akito project sekai#vivid bad squad#vbs#project sekai
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Very much feeling the loss of character dynamics in these one/two person storylines.
Dax is being used as little more than a conversation partner for others to vent to, Bashir is there for medical stuff or to be the Friendly Extrovert in social situations, Kira is hardly even there and Sisko exists to be reported to and make command decisions.
SHOW ME MORE OF HOW THESE PEOPLE ACTUALLY INTERACT PLEASE YOU WERE SO GOOD AT IT
#loved what kira and dax had in the opening three-parter#already mentioned how much I like bashir and dax#right now the only dynamic we're getting is Odo and Quark#and I ALREADY KNOW THAT DYNAMIC IT'S COMPLETELY PREDICTABLE BY NOW#not that I don't like it#but YOU HAVE A WHOLE CAST USE THEM#got to see a little of bashir with o'brien in the previous episode#but it was... weird#the one's open nature working against him and the other showing a side of his personality I don't remember seeing hints of before#also this may be a nitpick because they're pretty similar I think#but bashir was a tennis player? not racquetball? and he said he *wasn't* actually all that good?#space station squad
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I might have said it before but I do like how in Pokémon Horizons Ikue Ohtani isn't just playing Pikachu with a hat on. Captain Pikachu has a distinct voice with gruffer tones than OG Pikachu, and it's generally more serious and less playful. Captain Pikachu doesn't fuck around.
#horizons has moments I really enjoy#but it doesn't do quite enough with its cast of human characters#it's unusual for a PokĂ©mon series to have so many adults in the main cast and I like the crew of the Brave Olivine#and their dynamic with each other and the kids is interesting and fun!#there's a moment in the current episode where Old Man Ludlow pulls off something unexpectedly cool and action-packed#and Roy excitedly shouts out 'You ruleâ Ludlow!'#just little interactions like that - like now Roy thinks Ludlow is really cool - which could be followed up more#there was a very curry-focused episode which was also looking at the friendship between Liko and Dot#I want to know more about the relationship between Murdock and Dot - she's his niece and lives with him but wouldn't talk to him for months#Dot's such an odd duck and her voice actress' performance is really deft and funny (as is Murdock's)#I would like it if they interacted more - like Murdock seems really eager to have a proper close relationship with her but is afraid to pus#Murdock is such a warm and caring character#also they really fumbled the opportunity I thought they were going for - I thought Mollie was going to be a Nurse Joy who didn't want to be#she changed her hairstyle and her name and her demeanour but still ended up being a nurse to PokĂ©mon just on a ship instead of in a Center#I think my problem here is that PokĂ©mon Horizons has all the set-up and characters to be a slice-of-life sitcom *with PokĂ©mon*#which would be really fun and I gather something like what PokĂ©mon Concierge is doing but I haven't really watched that yet#but it's more focused on - y'know - PokĂ©mon and a quest storyline that's honestly a bit limp#there's a HUGE Quirky Miniboss Squad and for what? they're not even getting defeated!#they're not really getting time to shine individually either#I want it to be a different type of show than it is trying to be I guess
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YOU. YOU GET IT. YOU FUCKING GET IT, IM FOLLOWING YOU
ah yeah because everybody suspects Rachel the cheerleader to be dating Mickey the basketball player in their little besties squad, everyone's gossiping about it 'did you hear about Rachel and Mickey? They're totally a thing' only for the pair of them to be totally unbothered, waiting for the perfect moment to reveal Rachel's dating Ema and Mickey's dating Spoon
#rebloggin time#harlan coben's shelter#YOU FUCKING GET IT DUDE#THIS IS THE EXACT DYNAMIC OF THIS SQUAD
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Squeeze Me, I Squeak!
While your interactions with Lieutenant Riley started out cold and tense, he's been warming up to your secondary specialty. Apparently, you make for a great stress-toy. (In which Ghost is a brat with authority, but you don't mind. You're a bit of a brat too.)
Original AO3 Link (I posted this a million years ago to AO3 and it was my first ever COD fic, inspired by a Discord chat and Badjhur audios. I figured it's about time I added it to the Tumblr masterlist for ease.)
Content: Dom/Sub Dynamics, Fraternization (therefore power imbalance), Medical Care (non-descriptive), Body Piercings, Safe/Sane/Consensual Intimacy
It starts with one simple catalyst: your cheeks.
Youâve been with the 141 for over half a dozen missions now. Three bullet grazes, two concussions, four sprains, and one nasty cold into your assignment under Captain Price, and quite pleased to be there. Heâs a good leader, trustworthy and steadfast, a bastion of experience and skill shielding your unconventional squad from red tape and repercussion.
Time is a little more fluid for you as the combat medic. Youâre awake about twice as long as youâre ever asleep. Anxiety tugs you from fitful rest to check on your patients â your boys â if any of them are laid up with more than a dislocation. It makes the days long, nights longer, and youâve lost track of how many calendar months since youâve officially been with the task force.
Long enough, though, that you feel like youâve got a handle on your squad and their personalities.
Captain Price is a grump about medical care. He understands the necessity, but resents the paperwork, time, materials, energy that goes into it. Heâs gracious to let you fuss (within reason) and youâre gracious to ignore his old man grumbling. And the cigars.
Gaz is an absolute peach. Sits still, asks for painkillers when he needs them, follows care instructions. The worst he does is whine, but thatâs only for the silly little injuries and the occasional flu shot. Heâs respectful, sometimes a little bashful, and friendly. He makes you feel welcome, bought you your first drink with the squad after a mission, and generally is a sweetheart.
Soap is fun. A bit rambunctious and fidgety on your table, but he tries, at least. Not as careful as youâd like him to be. Heâll give you a sheepish smile whenever you fuss that heâs pulling his stitches or straining a healing joint. He whines like a banshee over everything except the serious wounds, but paradoxically has to be strong-armed into painkillers for anything. He reminds you a bit of a husky.
His brand of friendliness comes with jokes and teasing, flirtations that heâs careful to never take too far. Youâll indulge him in return sometimes, especially if heâs having a rough go of it, but itâs all in good fun. A lot of your downtime is spent in his and Gazâs company, chatting about anything and everything, playing video games, or trying (the operative word here) to read. Heâs also, unfortunately, the one who came up with your nickname.
Then thereâs the lieutenant. You call him âthe lieutenantâ because you get the impression that heâd toss you out a window if you dared even utter his call sign.
The 141 isnât your first assignment; youâve been a combat medic for long enough that youâve seen the full range of patients in the military. Youâre no stranger to the puffed-up hyper-masculine men that practically resent your specialization.
âLike they think Iâll take their Man Card just for getting a plaster,â youâd once commiserated with a fellow medic.
The lieutenant goes a step beyond that. The best you can get out of him on a good day are one-word answers. A good day is if heâs hauling someone else to you. When itâs him that needs the care, well⊠you two often donât meet eye to eye. And not just because heâs roughly the size (and build) of a tank.
On your third mission with him, he suffered a knife wound to the hip. You hadnât been able to judge how deep it was between his gear and his evasiveness and youâd lost your temper.
âLieutenant Riley, stand fucking still,â you snapped.
âThe fuck did you just say to me?â he snarled.
And oh, you regretted every word youâd ever spoken in that moment. Had felt, with some certainty, that enemy combatants were not going to be what did you in. Cursed Price a little too, blaming him for this somehow.
But you were tired and a little pissed and had about a million other things to do that werenât chase after your lieutenant.
âI said standing fucking still,â you dared repeat, raising your voice.
âIâll have you booked with insubordination so fast, your fucking head will spin,â he growled.
âMedical treatment outranks everyone, sir,â you snapped back, just as fast. You were already snapping gloves on; he was finally still, after all, even if it was to yell at you. âSo if anyone can be written up, itâs you.â
âLassââ Soap tried, but you were already ducking down, eyes narrowed and gauze in hand.
You were relieved to see that it wasnât too bad. Slathered it with antibiotic and pinched it closed with butterflies, then straightened. It was done in under a minute and you were even more annoyed than before.
âAll that for fucking what,â you grumbled to yourself. Not quietly enough, apparently.
âThatâll do,â the lieutenant barked.
The unholy burning in his eyes informed you that youâd pushed your luck far, far enough.
You shut up and skittered off, had not been written up for insubordination, but received a well-meant âcool itâ from Price afterwards.
And Lieutenant Riley was⊠well, he was himself.
He doesnât make you bitch at him anymore, though â and you would be lying if you werenât a bit proud of that. By no means is he jumping to get treated, but he comes to you for the serious injuries and obliges if you manage to catch the non-fatal stuff.
Itâs not that you hold it against him. Medics are a sore spot for a lot of people, and Lieutenant Riley is more private than the average soldier. Heâs never actively rude, at least, apart from that one spat. Gruff and short maybe, but not mean. And youâre quite happy to have that, at least.
Besides, he watches out for you in the field, where it matters. Has literally hauled you to safety by your straps more than once. Ensures you get into exfil before him. Youâve even caught him giving you a quick, assessing check that all your gear was secure and ready.
You and he bicker at each other still, and you donât always come out victorious. There have been plenty of instances that heâs just marched away from you, long legs carrying him to some dark corner when he wonât entertain your nagging. Still, thereâs growing respect between you two, you sense. Heâs a solid CO, if much different from Price, confident and competent without being arrogant. And, well, he can be a bit rude (âabruptâ you demur to Soap, who cackles) but not disrespectful.
On his end, you think things change when he gets injured. Again. You donât know exactly whatâs happened, only that he was a little too close to an explosion. The edges of his balaclava are burnt, one damning edge melted to the skin of his neck. The real issue is the deep laceration thatâs sliced through the fabric. From what you can see, it starts behind his ear and slashes around his temple to take a sizable chip from the edge of his hard mask.
His bell has been rung enough that heâs silent when Soap drops him on your cot.
You do a concussion test â thank whatever higher powers there might be that he passes â and reassess the situation. Heâs bleeding, heâs burnt, his mask is a hindrance. Most other medics would pry the thing off and treat him regardless of his feelings on the matter.
But youâre not any other medic, youâre the 141âs medic. You have candy for Gaz and fidget toys for Soap and carry nicotine patches or gum for Price. Lieutenant Riley hardly even pulls his mask up to drink in front of you still. He doesnât trust easily (maybe not at all) but youâve managed not to fuck up this far and you wonât start now.
âNeed to take the skull off,â you inform him, âthe balaclava can stay.â
His shoulders drop just the smallest micro-fraction. Youâve made the right choice.
He lets you pull the hard mask away, eyes flickering to yours when you set it within his reach. You blink at him, just once, trying to convey that for all your differences and squabbles before, youâre his squad-mate, his medic, and youâre on his side.
Then you turn to the bleeding.
âGoing to cut a bigger hole,â you warn.
You donât know if heâs listening, if he cares, if heâd prefer you to be quiet. You do this for Gaz and Soap, and youâll do it for him until he tells you otherwise.
The surgical scissors make a perfect, neat line through the fabric. Blood stains dirty blond hair beneath your gloves, flattening the curls. Itâs a nasty wound, deep enough that itâll need stitches. You tell him as much as you clean it, efficient without being rough. You donât coddle your boys; they donât need it. The kindest thing you can do is always to just get it over with.
As you numb his skin and prep the sutures, you begin explaining the care instructions. Itâll cut down the amount of time heâll have to hang around after youâve finished treatment.
You fall quiet as you start stitching him up, bottom lip between your teeth to focus on speed and accuracy. On your little rolling stool, youâre trying not to loom over his prone form. Plenty of soldiers have bad reactions to being leaned over like this, and youâd expect it from any of the 141.
Your hand is starting to cramp by the time you get to the sharp cheekbone where the injury ends, but itâs done â possibly in record time. As you sit back to check your work, you catch his eye. His gaze is so heavy that youâre shocked you didnât feel its weight this whole time. Thereâs an odd glint to it, the calmest youâve ever seen from him. Especially on your medical cot.
âAll good, sir?â you ask.
âAffirmative.â
âThe burn now.â
You donât touch him, just direct his head at a good angle to treat his neck. You have to numb that too, see more of the tension drain from him when it takes effect. Christ, you hadnât even noticed. Heâs like a statue sometimes, bearing wounds that would have most other people in shambles.
ïżœïżœBurns are the worst,â you agree. âI hate getting them, hate treating them.â
âThere anything you like treating?â he grumbles.
You hum. âCommon cold. All you big boys get sleepy and nasally and pathetic.â
Thereâs a little puff of air that you recognize from comm banter with Soap â heâs amused. Youâve managed to get something like a laugh out of him. Buoyed by this, you proceed with the delicate process of treating melted fabric.
âPathetic, eh? Tell Johnny you said that.â
âI already told him when he got sick,â you gloat. âHe pouted. Might have a picture of it somewhere.â
When you chance to look away from your work, you catch his eye again, peering at you from his peripheral. You flash a grin â a little goofy from the high of a positive reaction â and then turn back.
âThat legal?â he asks. âPictures of patients.â
You arch an eyebrow, knowing heâll see it. âAre you going to lecture me about GDPR, Lieutenant Riley?â
âNot if it doesnât become my problem.â
You chuckle a little â heartened by your progress and by his unusual talkativeness. âHasnât yet,â you point out.
More likely to be Priceâs problem, anyway. Probably.
He lets you fall silent again to concentrate. Despite the severity, the affected area is smaller than you initially thought. Itâll be painful and scar like hell, but no skin grafts are necessary. You report this with obvious relief â good news all around as far as youâre concerned.
When youâre finally done, you scoot your chair back and turn to his (heavily redacted) chart, scribbling out the diagnosis and treatment. As youâre signing your initials, he calls for you by last name, tugging your gaze up.
âWas there something else, Lieutenant?â you ask, already scanning him for other injuries.
âNeed one more thing from you.â
You hum in question, folding his chart over. His hand comes up, still gloved.
And then he takes your cheek between thumb and forefinger. And pinches.
Your brain spits static, eyes going wide in shock and confusion. It takes you a beat to respond, and then only because his fingers tighten to the point it starts to ache.
âOw, Lieutenantââ you complain, still too surprised to really snap, one eye closing to express discomfort.
He releases you, staring at the spot he just grabbed. Itâs probably already turning red.
âAnyone ever tell you,â he drawls, slow and measuring, âhow round your cheeks are?â
Now youâre red for a different reason. You rub at the skin and scrunch your nose, unsuccessfully telling yourself that youâre not pouting like you joked Soap did.
âNo,â you huff, âbecause most people arenât dumb enough to say that to their medic.â
Your brain still isnât working right because thereâs no way youâd be implying that Lieutenant Riley is dumb if it was. The most personable you two have gotten before now was him buying you a drink after a mission, but heâd been buying everyone else a drink at the time.
âNot afraid of you, Squeaks.â
âIâm aware, Lieutenant.â
Youâre hoping heâll drop it, a little confused but also a little⊠flattered? Itâs difficult to parse what youâre feeling when heâs still staring at you with those dark, glittering eyes. Not that youâre looking. No, definitely not. In fact, you are doing your damnedest not to look at his eyes. Or his face.
Which is why you notice him tugging his glove off. And then reaching for you â for your face â again.
âHeyââ you start, but heâs already squeezing, just before the point youâd fussed last time.
âWant me to stop?â he asks.
⊠No.
âWant to know what youâre doinâ,â you deflect, brows furrowing.
Why are you letting him do this? You shouldnât let him do this. Itâs not that it hurts. Itâs just⊠principle. Military isnât an especially touchy-feely cuddly career field. Soap and Gaz are fairly tactile, true, but not⊠like this. But, well, maybe youâve missed it. This. Touches like this. Havenât seen friends youâre close to in a long time, donât have this kind of relationship with your family. Havenât had a partner in⊠a depressingly long time, and even then, it always took a while to get to this level of casual intimacy â if you got there at all.
âThought that was obvious,â the lieutenant replies.
The other hand, still gloved, finds your opposite cheek and pinches that one too. Your eyes are forced narrow as the skin is manipulated, bunched up. You make a noise in the back of your throat, tilting your head to accommodate.
ââS not,â you mumble. âWho are you, my auntie?â
ââM scarier than your auntie.â
You snort, edges of your mouth tugging up despite how heâs pulling your cheeks.
âNever met my auntie, then,â you giggle.
Noticing your grin, he lets one go, only to gently crush both in his ungloved hand. And god, itâs so big that he could span your jaw from middle finger to thumb. Instead, he smooshes your face until your mouth puckers. You must look like a fish â a dumbstruck, awkward fish.
âSir,â you slur out. He squeezes a little tighter, cutting off your ability to speak. Good thing, probably; youâre not sure what you would have said next.
âLike a little stress ball you are,â he muses, almost to himself.
That does prompt a laugh from you, the absurdity of the entire situation making you a little light- headed. Here is your huge, terrifying lieutenant, practically more legend than man, squishing your cheeks like a particularly long-suffering but beloved pet. You, the team medic, the person who pokes and prods at them more often than not. The one person in the 141 that you always thought he barely tolerated.
âNext time Iâm on the edge of tearinâ my hair out, Iâll just come to you for a squeeze.â
He emphasizes this with one last, extra scrunch that makes you humph in mild discomfort. But when he finally lets you go, you grin and shake your head, somehow more amused than annoyed or offended. It seems like you finally might be growing on your lieutenant. Thatâs nothing to sneeze at.
âTry it and youâll lose a finger, sir,â you tease.
âLike to see you try it, Squeaks.â
Your mistake was thinking that Simon âGhostâ Riley makes idle threats. (Not that you think that he was threatening you; if he was you know youâd know it.)
Heâs been out training recruits by himself â Gaz and Price on a mission, Soap laid up with a twisted knee â a task that already tends to irritate him. Add to that, the weather is fucking miserable. Hot as hell but also a little rainy, meaning that itâs humid as a swamp. Probably has been making his stitches and burn itch beneath the mask.
When he storms into the common room at the end of the day, you and Soap exchange looks. A lot of assassin-soldier to be barreling into a small room â and making a beeline straight for you.
âUh, sir?â you yelp. Consider a tactical retreat, but even that brief deliberation is too long. He crowds you against the counter you were making tea at and grabs your face.
He still has his gloves on, rough and uncomfortable on your skin. You wrinkle your nose, try to pull back, but his grip is too tight, so you just submit yourself to whatever is happening.
Apparently, âde-stressâ is happening.
His smooshes your face just like he had in the infirmary, and some of the tension in his shoulders drops. You blink as his grip relaxes, then tenses. And then again. And again. Again, again, again. It dawns on you that heâs literally treating your cheeks like his own personal stress ball.
You should be insulted. Outraged. Youâre not a toy.
âAll good, LT?â Soap ventures. Sounds like heâs defusing a bomb.
âFine, Johnny,â Ghost replies, almost absently. âLong day.â
âRecruits beinâ idjets, then?â
âFuckinâ muppets,â he agrees, less heated than heâd normally be.
Huh, you think. Is this⊠actually working?
You make eye contact with Johnny. He looks more blindsided than you, a bit like heâs witnessing your murder instead of being accosted by your strained lieutenant.
âCouldnât find their way out of a paper bag with a map.â
He squeezes a little tighter as he says it, prompting a noise of protest from you. It doesnât hurt yet, but your teeth are rubbing against soft tissue. He eases up again and meets your eyes, half-lidded and a touch warmer than youâre used to. The skin around his eyes eases bit by bit, and the line of his jaw beneath the balaclava looks relaxed.
You settle then, resting your weight back against the counter. Nothing untoward is happening, just Ghost being⊠honestly, a little weird. Itâs a nice thought actually, that your big scary LT is a weirdo. The kind of weirdo that would rather squish his medic than a stress ball.
Makes sense in a way, with how heâs always covered up and keeping a safe distance (physically and emotionally) between himself and others. Probably touch starved. Not sure why heâs picked you, but youâre happy that he did.
After a few minutes you pat his wrist, a gentle double tap. Like sparring. He lets you go.
âIâm making tea if youâd like a cup?â you offer.
âYeah, Sergeant. Earl Grey, left side of the cabinet.â
âYessir.â
You can feel Soap squinting.
âSince when are you two so chummy, eh?â he asks.
âSince always,â Ghost replies as if Soap is an idiot.
With your back turned, he canât see the grin that would surely give you away. âYeah, Soap, whereâve you been?â
âOch, now youâre taking the piss.â
You hand Ghost his tea and sit down to let Soap rant.
It has become a habit. Ghost gets annoyed at recruits, paperwork, bad intel â your cheeks get squished like itâs a family reunion. He starts removing his gloves at least. Warm, calloused hands are much more comfortable than textured gloves. Youâre starting to look forward to it, even.
Itâs not a long process. Heâll come find you, smoosh up your face until you wrinkle your nose, and then continues with his day, shoulders looser than when he appeared. You usually complain, whine that youâre in the middle of something, that he didnât even warn you, that his grip is too tight. But you never push him away or pull back. And he always honors your little tap-taps if you need to be freed before heâs ready to let go.
By this point, everyone on the team has seen it. Soap no longer brings it up, but sometimes informs you when Ghost appears with that Look about him. Gaz floundered the first time he saw it, stuttering and stumbling until Ghost told him to spit it out or shut up. Once after that, he asked if he could squeeze you for stress relief. You had to make Ghost let go from how tight his hand went. Gaz didnât ask again.
Price, shockingly enough, takes in the situation, then settles you with a nonjudgmental look.
âSolid, Sergeant?â
âYessir,â you manage around your pressed cheeks, adding a thumbs up.
âAs you were, then.â
And that was that.
Of course, with jobs like yours, some days are more stressful than others. Some days are hell on Earth. This mission wasnât quite that, but it did go to shit in a handbasket, and youâre ragged by the end of it. Gaz dislocated a shoulder, Soap is concussed. Price has a nasty road rash across one arm that he was a bit of an ass about tending â not that youâd say as much.
Even you are scuffed up. A hostile split your lip with a nasty jab that caught you off guard. (Ghost, right behind you at the time, stabbed the guy with vicious prejudice. Youâre trying not to be flattered and trying not to think about what it means that youâre failing.) Besides that, youâre exhausted, dehydrated, and youâre pretty sure you hurt your back trying to stabilize Soap at some point.
Ghost is the only one that made it out unscathed as far as you can tell. You also know that thatâs more likely to put him in a mood than if heâd suffered alongside you all. Cold and detached as he might seem, he doesnât like seeing anyone in the 141 hurt on his watch.
Youâre beside Soap, making sure he doesnât fall asleep on the transport back to base, but you can feel Ghostâs eyes on you. You make eye contact across the aisle. His shoulders are tight, arms crossed, hands clenching and unclenching. Heâs too disciplined to tap his foot or bounce his leg, but you know he would be if he was anyone else.
When you land, you send Soap to the infirmary for observation. Price decides on debrief after breakfast the next morning and slinks off to his office. Gaz follows after Soap to get painkillers and a sling. You shoot Ghost a long, tired look.
âCanât be a stress ball today,â you tell him, âmy mouth hurts.â
âI know.â
But still, heâs standing too close to you at the armory where youâve returned your weapons. His shoulders are bent slightly towards you, hands twitching at his sides. In all honesty, you wish that you could do your usual destress routine â because as much as he seems to enjoy having something/someone to squeeze, you enjoy having to sit still for a few moments of physical contact just as much.
And after thinking Soap cracked his skull, Gaz lost his arm, your captain got skinned, you need to decompress. And you need to do it with Ghost, who saved each and every one of you today.
âCâmon,â you say and, taking a chance, grab his hand.
He hums in question, but allows you to lead, careful not to grip too tight. The bones there are too delicate, and you need them in working order as their medic. He canât be so rough with them.
You practically drag him to the common room and put on the kettle. Understanding, Ghost preps the mugs and sachets of preferred tea. When the water is hot enough, you each make your tea, then tug him to the couch. You direct him into the corner â and itâs only then that you hesitate.
Instinct is to climb into his lap. Heâs a big man and you want to be cradled, but you also suspect the weight and warmth of another body would be soothing to him too. Instead, you clamber up as close to him as you can get, wedging your shoulder against his rubs and encouraging his arm around you.
It seems like he hesitates for a moment too. This is the most contact you two have ever had, regardless of how close he usually stands when heâs squeezing your face. Right now, youâre pressed together all down one side, your thigh overlapping his a little. After a moment, though, he releases a long breath and curls his arm around you. His hand settles naturally on your hip.Â
Itâs not long after that that the squeezing starts.
He's still got his gloves on and the skin on your hip is sensitive, usually hidden under layers of clothes, but youâre too snuggled in to disturb the arrangement now. Between the heat he radiates like a furnace, and your steaming tea, youâre quickly cozy and spaced out. The rhythm of his hand kneading plush flesh is soothing, something to drift back to while your mind goes blissfully blank of anything but safe, warm, comfy, quiet.
At some point, your mostly empty cup is plucked from your hand. You mumble a thank you and curl in closer, both legs over his lap now. His other hand rests on your lower thigh, just above your knee, and begins squeezing there too. Almost a massage, if not for the near-rough way he grips you.
âLike a cat,â you mumble, head lolling onto his shoulder.
âHm?â
âCat making biscuits.â
Thereâs a huff of air. You smile faintly and tilt your head away from the suddenly too-bright lights of the common room. Donât even realize youâve tucked into his neck until he rubs his jaw over the top of your head.
ââS nice,â you whisper.
He hums. You think it might be agreement. Must be, Ghost wouldnât be entertaining this if he didnât. Itâs a reassuring thought to drift off with, knowing that no matter what you want, heâll never do something just to be nice.
You wake the next morning horizontal, something too firm to be a pillow under your head. When you sit up a little, Ghostâs dark eyes are peering at you, heavy as usual, but not as sharp. His chest rumbles beneath your chin in greeting.
âMine or yours?â you mumble.
âMine.â
You hum, too sleepy to let the implications of such a big gesture make you anxious right now.
âYouâre a bad pillow,â you say instead.
Itâs a lie. Heâs a wonderful pillow. Jacked as he is, all that muscle is so plush and cushiony when itâs relaxed like this. Helps, also, that heâs still so warm.
âSlept on me just fine,â he grunts. âDrooled a little, too.â
âDid not.â
âExplain the wet spot on my tits then.â
You say the first thing that comes to mind. âLactating.â
âYouâre a freak.â
âStones in glass houses, sir.â
You close your eyes again for a moment, enjoying the dark room and heat beneath you. The best night of sleep youâve gotten in a long while, honestly. Especially with so much of the team injured.
Thereâs a tug at your hair, gentler than you usually get from Ghost.
âGet the fuck up, Squeaks,â he gruffs without any heat. In fact, he sounds like heâd rather you didnât. âNeed to piss and eat.â
âAt the same time?â you tease. Youâd sound more scandalized if you werenât still half asleep.
âYouâre fucking disgusting.â
 He rolls you onto the mattress and pushes himself up.
âMeet back here in fifteen. Fresh clothes, fresh face.â
âGonna squish it?â you ask.
âMaybe later, see how the day goes.â He pinches one of your cheeks anyway. Still rougher than most people would be, but for him itâs downright tender. You try not to lean into it, not sure if you succeed. Donât think either of you cares, really.
You lay there for another moment, listening to him bustle around his quarters, getting new clothes it sounds like.
âHow copy, sergeant?â
âSolid, sir.â
âFifteen.â
âYessir.â
You haul yourself up and trudge out of his room for a shower. Gonna need all fifteen of those minutes.
Breakfast is a quiet but pleasant affair. Gaz is using his sling and sore as all hell, but in high spirits. Soap is exhausted from two-hour wakeups and the sensitivity the concussion has left him with. The painkillers are helping, and despite all that, heâs in a decent (if slightly subdued) mood.
You snatch up a couple of dry muffins and an orange juice for Price before heading to debrief, plopping it all on his desk when you enter his office. Your efforts are rewarded with a fond smile.
Gaz and Soap take the two single chairs, probably afraid of falling asleep on the couch. Thatâs where you and Ghost end up, you pressed up against the arm and him⊠right next to you.
Not that youâre complaining. His thigh pressed against yours is a nice comfort. Reminiscent of how he made you feel the night before. A reminder that heâs here, that heâs solid and safe while you all recount the mission from the day before. If Price is shocked by you two practically nested up together, he doesnât show it.
Somewhere along the way, your hand reaches for something to fiddle with. Youâre not as restless as Soap, but you like something to keep busy while youâre thinking or anxious. Usually you tear up the inside of your mouth biting your lips, but you donât want to aggravate the healing split. Your fingers land on the pocket of Ghostâs cargos. The material is thick, the stitching an interesting texture, and the pockets have snaps that are quiet enough to play with during debrief.
Ghost lets you fidget in peace, only giving you a slight nod when you glance at him to check. His arm is resting along the couch behind you, and you can feel his fingers twisting into your loose hair. Fair exchange, you figure, and settle in.
Thereâs a brief call with Laswell to discuss next steps. You listen, but not closely. Youâre just a medical sergeant after all. Your opinion is considered when offered, but youâre not much of a strategist or tactician. Mostly, you go where you're directed, do as you're told, and keep everyone in one piece as best you can.
When itâs over, Soap helps haul you off the couch while Ghost stands, clipping his thigh pocket closed again.
âGood to see you two getting along,â Price calls as youâre leaving.
You glance over your shoulder, catch the smirk on his face, and stick out your tongue. And then promptly bolt, lest you be reprimanded for insubordination. Itâs a common threat in the 141; youâre not sure if anyone has actually been written up for it outside of a mission. You donât want to be the one to find out, though.
Soap cackles at you, Gaz calls you chicken shit. Ghost ruffles your hair and steers you towards his office.
âOi, where are you two off to?â Gaz asks.
âPaperwork,â Ghost replies shortly.
News to you, but sure. Some company would be nice while you fill out forms. That becomes mildly more difficult when he plops you into his lap, but you make do. Ghost keeps his office cold â all those layers, you figure â and the chair across from his desk is purposefully uncomfortable to discourage lingering. His broad thighs make a much better, warmer seat. The fact that he circles an arm around your waist, hugging you like a kid with a teddy bear is just a bonus. For all that, youâd figure out how to do reports on water.
You two should probably talk about this, or something. There are regulations or codes of conduct prohibiting this sort of behavior. Never mind that the interpersonal lines (the ones you actually care about) are starting to blur. But well, you donât have a problem with all this, and you wouldnât be breathing if he did. So, well, thereâs not much to talk about, is there?
âHey, LT?â
âMm.â
You watch him sign the bottom of a report, his signature an efficient and jagged thing, somehow still elegant. Like watching him practice with his knives. He flexes his hand when itâs done. You two have been at it for a while now. He hasnât said a word, but you know Ghost despises paperwork. You could both use a break.
âYou ever seen Halloween?â
âThe horror movie?â He pauses, thinks about it. âYeah.â
âThe next one is going to take place in the summer. Guess heâll be Michael Perspires.â
He goes still behind you. âWhat.â
âHeâs gotten a job as an electrician. Michael Wires.â
You keep your face forward and down, pretending to work, trying to swallow back hysterical giggles.
âSqueaksâŠâ
âHeâs into arson now as well. Michael Fires.â
His arm tightens around your waist. You wish you could see his face, but you know youâll break if you look. âShut the fuck up.â
âHe didnât tell the truth on his resume. Michael Liars.â
âIf you make another shitty Michael Myers pun, I swear to godââ
âYou donât like them?â you ask, grin so wide it hurts. âIâm going to Michael Cry-ers.â
âGod fucking dammit, Squeaks.â
You burst into laughter that is quickly cut short by his arm constricting like a snake. Even with your air supply diminished, wheezing a bit, you kick your feet in delight.
âG-Guess⊠guess youâreâŠâ you struggle to get it out between the lack of oxygen and your giggles. âGuess youâre M-Michael Tires of this joke.â
âIâm going to make you regret breathing at our next sparring session.â
And oh, you believe him. Your LT doesnât make idle threats. But youâre telling yourself that itâs so worth it this time. Soap is going to give you a fucking medal for this. You know, assuming Ghost doesnât snipe you when you try to tell the story.
Youâre still cackling, but it turns to squeals when you feel sharp pressure on your shoulder.
Heâs biting you.
âL-LT!â you gasp, scrabbling to push at his forehead without dislodging his mask. âFine, fine, Iâll stop!â
He growls, the sound burning through you, straight to the pit of your stomach. You choose to ignore that in exchange for the oddly ticklish sensation of him gnawing through your shirt.
Knowing by now that you wonât be free until heâs ready, you just try to sit still and not spur him on further. After a moment, he unlocks his jaw and speaks in your ear, voice low but unmistakably amused.
âMedic, stress ball, comedian, chew toy â anything you canât do, Sergeant?â he snarks.
You scrunch your nose at this new designation. âI am not a chew toy.â
âSeem pretty chewy to me,â he muses, sinking his teeth in again. You bark out reactive laughter and squirm, but his hold hasnât loosened a bit and youâre trapped against him.
âLT,â you complain like usual. âYouâre going to leave a mark.â
He doesnât respond verbally, but you feel his teeth dig in a little harder. Well, thatâs new. You still donât push him away, a not-so-small or secret part of you pleased by the idea of him leaving a bruise. It wouldnât even be visible. Just something to remind you of the trust your lieutenant has in you, in the bond you two have formed, unorthodox as it is.
You hand him a bottle of water when he finally releases you, to sooth his undoubtedly dry mouth. Thereâs a wet patch on your shirt (and probably your underwear) but you ignore it to return to your reports. He seems a little less reluctant to join you now, pleasingly.
Youâre not so sure about the âchew toyâ thing, but you definitely seem to be an effective stress relief.
Youâre having a great day. No one is injured, youâre caught up on paperwork. You pinned both Soap and Gaz during sparring earlier, earning a proud nod from Ghost and Price. There were pudding cups at lunch, and youâve made plans with the rest of the team to watch a movie in the common room tonight. Even your antisocial LT agreed to come.
In fact, heâs the first one there when you arrive in the early evening. You chirp a hello, heading for the pantry for popcorn. Soap and Gaz canât be trusted to make it without setting off the fire alarms.
Ghost hums in return, but he seems content to scroll on his phone, saving his energy for socializing. You donât mind his silence, never do. Not like he can chat when heâs biting you like a teething puppy. And he has been. A lot. His new favorite form of stress relief, apparently, apart from squishing your cheeks like usual.
If thereâs privacy for it, his teeth have been imprinting your arms, shoulders, even your hands in perfect pinpricked circles. Heâs not any gentler about it than he is smooshing up your face, and a couple times now youâve discovered bruises later on. You suspect thatâs his aim, especially when heâs more aggravated than stressed. A way to release aggression without wasting bullets at the range or beating the stuffing out of someone in the ring.
You donât mind, no matter how you complain aloud. It was a sudden step up in intimacy, but you like the feeling of his teeth on you. A way to get that soothing moment of forced stillness without losing the ability to speak, eat, or look around. And youâd be lying if you said you didnât like the mark either. Feels like a claim, one youâre not sure is actually being made â but youâre allowed to dream.
That said, Ghost is a bastard about it. If you thought he was pushy before, pinching your cheeks at inopportune times, the biting could almost be classified as a nuisance. Several times now, someone has walked into the common room to your forearm between Ghostâs jaws. Youâve lost count of how many conversations with Soap or Gaz have been interrupted by your lieutenantâs canines sinking into your shoulder or the meat of your thumb, tongue swiping excess saliva from bare skin.
Youâre ruminating on this as your fellow sergeants filter in, joking and laughing about something stupid the recruits did earlier.
Ghost has hardly looked up from his phone, only jerks his head in acknowledgement when they greet him. His shoulders are loose; heâs relaxed. You know better than to mistake it for being unaware of the environment, but⊠well, if there were ever a time for paybackâŠ
You leave the popcorn to finish in the microwave and stroll over to the couch. To your delight, Ghost shuffles a little to make room for you, an obvious invitation to cuddle up. Itâs almost enough to distract you from your mission. Almost.
You perch on the edge of the cushion, hook a thumb under the edge of his shirt. The break in routine draws his attention but doesnât seem to raise any alarms. He flicks his gaze up from the screen to catch your eyes. You lock gazes, tug the fabric up just the tiniest sliver. Then dart down and blow a deafening raspberry into the toned skin of his stomach.
Thereâs a moment of dead silence. Then you scramble up and bolt, yelping when you hear the heavy thump of boots behind you.
âSqueaks, you little shit!â he snarls, Manchester accent thicker than usual. And he gives Soap shit.
âIâm sorry, Iâm sorry!â you lie, revealed by your breathless giggles.
âIâll make you sorry!â
You believe him.
You skitter around Price, calling a frantic âhi, sirâ as you stumble to keep your footing. Ghost doesnât even bother with pleasantries, solely focused on getting ahold of you. Your only saving grace is being able to take corners faster than him, but his long legs eat distance like nothing and itâs only two hallways later that youâre snatched right off your feet.
You squeal, not sure if itâs in terror or delight, as he hauls you up and over one broad shoulder.
âGhost, wait no, I didnât mean it!â
âSure fucking seemed to,â he growls, manhandling a better grip on you.
You put up a bit of a struggle, but there's no question who would win even if you really did fight him. Instead, you press against his chest and arms, laughing as his fingertips dig roughly into your hips and thighs and waist.
âEarning your nickname today,â he mocks as he lugs you back to the common room.
When you arrive, Soap groans in dismay at your failure, Gaz taunts you for thinking you could get away with your stunt. Price just shakes his head, playing at exasperated but unable to hide his fondness. Ghost all but tosses you onto the couch and before you can scramble up, flops on top of you. All the breath is forced from your lungs with a little oof, feeling a bit like those animals that can flatten themselves to squeeze into small crevices.
âLT, I canât breathe,â you whine. âYouâre heavy.â
The cushions on the couch arenât luxurious by any means, but theyâre forgiving enough that you can, in fact, breathe. Itâs just a little more difficult than usual. Not difficult enough to tap out, though. You like the weight of him on you.
âShould have thought about that before being a little shit.â
You grumble; donât really have an argument for that but unwilling to cede the point.
âOi, you two done?â Gaz calls. âI wanna watch the movie.â
Price snorts. Soap, angel that he is, offers you the bowl of popcorn.
âNo one told you to wait, sergeant,â Ghost replies, bland.
âYeah,â you second, muffled and admittedly pathetic sounding. âTakes you five minutes to figure out the sound anyway.â
âWe all know youâre going to put the subtitles on, donât know why the volume matters,â Soap chimes in.
âItâs only for the Captainâs sake,â Gaz defends.
âNow what are you implying, Garrick?â Price asks, silky and dangerous.
You snuggle in happily, enjoying the moment of peace and companionship. No shooting, no bleeding, no nightmares. Just the five of you, alive and healthy, enjoying this little family theyâve built and brought you into.
You donât even realize youâve fallen asleep until the pressure is gone, Ghost wedging his arms between your lax body and the couch. Itâs cold without him as a personal blanket, and you curl into his arms with a discontent noise.
âAtta girl, Squeaks. I got you,â he rumbles.
You crack an eye open to check on everyone else by instinct. Gaz and Soap are leaning on each other, lightly snoring. It looks like Price is about to rouse them as well, but he shoots you and Ghost an especially soft look.
âTaking this one to bed, sir.â
âBe good to our girl, Lieutenant,â Price nods.
âAs good as she is to us,â Ghost agrees.
Youâre half-sure that youâre dreaming, but you smile at them both before tucking in and falling asleep again.
The next morning starts in Ghostâs bed, a place you find yourself often enough now that you recognize it as quickly as your own. Youâre all tangled up in each other, more than usual. There are fingers in your hair, scraping across your scalp. You could purr it feels so good, pressing your face into Ghostâs chest to let him get a new spot.
âDidnât even make it halfway through the movie,â he teases.
âSeen it before.â
âGaz is going to be cross.â
âHeâll understand â getting chased takes a lot of you.â
âDonât make me chase you down, then.â
You snort. If you have any say in it, youâll be instigating games like that much more. Something about the big scary Ghost dashing after you over a stupid little prank â and knowing that the worst youâll get out of it is a forceful cuddle â is not the deterrent it should be.
Still, thereâs a pattern to this little game of yours. You canât admit that you enjoy the play.
âNot my fault you canât take what you dish,â you reply, twisting to nip his chest through his shirt, as if to prove your point.
Itâs sharper than you would be with anyone else. Ghost, though, hums low and rough in his throat.
âIâve never done that bullshit you pulled last night,â he grumbles.
âLack of imagination on your part.â
He huffs, pinches your cheek and chuckles when you whine in complaint, muttering that itâs too early for his shit.
âCâmon, Squeaks, up and at âem. Before Soap takes all the blueberry.â
âYessirâŠâ you groan.
Ghost has been away. Price sent him and Gaz off on a stealth assignment, something that Soap is less suited to. Not that he couldnât do it if needed, but itâs more Gazâs specialty, so Price sent him. Soap isnât too bummed about it, though. Heâs been wreaking havoc around base with you casually egging him on from the sidelines, feeding into his chaos without being directly involved.
Not that Price would see it that way if he caught wind. But he hasnât, so youâre not in trouble yet.
You might be after this though.
One drink too many, Soap complaining that you always play it safe. And, to his credit, you do. He and Gaz are the troublemakers, you just like to watch and occasionally add your two cents to the explosive mix. Price has joked before that youâre the best behaved amongst the group, even over Ghost.
Not only are you the least experienced with combat, but youâre also the team medic. It often leaves you feeling like you have to maintain a certain level of decorum and responsibility alongside your officers. Itâs no wonder that you try to stay on the straight and narrow â the occasional snippy comment aside.
But this is beyond anything youâve dared.
Soap has had enough to point out the parlor down the street and dare you. Youâve had enough to be goaded into spitefully proving a point. If Gaz were here, he might be clever enough to dare Soap into something else to get him to back down. If Ghost were here, heâd scruff you both like unruly kittens and haul you back to base. If Price were here, youâd be running laps until you puke.
Instead, itâs just you and Soap. Ghost and Gaz arenât due back for a week and half, Price is probably buried waist deep in paperwork as usual. And thereâs no one to tell you not to.
And so Soap gets his nipples pierced and you get your tongue re-pierced, and you both wake up the next day a little hungover and a lot sore.
You consider taking it out but⊠well.
You kinda missed having it.
And you want to see how long itâll take Ghost to notice if you use your discreet jewelry.
You give Soap painkillers for his nipples and promise to hook him up with a good jewelry store recommendation. Then you spend the rest of the day trying not to talk. The rest of the week, really. If anyone notices, they donât mention it. Soap is always happy to talk for the both of you.
By the time Gaz and Ghost return, it hardly hurts anymore. Still healing, yes, but it only aches in the mornings now. You fit the flat-topped, clear ring into the piercing and go to meet the boys on the tarmac.
They exit the aircraft together, Gaz chatting about something and Ghost humoring him in characteristic silence. When the latter sees you, though, he makes a beeline. You let out a surprised but pleased noise as youâre scooped up, mask wedging into the space beneath your jaw to press against your neck.
âWelcome back, sir,â you manage, squeezing his shoulders.
He grunts in reply. You shoot Gaz a questioning look.
âIt was slow going,â he explains, âAnd the guys on the transport back were, uh, chatty.â
Ah. Set on your feet again, his gloved hands rise to squish your face like usual.
âDo the thing,â he gruffs.
You wrinkle your nose. Partially out of embarrassment, and partially because heâll see the piercing if youâre not careful.
âThat captain isââ
âThatâs an order, sergeant.â
You sigh. Then poke your tongue out as he smooshes your face further. He exhales like the first hit of nicotine for the day. You keep the jewelry hidden behind your teeth and are released a few seconds later.
âThatâs the stuff,â he says.
âChrist, LT, donât say it like that,â you complain.
Unsurprisingly, he ignores you, turning to Price.
âDebrief now?â
âIf you and Gaz donât need medical.â
They both shake their heads, and you make no secret that youâre pleased by this news.
As you head into the building, you find Ghostâs finger hooked into your belt loop, tugging you along to Priceâs office. You donât mention it, only arch an eyebrow when you catch his eye.
At the door, Price pauses, giving Ghost a long, exasperated look.
âYou know sheâs not actually a service animal, son?â
âThe intel isnât confidential.â
Price sighs, drags a hand down his face. âSuppose not. Get the fuck in, then, Squeaks.â
You get the fuck in.
As usual, Ghost stands, and youâre obliged to stand with him. In front of him, actually, his chin settling on top of your head while his hands settle on your shoulders, squeezing and kneading at the muscle. You tune out most of the conversation, only here for Ghostâs sake, apparently.
Not that you mind. Thereâs a large, loud part of you that is glowing with the knowledge that he missed you so much.
When itâs over, he doesnât even bother to stop at the mess hall. He picks you straight up and strides off to his quarters. You complain that he needs to eat, or at least drink water, but he doesnât even deign your fussing with a response.
He closes and locks the door when youâre both inside, then tosses you on the bed. It smells overwhelmingly of him: metal, gunpowder, standard issue detergent, and something spicy. Itâs a scent youâve become intimately familiar with â could get addicted to, if you let yourself.
You settle in amongst the crisp sheets and thin pillows, Ghost sheds his tac gear like a second skin. When heâs down to his undershirt and boxers, barefoot on the cold ground, you open your arms.
He climbs over you as you giggle, then unapologetically drops all his weight. You make your usual little oof sound, suspecting that he likes it, and tilt your head so he can press his face (without the skull mask) into your shoulder.
âSo how was it actually?â you ask.
âGaz was antsy the whole time. Said he sensed you and Soap up to something without him.â
You snort, relieved that he canât see the damning expression on your face right now.
 âThere isnât anything to get up to when heâs not here causing it,â you lie.
âDonât put anything past Soap, the crafty cunt.â
You grin, patting your hands lightly over his shoulder blades. âNice alliteration.â
He hums, slowly going boneless beneath your rhythmless tapping.
âMask,â he mutters.
It takes you a second to realize what he wants.
âYouâre asking me to pull it up so you can bite me?â you scoff.
âTelling, not asking,â he grumbles.
âOh for the love ofâŠâ
You do it anyway. Itâs not long before you feel his teeth, always sharper than you expect, latch onto the base of your neck. You tilt your chin back to give him comfortable access, staring up at the ceiling. How often does he sit here after nightmares, staring at it? Does he do it even when you sleepover, clinging onto him like a koala?
You lay like that for a while, fingers finding the fine blond hair peeking out from his rolled balaclava and scritching. One of his hands wedges beneath himself to find your hip, squeezing you tight enough that his nails scrape across your pants.
âSo what did you two get up to?â he asks, detaching eventually.
Your neck is aching pleasantly, mind drifting in peace, and you donât realize what heâs asking at first.
âWhat?â you ask.
You try to suppress a shiver as his tongue drags over the saliva he left on your neck. This is a normal part of the process, but that doesnât mean youâre immune to the pleasure it sends down your spine.
âYou and Soap,â he clarifies. âWhat did you do?â
âIt was mostly Soap,â you deflect, forgoing any attempt at innocence.
He snorts. âMy problem?â
You consider, humming. âProbably not.â
âProbably?â
You shrug. âDonât leave me unattended if you donât want paperwork.â
He nips sharply at the hinge of your jaw. âDidnât want to. Price said you donât have enough experience if things went to shit.â
You donât know how to feel that Ghost would have preferred you on a mission with him. Even over Soap? You know heâs fond of you, but you didnât realize it was enough to have you partnered with him on missions. It makes your chest warm and fluttery. The bastard.
âHeâs right,â you say instead of something unforgivably sentimental.
âImagine heâll overlook that when he finds out about your body candy.â
You squeak, eyes closing in regret. Well, it was a nice life while it lasted.
âThat fast?â you ask.
âSaw it as soon as you opened that pretty mouth,â he answers.
âItâs clear!â
âThought I wouldnât see a piece of plastic in your mouth, sergeant?â
You sigh, barely even noticing the bite he leaves on your collarbone. When he pushes his chest up to look at you, heâs half-lidded, almost lazy looking. But the corner of his mouth quirks up, just that slightest bit youâve become hypervigilant of. Your hands slide from his shoulders and curl into the front of his shirt.
âHow much trouble am I in?â you venture.
âA world of it,â he replies, voice pitching low and rough in a way thatâs just not fair.
âSoap did worse,â you complain, not above throwing him under the bus. This is his fault anyway.
âDonât care what Soap did. Care that you tried to hide it from me.â
He catches your chin between thumb and forefinger, gives it a little shake like a reprimand.
âWasnât hiding it,â you argue. âAt least not from you. Would have told you by the end of the week if you hadnât noticed.â
And you really would have. If Price hadnât been present on the tarmac, you had half a mind to show it off immediately, excited to be breaking the rules.
Ghost hums, eyes roving your face â apparently to determine the truth of your confession.
âDoesnât mean youâre off the hook,â he warns.
But you know that tone of voice by now. Youâre not off the hook yet.
ââŠWant me to take it out?â you try.
His eyes go from dark to pitch black. âNo.â
Oh?
Oh.
âWant⊠to see it?â
He hums. Not quite confirmation, but close enough. You donât even think before dropping your jaw, tongue rolling out over your bottom lip. He let out a short, hard breath. You see his jaw twitch.
Then he shifts.
His thumb lands on your tongue, much farther back than you expect but you donât flinch. He draws a line down the center to the flat top of your piercing and then presses down. You make a protesting noise, a warning because itâs still new and still sore. He doesnât let up but doesnât push any harder.
âSqueaks.â
You flutter your eyes open (when did they close?) and meet his eyes. They nearly absorb all the light in the room, twin blackholes drawing you in, inescapable and immutable. Thereâs a hunger lurking within, one you realize with a jolt youâve been seeing for a long time now.
Whatever he sees on your face, it makes him run his tongue along his own teeth â pearly white and perfectly straight. Then he ducks down and licks over your piercing, first in neat sweeps, and then in tight little circles around its circumference.
Trapped beneath him and mouth open, you canât swallow back the whine that peels from your throat. Youâd be embarrassed about it; except the noise you make when he stops is so much worse.
âTaste good,â he rumbles.
âThis another stress thing?â you ask, dizzy and flushed.
He smirks, chuckles deep in his chest. âIf it is, will you let me do it whenever I want?â
You nod, thoughts blurring at the edges. His smirk widens, but he obliges when you tug at his shirt, wanting him close, wanting him to do it again.
It takes a long time for it to evolve into an actual kiss. He spends what feels like a small eternity flicking his tongue over your piercing, around it. Itâs an unusual sensation, not quite ticklish, but decadent and erotic. At some point, quiet little noises start spilling from your throat and donât stop. He doesnât seem to mind, pressing down when the pitch goes higher â or maybe you pitch higher because heâs closer?
Eventually your jaw tires from hanging open, tongue aching at the stretch. You retract back into your own mouth, but Ghost chases after. Itâs like he forgot about actual kissing until that moment. And then he has something new to amuse himself with. His tongue explores your lips, the roof of your mouth, the back of your throat. He drags his sharp teeth over your bottom lip, growls when you return the favor in retaliation for the sting.
âThatâs my girl,â he rasps, âmy medic.â
You hum, reciprocate the thorough exploration he just gave you. He tastes a little metallic, but mostly he tastes like Ghost, like Simon, and itâs addicting.
âThink itâs a stress thing for me too,â you murmur when you pull away for air.
âYeah?â He trails his mouth down your jaw, teeth scraping. âAnxious while I was gone?â
You nod. You always worry about the boys when theyâre away, when youâre not there for a worst-case scenario. But you thought about your lieutenant especially, wondering at his mood, at his feelings, without your usual daily interactions. His absence left you feeling twitchy, a little unmoored. You wonder â hope â if he felt the same.
âTake what you need, then,â he whispers. âDonât mind returning the favor.â
You sink your nails into his shoulders, rake them down his back and sides, treating him like a scratching post. He shivers, puffs out a hot breath by your ear. Your mouth finds that strong, sharp jaw and latches on, sucking and biting, worrying the skin until you pull away to a dark bruise.
âGo on,â he urges.
You do, making a trail down his neck, then across. Tug at his shirt when it gets in the way. He leans back to pull it over his head. You nearly tackle him, mapping out the swell of hard muscles, licking over the angry lines you clawed into him.
âEasy now, precious,â he purrs. âNo rush.â
You make a disagreeing noise, lips never leaving his skin. One hand tangles in your hair, petting and holding, not guiding. His other drifts down to your ass and grips like a vice. It hurts a little; it feels so fucking good. There will be bruises for days.
When your nails scratch across his hip, he bucks, fingers spasming against your scalp.
âCareful,â he growls. âAsking for something you might not be ready for.â
You hum. âMaybe,â you agree honestly. âIâve neverâŠâ
He goes rigid. Worried, you glance up. His bare chest (marked up by your hands and mouth) is heaving. His jaw is slack, lips wet. You canât distinguish between pupil and iris anymore.
âYou swear?â he asks, rough. âYouâve never fucked anyone before?â
âNo,â you say, not embarrassed, not with him. âGot close, but never managed it. Things always got in the way. Used to be a joke with my friends, that I was cursed.â
A fire alarm, an oblivious roommate, police knocking on the door, the roof falling in, once.
âYou have experience,â he asserts.
âDefinitely.â You quirk a wicked smile his way. âPlenty of practice with my mouthâŠâ
He shudders, tilting your head to a vulnerable angle, neck exposed.
âAnd my hands,â you add, gasping.
âYou keep pushing, petâŠâ he rumbles.
You whine. âWant to, with you. Want it to be you, Simon.â
His lips crash into yours, messy and filthy, licking all the needy sounds from your mouth.
âStrip, sergeant. Now.â
You scramble to obey, wiggling out of your clothes as quickly as you can while still half under him.
âAlways so good for me,â he hums. âAlways follow my orders, my good little sergeant.â
âYours,â you breathe against his mouth.
The last scrap of clothing is barely off when he pounces, hand flattening on your stomach and pressing you down into the mattress. It nearly knocks the wind out of you, the force of it, pinning you. His eyes hungrily lock on your chest, on the smooth and unmarked skin of your breasts.
If you wanted to protest, you donât get the chance to. He descends on you like a starving man, all teeth and tongue, practically mauling you. You squirm, not sure where you want to go, just that itâs a lot of sensation all at once. He captures a perked nipple between his lips and sucks until you keen, knee bumping his flank like you want to kick him off.
He slots his hips between yours, presses up tight to trap you further. His free hand grasps at your other breast. Kneading roughly, then twisting and plucking at the rosy nipple until youâre crying out, nearly thrashing. When heâs satisfied, he switches his hand and mouth, spinning you up and up until your breasts are aching and the best kind of sore. He finally pulls off with a lewd pop, mouth slick, rosettes left all over you in his wake.
âTrying to kill me,â you pant.
He smirks, drops one last soothing kiss on your sternum. Then extricates himself to remove the last of his own clothing. His dick springs free from his waistband, slapping obscenely against his stomach. You freeze when the dim light glints off bits of metal.
âIs thatâŠ?â
âCome find out.â
You scoot to the edge of the bed and brush your fingertips over the hypnotizing ladder of studs along the shaft. Which, now that youâre closer and your hand is there for scale, is huge. Like, almost pornographic. You didnât know that existed outside of raunchy media. Thatâs been under you, snuggled up to you, beneath your ass â for months now.
âOh my god, Simon,â you gulp. âIs that going toâŠ?â
âIt will if you can be patient for me.â
âOkay,â you say, eyes never leaving the glittering silver row. You trust him. As rough as he can be, heâs never hurt you. Not in any way you didnât crave.
His hand catches your chin again, tips your gaze back to his. âAnother time, lovely. Give your tongue a break.â
You whine but sit back on your haunches, hands planted between your knees. âThen hurry up.â
His thumb caresses your jaw, presses in warning. âPatient, I said.â
âIâve been patient,â you argue. âGimme.â
That coaxes a chuckle out of him. He plants a hand on your shoulder and shoves. You land on your back again, stretch your legs to hang over the side of the bed. He lowers to his knees between them, thick thighs flexing. His hands slide under your hips and drag until your thighs are over his shoulders.
âFuck,â you breathe, âSimon.â
âThatâs it, lovely,â he coos, teeth grazing your hip. âJust lay there saying my name. Let me play with my toy.â
Youâre so wet that you can feel it all over your inner thighs, would be embarrassed if not for the absolutely feral noise he makes at the sight.
âMade a mess.â He draws his tongue up your thigh, sucks at the junction where it meets your hip, loud in the quiet room. âYou always like this for me?â
âMhmm,â you whimper out, squeezing your eyes shut. Itâs true. You canât count the number of times youâve gone back to your room just to change panties.
âThatâs my girl.â
He spends an agonizing amount of time licking, biting, and sucking your thighs. Your pleading and whining is met with indifference or absent chuckles. The need has long since tipped over into desperation, muscles twitching with little sparks of pleasure at every graze of teeth and sharp suck.
Youâre already both understimulated and overstimulated when he clamps down especially hard, think heâs broken skin for a moment. Frustrated tears have been dancing at the edges of your vision for a while now and they spill over at the blissful burn that shoots through your leg.
âSimon, Simon, please,â you sob, âplease, want it. Please, justââ
He shushes you, soothing the hurt with his tongue until your babbling trails off into little sniffles.
âHow copy?â he hushes.
âS-Solid,â you answer. âJust a lot.â
âTactical retreat?â
âNo.â You take a shuddering breath. âNo, please. Want to keep going, sir.â
His breath is also unsteady as it brushes over your sensitive skin. âAlright, precious. Tap out if you need.â
You snake a hand down the bed and find his wrist, digging your nails in as you squeeze. A promise to honor his command.
He groans low in his throat, eyes smoldering as he looks up your heaving body.
âPretty when you cry,â he rasps. âWill you do it more if I play with your needy clit?â
âN-no,â you lie.
He calls your bluff, pressing his mouth to your pussy and making a long, slow pass up your slit. You shake and whimper high-pitched, almost hurt sounding. He swirls the tip over your throbbing clit, sucks gently every few passes. You press your eyes shut, too gone to try to stop the reactionary tears any other way.
Itâs a quirk of sex youâve always had. Not prone to crying emotionally or from pain, but when the arousal or pleasure gets too intense, your eyes water like rivers. Some partners have found it off-putting, but the louder you wail and hiccup and cry, the more eager Simon gets. Like heâs got a direct line to heavenâs choir with his tongue.
Youâre gripping his wrist so tight that you must be close to drawing blood, but he doesnât do more than flex his fingers on your ass. Keeps you right there against his mouth, so that all you can do is take exactly what he gives you.
He seals his lips over your clit again, rubbing his tongue against the swollen bundle of nerves as he sucks. It gets you to the edge so fast that youâre seeing stars, nearly kicking him.
âClose,â you pant.
He eases up just that little bit to keep you from tipping into orgasm. Youâre devastated. Afresh wave of tears drip down your temples to the sound of pathetic, helpless moans. Blessedly, he doesnât stop. Just keeps you right there as he slides a hand from your ass to your cunt.
Just one of his fingers is thicker than any of yours; sliding two into your dripping hole almost hurdles you into ecstasy. He pulls his mouth away as you clench around them, trickling down his wrist.
âSo tight. Didnât you ever get off to the thought of me?â
âAll the f-fucking time,â you admit.
âYeah?â
You nod, tongue laving over your bottom lip. âMy hands just⊠yours are bigger.â
He chuckles. âNo cute little toys to help you out?â
âLike to imagine itâs you,â you ramble, shame long gone. âEasier without a vibe.â
âFuck.â
He dives down to your clit again, tongue almost cruel as it tortures you with quick, rough strokes. You might scream; you donât care if you do. His fingers curl to pet your walls, find that spot as if he had his sniper scope on it. You thrash as he strokes you, steady and unrelenting. He sucks one last time and youâre gone, coming so hard that your fingertips go numb.
Youâre definitely screaming now; his name, specifically. He growls against your pussy, the vibration only prolonging that pleasure, writhing on his hand. You swallow air like youâre suffocating, Simon filling every part of you, drenching your senses. Heâs all you know right now, your heart beating to his name.
And he doesnât stop.
âS-Simon, what are â t-too much. Itâs too much, itâs tooââ His pins your hips down as he fits a third finger inside you, finger-fucking you so hard that the slick sounds almost drown out your sobs. Youâre overstimulated, riding the edge of pain in your pleasure, lower back tight and hot.
But you donât tap out, just fist the sheets hard enough to pop the seams.
Simon is single-minded, insistent, demanding. Itâs a quality youâve always admired in the field, and right now itâs pulling you apart piece by shivering piece.
âSimon, I-Iâm gonna â I canâtâŠâ You shake your head, crying freely and loudly, whimpering as much as youâre moaning.
He presses one of your thighs towards your chest, fingertips digging harsh into muscle. The shift gives him better access to that thrumming knot of nerves inside you. He presses against it hard and incessant as his tongue flicks repeatedly over your abused clit. Your second orgasm drowns you in waves, hips rolling, not sure if you want to get away or get more.
Simon strokes you through it until you subside into pathetic, shuddering noises, pushing weakly at him, pleading for mercy. When he pulls away, slick is dripping down his chin to his neck. The bottom edge of his balaclava is dark where itâs bunched over his nose. He surges up to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.
You stay that way for a while, letting him coax your breathing into something like normal again. A task made more difficult whenever his fingers tease your tender nipples, preoccupied with how your lungs hitch and your body jolts.
Eventually, your mouth strays to clean him up, licking yourself from his jaw and chin, messy but earnest. He captures your mouth again when youâre done, sucking your tongue like he wants to get every last drop. You shake at the thought, almost horrified to realize youâre still ridiculously horny.
He must see something in your face because he smirks a little. âPlaytimeâs not over, donât worry.â
His fingertips trace over your pussy, not dipping in far, but the threat of it triggers a new batch of whimpers and tears. He cocks his head at the sight, almost curious, then leans down and follows their paths with his tongue.
A hum, low and pleased, thunders in the heady sliver of air between you. Against your hip, you feel his cock twitch, hot enough to brand.
âTaste good everywhere,â he muses, tongue still lapping at your tears.
âGod, Simon,â you keen, squeezing your glassy eyes shut.
âWant you to do it again,â he murmurs. âCry for me so I can taste how good I make you feel.â
You moan, pussy clenching, feeling horribly empty. The teeth in your neck are an almost welcome reprieve from the overwhelming pleasure, grounding as they bruise delicate skin.
âWant to see you crying on my cock, lovely. Will you do that for me?â
You nod, reaching for him. Curl your arms around his shoulders, wrap your legs around his waist. He shushes you again, cooing when you hide your wet face against his neck. He supports your unsteady body with unfaltering strength; lets you cling as he rearranges you in his lap.
You can feel his cock beneath you, rock hard, the Jacobâs ladder teasing against your pussy. It distracts you a bit, foggy mind obsessing over how itâll feel inside you, especially now that youâve come twice.
His hand pats your ass. âEyes up, doll.â
You emerge from your hiding spot only to stare, wide-eyed and awed, at his bare face. There are scars everywhere, just like the rest of his body, of varying color and size and healing histories. One on his temple, just clipping his cheek, catches your attention. Itâs one of the better-healed scars.
You press a gentle kiss, flick your tongue along it. His hands spasm on your hips, but donât tug you away.
âHandsome,â you sigh, then nip the same spot you just kissed.
You can feel his smile, a small but precious thing, against your cheek. âCanât even fucking see straight right now.â
âNot that far gone,â you scoff, scritching your nails along his stubbled jaw. You could purr at the way he leans into it.
âHave to fix that, then.â
You prop yourself up with your other hand on his chest. His heart is beating beneath your palm, a little fast, but steady and strong. You adore it instantly.
You make eye contact, the hand on his face drifting to his cheek. Then you stretch to get the other⊠and squish. Just like heâs done to you countless times.
âYes,â you agree.
That finally coaxes a proper chuckle out of him, bass deep and a little rough with disuse, but music to your ears. You let his cheeks go, nipping the little red marks your grip leaves behind.
âCâmon, Si,â you whisper. âWant your dick in me.â
And finally, it seems heâs run out of interest in teasing.
You lean your shoulders against him, letting him take most of your weight between his chest and the arm angling your hips. His other hand steadies his cock, drags the flushed, leaking head against your sopping entrance.
He lowers you slowly, encouraging you to dig your nails into his shoulders, draw them down his arms. Even stretched and two orgasms in, heâs big. Itâs testing your limits, not quite pain, stinging in a way that makes your mouth water.
And your eyes.
The tears are back and streaming down your hot cheeks. When Simon notices, you feel his cock throb. You choke on a noise, mouth falling slack as he licks at them like a thirsting man in the desert.
âDidnât take long,â he teases, a little mean. You love it.
âS-sensitive,â you whine, pressing your forehead to his.
âI know, pet,â he croons. âThe headâs almost in.â
Just the head. Christ.
The pleasure keeps racking you and so do quiet little cries, your walls clutching every raw centimeter of his cock like he was built just for you. (Or the other way around, a depraved part of you whispers.)
Heâs steady and patient as he fills you, keeping your mouth busy with claiming kisses when heâs not drinking up your tears. At the first rung of the Jacobâs ladder, you squeak and have to be held down, gone on how it stretches your poor entrance and grinds against your abused walls.
Each one after that garners a similar reaction, driving you insane as they press against you.
âCan feel your fucking heartbeat,â he groans at one point.
You moan, raking your fingers through his sweat-damp hair. The blond strands are dark and messy, getting messier as you play with them. He grunts and his eyelids flutter every time you tug.
By the time heâs fully inside you, your ass resting on his tense thighs, youâre panting and trembling. He sweeps a hand up your arched spine and curls his fingers around the back of your neck. You lean into his hold, go lax as he guides you through a decadent, devouring kiss.
âThere we are, lovely,â he soothes while you whimper. âHurt?â
âA littleâŠâ you gasp, clenching helplessly around the base of him.
âGood,â he growls, teeth on your shoulder.
You moan, falling limp in his arms. He rumbles a pleased hum, squeezing at your hips and ass and thighs in that way you recognize.
âStressed?â you ask, confused.
He snorts. âI donât need a reason to play with whatâs mine.â
You suck in a breath, the casual (and true) claim making your head spin.
âRelax, pet,â he murmurs. âJust get used to me inside you.â
You mewl, high and soft in your throat. He tilts his head to speak in your ear.
âYour pussy is going to remember the shape of me by the end of this.â
And your lieutenant doesnât make idle threats.
He guides your head down to his shoulder, his other arm wrapping around your waist. The lewdest hug youâve ever received. If not for the fat cock stretching you, it would be calming.
âGood girl, thatâs it,â he hums, drawing idle patterns along your spine. âJust drift. Itâll be a bit before you can handle a proper fucking.â
Heâs so deep and big inside you that you believe it, but a nagging part reminds you of the uneven score.
âWhat about you?â
He presses an unusually gentle kiss to your temple, though itâs balanced by the tight squeeze to the back of your neck.
âDonât you worry about me, precious,â he chuckles. âYouâll keep me nice and warm until youâre ready.â
You swallow thickly, canât help how you flutter around him. Itâs a delicious thought, just sitting here with him filling you up for an indefinite period of time, until he decides you can handle how heâs going to fuck you.
âLike that do you?â he muses, too dark to be truly amused. âLike being my personal cocksleeve?â
ââM not,â you mumble, feeling a new sting of tears.
He tuts. âYouâre my toy every other way. No point pretending now.â
You whimper into his neck, bite in retaliation but donât deny it. Well past the point of anything like plausible deniability.
âNo more fussing, pet. Be good for me now.â
And you are, settling in with your mouth brushing absent kisses to his marked collarbones. His hands never stop stroking your skin, lulling you into empty-headed bliss. The full feeling of his cock never dissipates, but you become less aware of it, internal muscles accommodating the stretch. You donât even realize youâve slipped into a doze, breaths going deep and even, safely cradled in your lieutenantâs arms.
When you wake, watery early-morning light is leaking past the blackout curtains. One of your hips is stiff from sleeping bunched up, but thatâs not what calls your immediate attention. No, itâs the absolute puddle that Simon is coaxing from your stuffed hole with his thumb on your clit. Heâs hard inside of you again â or maybe he never got soft in the first place.
âMorninâ,â he rasps when he sees you peeking your head up. Calm as you please. Like his cockhead isnât kissing your cervix right now.
âYou bastard,â you wheeze, sinking a mean bite into his shoulder.
âGrumpy thing,â he teases. âForgot how sulky you are before coffee.â
You grumble incomprehensibly for a moment. Canât believe he put you to sleep on his cock. More than a little miffed that you didnât receive the proper fucking you earned yesterday. That youâve woken up raring to go already, want his cum in your stomach more than breakfast.
âYou actually plan on doing anything?â you demand. âOr we going to the mess like this? Risky to have hot tea that close to your balls.â
His laugh is like honey, rich and syrupy. Liquid sunshine when you kiss it from his mouth.
âRemember whoâs in charge here, pet,â he warns.
You tilt your head in question, arching an eyebrow.
âYou,â he continues, surprising you. Then he keeps talking. âSo if you keep acting like a brat, Iâll have to treat you like one.â
You shiver. It should be illegal to be so salacious this early in the morning. To your delight, he allows you to wiggle a little, testing the feeling of his cock inside you. Itâs absolutely divine.
âOr, counterpoint,â you say, daring to be cheeky when heâs looking at you like that. Like heâd burn the world just to keep you warm for a night. âI was very good yesterday and deserve a reward.â
âThat so, sergeant?â he asks.
âMhmm,â you chirp. Duck down to bribe him with kisses and nips along his jaw and neck, stubble prickling your bruised tongue. âIâll even ask nicely.â
He groans, low and rough in his chest. âYeah?â
You yelp as he tangles his fingers in the hair at the base of your neck, dragging your head back. His teeth scrape over the stuttering pulse in your throat, where thereâs a sensitive spot that makes you squirm. His other hand sneaks to your breasts, tweaking a nipple still sore from his treatment the night before.
âShow me how nice you can ask then.â
And, well, not backing down from a challenge is what got you here in the first place.
You straighten up as best you can â have to take a moment when his cock grinds just right inside you â and arch your back. Your nails score lines down his chest, just this side of rough, knowing itâll work better than any soft petting. Paired with nibbling kisses to the spot beneath his ear, you can already feel the rumble building in his chest.
âSimon, please,â you breathe, âI need you. Need it to be you.â
âNeed what, lovely?â he husks.
âNeed it to be you that fucks me.â You dare to rock your hips, pleased and distracted that he lets you. His fingers spread your ass wider over his lap. âNeed you to break me in. Please?â
Sniper he may be, but his patience must already be gossamer thin from holding back last night and crammed inside your pussy until morning. He snaps at your crooning pleas, rolling you onto your back and grinding into you as deep as he can get.
There have been times in the field that youâve stared as Simon operates his rifle. Itâs his piece, modified and maintained in pristine condition. Youâve watched his clever fingers put it together, dismantle it, clean it, handle it with a deadly competence and precision that you envied. Not him, but the rifle. Probably something wrong with you, that you want to be an instrument, a tool, in your lieutenantâs capable hands, built up and broken apart at his whim.
Now, though⊠now you know. Youâve got confirmation that itâs everything you imagined and better, his scarred hands on you like he owns you, like youâre his to figure out. You want to be, you are, and you babble as much when he draws his hips back and snaps them forward.
Thereâs nothing testing or careful about it. Simon knows youâre not fragile, spent all night making sure you could take him exactly the way he wants you. Youâve never wanted him to hold back, donât want him to now. Crave the way his control seems to slip when itâs you, your body, your voice egging him on.
He rolls his hips every time he bottoms out; his piercings grind deliciously against your twitching entrance with every thrust. You bury your fingers in his hair, tug when he pulls out as if heâs going to leave you empty and wanting. He grunts against your neck, teeth ravenous over skin that already bears their imprint.
It feels like freefall with no parachute, like getting caught in a perfect white-hot explosion. The force of him makes the bed creak, would shove you up the mattress if not for the tight grip on your thighs. His arm loops under the small of your back and angles your hips up.
âMine,â he growls into your shoulder. âAll fucking mine. My sergeant. My medic. My pretty toy.â
You canât string together more than broken syllables, little noises forced out every time he drives home. Heâs not looking for a verbal response though; your body is already singing its agreement, clamping down on his cock like you canât stand any millimeter not inside you. Youâre rocking with him as best you can, knee hitched up by his ribs, pulling him closer, closer, closer.
âIâm right here, doll. Not going anywhere,â he murmurs. Then, almost to himself. âNo, not letting you out of my sight ever fucking again. Going to keep you right by my side, within reach.â
You cry out, ridiculously turned on by promises he canât possibly keep. Itâs not the nature of the job, but the fact that thatâs what he wantsâŠ
âGo fucking crazy when I canât see you,â he pants, âtouch you. Was goinâ fuckinâ batshit all week. Gaz wouldnât shut the fuck up. Just wanted to get my hands on you. My teeth in you.â
Thereâs an earnest, desperate edge to his words. Sounds like a sinner praying for salvation, like heâs begging some cruel god for relief. Or, more likely for your lieutenant, threatening to take that godâs place.
Youâd worship Simon if he did. Practically do already. Would spread yourself out on his altar and let him devour you mind, body, and soul just to appease his appetite.
âSimon, please,â you cry, head tilting back, bearing your throat. âIâm yours. Your medic, your sergeant, your toy.â
âFuck,â he hisses. âThatâs right, love. All mine.â
He pushes himself up, pressing his hand to the wall over your head. Itâs gorgeous, the play of muscle and sinew in his arm. A fucking masterpiece of a man, beautiful and dangerous and right now, all fucking yours too.
The new leverage lets him slam into you faster and harder, frantic now. You have to brace your arms above your head to keep from knocking into the wall, pushing back to meet him thrust for brutal thrust. Could swear you feel him in your guts.
âCâmon, love, let me see those pretty tears.â
His hand slides over your thigh to your clit, thumb rubbing vicious little circles over the nerves. It gives him what he wants instantly, youâre near screaming as you cry. Itâs rough and ruthless and has you so close to the edge that youâre almost jolting away.
âLemme cum,â you beg, âPlease, please, Simon, want to cum on your cock. So closeâŠâ
His grin is more just a bearing of teeth, eyes glittering in the shadows above you. âCum for me, precious.â
It doesnât take much more than that, always eager to please your lieutenant. His hips and finger sync up at just the right moment, just the right way, and youâre gushing over his cock, voice breaking. Your nails scrape the wall as you curl our hands into fists, bucking as he fucks you through it.
Youâre not surprised when he doesnât even slow down, though you reach to push his hand off your screaming clit. His hand darts from the wall to capture your wrists, pinning them over your head. The punishing rhythm of his hips doesnât even falter, bullying that spot inside you relentlessly.
âI didnât say you could fucking stop,â he snarls.
You whine and struggle, but that just makes you tighter, makes him rougher, makes it better. Youâre not even sure if the cresting sensation is pleasure anymore, if itâs another orgasm or your body reaching max capacity. Itâs just whiteout intense and you can do nothing but lay there writhing.
âGonna cum in you,â he moans, head dropping. âGonna leave my mark inside you too.â
You contract around him helplessly, his thrusts getting messier, plunging into you at a dizzying speed. Not even sure if youâre making noise anymore, or just sucking in air when you can get it. His fingers flex around your wrists, tight and unforgiving.
And then there's a burst of heat as he moans, sounding gutting. He fucks you through his own orgasm before finally slowing, and then stopping buried deep inside you. His thumb eases off your abused clit, hand landing on the bed beside your hip. Your leg flops down to the mattress, stretched out and still twitchy.
âHow copy, sergeant?â he rasps.
âSolid, LT,â you wheeze. âYou?â
âFucking fantastic.â
That startles a little giggle out of you, grinning up at him fucked-out and high on afterglow. His returning smile, small and disused as it is, is better than all the orgasms youâve had in the last twelve hours.
âGonna pull out now,â he warns. âBrace.â
Even prepared, you still yelp, beyond sensitive and cored without him inside you. The feeling is only exacerbated by the warm cum you can feel dripping down your ass from your used hole.
âLook at thatâŠâ he drawls appreciatively, tilting his head for a good look. âThere any part of you that ainât pretty?â
You groan and cover your overheated face, knock your shin into his hip. But you leave your legs open.
âShut up, Simon.â
âInsubordinate.â
âFraternizer.â
âMm. Gonna report me to Price?â
âOnly if you report me.â
âMutually assured destruction then.â
Your mouth is still hidden under your hands, but you know he can see your body shaking with suppressed laughter.
âOr you could help me clean up, take a nap, and weâll negotiate terms for a ceasefire.â
He chuckles. âShould have you on a diplomatic envoy, Squeaks. Have the rest of us out of a job. No wars, no soldiers.â
You shake your head, dropping your arms to card through his hair. He lowers himself onto you â not his usual full-force flop, but still by no means delicate about it. You like the weight of him on your tingling body. Feels like heâs keeping you from floating away.
âOnly way theyâre getting me on protection detail for politicians is if youâre there with me.â
He grimaces. Itâs stupidly charming how it makes a scar on his nose scrunch up. âThe point is to stop incidents, not start them.â
âShame, then,â you hum. âGuess weâre stuck here then.â
âGuess so.â
He pats your thigh, then pushes himself up. You protest immediately, but he shushes you with a wry smirk.
âPart of the terms, wasnât it? To clean you up?â
You grumble but subside, thankful that officer quarters come with an ensuite. It doesnât take him long to return with a damp cloth and a cup of water. He sets the latter on the side table and kneels between your thighs, wiping you down as gently as heâs ever been.
When heâs done, you make grabby hands until he scoffs and climbs in with you again.
âNap?â you ask hopefully.
âYeah. Got you up early. Still an hour âtil breakfast.â
Not for the first (or likely last) time, you are grateful for Simonâs brilliant tactics.
âYouâre my hero.â
He snorts, but when you peek up at him, thereâs a fetching pink tint to his cheeks. âGo the fuck to sleep, Squeaks.â
âYessir.â
#cod#my writing#fanfiction#reader fic#cross posted on ao3#old fic#sergeant squeaks#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley
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Now that Omega is part of the Rebel Alliance I had the most beautiful idea pop into my head:
Iâm just imagining her hanging out with her squad post-mission. It was a major success so everyone is in high spirits. In the middle of their debrief/celebration she gets a comm. âAh, itâs my little brother,â she says, âI have to take this.â
Everyone is very understandingâfamily is important and they havenât had much time or really even the security to check-in in recent weeks. She pulls up the holo. Instead of the teenager or young adult they were expecting when she said âlittle brotherâ, itâs a fifty-something, one-handed, very clearly ex-soldier with the voice of a chain smoker whose first words are âFinally, you answer your kriffing commâ.
The others watch in awe as the two of them banter back and forth. After 8 separate assurances that sheâs doing well, sheâll call him back later so she can talk to Hunter and Wrecker, and that sheâll be safe, he finally hangs up and sheâs left with the rest of the squad just staring at her. One of them asks confusedly âWho was that?â
âI told you, itâs my younger brother.â Omega has to explain the dynamics of cloning after that.
#I headcanon that omega continues to call crosshair in particular âlittle brotherâ as an inside joke#she often forgets that not everyone will understand this#tbb crosshair#tbb omega#the bad batch#the bad batch spoilers#tbb season 3
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Project: Aeri
synopsis: you get paired with the campusâ mean girl Aeri Uchinaga to work on a semester long project together
cw: cursing, tension, alcohol, rich/mean girl aeri, angst (?) idk, it's barely suggestive near the end, barely proofread, college au! reader runs track and aeri is a cheerleader but it really doesnât pertain to the plot too much! also I don't think i used any pronouns for the reader :D
word count: 6.1k
notes!! hi (: this was fun so fun to write!! I loveeee the dynamic between reader and aeri hehe
Lmk how you feel about this or if you'd just like to chat!
read part two here!!!
You found yourself with a decent amount of time, arriving at your lecture hall with a good 15 minutes to spare. When you got through the door, your eyes looked through the room, scanning for the perfect seat, preferably in the back.
A fair number of students had claimed their spots but thankfully, the seat you had set your sights on remained empty. With a soft plop, you settled into your seat, ready for your last first class ever! (finally)
You mindlessly scrolled through instagram before a girl walked past you in the aisle trying to get to a seat. A snobby âoopsâ escaped her lips as her designer leather purse missed your head by a hair. Her purse may have missed you but her excessive amount of perfume did not.
You slumped back in your seat, stifling your frustration just as the professor began setting up her laptop, fumbling with the projector. But all your irritation fizzled out the moment you caught sight of the girl again, now seated a few seats from you. A pretty familiar face.
You sighed, the earlier instance clicking in your head after recognizing who it was.
Aeri Uchinaga.
Of course.
The name itself was practically legendary around campus. Aeri or better known as Giselle to her inner circleâwas sort of everyoneâs campus celebrity as she was effortlessly popular and untouchably cool. She was the girl everyone wanted to befriend, date, or at least be seen with. Aeri was on the cheer squad and she was the one who had it allâbeauty, charm, and an air of superiority that made your skin crawl.Â
Itâs not like you disliked her per se, but it was her superiority complex that irked the living shit out of you. It bothered you how much of a bitch she was.
The professor, blissfully unaware of your internal groaning, launched into a painfully slow breakdown of the syllabus. You tried to pay attention, but your mind drifted as she agonizingly detailed each project and the writing part of it. Luckily, no examsâjust two parts of a project to do for the whole semester. Â
How is this an hour and fifteen minutes you thought as you sighed, slumping back into your seat
âSo, throughout my years of teaching Iâve done these partner projects. I have asked for feedback each year. A lot of my students expressed that the most difficult part of the semester project was initially finding a partner. I know youâre all adults but this is a great way to make friends you normally wouldnât speak to! So, Iâve already randomly assigned you partners! When I call your name can you please raise your hand and find your partnerâ She beamed at her great idea
Honestly she did have a point, and it was less work/anxiety trying to find a partnerÂ
She listed pairs after pairs until she said name making your ears perk upÂ
âY/n.. L/n !â Her eyes scanned the room for you
You raised your hand from way back and did a small wave paired with a bright smile
âOh! Hi- and your partner is... Aeri Uchinaga!â Her eyes scanned the room again looked for a raised handÂ
Oh of course
She didnât scan long as the girl that shuffled passed you earlier rose her hand with a fake smile
Despite Aeriâs complex, it wasnât hard to see why people gravitated towards her. Her hair was in a perfect ponytail and you caught a glimpse of a smile that could disarm anyone. Her demeanor was effortlessly charming and her presence dominated each and any room she was in.Â
She was a bit intimidating, you had to admit
And you? Well, you were a runner. Literally. Your life kinda revolved around those early morning track practices and late-night study sessions. The universityâs track team didnât exactly have the same hype as the football team, basketball team or the cheer squad that went with them.Â
But you didnât mind, you were perfectly content with not being in the spotlight and pretty happy with the (very) small fan group you had attracted throughout your four years.
You just didnât crave attention the way Aeri seemed to
Your stomach twisted uncomfortably. Out of all the people in your large lecture, it had to be her.
You tried to play it off, extending an olive branch to her through a kind smileâAeri caught your eye again, her smile dropping the second the professor looked away. She didnât seem any more thrilled about the arrangement than you wereâ but at least you tried to fake it! You could practically hear her thoughts: Great, stuck with you.
You slumped back into your seat, inwardly groaning.
What. A. Bitch.Â
Class ended with the usual shuffle of students packing up their belongings, but you remained in your seat, feeling the weight of the project announcement settle heavily in your chest. The thought of working with the Aeri Uchinaga was... daunting, to say the least. For most people, partnering with her for an entire semester would be a dream come true, but you couldnât care less about her social status or the attention she commanded. Her world of endless appearances and surface-level bullshit wasnât one you ever wanted to step into.
As you stood up, slinging your bag over your shoulder, a voice stopped you.
"Hey."
You turned to see Aeri making her way down the aisle toward you, her steps purposeful, confidence radiating from her like always. âLet me have your number,â she said sharply. It wasnât a request but more of a command.
You hesitated, offering a tentative way out. âI mean, I can just handle the project myself and put your name on it. You donât seem too excited about working together.â
Aeri paused just a few feet away, her expression unreadable but her eyes flashed a flicker of consideration. âIf this was any other class, Iâd let you do it and wouldnât think twice,â she replied, her voice clipped. âBut my dad says I actually need to pass this one. So, no, I canât coast through.â
The bluntness in her words caught you off guard. You werenât sure whether to feel relieved or even more nervous. You sighed softly, âI see.â
Aeri extended her hand without a word, and you typed in your number. She glanced at it briefly, then slid her phone into her bag, her expression never really changing.
"Thanks," she said, the word sounding more like an obligation than gratitude. She muttered a quick âIâll text you.â And without even waiting for a response, she walked off right past you, already scrolling through her phone as if you or your interaction had barely registered.
You stood there for a moment, watching her retreating figure, your thoughts swirling.Â
What a fucking bitch.Â
The reality slowly settled in as you made your way out of the lecture hall...
Youâd be spending more time with her than you ever imagined nor cared for.
A few days passed, and true to her word, you got a text from a number:
"Itâs Aeri. Come over to my place at 6. Weâll start on the project then." With an address attached.
No pleasantries, no extra fluff. It was straightforwardâjust like her.
You werenât sure what you expected when you showed up at her apartment, but it definitely wasnât this. The building itself was pristine, the type of place youâd expect from someone who never had to worry about rent money. The lobby alone screamed "daddyâs money," with its sleek and modern decor.
When you reached Aeriâs door, she greeted you with a casual nod, stepping aside to let you in. âCome on, letâs get started.â
Her apartment was just as fancy as you imagined. Floor-to-ceiling windows flooded the room with natural light, and sleek designer furniture was perfectly arranged, like something out of a magazine. It wasnât just niceâit was borderline intimidating. You couldnât help but feel out of place in your university hoodie and sweatpants.
âNice place,â you muttered as you took your shoes off by the door.
âThanks,â Aeri replied nonchalantly, already making her way to a small table where her laptop was open and ready. âLetâs try to knock out the outline for the project tonight.â
The evening went smoother than youâd initially imagined it to go, and to your surprise, Aeri was focused and typing away at her laptop. She was of course still cold, only speaking to you about the project and there was plenty of chilling silence.
Three weeks had already passed since the project began and youâre already at your wits end with her. You have made every effort fucking possible to be nice to Aeri. Every time you went over to her apartment you tried your hardest to alleviate the awkward silence. Youâd ask about her day, how the cheer team was doing, or what her plans for the weekend were. But most of the time, you were met with a huff, a roll of the eyes, or a dismissive answer that felt like she couldnât care less(she couldnât). Still, you pushed through and your kind heart gave Aeri the benefit of the doubt.
But today was different.
Youâve had a long day. After leaving Aeriâs apartment last night at 1AM, you were up again by 5AM to get ready for your track meet. You had planned to sleep on the bus ride to the meet, but you remembered a paper you still needed to finish for another class, so instead of sleeping, you spent the entire ride hunched over your laptop, working.
The meet itself was grueling. You competed in four different events, your body screaming for rest by the end of it. What stung the most was your individual raceâthe one you were supposed to win. You lost by 0.5 seconds. It was frustrating knowing how much time and effort you had poured into preparing for this moment, only to fall short by the tiniest margin.
By the time you got back to your apartment at 8PM, you were completely drained, both physically and emotionally. You had barely collapsed onto your couch when your phone buzzed.
It was Aeri.
Her message had a cold urgency that made your eye twitch.Â
"You done yet? Come over already. You said youâd be done by 7:30. I have something to do at 11."
You thought about ignoring it. You thought about telling her off right then and there. But instead, you sighed, had a quick shower, changed into something more comfortable, and made your way to her place, frustration bubbling beneath your surface.
When you finally arrived at her apartment, exhausted and frustrated, Aeri barely looked up from her phone while giggling at something.Â
âSo, I did the third section of part two today. Look over it, kayâ? â Not even a greeting nor eye-contact. At this point you were used to it but today it rubbed you the complete wrong way.
You swallowed it, you couldnât help but try with her. âYeah.. I can do thatâ You tried to excuse her behavior with âthatâs just how she isâ
For the first few minutes, you worked in silence, one-sided tension from your end was building in the air around you like a heavy cloud.
âSo.. how was your day today?â You politely asked while making some grammatical adjustments to her part
âGood.â
âOh good, did you do anything?â Trying to lead with a better question this time
âNo.âÂ
âWell, I had a track meet today and Aeri! it was soââ You excitedly began your anecdote with a chuckle, in hopes of sharing a story for conversationâs sake.
âCool.â She interrupted, not even looking up from her laptopÂ
Your smile instantly dropped and you tried your best to keep everything in but after everything you had been through today along with these few weeks, something inside you finally snapped.
You shut your laptop harder than you meant to and looked up at her, your voice was tight with frustration. âCan you at least try to pretend to enjoy my company?â
Aeri glanced up, her eyes widening slightly surprised at your tone. âExcuse me?â her eyebrow raising in defense
âIâve been nothing but nice to you for weeks,â you continued, your voice rising with each word. âI ask about your day, your stupid ass cheer team, and all I get is a roll of your eyes or some half-assed response. Iâm really trying here, but itâs like fucking pulling teeth to have a simple ass conversation with you.â
Aeri blinked, clearly not expecting this 'out-of-character' outburst. âWhat? Iâ â
You cut her off, your emotions finally spilling over âPlease donât âwhatâ me Aeri,â tears of frustration or exhaustion glistened in your eyes, âYou think this is how I want to be spending MY Saturday night? You think this is how I want to spend each or every other day? I ALSO donât want to be here. Iâm so fucking tired Aeri but here I am because YOU wanted me here to work on this stupid fucking project even though I told you I had a meet today. Or did you just not care to remember?â You stood up, placing your laptop in your bag with a sharp motion. âYou know what? We donât even have to do this together. You can just text me if you have any questions, and Iâll do the same. We shouldnât waste more of each otherâs timeâ
Aeriâs mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. She just stared at you, stunned, as you turned on your heel and walked out of her apartment without looking back. This was the first time someone had spoken up against the âuntouchableâ Aeri Uchinaga.
Aeriâs eyes glistened with unshed tears. She couldnât quite place a reason as to why she felt like she wanted to cry. Maybe she enjoyed the idea of being around someone so kind and genuine as you.
For the next week and a half, you didnât hear from Aeri. You worked on the project alone, silently making adjustments and adding content without bothering to ask for her input. She hadnât reached out but she did notice your silent additions while you genuinely couldnât care. You were just frustrated because you really thought she wasnât how she seemed.
But then, after days of silence, your phone buzzed with a text from her:
âCan you come over Y/n?âÂ
âPlease?â
You stared at the message for a long moment, debating whether to go or not. But something about the way she said âpleaseâ tugged at you. Reluctantly, you agreed.
âOmwâ
When you arrived at her apartment, the energy between you was completely different from before. Aeri opened the door, her usual confidence replaced with something more.. Timid? She stepped aside to let you in, her eyes, for once, werenât glued to her phone and onto yours.
The silence between you was thick, uncomfortable. Normally, you would have made an effort to break it, but this time, you remained cold.
âHey so, how was your day?â She asked
After a few moments, you spoke up
âI think we should just get this section done and over withâ you said flatly, settling onto the table without even glancing in her direction.
Aeri hesitated, biting her lip as she sat beside you. For once, she didnât have her usual snarky remarks or her dismissive scoffs. She just quietly opened her laptop and got to work. The silence between you felt suffocating. Every now and then, youâd catch Aeri glancing at you from the corner of her eye, her usual sharp confidence was completely absent. She seemed uncomfortable, fidgeting more than usual as she worked.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Aeri broke the silence.
âY/n...â she started, her voice soft and hesitant. You didnât look up, keeping your focus on your laptop.
âI... Iâm sorry,â she said, barely above a whisper.Â
That statement caught your attention. You slowly lifted your eyes from the screen, glancing at her. She wasnât looking at you, her gaze fixed on her hands as she fidgeted with her perfectly done acrylic nails.
âI donât think Iâm used to people spending time with me just because they want to,â she continued, her voice quieter than youâd ever heard before. âMost people either want something from me or whatever. I didnât know how to handle it when you actually tried to get to know me. And I guess I pushed you away because of that.â
She sighed, her fingers tracing the edge of the table as her words lingered in the air. âI didnât mean to take it out on you. I just... didnât know what to do with someone who cared.â
You stared at her for a moment, her words sinking in. Part of you had expected her to never acknowledge the way sheâd been treating you, but now that she had, you couldnât help but soften. Her vulnerability felt real, and it was clear she wasnât used to letting people see this side of her.
A small, shy smile crept onto your face as you leaned back slightly. âDid you miss my attention or something?â you teased lightly, hoping to ease the tension.
Aeri finally looked up, rolling her eyes playfully as they met yours. âYou know, I actually did, you idiot,â she quipped back, a small smirk tugging at her lips. But as she continued, her voice grew softer, more serious. âI honestly didnât think I would... or that I would care, but when you stopped tryingâŠâ She paused, her tone becoming more vulnerable. âI noticed.. or that I realized I actually missed you... missed having someone who wanted to be around me as much as I wanted to be around them.â
Her words settled between you, and in that moment, you realized something. The cold, distant facade Aeri had been putting up wasnât about you at allâit was about her. She had been pushing you away because thatâs what she was used to. Thatâs how she protected herself from getting hurt.
âYou had some way of showing thatâ You let out a small chuckle with a soft sigh. The anger youâd been holding onto for the past week and a half slowly melting away. âYou couldâve just said that earlier ya know?â you replied gently, your voice free of the coldness it had held before.
She offered you a small but genuine, almost shy smile, and for the first time, it felt like the walls between you were starting to come down.Â
âIâm sorry too, Aeri,â you added, offering her your goofy smile. The air felt lighter now, and for the first time in weeks, you both seemed to be on the same page.
She really did have a smile that could disarm anyone.Â
Another three weeks had passed, and after that night, you found yourself spending more and more time with Aeri. At first, it was just to work on the project, but as the days went by, things slowly began to shift. You learned to navigate her moods, her sarcasm, and even her occasional backhanded compliments. To your surprise, Aeri started to let go of her âmean-girlâ persona.
She no longer seemed as guarded with you, and the more time you spent together, the more she let you see sides of her that werenât wrapped up in the image of being the perfect cheerleader or the richest girl on campus.
It wasnât until one evening that everything truly changed.
You were back at her apartment for what was supposed to be one of your final work sessions before the project deadline. As usual (now), Aeri was focused for most of the evening yet still actively conversing, but as the hours ticked by, you noticed her energy faltering.
âAhh~ fuck! Weâve been at this for way too long,â she finally said, closing her laptop with a sigh.Â
âLetâs take a break.â
You leaned back in your chair, âThank god you said that,â stretching your arms above your head. âIâm starting to lose it tooâ
Aeri stood and walked to her kitchen, rummaging through her fridge before pulling out a couple of drinks. âWine or White Claws?â she asked, holding them up with a smirk. âI thinkkk~ we deserve a little something for surviving this long.â
You hesitated, glancing between the two options. âUhh~ wines too classy for the occasion,â you said with a laugh, completely taken aback at her sudden behavior
âWhite Claw it is,â she said, tossing one to you before cracking open her own. She plopped down beside you with a smirk. âTo surviving this stupid project,â she said, raising her can in a mock toast.
âTo surviving, Ms. Uchinaga,â you echoed, tapping your drink against hers.
You took a sip, the cold fizz of the seltzer hitting your tongue, but your face instinctively scrunched up at the taste.
Aeri noticed and burst into laughter. âNot a fan, Y/n?â
âItâs free, so I canât really complain,â you replied with a grin. âBut if Iâm being honest, I prefer beer.â
âEw! Beer? Really?â she cringed playfully, shaking her head. âItâs like carbonated piss!â
âOh, so you know what piss tastes like? Weirdo,â you teased without missing a beat.Â
Aeri's mouth dropped open in mock offense, and she gave you a playful shove. âShut the fuck up youâre soo annoying!âÂ
You both laughed, the tension that had lingered for so long between the two of you seemed to dissipate, replaced by something softer.
You saw a side of Aeri that you hadnât seen beforeâone that wasnât wearing her usual cold mask. For once, she was real. Laughing about stupid things, opening up about her dad, venting about her struggles with balancing school and her social life.
Somewhere throughout the conversation, Aeri had absentmindedly turned on a random show in the background, though neither of you paid much attention to it. The drinks kept flowing, and you two lost count after a while, but it didnât matter. You both found yourselves laughing at god knows what, the sound filling the room. But when the laughter finally died down, the air between you shifted againâheavier with something unsaid yet undeniably present.
Your eyes met hers, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The noise from the TV faded into the background as the silence between you, heavy with something mutually unspoken.
Aeri smiled softly, her guard lowered even more this time. âYouâre not as bad as I thought, ya know?â
You laughed nervously, âYouâre also not exactly what I expected either, Ms. Uchinaga.â
âWell, who is Ms. Uchinaga to you, hmm~?â she asked, lazily sipping her drink.
You paused, taken aback from the heavy question.
âWell, at first, Ms. Uchinaga was a bit... stuck up and... kind of a bitch,â you teased with a chuckle. But then your tone softened as you continued, âBut now, I see someone who's actually really hard-working and driven. Sheâs not coldâsheâs just protective of herself. Sheâs witty, smart, and honestly? One of the greatest people I've met. Iâm really lucky I get the pleasure of knowing her.â
You shrugged, finishing your drink while reaching for another, and Aeri smiled, something soft yet needy flickered in her eyes.
She met your eyes and the moment lingeredâjust the two of you, sitting in her ridiculously nice apartment, sharing drinks and paired with a conversation that was so.. intimate.
Your held eye contact had so much unspoken tension. Her eyes were basically longing for you. Â
As much as you wanted to kiss her, something held you back.Â
Maybe it was the fear of misreading the situation? Or maybe you were both afraid to cross that boundary.Â
So, as much as you cherished the soft, tender moment, you let it pass, pushing the thoughts to the back of your mind as you broke eye contact to take a big gulp of your freshly opened drink.Â
You paused, glancing at your half-full can before turning your gaze back to Aeri. Her smile lingered as she lazily sipped her drink.Â
You felt your heart racing as you decided to push the moment just a bit further. âWell... who is Y/n to you?â you asked, your voice soft but direct. âI just shared who you are to me, Uchinagaâ
Aeri blinked, clearly caught off guard by the question. Her drink froze halfway to her lips, and she lowered it slowly, her eyes scanning your face as if searching for the right words.
For a moment, she didnât respond, her expression was contemplative. She placed her drink in her lap and leaned back slightly, her gaze dropping as she fidgeted with the nails again. The silence stretched, but it wasnât uncomfortableâmore like she was deciding how honest she wanted to be.
âY/n...isâ Aeri started, her voice softer than before. âDifferent.â She glanced up, meeting your eyes, and you could see the hesitation in hers. âKind. Not like most people I know. You pushed yourself into my life, and you still... stuck around, even when I wasnât the easiest person to be around.â
She let out a quiet laugh, more at herself than anything. âHonestly, I didnât get it at first. Like.. Why you kept trying with me? But now... I think I do.â her voice hinted at knowing something.Â
Her fingers traced the edge of her can, her voice quiet but steady. âAnd youâre patient. And Iâm not used to that. Youâve seen sides of me that I donât let most people see, and I think... Iâve been scared of that.â
You swallowed, her words hanging in the air. âScared?â
âYeah... I think so,â she admitted, her voice almost a whisper. âLike I said before, Iâm not really used to people sticking around just to get to know me. Theyâve always stuck around to use me for some type of gain. But you... youâve just been here. And I think at first, I was afraid that youâre gonna turn out like everyone else but now Iâm scared because I donât feel the need to push you awayâ
A confession?
The weight of her words pressed down on you, the vulnerability in her tone echoing in the room. For a moment, you didnât know what to say, the truth of what sheâd just admitted settling between you both. You could feel the walls between you crumbling, and this time, it wasnât just a fleeting momentâit was real, raw.
You smiled gently, leaning forward just a little. âIâm glad youâre not pushing me away,â you said softly, placing a reassuring hand on her own fidgeting one, your voice steady. âIâm not going anywhere.â
âBetter not.â Aeriâs lips curved into a small, genuine smile, her eyes softening.
Both of your eyes flickered to each other's lips, though the distance between them never closed.
After a few days of wrapping up the project, your mind kept drifting back to that night. The intimate moment between you and Aeri replayed in your thoughts, and the regret of not kissing her gnawed at you. You couldnât help but wonder if sheâd ever reach out again, if she even wanted to, or maybe she was waiting for you to reach out?Â
But then, as if she had been reading your racing mind, there she was. Full of surprises, like always.
A text from Aeri popped up on your phone unexpectedly
âY/n! Come to this party tonight (:â
You stared at the message for a moment, a smile creeping onto your face like a fool while your fingers hovered over the screen as you debated your response.
"Where? And why? You miss me too much, Uchinaga? Lol," you typed back, trying to play it cool, though your heart raced as you hit send.
Her reply came almost immediately.
âSig Chi House! Starts at 9. And duh, I wanna see you there ;)â
Your heart fluttered at the last part, the winky face sending a warm buzz through your chest. You reread the message, biting back a grin, unable to shake the excitement that suddenly pulsed through you.
Aeri Uchinaga what are you doing to meÂ
Sig Chi was exactly how you remembered itâloud music, a packed crowd, and the heavy smell of liquor and cheap cologne wafting through the air. It didnât take long to remember why you stopped coming.
As you weaved through the party, you managed to snag a beer off a random table (which you quickly chugged and put back on the table) before spotting her in the kitchen. She was surrounded by a small group of her cheerleader friends that you recognized and one guy you didnât, all laughing and drinking.
Despite her simple crop top and jeans, she stood out effortlessly. Her hair fell in perfect waves down her back, like a dark waterfall catching the party lights, and for a moment, you couldnât look away.
Then her eyes landed on you, and for a split second, something flickered in her expression. She quickly excused herself from the group, making her way over to you with two drinks in handâa solo cup in one and a beer in the other.
"You made it!" she exclaimed, pulling you into a hug, her scent a mix of straight vodka and the sweet perfume you remembered from the first day of class. Her smile was wide and genuine. "I wasnât sure youâd come, but I saved you a beer."
âWow, thanks, Aeri,â you said, doing your best to keep your nerves in check as you realized she remembered your favorite drink. âCouldnât make you suffer without me for too long, right?â you added with a playful smirk.
Aeri laughed, nudging you lightly. "Oh, shut up!â Her eyes sparkled as she spoke. âBut Iâm glad you came."
She then began going off about something that looked important, but with the noise of the party and the way her lips moved a mile a second, you couldnât quite catch it. Honestly, you probably just looked like a lovesick puppy, completely entranced by her without even processing a word. Just perfectly content being around her.
âAre you even listening to me?â She tried to say over the music, her eyebrows furrowed
âWhat are you even saying?â you asked, leaning down to hear her better, the height difference making it harder.
Aeri leaned in closer, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder close to your neck. Her breath was warm against your ear, and the contact sent a shiver down your spine. âLetâs go outside, I canât hear a fucking thing in here!â she laughed, her voice low. Before you could respond, she wrapped her arm around yours, leading you through the crowded house and out the back door.Â
The noise of the party faded into the background, leaving just the two of you in the cool night air. For a moment, it felt like the party was miles away, just the two of you caught in an orbit only you could understand.
âAh~â Aeri sighed, stretching an arm above her head. âThis is sooo much better.â
âIâll cheers to that,â you sighed, raising your drink slightly.
She leaned in a bit, a playful smile on her face, her voice slightly slurred. âSo... youâre not much of a party person, huh?â
You chuckled. âWhat gave me away?â
Her eyes twinkled with amusement as she laughed softly. âYou shouldâve seen the look on your face when I saw you inside. You looked so lost,â she teased, then giggled. âIt was cute.â
You opened your mouth to say something but something or someone interrupted, causing you both to turn your headsÂ
The porch door swung open, and the guy you had noticed earlier stepped out. He carried himself with the arrogance of someone used to getting what he wanted, his greasy gaze glued to Aeri like she was the prize of the night.
âGiselle, I didnât see you run off earlier,â he said, sliding in too close, completely oblivious to your presence.
You saw how Aeri stiffened slightly but forced a smile, clearly not interested in making a scene. âHi Mark,â she scoffed, her voice cool, though the venom was unmistakable.
Mark leaned in even closer, his arm brushing against Aeriâs, his smirk making your blood boil. You had no right to feel this possessive, but something surged within you at the sight of him invading her space.
âYou wanna.. come back to my place after?â His words were extremely slurred, his eyes quickly shot to you âYouâre hot too, you can come if you want,â he added with a smug grin, as if he was doing you both a favor by suggesting it.
Without thinking, you stepped forward, reaching out to gently pull Aeri back toward you. She glanced at you, a flicker of surprise in her eyes before you gave her a look she hadnât seen from you before. Jealousy and desire.
Aeri raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by your boldness. Mark noticed, his cocky smirk faltering.
âSheâs already got plans to come to mine, so you can just fuck offâ you said, keeping your voice steady even though your heart was pounding.
Aeri, catching onto your energy, stepped closer, her shoulder brushing against yours. She turned to Mark, her tone ice-cold. âI donât even know why you would ever think to ask me that?â she asked, emphasizing the absurdity of his request, her head tilting slightly as if she couldnât believe the audacity.
He blinked, clearly caught off guard by Aeriâs cold tone. âWow chill.. No need to be such a stuck-up bitch,â he muttered, frustration creeping into his voice as he stumbled back. His gaze flicked to you, bitterness in his eyes. âFuck you tooâ
You didnât realize Aeri was holding onto you until you started to step toward Mark. As soon as he was gone, Aeri turned to you, a smirk tugging at her lips. âWell, look at you,â she teased, her voice low. âDidnât know we had plans tonight.â
âOh whatever, â You tried to play it cool, but your heart was still racing from the surge of possessiveness you hadnât expected. âI just said that because I didnât like how close he was getting. He seemed like a total douchebag too.â You huffed
Aeri chuckled, stepping in even closer, her breath warm against your neck. âWere you jealous or something n/n?â
Your cheeks burned. âWell- no! IâŠHe was just being an asshole.â
She grinned, her eyes gleaming with mischief. âUh-huh~ Well, for the record, I liked it.â Her voice dropped, more serious now, as her hand brushed against yours. âYou were kinda hot.â
âOh, shut up.â You tried your best to shrug her off, but the burning red tips of your ears gave you away.
Aeri tilted her head, her teasing grin widening. âNow, Iâm curious,â she said. âWas that all it was? Or do you have something you wanna tell me?â
You blinked, you were soooo caught but still feigned innocence. âWhat! No..â
âYou pulling me away from that guy back there,â she said, crossing her arms as she leaned back. âYou really did look like you were about to tackle him ya know? Was it really just because he was an asshole?â she giggled, she was so messing with you right now
You felt your face heat up. âIt wasnâtâI mean, I didnâtââ
âYouâre cuteâ She laughed, her amusement lighting up the darkness of the night. "Relax, Iâm jusââÂ
You had to say something, even if it made you feel like a fool. The words spilled out before you could stop them.
âOkay fine Aeri itâs because I like you and I have for a while now so of course I didnât like seeing anyone flirt with you or let alone talk like that to yoââ You said it so quickly, you barely breathed between the words. But even in her tipsy state, Aeri understood you perfectly
Before you could finish, Aeri stepped forward, closing the distance between you in an instant. Her lips crashed against yours, fierce and sudden, cutting off your words. The kiss wasnât hesitantâit was full of the tension that had been building between you for weeks.
When she pulled back, she let out a soft, teasing breath. âYouâre an idiot, you know that?â
âWhat?â you breathlessly asked, your eye wide
âI like you too, stupid,â she whispered, her lips brushing yours as she spoke. âFor a while now tooâ
âWait, what?â You blinked, trying to process what just happened
âReally?â You managed to get out
âYes! You dumbass,â she smirked, her voice a low murmur. âNow shut the fuck up and kiss me again before I change my mind.â
Who were you to deny Aeri Uchinaga?
Maybe now she really did have plans to come over tonight.
#aeri uchinaga#aespa giselle#aespa#aespa giselle x reader#giselle x reader#giselle x you#aespa aeri#aespa x reader#aespa x you#giselle#aeri x reader#aeri uchinaga x reader#aespa x fem reader#aeri#kywrites
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In sleeping with the enemy,
What if people know that theyâre just fucking and the jealous girls give shit to reader about how sheâs just a lay making her cry and then rafe hearing about it
THE ANGST OF THIS. I LOVE IT đââïž
based on this fic
she and rafe keep hooking up with no strings attached and actually develop a good friendship. they both like how the other is direct. they donât bullshit each other. itâs easy because heâs never really cared to mince his words and sheâs so jaded about love and men that she doesnât worry about hurting his feelings.
she gives him shit about how he has no emotions and he says sheâs the exactly the same way. itâs what makes their dynamic so good. they donât have to worry about feelings getting in the way. theyâre friends with benefits in the purest form.
their time together almost always revolves around sex, but sometimes they hang out as friends, and one night, rafe invites her to a frat party on his college campus.
she recognizes a few cheerleaders from rafeâs team at the party and theyâre immediately shooting her dirty looks. one of them says âi donât know why he invited herâ loudly and she can tell right away that one of the girls in the group must have a history with rafe because her friends look to be comforting her.
âsheâs just a piece of ass to him,â another says, clearly projecting her voice. at this point, she knows she shouldnât care, but the harsh truth that she hasnât found a guy who wants to be serious with her yet stings.
sheâd stand up for herself, but sheâs had a rough day and she hates that sheâs alone at that moment, so she rushes out of the party, upset that they succeeded in making her cry.
rafe notices her leaving in a rush, wedging out of the crowd. she hears him calling her name when she steps out of the house into the night air.
âare you crying?â he asks. heâs only ever seen her having fun, pissed off, or horny. this is new.
âdonât give me shit about it, alright?â she says, stopping in her tracks and wiping her tears away. âiâm not in the mood.â
âdid something happen?â he asks, albeit awkwardly. heâs never been good at dealing with other peopleâs feelings. and heâs never seen her vulnerable like this.
âpeople are just assholes,â she responds.
âwho?â heâs pissed off. who the fuck felt like they had the right to mess with her?
âsome girls on your cheer squad,â she replies. âthey were saying iâm just a piece of ass to you. and donât worry, i donât care about that. i know weâre just messing around. but they were so mean about it.â
rafe scoffs. he knows which girls sheâs talking about immediately. he steps closer, tense but determined when he squeezes her hand.
âwhat are you doing?â she says, cracking a smile. he never acts like this. affectionate. like he cares.
âitâs not about you,â he tells her. âi hooked up with one of them forever ago. i told her i didnât want to date but sheâs obsessed with me. donât let them get in your head.â
she looks at rafe quizzically.
âyouâre just being nice so i donât stop hooking up with you,â she says, admittedly feeling better.
âis it working?â rafe asks, smirking. she laughs and rolls her eyes and pushes him away.
he doesnât know when he started actually giving a shit about someone elseâs happiness, but it happened with her. seeing her cry made him feel a hard, twisted way heâs never felt before.
âget fucked,â she laughs. he can tell he really did console her. sheâs smiling again.
âpromise?â rafe says with a grin. he takes her hand again, pulling her towards the house. âyouâre not leaving. i didnât bring you so youâd go home a minute later. iâll set them straight if they fuck with you again, alright? letâs have fun.â
âfun?â she repeats. âiâm not hooking up with you in a closet, just so you know.â
âi know,â rafe says, hand at the small of her back as they enter the party again. âwe can find a bed around here, i bet.â
she shoves his shoulder, mirroring his smile as he guides her through the crowd.
#ask#swteblurb#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron and you#rafe cameron and reader#rafe cameron and y/n
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This is such a "nobody else has read this comic" moment but like. It kills me every day that we never see Simon's conversation with Amanda Waller in JLA (2013) #5. Like I NEED to know what she said to him in that room. He goes in fully intending to detach himself from all the drama of his origin arc and get the government off his back yet when he leaves he joins Waller's JLA (which is a different, rival entity of the JL at this time). And THEN in JLA comic he's not just on the team, he's one of the more pro-Waller/pro-authority members!!! Which doesn't sound like Simon!!! Like at all! But again this is the Wall we are talking about. And they had a private conversation together! For an unspecified amount of time! That we know nothing about! Like this is Amanda freaking Waller if anyone could say something to make this make sense it would be her. SO I NEED TO KNOW WHAT SHE SAID. but also also also we see ANOTHER change of heart from Simon towards Waller (and the government) in Green Lanterns #1! (I think.) Here he's shown being fed up as the government tries to manipulate him for information and to gain power and such and is like keeping tabs on him and his family etc. So obviously he's become disillusioned with this and is not happy about it, which is the kind of reaction you would expect from him! Like that actually makes sense!!!
So its like logically you figure that his characterization in JLA is bad (it is new 52) and doesn't make sense and stems from an ignorance of his character (who had been in literally 16 comics before this. Including cameos. Like bruh just read them) and that's why this doesn't make sense. BUT THERE'S STILL THAT CONVERSATION WITH WALLER. Like I want this to my sense so bad. And my brain knows what Amanda Waller is like like it KNOWS that something could have plausibly happened in that room to make this line up! Like it's Amanda freaking Waller anything could have happened there. I need to know what happened there. I will NEVER know what happened there.
#like its a new 52 comic it makes sense that it wouldnt make sense!!!!!!! but there is this GAP and it is driving me nuts#because if anyone could have said something to make this make sense it would be waller!!!! NEVER underestimate waller!!!! that is how she#gets you. also shadow government plots shes very good at those at well#especially when they explode in everyone's faces including her own#she still comes out swinging#grrrrrr no but this drives me SO bonkers because like AGGGHHHHH and its some random new 52 comic like no one cares but then#I am all like guys lets talk abt the Simon and Amanda Waller dynamic lets talk abt Simon and Waller like NO ONE KNOWS WHAT I AM TALKING ABT#like they met??????? yeah in a nu52 comic that i read in my quest to read every simon baz appearance#im 9999.999% sure dc has totally forgotten this comic existed. the writer probably has too. the only thing its notable for is causing drama#to lead up to forever evil.#anyways just oh my god. the simon and waller missing conversation is insane to me. what the fuck did they say?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!#maybe i go crazy bc of this bc theyre both in my top 10 on locg. like ive read a bunch of simon but ive also read ostrander + yale suicide#squad. which is the waller holy grail. and so i am vertifiably insane#only way for this to get more swishy self indulgent is to merge GL and SS even more and bring ben into it#i love ben he just dropped out of my top 10 and im devastated. i should read more ben comics. ive read a good chunk already hes not in that#many. also jess should be there. that would be even more self indulgent and make me crazier#suicide squad comic but you just stuff all swishy's faves in a room and expose them to the wall#wait shit this is giving me ideas now i dont have time for this LOG OFF LOG OFF#what was i saying again????? oh.#blah#simon baz#amanda waller
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